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dirty-bear-rick-sanchez · 2 years

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A Level of Comfort

OK so I’m very very nervous to post this but everyone has been really supportive and encouraging so here we go: my first RnM fanfic. Please be gentle as I’m very nervous 😅

Also thank you to everyone who was really nice and encouraging to me! I also would like to shout out particularly to @hazelnut-u-out because I really like your writing (and I also sent you a prompt kind of similar to this but ended up writing it myself 😅) and @whovianbuffalo for being extra lovely!

Summary: Rick has a nightmare after the events of Solaricks and has to check on his family to reassure himself that they’re OK. Mainly angst with a bit of hurt/comfort at the end. Rick is very traumatised and a bit of an asshole but he’s trying. Morty is a good kid who knows Rick too well. Warnings for blood/gore, death, self-injurious stimming.

Rick sits in the car he and Diane share, waiting in the entrance to the garage. Something feels oddly familiar in a way he can’t quite identify.

He sees the door begin to open and his heart drops as he realises what’s about to happen. Every fibre of his being screams at him to get out of the car, call a warning, do something. He wants to, wants it more badly than he’s ever wanted anything, but something keeps his body stuck in place.

Almost in slow motion, he sees his wife and daughter walk in, holding hands, smiling in blissful ignorance of what is to come. Above them, the fabric of spacetime tears open, a white-blue gaping dimensional wound.

Rick tries desperately not to see what happens, but can’t escape. He sits there, helpless, motionless, as his wife and daughter cry out in shock and pain, flesh melting from their faces, blood pouring across the floor. Somewhere in his mind, he knows he’s never seen this, that it is yet another torture device created by his own brain, but the gore and suffering forces its way to the front of his mind. He hears blood-curdling screams, ripped from a memory of Beth breaking her arm. He feels the pain and fear he felt that day mixing dangerously with the devastation of their deaths.

Somehow, Rick is now standing in the garage. Diane begins crawling towards him, dragging herself with a bloody and mangled arm. She grasps his wrist, staining his skin with blood and portal fluid that oozes from her open wounds. It stings like acid where it touches him.

“Rick,” she gasps, in the voice he’d always found so sweet. “How could you do this to your daughter?”

Rick’s gaze falls downwards to the lifeless and ravaged body of his little girl cradled in her other arm.

“Why didn’t you stop him when you had the chance?”

Rick knows exactly what she means, tries not to think about it as she grips his wrist even tighter, her grasp burning into his arm.

“I-I’m going to stop him. I’m going to go back.” he croaks out, finally able to speak. Diane doesn’t respond. He knows exactly what he’ll find if he looks, the image etched into his memory. It doesn’t make it any less painful when he looks down at the bodies of his girls, exactly the same as they were the day they died, exactly the way they’ve looked every time he’s seen them since.

Distantly, Rick hears a voice coming from the rift in front of him. He knows this is his final chance to make things right, to do things over again. He flies through the rift, suddenly in his ship, emerging in a giant metallic sphere full of screens and bots. The voice carries on, and Rick sees a tube begin to rise from the floor. This time he won’t hesitate, he won’t fail, he decides.

As soon as the tube clears the floor, Rick realises Rick Prime isn’t alone.

A fully clothed Rick Prime stands in the tube, an arm holding a small figure almost in a chokehold, pointing a gun to his head.

“Rick!” Rick Prime’s prisoner cries out, his voice breaking from fear and adolescence.

“Morty!” Rick cries, scrambling, trying to fight past the killbots and lasers, but the tube is already moving backwards.

“Riiiiiiiiiick!” Morty cries, as the tube drops down a chute and both he and Rick Prime vanish from view.

Without hesitation, Rick jumps down the chute in pursuit. All of a sudden, a blood-stained concrete garage floor appears beneath him and he tries to flinch away from the impact.

Rick wakes with a jolt.

He’s breathing heavily, clutching his blankets tightly, his rickety camp bed rattling with how hard he’s shaking. He struggles to catch his breath and it’s not until he notices the hot tears streaking down his face he realises he’s crying.

“Fuck.” he whispers. “Fuck!”

He’s vaguely aware he’s rocking back and forth in a ball, one hand clapped over his mouth and scratching at his cheek hard enough to draw blood, the other balled into a fist, slamming itself into his head over and over.

Eventually, he slows down, his head and hand aching, his face stinging as tears hit fresh cuts. The pain makes him feel better, reminds him that he’s real, alive, awake, makes him more present in the moment. He flips the lights on, glancing around the room to confirm to himself that he really is home, that this version of his family is safe. Even though he knows it logically, he has to see for himself. He pauses long enough to collect himself so that he’s not actively crying any more, wipes the tears from his face, and leaves the room.

He doesn’t have to enter Beth’s room, hearing a mumbled conversation between her and Jerry from the other side of the door. He can’t make out the words, but the voices are easily identifiable.

He doesn’t have to enter Summer’s room either, as her door is slightly ajar, allowing him to see her through the crack. All the same, he watches for a few seconds to be sure of the steady rise and fall of her breathing before moving on.

Morty’s door is shut, and Rick can’t hear anything, not even the gentle snores he’s used to hearing on long trips in the ship. As slowly as he can bear, Rick opens the door. The hallway light spills into the room, and he sees Morty, lying motionless on the bed. He can’t tell if Morty’s breathing, and, almost without realising what he’s doing, he enters the room and stands at the teenager’s bedside. Even up close, he can’t convince himself, and he feels a hot panic start to rise inside him.

“R-rick?” Morty croaks, his voice groggy. Rick almost collapses with relief as Morty sits up, rubbing an eye. “Rick, come on, a-a-after today can’t you just let me sleep for one night? Surely whatever you need can just wait until tomorrow?” Morty finally looks up at Rick and his eyes widen in shock. “Whoa, wh-what happened to your face?”

Rick starts to turn away, but he feels Morty’s hand grasp his wrist, exactly like Diane’s in his nightmare. It’s enough to stop him in his tracks and make his breath catch in his throat. Barely, just barely, he manages to keep the sob in.

“Did you do this to yourself?” Rick silently curses Morty’s moments of surprising intelligence. They’ve spent enough time together that Morty can read him far too well for his liking.

“I-I used to do the same thing, you know, when I got stressed. I would bang my head on the wall, because the pain was easier than the bad feelings.” A part of Rick resents the fact that a 14 year old is trying to lecture him about self-injurious stimming as if he doesn’t have literal decades of experience, but he’s so empty and exhausted from the intense adrenaline rush and subsequent relief that this thought quickly evaporates.

“W-whatever, Morty. Go back to sleep.” he hears himself say, his voice weak and shaky. He turns to leave.

“Wait!”

Rick turns back to Morty, who’s holding the edge of his blanket nervously.

“What?” he groans, forcing a note of irritation into his voice.

“I, um, I, uh, b-before you woke me up I was um, I was… having a nightmare.” Morty glances around the room in a way that shows he’s clearly thinking on his feet, and Rick knows Morty has seen right through him. “Will you, will you stay with me?” He gives Rick a look so pleading, Rick can’t bear to say no, even though he knows it’s for his own benefit, not Morty’s. He’s a good kid, a good grandson, better than Rick deserves.

Even though they both know what’s really going on, Rick puts on an act.

“Fine. If it’ll get you to stop whining.” he huffs. “But don’t you think you’re getting a bit old for this now?”

Morty visibly relaxes. “Nah.” he replies with a relieved smile.

Rick moves to his bedside and motions with his hand for Morty to move over. “Just this once, you hear me?” he grumbles, clambering in next to Morty. It’s a tight squeeze, both of them in a single bed, but Rick is skinny, and Morty is still yet to hit the growth spurt stage of puberty, so they manage. Secretly, Rick is comforted by the tangibility of Morty’s presence next to him, the sound of Morty’s breathing. He knows he’ll never be able to make things right with his original Beth and Diane, even if he somehow manages to find and kill Prime, but maybe he can make things right with Morty. Rick silently resolves to be a better grandpa.

“Rick?”

“What now, Morty?”

“I, um, I’m really glad you came back for me, a-and my moms, and Summer. And Dad. I’m really glad you’re my grandpa.”

Finally, the tears spill over, dripping down his cheek and nose onto the pillowcase. Mercifully, he manages to cry silently.

“Sh-shut up, Morty.” he hisses through a wobbly voice.

“Love you too, Grandpa Rick.”

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teaforce-steph · 2 months

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Yesterday I encountered an Um Actually gatekeeper of a calibre I have not seen in the wild (real life) for nearly a decade:

I started work early, slept terribly, but (like many poor customer-facing souls) I'm still expected to be passably sociable and friendly at work. This person comes through in the morning with a Zelda shirt on (Hyrule crest on top of the Gate of Time from Skyward Sword), which is 1. Obviously something they are interested in and 2. A subject I can autopilot while half asleep. Surely, this is the perfect small talk subject to give the impression that I am definitely awake and haven't just drawn pupils onto my eyelids.

So I say 'Oh, nice Zelda shirt. I really liked that game too. It's the, uh... Gate thing from Skyward Sword, right*?

(*It was, but my primary goal was to get the other person to do all the talking while I listen and nod like a convincingly awake person would do. This means open and leading questions, not divulging the vast and nerdy expanse of Zelda information been laser-etched into the creases of by brain over the last 20+ years.)

However I was not expecting the rude and slightly aggressive way she said "No, actually. It's a mix of new and old symbols from the series as a whole. It's not... that."

I'm not bothered by someone being wrong or even confidently wrong about something so inconsequential (specifically if you've never played that far into Skyward Sword that's more or less what most of the gate looks like. Perhaps she just didn't know what it was and didn't want to reveal that blind spot idk?) but the attitude, ew. For all she knew I may have developed a vague new interest in the series after botw/totk and she was just super rude about it. Don't think I've ever dropped a conversation I'd initiated quicker haha.

#By contrast I have also been wooed by someone fumbling in ther rush to show me their Zelda undershirt #Polar opposite experiences haha #the legend of zelda #skyward sword #Gatekeeping #Um actually

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what-immortal-hand-or-eye · 10 months

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Hehe for the send me a fandom thing not to be obvious, but Trigun?

Oh absolutely!!!

The first character I first fell in love with: Vash!!!! His swagless whimsy intrigued me, but it wasn’t until ep5 of Stampede when he says “If God won’t save you, I will” that I became obsessed with him. I went “ohhhh he’s messed up for REALSIES” and put him in my mental centrifuge. This happened months ago and he hasn’t left.

The character I never expected to love as much as I do now: Wolfwood, weirdly enough. It took me a while to get the hang of him. Really it wasn’t until I read Trimax and got to the parentification backstory that he became laser-etched in my brain.

The character everyone else loves that I don’t: I don’t know if I have one, tbh, I love all of these characters a lot. I have extremely complicated feelings about Knives but I adore how complex he is as a character. I don’t want to fox him I want to put him in a terrarium and study him.

The character I love that everyone else hates: maybe I’m just in the right part of the fandom, but I haven’t seen a lot of hate for anyone. Zazie, maybe, because they get overlooked but I think about the implications of them a lot.

The character I used to love but don’t any longer: still love all of these dweebuses

The character I would totally smooch: 🥰 Milly Thompson. She’s sooooo my type it’s not even funny.

The character I’d want to be like: well. I’m already embarrassingly similar to a lot of these guys (derogatory to us all), but maybe trimax Luida? She seems like she has her shit together, and who doesn’t respect an older butch? 🫡

The character I’d slap: I am actively eviscerating both Conrad and Chapel. Not in a cute teehee way but in a “do you want to know the color of your guts?” Kind of way.

A pairing that I love: Vashwood does make me feel shrimp emotions, but polyguns (vash x milly x Meryl x Wolfwood) feels so Right. They’re a team they’re friends they’re a family. It’s the vibe.

A pairing that I despise: k/v gives me the ick.

Thanks for asking! This was fun

#answered #ask game

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thebuckblogimo · 1 year

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I loved my years in advertising, but there were anxious times, to be sure.

January 31, 2023

The words from the classified ad that led to my first job remain etched in my brain: "Detroit based insurance company seeks advertising copywriter...must be able to sell the sizzle as well as the steak."

I sent my resume to a "box number." Got an interview. And recall leaping out of a West Dearborn phone booth on a gray day in 1970 when my prospective boss told me that I'd been hired at AAA.

I broke into the business writing print ads, sales literature, traffic reports and magazine stories. I still count a couple of my former co-workers among the most decent people I have ever known. Then, after almost ten years on the job, a big shot from AlI State came in to reorganize the company. He turned the place upside down, and I got into a dust-up with a new boss. Long story, but I quit my job. The experience was a downer for Debbie and me, newlyweds at the time.

A few months later I got a tip from a friend about an opportunity writing merchandising materials on the Chrysler account at Ross Roy. The automaker had one foot in the grave and Lee Iacocca, "father of the Mustang," had just come over from Ford (where he'd been fired) on a mission to save the company.

I landed the job and was again fortunate to work with great people. After about three years at "the Roy," I learned that Wunderman, Ricotta and Kline, the direct marketing arm of Young & Rubicam, was looking for a senior writer on the Ford account.

I didn't have much practical experience in direct, but I had been involved with the Direct Marketing Club of Detroit, making a few extra bucks on the side as the editor of its newsletter. Attending the club's monthly luncheon meetings to hear DM experts deliver speeches about "list, offer and creative execution" enabled me to acquire a good theoretical understanding of the discipline.

I used that knowledge to talk my way into the Wunderdman job and a nice bump in pay.

Y&R was a worldwide agency. They had just spent big bucks to transfer some of its direct marketing people from New York to help launch the Detroit Wunderman office, and they moved a few talented Detroit creatives from advertising over to direct.

I was now working in a creative group with some supremely talented art directors and a couple hotshot writers (who'd attended elite liberal arts schools and had exalted opinions of themselves). We reported to a hard-charging, fast-rising creative director, with piercing dark eyes that could cut through you with laser precision.

It was 1984. I'd been in the business for 13 years. But from jump I didn't feel as though I fit in.

My fellow creatives arrived at their desks between 9:30 and 10:00 a.m. each day, working until 7:00 at night. I was a morning person who arrived between 7:00 and 8:00, expecting to leave between 5:00 and 5:30.

One of the art directors thought it hilarious when I asked, "When do you guys cut the grass?"

These were people used to pulling all-nighters on big time, award-winning TV commercials and print campaigns. Talent wise, they were head and shoulders above most of the creative people I had worked with in the past.

As time went on I began to feel out of their league. Pangs of depression started to set in.

And yet, I was learning really valuable stuff: the importance of collaboration in writer-art director teams; the impact of the "visual-verbal hit" in print ads; the importance of the pursuit of the "big idea;" the sophistication of East Coast-style direct marketing; and the value of having good presentation skills.

On New Year's Day, after being off for almost two weeks during the holidays, I recall watching the '85 Rose Bowl game between Ohio State and Southern Cal in the TV room at my parents' house...and feeling clutched inside, sick to my stomach at the thought of having to return to work the next day.

I'd been at Y&R for about a year and was foundering.

A few weeks later, out of nowhere, I got a call one afternoon from my former boss at Ross Roy. He wanted to hire me back. At a nice raise in pay. Inside, I was jumping for joy. But I played it cool. Told him I'd think about it and get back to him. (But--hell yes--I was gonna go back.)

A couple days later I got another call from Ross Roy. This time from the company's president. He offered me even more money, a signing bonus and an opportunity to buy Ross Roy stock.

I gave my two-week notice to the people at Wunderman the next day.

When I returned to Ross Roy everybody there took me for a direct marketing expert. I let them think that. After about a year I was teamed up with one of Ross Roy's most talented art directors, a person who became my close friend and who I went on to work with for 35 years at three different shops.

We became co-creative directors of the Chrysler direct marketing creative group, and during the '90s the direct marketing team--a collective of account, creative and production people--was considered Ross Roy's best.

When I look back on it all, here are some things I conclude:

1984 was a memorable year: Our first child was born, the Tigers won the World Series, and my experience at Y&R, though painful, put me on the path to security for my family.

While most agency creatives eschewed direct marketing for the glamor of television, my long-time creative partner and I sought to become as good as we could possibly become at direct. We found our niche, won some awards and made good livings.

Yes, doing something you like brings happiness to the job, but it's just as important to work with people you actually like.

Over the years I had bosses who loved the work I produced, and a couple who didn't think I measured up. Sometimes it all depends...

No, I never considered myself a big idea person or killer headline writer, but I could always write good, enthusiastic, persuasive copy, a skill that took me about as far as I could go.

Bottom line, I loved what I did for a living. I loved getting up to go to work every day...except when I worked for dickheads.

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skeletondeerart · 2 years

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A Life Without You Isn’t a Life Worth Living.

Aloy x Fem Reader | 1263 words

The thundering of my heart was the only thing I could recognise, my mind thrown in a constant spin which felt like it was going to knock me off my feet at any moment. My brain felt so heavy in my skull, like it was full of lead and yet all I could was lay there in a state of paralysis, mud etched into my skin, rocks and shards of metal tearing my skin like paper. I was terrified of rolling over as I wasn’t sure what was broken.

The Thunderjaw was no easy opponent, with lasers that cut through the flesh of warriors like butter and a body that would grind you to a pulp with the lightest of steps. I shouldn’t have taken this mission alone. Yet I thought I could. The Thunderjaw scanned the plains for me, it was still searching. Luckily, I dove into foliage and debris of the old-world, I used it as a shield from the prying eyes of the machine as I waited for a moment of reprieve to escape with my life.

I could feel my wounds leaking a concerning amount of blood as I attempt to staunch them with the fabrics of my armour that Aloy had bought for me during her last outing.

I had to get back to her. I promised her.

I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing trying to quell my beating heart, my entire body throbbed with adrenaline as I let another breath out of my blood coated lips. My exhales clawing its way out of my chest and burning my throat. I shakily peek out the gaps of metal to gaze at the Thunderjaw traipsing around in circles trying to pinpoint me. I knew that once I started my sprint out of here I couldn’t stop, there were no other hiding places except the one where I currently resided. I took one final look at the Thunderjaw, its back was facing me.

This was my chance.

I held back my scream as I force myself to get into a crouch position and crawl my way out of the wreckage. Then I ran. I ran faster than I have ever before. Once foot in front of the other I blocked out the burning sensations stabbing at my chest and legs, I knew that if i halted I would surely die a horrible death. Screw the Thunderjaw heart, screw the shards, I just wanted to go home. To go home to my lover... to my beloved Aloy.

I didn’t know it, but I was crying, tears streaming down my torn skin, tears that burnt like machine oil. Armour staining crimson and heart drumming with desperation, aching to survive.

I didn’t want to die here. I kept on running, running all the way to salvation, to where it was truely safe. I could never forgive myself if I didn’t hold my end of the promise that I made to her when we left for the Forbidden West. I ran for what felt like an eternity until I made it to the bottom of the chilling mountain range of where the base resided, yet I knew that I couldn’t make the climb up to the door. All I could do was simply collapse in the snow, the snow a bitter reminder of my foolishness.

Darkness was all I could remember, the ever-encompassing darkness that I thought was death. So, my Father was right all these years, heaven didn’t exist after all, only the never-ending darkness...

That was until I could hear screaming... well that was quite peculiar...

The noise continued to grow in volume as a resounding crash reverberated in the walls.

Then it was silence.

“Aloy... calm down, everything is going to be fine.” I heard a male voice comfort. Muffled coughing was heard, seemingly from continuous crying.

“I should have gone with her Varl, if I did maybe she wouldn’t be sitting on the verge of death right now... am I a terrible fiancé Varl?”

“Not at all, this shouldn’t have happened in the first place, you couldn’t have stopped it. You know (Y/n), she is just as stubborn as you are sometimes and an extremely resilient fighter.” I heard a slight laugh at that.

“I suppose...” Aloy spoke, seemingly calming down.

“Alright, I’ll take my leave now and give you some time to yourself, don’t spend all your time fretting. I made sure Zo did an extremely thorough examination on her. She is going to live.” I heard the electronic door opening and closing and footsteps drifting off into the distance.

I desperately wished to open my eyes, yet I didn’t have the strength to. All I could do was to lay here and rest my exhausted bones. I hear the door open once again but this time slow steps came in my direction, foot falls light as if not to spook the most alert of machine. The steps halting at what I assumed to be my door as I heard the whirring of the door opening. I had a feeling who was approaching - Aloy - She sat down on her side of the bed as she let out a tired sigh, yet she did not speak. I felt her fingers run gently down my bandaged face and arm as if I was a fragile flower that would shatter under too much pressure.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you soon (Y/n)... I couldn’t imagine what could have happened if you bled out in the snow any longer than you did. I don’t want to lose anyone else... You know you scared me back there. Coming back from Scalding Spear to find you pretty much dead at the base’s doorstep.” A pained giggle arose from her chest.

My lungs burnt, not because of physical pain, but the pain I felt for Aloy, I imagined her finding my bloody and broken body lying helpless in the frigid snow. I wish I was faster... stronger... so she didn’t have to worry about me when she was out saving the world.

I felt tears welling in my eyes once more, yet I couldn’t open them no matter how hard I tried. The bandages covered the right side of my face completely, so the bandages grew wet as my tears slipped down the side of my face, laying there absolutely helpless. I hated feeling weak, I wanted to be able to stand by Aloy’s side without her having to worry about me every day and night. I hated feeling inferior to her. My strong and independent lover, famed for saving the world countless times over. Yet all I ever did was support her from the sidelines... I was no brilliant huntress like her, nor could I be any help in the medical field. Some nights when Aloy is sleeping I stare at her and wonder why, of everyone she has met in her adventures, why did she choose me?

“A life without you.. isn’t a life worth living...”

I had thought I passed away then and there. My lungs hitched in shock as I listened to her. Sniffling could be heard as I felt her lay down beside me pressing herself into my side gently seeking comfort herself.

“Don’t cry... please.” She whispered.

At that moment I gathered the strength and turned my head to face her, and my eyes cracked open, and all I could she was her. Teary eyed and all. She was mine. My beloved. My sweetheart.

My Aloy.

We both looked at each other and we didn’t have to speak another word, as a single glance spoke a thousand words. Aloy was right.

A life without the other... truly wasn’t a life worth living at all.

#aloy x reader #aloy x fem reader #hzd #hfw #horizon zero dawn #horizon forbidden west #aloy #x reader #comfort #angst #fluff

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peachsayshi · 3 years

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Chapter 4 - Domain

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Smut, Teasing and a little bit of Fluff.

Summary: Gojo returns from his trip, and while the two of you are hanging out you ask him to show you some of his powers. Unable to resist himself, he breaks a rule along the way.

A/N: Thank you so much for the likes and reblogs! I pretty much only have this updated on AO3 but am slowly trying to add all the chapters onto my Tumblr.

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When Gojo texted you to let you know that he was at his apartment, he did it with a devious prank in his mind. He informed you that you could let yourself in as the door was unlocked but chose to turn off all the lights and hid in one of the closets.

Then he waited.

He heard the patter of your footsteps and a soft “hello”, before creeping out from his hiding place and lightly approaching you. He was quiet enough for you not to hear him, the shadow of your frame slowing down and he could tell you were getting nervous.

She’s going to kill me, he thought to himself but refused to back out now that he had already set things in motion.

He towered behind you, noticing you freeze in place by the unknown and proceeded to wrap his long arms around your waist before pulling you into his body.

“ Boo !” he exclaimed in your ear, earning a well deserved shriek on your part.

“GOJO, YOU IDIOT!”

You elbowed him in the stomach, forcing him to let go of you as a fit of giggles escaped his lips.

You marched over to the light switches, flicking them to illuminate his large penthouse apartment and you furrowed your brows at the six-foot-three goofball who was covering his mouth to hold in his laughter.

“This is how you greet your friends after coming back from a trip?! By scaring the shit out of them?! Who the hell does that?!!”

Gojo tried to contain himself but the image of your jump scare was perfectly etched in his brain, replaying over and over again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry …” he said in between laughs, breathing in to regain control of himself. “I couldn’t help myself but you should see your face!”

“Ugh, you immature , asshole!” you grumbled, throwing the bag that you were holding in your hands in his direction.

Gojo had superior reflexes and caught it before it flew over his shoulder. He took a minute to calm himself down, extremely pleased that his plan went accordingly.

Meanwhile, you tossed your purse onto his coffee table, huffing to yourself as you plopped down on his black sofa. You folded your arms across your chest, unable to even look at him because of how irritated you were.

Gojo glanced down at the bag in his hand, the clear plastic enclosing a number of rainbow colored candies on the inside.

He bit his bottom lip out of guilt. “Okay, I’m sorry …I mean it this time…”

You scoffed, “are you? Because you still seem pretty content with what you just did.”

“I’m not going to lie, seeing you react like that was worth it…”

You scooted away from him as he took his seat next to you.

“What if you were some kind of murderer?!”

“Now why would you think a murderer would be in this apartment when I invited you over in the first place? You’re smart, use a little logic…” he teased as he tapped your temple lightly before proceeding to open the bag of sweets.

“That’s it, you don’t deserve Rina’s candies...”

Gojo clasped his chest in disbelief, “ you don’t mean that… ”

You snatched the bag away from him, a satisfied smile spreading across your lips as Gojo frowned.

Deep down inside he was really happy to see you. Playful banter and all, your presence was the recharge he needed after his trip.

The two of you met eight years ago at Rina’s candy shop. At the time, your best friend was just starting her own confectionary business which you were helping her with by working part time while you were still studying at university. Gojo couldn’t get enough of her sweets, earning himself a reputation as a repeat customer. You and Rina constantly joke that he practically kept the business afloat during the early days.What you didn’t know is that he also had his eyes on Rina’s pretty friend. Unfortunately for Gojo, you were taken and oblivious to his advances.

He didn’t care; just because you weren’t interested in him in a physical sense, didn’t mean that you both couldn’t be friends. Gojo is the type of guy who would confidently socialise with anyone around him. He knew not everybody took to his personality, especially when the words “narcissist”, “egotistical” and “arrogant” were constantly used to describe him. You knew all this about him but still chose to maintain your friendship. How you put up with his petty behavior and childish ways often had him wondering why you stuck around but he was grateful that you did.

After all, you were his closest friend - the only person he relied on after Suguru died.

Gojo pouted his lips, singing your name as he leaned forward to you and softening his tone. “If I get down on my knees and apologise will you forgive me?”

“Hmmm…” you pondered, “I think that’s a fair punishment and you’re buying dinner tonight, which I’ll be choosing so you can’t make a fuss about it.”

Gojo nodded his head and shifted his position to plant his knees onto the floor. He placed one hand on his chest, his other lifting up his blindfold so he was peeping at you with just one eye.

“I sincerely apologize for the hurt I caused you. Will you please, with a cherry on top , forgive this idiot who is on his knees?”

He noticed your lovely smile, amused that he was the reason behind this reaction.

“Okay, you're forgiven,” you replied, as you extended the bag of sweets back to him, offering him to take his pick.

Gojo returned to his sit next to you, his fingers dipping into the candy mix before pulling out a ruby colored square and popping it into his mouth.

“Mmmm…” he moaned, as the flavor burst along his tongue, “ this is good.. .”

“It’s a fresh batch. She made it this morning,” you replied, picking up a piece of candy for yourself. “Now that we can be civilized. Tell me how your trip went…”

The two of you spoke briefly about his trip but Gojo wasn’t eager to disclose the headache he is currently going through trying to uncover the fingers of a one-thousand year old curse. Instead he shifted the conversation back to you, asking how your morning with Rina went instead. He was only back for twelve hours before he had to leave again. The two of you wanted to see each other but agreed that you would hold off on “grabbing drinks” until he returned three days from now.

However, Gojo noted how good you looked seated right in front of him. Before all this started, you would usually show up at his place in casual clothes, paying no attention about how you looked but tonight he realized that you made an effort.

You made an effort to look nice for him.

He appreciated it, because the pair of denim jeans you had on fit in all the right places that he loved paying attention to. Your white t-shirt revealed a hint of the lace bralette you were wearing underneath and the man wondered if that was a deliberate fashion choice on your part just to tease him. Your lips were painted in crimson, practically forcing him to focus on your mouth. He had to remember that the rules were there for a reason. The rules ensured that the two of you maintained the boundaries of your friendship. The rules were there because you two needed to make sure that this didn’t influence your existing relationship in any way.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, but I can’t promise an answer…” Gojo cheekily replied, popping another sweet in his mouth as he grinned at you.

“Can I see your… domain ?”

“Is that supposed to be a code for my dick or something?”

You rolled your eyes at him, “you keep telling me about all these powers you have but I’ve never seen any of it.”

Gojo squinted his eyes at you, “why are you so curious about me all of a sudden?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you were asking me a lot of questions about work just now, which you usually don’t do, and now you want me to show you my skill set…”

You fidgeted in place, your fingers tapping nervously against the fabric of your jeans. “I don’t know, I think it’s weird that we have been friends for so long but I still don’t know the real you…”

Gojo paused, taken aback by your statement, “of course you know the real me.”

“Not the parts of you that you keep hiding from me.”

It’s for your own good, he thought to himself.

Gojo pressed his lips together to stop himself from saying those words.

“You already know about my Six Eyes…” he light heartedly replied.

“There’s more to you than that! I guess I’m just curious to see what else you can do. Besides, I’m starting to come up with theories about your powers. Starting with the fact that you have to wear this blindfold at all times otherwise you’re going to start shooting blue laser beams at people.”

“No laser beams, I can promise that,” Gojo replied with a nervous chuckle.

“Then show me the you that “claims” to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer…” you said, poking him gently on the shoulder. “I just…want to see something …”

Gojo pondered for a moment, sighing to himself as he was not quite sure what he could possibly do that wouldn’t risk putting you in danger. A few seconds passed before he stood up, taking the bag of sweets from your hand and placing it near your purse.

“I want you to stand in front of me,” he requested as he walked around the sofa and found a spot in the middle of the room.

You did as he asked and motioned your way to the position that he had requested. Gojo extended his arm out, ensuring that you were a good distance away.

“Alright, now give me a hug.”

You arched your brow, “seriously?”

“Just do it…” he insisted.

“If this is another stupid prank…”

“I swear it isn’t. Now give me a hug, I’m trying to make a point.”

You walked over towards him, taking your time until you were a few inches away from him. Your arms looped around his waist as you embraced him, but you stared up at him in confusion waiting to see what Gojo was planning next.

“Now what?”

“Okay…” Gojo placed both his hands on your shoulders, before motioning you back until you were an arms length away from him again. “Now I want you to try and push me,” he commanded.

“Push you?”

“Yes. Try to knock me down.”

You scoffed and he could tell that you probably thought he was messing around with you again. Just to play along you nonchalantly placed both your hands up and moved over to shove him, only this time Gojo did something that he’s never done in your presence.

Your eyes widened, your hands pressing into the air that was separating your touch from his body. The force like iron poured over concrete, incredibly powerful and completely protecting Gojo from you.

“Wait… why…” you voice shook, as your frustration got the better of you. Your hands started to tremble and Gojo noticed you increasing your force as you tried to fight the barrier of his infinity technique.

“ Why can’t I touch you?…”

You were using your legs to push now, every ounce of energy going into fighting the invisible cloak that shielded him.

Gojo smirked before dropping his infinity.

You felt the barrier lift, the pressure giving way as you hurled into him. Your body collided into his, all that pent up energy crashing into the sorcerer as you fell onto the ground. Gojo braced your fall but your face was planted into his chest and your arms lay flat on the ground besides him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

You gathered your senses, pushing yourself until you were sitting upright to face him. A puzzled look masked your face as you patted Gojo’s chest lightly before clutching shoulders and massaging your hands down his arms. “I can touch you now! How…how did you do that?…”

Your gaze lifted to meet his own both shocked and amazed by what just happened.

With his blindfold on you couldn’t tell that he was looking at you with wonderment.

Gojo straightened his back so that the two of you were facing each other. You shifted your legs, adjusting your position so you were straddling him. Your hands were still pressing his arms, gripping onto them as if you were trying to prove to yourself that you were indeed touching him.

“You asked me to show you something. So I did...” he said with a shrug.

“Was that your domain? Are…are you the domain?!”

Your innocent question made his heart swell, and a laugh escaped him.

“That’s not how it works! It's more complicated than that but this is just one of my techniques that I use to defend myself.”

“That’s… pretty cool …”

“Does it satisfy your curiosity?”

“A little.”

Gojo felt you finally let go of him. He glanced down to stare at your hands which were slightly red. He winced at the sight, bringing his fingers to wrap around your wrist as his thumb circled the center of your palm.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, this is from smacking the floor when I tripped.”

“Technically still my fault, I should have warned you that I was going to drop my infinity…”

“When I tried to push you it was the weirdest sensation. Like, I was touching something but feeling absolutely nothing at the same time. Has anyone ever broken it? Your infinity?”

“You forget I’m the strongest,” Gojo smugly replied, “nobody can touch me unless I want them to.”

You hummed to yourself but Gojo could see that you were lost in your own thoughts. You took his statement into consideration but he could tell you still had more questions you wanted to ask.

“Thank you for showing me,” you replied softly, choosing to let it go for now.

Your eyes locked onto his, your cheeks a little flushed when you realized how close your faces were to each other. Gojo could sense your pulse increasing, your chest rising and falling as seconds passed between you both.

Right now, all he could think about is kissing you.

His lips brushed yours, a breathless sigh escaping you as you broke the silence that hung in the air.

“ Maybe, we should order some dinner…” you suggested, your eyes shimmering with anticipation.

“That’s an idea,” Gojo murmured, his eyes from beneath his blindfold dropping to your lips.

“I was thinking maybe we can take away from that place-“

His lips locked onto yours, interrupting your thoughts as he gave in to his desire. His hands moved to your hips, tugging you forward against him so he was holding you closer. He bit your bottom lip, before licking it and sliding his tongue into your mouth. Completely entranced by what he was doing, he didn’t notice your hands trailing up his chest until it circled around his neck. This kiss was different, slow and passionate as Gojo took the time to explore your mouth. The taste of sugar dance across your tongues as he deepened the kiss, and he could feel himself getting hard as your chest rubbed against his. One of his hands snaked it’s way up behind your back, tangling his fingers in your hair. His other hand began lifting your tee from the front, sliding underneath it as he slowly began rubbing the flesh of your midriff. You broke away from him, taking a second to catch your breath as you pressed your forehead into his and hoping to calm things down before they escalate.

“We shouldn’t…we said we weren’t going too…”

“You’re right, we probably should stop…” Gojo agreed, but his lips spoke otherwise as he returned a kiss instead.

“ Satoru… ” you whined, but he could sense the heat between your legs as your hips naturally bucked into him. “We said we wouldn’t…not tonight..”

“Then tell me to stop.”

“What about the rules…”

“Tell me that you want me to stop, and we can go back to what we were doing.”

His lips trailed to your neck, where he nipped and sucked at your skin with every intention of leaving a mark.

You whimpered, tilting your head instead and giving Gojo better access to continue what he was doing. Your silence spoke volumes and gave him the consent he needed to continue.

“Rules were meant to be broken,” he whispered in your ear. “And tonight, sweet girl, you’re all mine …”

- CHAPTER 5: EDGE -

#Gojo Satoru #Gojo Satoru x reader #Gojo Satoru x ofc #Gojo Satoru x you #Gojo Satoru smut #Gojo Satoru fluff #Gojo Satoru angst #jjk fan fiction #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo jjk #Gojo jujutsu kaisen

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joontier · 3 years

Text

Subliminal in Scrubs | V1; report vii

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, romance

warnings: FINALLY~ we get to see a little bit of JK’s pov heh

word count: 2.4k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

[taglist] @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) | navi. | m.list

“I hope you don’t mind us picking up a friend first then a drive thru afterwards... we did promise someone a ride to the ceremony as well.” Chohee eyes Jungkook through the rear-view mirror. “Plus, we haven’t had any breakfast yet sooo…” Your new passenger uncharacteristically nods with unbridled enthusiasm. Huh.

“Totally not an issue at all. If you don’t mind, breakfast is on me,” he announces, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. You raise a freshly threaded eyebrow. There is no way this kid is actually offering to pay for your food. Jungkook clears his throat quietly, “Um...since you guys offered me a ride...you know…”

Without even having to look at each other, you just know you and Chohee have similar smiles plastered on each of your faces. “Well,” Chohee makes a quick glance at the man seated at the back, “if you insist, Jungkook-ssi. How nice of you to do so.”

You’re positive Jeon Jungkook will regret he even offered - in half an hour. Probably less.

Just recently, Chohee has decided to relive an old hobby of hers: teasing you relentlessly with men clearly way out of your league until you actually end up investing much more time than intended (just as planned by Chohee) - until you come to the realization that there wasn’t going to be even the slightest chance of them even liking you back. End point is - you end up getting heartbroken for irrational reasons.

Chohee, whose eyes sparkle with mirth with every mention of the Jimin, continues her teasing, despite your constant reminders to have her energy and time diverted to another subject, instead of poking her head through your currently non-existent love life.

It’s an undisputed fact that Jimin is a cutie and quite the charmer, especially with his heroic deed of saving your sorry ass from getting your drinked spiked at the bar. However, there is a part of you that knows the slightest bit of infatuation you might feel or might have felt for Jimin was probably caused by the lack of interaction with men for the majority of your collegiate life. Of course, you always came back to your principles, that of which is prioritizing your career to shun love interests.

Admittedly, you might have gotten distracted once, but you won’t ever let that happen again.

In line with your best friend’s attempt to have you score a date and a boyfriend eventually, (her timeline, not yours!)Chohee had even gone so far as offering Jimin a ride to the oath taking ceremony that’s going to be held today at the Coex convention center at Gangnam.

With Jimin’s apartment just a couple of blocks away from the gasoline station, you spot him right away when Chohee turns right into the corner. He’s stood by the entrance of his apartment building, looking effortlessly attractive as he scrolls through his phone while waiting.

Chohee presses her fist lightly against the center of the wheel, the car emitting a soft honk to get Jimin’s attention. Jimin gives a curt wave in acknowledgment and reaches between his legs to grab his satchel. As soon as Jimin opens the car door, his head jolts slightly backward in surprise when he sees another passenger already inside.

Chohee does the ice-breaker, introducing Jungkook to Jimin while she drives off. “Just before we got to your place, we had to fill the tank first and whaddya know? Met Jungkook at the gas station too! His bike broke down and I’ve offered him a ride - ergo, your new seatmate.” She adds a thumbs up. “Park Jimin, Jeon Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin.”

Contrary to Chohee’s cheerful voice mere seconds ago, awkward silence ensues after the two men bow to each other in greeting. The only subject of sanity the car was holding onto was the soft voice of Chohee’s navigation app coming from her phone on the dashboard.

Why was it so hard to talk when you’ve all got at least a few things in common?

Right, maybe it’s the fact that Jimin may or may not have known about your beef with Jeon Jungkook. Chohee’s doing, obviously.

Thankfully, you spot a Burger King joint along the way and propose getting a greasy breakfast instead of looking for other options. There are murmurs of agreement heard in the suddenly cramped space of your best friend’s car. “Jungkook-ssi, breakfast still on you, yeah?” Chohee asks, joining the queue.

“Uh…yeah-”

“Perfect! Just making sure because _________ and I are famished!” Okay - that wasn’t exactly the word you were looking for, but if it gets you the free meal, then you’re absolutely ravenous. Chohee’s eyes briefly pass yours before sending a wink in Jungkook’s direction. “How ‘bout you Jimin-ssi? You hungry?”

He looks at you, then Chohee, then at Jungkook. “I’m fine, I’m not hungry.” You see Jungkook trying painfully hard to not let his eyes dart around too much. Just then, a low rumble erupts from Jimin’s stomach. Woops. Your brain can dictate your emotions but tummy would never lie outright.

“Jimin-ssi!” Jungkook clasps a hand on the blond’s shoulder. “It’s fine! Breakfast is on me. Order up, bro!”

With Jimin still looking hesitant, Jungkook decides to add a little fairy dust to his encouragement, “think of it as a mini celebration of us finally getting to be licensed doctors in a few hours!” Jimin gives in with very evident reluctance, even offering to pay for the whole group instead at one point.

Your swear you see hesitation cross Jungkook’s eyes briefly, but you’re glad he’s a man of honor, even if it be for this particular instance only, firmly dismissing Jimin’s proposal. Which is perfect, honestly, because this time you get a chance at revenge and a very hearty breakfast.

“No crumbs on the floor, please!”

From the backseat, you see Jungkook eyeing your paper bags on yours and Chohee’s laps, face stoic as ever. Emphasis on bags. A little more concentration and Jungkook can pretty much send lasers blasting through his eyes with the way he’s scrutinizing your orders.

As shameless as it sounds, you and Chohee were never ones to back out of a free meal - and make the most out of it, especially when one had offered so nicely. So imagine Jungkook’s reaction when he and Jimin only got a Whopper meal and you and Chohee get upgraded full meals.

“Doesn’t seem like we’re the ones who should be worrying about crumbs…” Jungkook mutters, taking a bite of his fry that’s a little too harsh for a slice of a poor fried potato.

“You say something Jungkook?” Chohee queries, unabashedly letting out a small burp after taking a sip of her chocolate flavored milkshake. Bowing his head, Jimin tries to hide his smile as he takes a bite of his burger. You decide to step in, wanting to add a little more MSG to your breakfast menu this fine morning.

“Hey Chee, heard of the news last Monday? There had been recent occurrences of drivers kicking out their passengers in the middle of the expressway, especially this road in particular… talk about some zombie apocalypse shenanigans...I wonder why though…”

Jungkook clears his throat, addressing you this time. “Your strawberry milkshake...good, yeah?” With cheeks flushed, Jungkook dares not to look forward, murmuring his regrets over ordering more food next time.

You nod with genuine gusto, throwing him an additional thumbs-up, which only causes Jungkook to sulk slightly in his seat. You eat the rest of your food with a bright smile. Ah, free food - what else is there to say?

“If I do not violate this oath, may I enjoy life and art, respected while I live and remembered with affection thereafter. May I always act so as to preserve the finest traditions of my calling and may I long experience the joy of healing those who seek my help.”

After reading the Hippocratic oath, the newly declared licensed medical doctors collectively put their hands down and take their seats. There is an immediate sense of fulfillment heavy in the air. Nobody can blame them - not when one has gruelled through six years of medical school.

Jungkook inhales deeply, yet he still feels like he’s out of breath.

He draws in another long one, savoring each second of exhale afterwards. From his peripheral vision, Jungkook watches you as you wave endlessly to the someone on the far right where the family and relatives are seated. Though he can’t see much from afar, with the way your hands are moving slower by the second, he figures you’ve already managed to catch the attention of whoever it is you were waving at.

Jungkook diverts his eyes somewhere else, eventually landing on the stage where he sees his own father, standing behind the podium as he gives - what people beside him would consider - a ‘motivational’ speech in front of all the new doctors of Korea.

He wonders if he could even see him, if he knew that his own son actually made it through college, if he realized that they were under the same roof at this very moment - an occurrence he never thought would happen again.

Jungkook reverts his eyes back to you, watching you in secret as you talk to yourself while trying to address someone else. So you were waving to your parents after all. Cute. The man couldn’t fight back the small smile etching onto his face.

He was happy for you - a genuine statement, even though majority, if not all, your encounters consist of you both bickering like small kids… And yet, he can’t deny the strong feeling of envy brewing at his heart, knowing that he could never have the same type of interaction you had with your parents, with how tight you all seem.

Jungkook felt sick. Even though you ordered twice as much as he did, he felt like throwing up. He wanted this ceremony to be over with already.

Much to Jungkook’s relief, the program ends shortly after that. Excited to greet and congratulate the new batch of doctors, people from all sides of the venue rush to the entrance. With literally nowhere else to go, Jungkook decides to follow you through the crowd, in the hopes that you’ll lead him to Chohee and Jimin so he could properly thank them for the ride and he could be on his way.

He’s surprised to not see you the least bothered by it, but then again, the convention center is packed with both the oath-takers and their relatives, so you might have really not known that he’s been following you all along.

Like usual, it’s Chohee who notices him first. This girl is everywhere, all the time.

“Jungkook, you’re here!”

Chohee's acknowledgement of his presence causes you to turn in your heel quickly to verify it. You stare at him briefly, opening your mouth as if to say something when someone calls out your name. “Mom!! Dad!!”

Your English call causes a few onlookers and Jungkook recalls somebody once pointing out that you were a foreigner - and that you were also the first one to finish at the top of the class at SNU.

With Chohee’s parents tailing yours, they rush to their own daughter, congratulating her with a hug and a cute bouquet of tulips. As Jimin appears with his own party not too long afterwards, Jungkook figures it’s his cue to leave. At this rate, none of you would have noticed if he actually left.

Just as Jungkook was about to take off, a small hand grabs his wrist. You’re looking up at him and he swears he sees your lips curve upward a little before dragging him back to your little group. Stunned as ever, Jungkook wonders if he hinted on a little bit of concern in your features… and you smiled at him! For the first time! At least that’s what he thought he saw.

Admittedly, all interactions between you and him were not the most friendly. Jungkook knew he acted like a dick a couple of times, but it’s the only way he knows that might allow you to lower your guard because the only thing he was certain of was that you get worked up every time you see him.

Regardless of whether or not it really was a smile, Jungkook finds himself standing in the midst of this gathering of some sort. “Moms, Dads, this is Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin.”

The moms suddenly gush over them, while their fathers eye the two younger men warily. “Are you?… you’re not…” Chohee’s mother nudges her husband a little too obviously. “If they are, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?” she grits, a bright smile plastered on her face. Jungkook wanted to laugh at the uncanny resemblance with her daughter.

“Oh what young fine men you are! Mrs. Park, you must be very proud of your son!” Your mother exclaims, resting her cheek on her palm. “But Jungkook-ssi, your parents must be lost then… my husband and I couldn’t figure out how this whole convention center works either…”

Jungkook shakes his head slowly, lips pursed. “Oh. Um, my parents won’t make it today. They’re very busy people…” Jungkook drags his words, hoping they’ll drop the subject.

Well, they did, but there was an inevitable pregnant pause after that - one which Jungkook was avoiding in the first place. Chohee’s mother clasps her hands together, breaking the awkward tension. “Uh - would you like to join us then? A little celebration for a memorable day?”

Jungkook bows his head curtly and declines the offer. He wanted to, but he knows it’ll only do more damage to the wound. “It’s okay, Ma’am. I still have quite a lot of things to do today, like getting my motorcycle fixed.” Jungkook nods to Chohee and the girl briefly recalls how they got to the venue together.

Jungkook doesn’t take long after that, bidding his goodbye to everyone and thanking Chohee for the ride that morning. “Well, I’ll be going now. __________-ssi, Chohee-ssi, Jimin-ssi, guess I’ll….see you when I see you.”

“See you when we see you then,” you reply and Jungkook swears it’s an actual smile on your face this time. He returns the action and gets on his way, hoping that he really does get to see you all another time.

#jungkook x reader #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #jeon jungkook #bts aus #bts fic #jungkook au #jungkook imagine #bts series #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff

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hopelessly-me · 3 years

Note

Spooky prompt: avengers pumpkin carving contest

LISA HI! Omg- this one turned into feelings. I was originally going to write it to be a silly, crack type fic but then... my brain decided feelings had to be had. So here is some Bucky and Clint (with the team) goodness, and I hope you enjoy. (1689 word count)

If y'all want to send me spooky season themed prompts, I'm still open to doing them. =)

“Going to join in?” Clint asked Bucky, tilting his head over to the layers of plastic wrap on the floor constructed in a large circle, pumpkins all around.

“I… don’t know,” Bucky answered honestly.

“I’ll save you a spot, just in case,” Clint said with a wink before he walked over to the group that was assembling. Clint placed his forearm and elbow on Bruce’s shoulder, looking at the scientist and smiling.

“You know… it might not be a bad thing if you tried,” Steve pointed out. Bucky nearly jumped, not expecting Steve so close. “If you want, you can help me with my pumpkin.”

“I think I should sit this one out,” Bucky said.

He knew Steve wouldn’t push. None of them would. It was only a few months since Bucky had started his stay at the Tower and there were just some things he wasn’t ready to do just yet. Going out on Avenger mission, training with them- even holding knives could make him start to panic a little, worry that something, somewhere, deep within him would come back out. He couldn’t shake the idea that the Soldier sometimes had more control than Bucky did, and it was terrifying.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Steve said, patting his shoulder before he walked by. “Alright guys- ready?” he asked. “FRIDAY, are you taping this?” Steve asked.

“Of course, Captain,” the AI system said.

“Alright guys, Rules for the annual Avengers pumpkin carving contest. You may only use the tools in front of you. No additional knives, no lasers- nothing.” Bucky was pretty sure Tony pouted. “We have one hour to recreate the pumpkin that auto generates on the screen. Whoever wins gets the entire month of November off from training. All agreed?”

“Agreed,” was the common response.

“Alright then. FRIDAY, the count down please,” Steve said.

A handful of months and slowly Bucky was learning about the people who stayed in the Tower nearly full time. He knew who he could go to when he needed to get his mind off of things, and who he could sit with when he just needed some quiet time. He knew who was up for the most fun, and who would really rather be alone themselves without someone nearby. But it seemed like no matter how they liked to live their lives, everyone came together for these monthly “family night” events and would just… breathe. They would all find enjoyment out of each other’s quirks and sometimes those moments transcended into their daily lives.

Still- Bucky wasn’t ready to be fully involved yet. He was still working out if he felt like he deserved it, which was harder when Tony became visibly worried of Bucky’s presence in the room, especially if he was around knives. And while Bucky knew he couldn’t take the blame for things he didn’t have control over, that didn’t mean he couldn’t take the emotions from it and hold them close.

He walked around the room and watched as everyone worked on their pumpkins. He was beginning to see who were the artistic types and who wasn’t solely based on how well their Haunted Houses turned out. Natasha might not be the best artistically but she was by the far the best with wielding a knife, although Clint was a close second. Steve was arguably the best artistically, Sam fairly good himself, but neither of them could wield the tools in front of them quite like Clint and Natasha.

“Hey,” Clint said, looking up from his pumpkin with a smile.

“Hey. Having fun?” Bucky asked.

“Eh. It’s pumpkin carving,” Clint answered honestly. “Wanna sit?” he asked. Bucky couldn’t see the harm of sitting there, so he did. “Spooky season. How do you feel about it?”

“Well.. at one time in my life I would say that there wasn’t a point to it because monsters weren’t really,” Bucky answered. “Now… that’s a hard argument to make.”

“No joke,” Clint muttered.

“What about you?” Bucky asked.

“I love everything Halloween,” Clint answered. “Magic might not be my favorite thing, but I like everything else. Corn mazes, hayrides, pumpkin spiced everything.” He was leaning over, the back of his shirt riding up as he did so. “But growing up in the circus- you get to see Halloween every day. I used to hate it for the longest time because the season reminded me of my life before SHIELD and the Avengers. Now I can kind of separate the two and go back to loving the season again. Haunted houses and all.”

Bucky knew there was a point to this conversation. Clint didn’t open up about his life before SHIELD to anyone without there being a reason. So when Bucky didn’t answer, Clint looked over at him and held the smallest of the knives out to him. Bucky looked down at his hand, covered in chipped away pumpkin and tiny little scars before he looked back up.

“You can still hate what they put you through. But you get to decide how to move forward and what you get to love again. And maybe carving pumpkins can be one of those things,” Clint said. “Your choice though.”

Bucky nodded and took the tool out of Clint’s hand and pulled the pumpkin over between them. “Never carved one before,” he admitted. “At least not that I can remember.”

“That’s okay, my pumpkin looks like shit anyway,” Clint replied.

Bucky turned it around and snorted. “Did you even try to make this a haunted house?” Bucky asked, looking at the stars and the arrows Clint had etched into the pumpkin.

“Nah. Not with the shit food I eat all the time. I need that training in my life,” Clint answered with a grin. He scooted closer to Bucky and set the rest of the tools between them. “Your move, Barnes.”

The hour passed much too quickly before the fake air horn sounded. Bucky startled and looked at the others before he looked down at the pumpkin in front of him. Arrows and stars, a moon, planets, swirls- the pumpkin he shared with Clint looked like a mess of anything and everything they could think of. Bucky glanced up at Clint, who was all smiles, leaning over and talking to Sam, checking out his pumpkin and laughing. Bucky looked back at the pumpkin and the tools that were set between them.

“You alright?” Natasha asked.

Bucky looked over, Natasha leaned over his way in one of those rare moments she was willing to extend the olive branch, just a little. “Yeah- I’m alright,” Bucky admitted, finally setting that small tool Clint had handed over down. “I… think we might have lost the contest,” he admitted.

“If it makes you feel better… Steve always wins,” Natasha said before she leaned back and away.

Each pumpkin was turned around when Steve called out to them. Thor looked mighty proud of his attempt, which wasn’t half bad if it wasn’t for the fact that half of the house looked like it had toppled over due to a misplaced cut. Tony’s and Bruce’s looked almost exactly alike- both simple in form, but to the point- Bucky wondered if it was because they could look at blueprints and space things out easily. Natasha and Sam’s looked like completely failed attempts, just like Wanda and Vision’s attempt, but none of them seemed to care.

“Alright you two- how did it go?” Steve asked, looking at Clint and Bucky.

“Ta-da!” Clint said loudly, proud of their work as he turned the pumpkin around. “I am calling this one- friendship!”

“Wow. Masterful art piece. We should encase it,” Tony taunted with a smile. “It’s very early childhood-esque. It make you feel-”

“Ew, don’t museum me. That’s what Steve is for in real museums,” Clint scolded playfully.

“Did you even attempt a haunted house anywhere in that?” Sam asked with a grin.

“Who would do haunted houses when you can do arrows?” Clint asked. He sighed dreamily and let himself fall back, Bucky’s arm reaching out quickly to prevent him from hitting the ground. “I love arrows.”

“You’re a dork,” Natasha said through a laugh.

“Honestly- is anyone surprised by bird brain and Terminator’s pumpkin?” Tony asked. There was a small chorus of no. “Alright Steve-”

Bucky watched as the team argued and bickered about who’s pumpkin was best. Clint had leaned forward again, throwing himself into the conversation, grinning and laughing with the others. Bucky looked back down at the pumpkin that Clint and him made, still trying to figure out how he felt about it until he realized that this was the closest he had been to the team since coming along. That warm feeling started to push its way in as he realized for almost an hour he was lost in something other than his thoughts, and that he was part of this small community.

Looking up, Bucky caught Steve’s eyes on him before Steve smiled and looked down at the pumpkin. Bucky nodded and smiled himself before he glanced over at the person who helped make it happen. Clint stated how he needed the training because his diet was shit. Maybe Bucky should start going to the training sessions now- needing them to help him settle into this community. Maybe he was finally ready for it.

“Rigged! This contest is rigged! Clearly my pumpkin is the best!” Steve shouted.

“Sorry Stevie- the voting has concluded,” Clint said in a very serious tone. “Brucie has the best pumpkin.” Bruce’s face was starting to turn red and Natasha had leaned over, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“It's okay to lose sometimes, Stevie,” Tony taunted, reaching out to pick at Steve, who pushed his hands away.

“Collusion,” Steve muttered.

“Collusion,” Sam repeated in a high pitched tone, straightening up as he laughed, his hands over his stomach. The whole team was laughing now. Clint knocked over, pressing against Bucky’s side to keep himself upright. Bucky looked at him and smiled before he looked at Steve.

“Sorry Punk,” Bucky offered.

“Yeah yeah- it’s alright,” Steve said. “Happy Halloween, team.”

#spooky season prompts #a wild prompt appeared

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madamewriterofwrongs · 4 years

Text

Missed High Five

911/Buddie

For @buckleysjareau who asked for Buck giving Eddie flirting lessons <3

If he was going to blame anyone, he would blame Chimney. No, he would blame himself for listening to Chimney. What did he know about dating anyways? Sure, he and Maddie had been through hell and were still going on dates and discovering things they loved about each other and seemed to be genuinely happy together. But that was a fluke, obviously.

Just ask them out. The worst they can do is say ‘no’ and then you can move on.

Horrible advice. In point of fact, the worst thing they could do was not ‘say no’. They could laugh in their face; they could say yes to avoid conflict; they could ask for a transfer and they’d never see each other again.

Maybe Chimney’s advice would be different if he knew that he was telling him to ask out a coworker.

Either way, it was definitely Chimney’s fault, and not the extra shot he’d done at the bar while they were all out celebrating Albert’s birthday.

“It’s weird, right?” Hen tucked into his side as he lounged at the edge of the party. “Not knowing any of Albert’s friends?”

Eddie shrugged to avoid admitting that he was incredibly uncomfortable. “That seems to be the way with us, though. Any excuse to get together.” He took another swig of beer, eye catching sight of the object of his interest dancing with a few of Albert’s coworkers. “Or maybe it’s just weird because we’re making it weird.”

Hen followed his line of sight, chuckling when she found Buck twirling a young woman who was clearly starstruck by the older man.

“More like we have the common sense to know when the age gap is too wide.”

Just ask them out.

Chugging the last of his bottle with an audible gulp, Eddie kept his eyes squarely on his target as he slammed the glass on the bar behind him. “Then I guess I’d better go save him.”

Eddie hated the dance floor; there was a reason he’d been avoiding it all night. It was overwhelmingly hot and crowded and too loud to hear anything beyond the pounding of the bass under their feet. He’d never held much love for clubbing in his twenties and he certainly held no affection for it now. He was here to celebrate the birth of a mutual acquaintance and save his best friend from embarrassing himself from being too nice to realize when he was being hit on.

How the mighty have fallen, Chimney had teased him the first time the waitress at their usual place pouted over not getting his number. Buck hadn’t even noticed that she was dropping obvious hints about what time she got off work and whether his apartment was close by. He’d just answered her questions respectfully, turning back to his conversation with the table until Chimney had finally slapped him upside the head for being so oblivious.

None of us what Playgirl Buck to make a reappearance but that was just pathetic.

Eddie had never seen the so-called ‘Buck 1.0’, only the lovelorn 2.0 who’d lost his girlfriend long before he realized, and struggled to find solid ground in the midst of rediscovering his priorities. He liked that Buck – there was a reason they’d become such fast friends – but even he had to admit that the man had lost his game.

“Eddie!” He couldn’t help the fond smile that crossed his face when his friend shouted his name over the thrumming music. “Come join the land of the living.”

“Actually, I came to drag you back to the land of the dead. We’re taking Christopher to the zoo in the morning, remember?” Buck seemed to miss the way the woman he was dancing with instinctually stepped away at the mention of the little boy. Eddie did not.

“Fine,” the blond sighed, though his face showed no signs of being put out. That was something that Eddie had admired in his friend from the very beginning: his unabashed love for Christopher. That kid was possibly the most loveable creature on the planet but the way Buck cared for him was a beacon in the darkness of space. “I’ll just say ‘bye’ to Albert.” With that, he’d disappeared into the crowd, leaving Eddie surrounding by sweaty, noisy, thrumming twenty-somethings, without anyone to save him.

Okay, so the music wasn’t that bad. And the crowds – while plentiful – were keeping a respectful distance (he wasn’t getting jostled about, nor was he being judged for using the word ‘jostled’). In fact, it had a pretty good beat to it. He could probably find the rhythm and dance to it, if he wanted to. It wasn’t awful in here after all.

The hand between his shoulder blades made him jump. “Ready to go?” Oh, thank goodness.

With one last wave to his fellow old fogeys at the bar, he followed Buck out of the crowd and into the cool night air.

It was always cooler outside than in some noisy club but in point of fact, it was a warm California summer, dulled by the lights of the city which overtook the starless black sky. Nevertheless, Eddie found himself drawn to Buck for warmth (or so he convinced himself). It had nothing to do with the comfort and ease he felt with the other man, content at his side in a way he never realized he could feel with another person.

He’d accepted some time ago, that he was ready to begin dating again. Life after Shannon was still boiling over with guilt and loss, but he had started to wonder – thanks to some helpful sessions with his work-mandated therapist – that sharing that grief with another person would help the healing process. So, he’d begun to look at the world with fresh eyes; almost immediately, those eyes had fallen on his best friend. The man who’d been by his side since their first meeting, protecting his son, comforting him through unspeakable loss, leaving (as they always did) but coming back.

He couldn’t quite put a word to how he felt for Buck, but if there was going to be a reason to reenter the dating pool, it would be to figure out what that word was.

So, yes, he may have found comfort in leaning against Buck’s side long ago, but he was now acutely aware of how often he did it, and how much he enjoyed it. It wouldn’t be a grand feat to place his arm around the other man’s waist, or let Buck put his hand on his shoulder. In fact, he found the urge to pull himself closer grew stronger the more he let his mind wander.

There were just one or two things he had to get out in the open, first.

“Hey, Buck” he spoke as casually as a man with a singular focus could speak. “If I wanted to ask someone out, what do you think is the best way to do it?”

Eddie tripped over his feet when Buck stopped dead in his tracks, turning to face his friend with laser-focused intensity. There was something etched there – concern? Jealousy (he wouldn’t dare to think)? Excitement?

“You got someone in mind?”

He couldn’t know, could he? Was he so obvious that one question revealed his secret? It was better to test the waters first.

“I do, actually. It’s a coworker; a friend.”

Buck hissed in discomfort, shoving his hands into his pockets with enthusiasm. “That’s tricky. Trust me when I say that sleeping with your coworkers is dangerous.” His shocked expression must have been as evident as his longing, because Buck chuckled a moment later. “Not at the 118. It was before I moved to LA and definitely a mistake.”

It was not as reassuring as Buck seemed to think it would be.

“So you don’t think I should go for it?”

“I didn’t say that, just” Even his non-committal shrug was cute. Eddie was doomed. “Be careful, I guess.”

What was he supposed to do, now? How could he test the waters knowing Buck was hesitant to dip his toe in? Perhaps he should just abort the whole mission and go back to caring too deeply for a man who’d come to mean the world to him.

He couldn’t blame Evan Buckley for turning him into a sap, but his presence in his life certainly hadn’t helped his natural inclinations.

“So…” Eddie startled when Buck bumped his shoulder. They’d been walking towards his truck – parked far enough away from the bar that he’d briefly contemplated just walking from home – for a few minutes while he lost himself contemplating whether or not to follow Chimney’s advice and just ask him out, already.

“So what?”

“Do I know this person you want to ask out?”

He suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to find out if the rumors of an entrance to Hell in Pasadena were true.

“Yeah, actually, pretty well.”

“So it’s someone we work with.” Buck bounced along the sidewalk, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Interesting. What’s your game plan?”

He was wrong; this was hell. This moment, walking beside his best friend on a random Saturday evening, was the definition of hell.

“I don’t really have a plan” he admitted, realizing in that moment, how close it was to the truth. Alarm bells began to chime with a reminder that this was a bad idea. Yet, still, he persisted.

“Then you’re in luck because I am here to help.”

“I’m sorry, when was the last time you went on a date?”

Buck made a disgruntled face, hidden by his smile, the way he did whenever Eddie teased him. He’d long ago catalogued the way his facial expressions changed depending on which of their friends was doing the teasing. This look was his one of his favourites.

“It’s been a while” thirteen months and nineteen days (not that Eddie was counting) “but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I think that’s exactly what it means.”

“Look, do you want my help or not?”

More warning bells clattered through his, admittedly, less fuzzy brain, but for some reason – which, to this day, he still isn’t sure of the reason – Eddie ignored them.

“Fine. What’d you got?”

The man punched his hand in excitement, fairly skipping down the street now; eyes aglow with enthusiasm (or perhaps it was just the smog).

“Okay, so, first of all: do you know if they’re interested?”

If that wasn’t that the million-dollar question on Eddie’s mind. “I’m not sure. I know they’re open to the possibility of dating, but they haven’t made any signal that they’re interested in me specifically.”

“That’s okay. Now you just have to woo them.”

He hadn’t meant to laugh so loudly, but it was impossible to know what Buck would say next on any given day; and tonight was no exception.

“Woo?”

“Yeah,” The firefighter plowed on with his usual fervor. “you know: you spend time with them, give them gifts, take any opportunity you can to touch them.”

“Touch them, how?”

They hadn’t stopped walking, but Eddie found himself dizzy from the realization of how slowly they were moving – how close they were. They were always comfortable standing shoulder to shoulder but suddenly, it was too much and not enough. The space under his collarbones grew incredibly hot.

“Just little things.” Buck bumped his friend’s shoulder with more purpose, rubbing the fabric of their shirts together. “A shoulder touch, a hand on the small of the back,” he demonstrated with a move that startled Eddie with its certainty. “Any chance you get, create a physical connection.”

They’d all but stopped walking now, Buck’s hand cupping his back, his own traitorous limbs reaching out to hook into his friend’s jeans. If he pulled hard enough, maybe he could make Buck gasp the way he did in his head when they-

Buck seemed completely oblivious to the stretch of rope between them; anticipation pulled taut. His smile was as calm and eager as ever, so proud that Eddie was a hands-on learner.

If only he knew how hands-on.

“Does it work?” Eddie found himself hoping for a very specific answer that he wouldn’t dare spell out, even in his mind.

“It always works for me.”

The pair hadn’t separated, though the moment was long past over. Yet, Buck still smiled, unaware of how close he was to everything changing.

That was the chink in his normally confident armor. He wasn’t worried that Buck would hurt him, or that they would lose their friendship if things went south – he wasn’t even concerned with how their work dynamic might be altered by the addition of a more personal relationship in a high stress job. It was that things would change; things, which he’d only barely gotten a handle on. Sharing a bed, sharing aspects of his private life, trusting and opening up more than he already had with Buck. And it would all happen at once. He hadn’t been a wonderful partner the first time around; there was no guarantee he’d get it right now.

When did Eddie start thinking of Buck on par with Shannon?

“So” he cleared his throat but hadn’t found the courage to let go of Buck’s belt loop (nor had Buck removed his hand from the small of his back). “spend time, give gifts, and touch them. Then what?”

“If they’re receptive to all your advances, then you just have to go for it.” Buck nodded unhelpfully. “Ask them out.”

“Why is that everyone’s advice?” Eddie grumbled to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He was doomed. “So when you say ‘spend time together’, do you mean like how we’re taking Christopher to the zoo tomorrow?”

The way Buck tilted his head in contemplation shouldn’t have been as endearing as he found it, but at that point, there was nothing to do but admit that he was a goner for everything that man did.

“Yeah; or how I let you drag me to baseball games.”

“I don’t drag you” Eddie lied.

“I’m not going for the overpriced beer and popcorn.” It was an admission that gripped his heart with something akin to hope.

“And giving gifts. Like that skateboard you found for Christopher?”

“That was mostly for Christopher” Buck conceded, still only a tantalizing breath away and none the wiser. “But yeah. Or when you fixed my bike on your day off. It’s the little things that mean the most, right?”

He hadn’t spent two hours learning how to repair Buck’s broken line in order to see the smile on his face, but the hug he received was well worth the blood, sweat, and swearing.

“And touching?”

He was a fool for asking but he was worse for wishing he didn’t have to. For wanting to have the power to kiss and press and hold whenever he wanted without having to go through the stress of risking his heart.

The worst was wondering if Buck looked down at his lips intentionally or if it was a simple reflex.

“Touch can be as simple as brushing shoulders.” He half-expected the man to demonstrate the way they had been for so many months, but his fingers curled against the fabric of Eddie’s sweater as if willing himself not to. “Or it can be a welcome hug, sitting next to them when there’s space to be apart.” He didn’t need to catalogue the library of examples he had because each touch had been seared into his skin since he realized it was an option. Standing this close, Eddie was certain he could see the same memories flashing through Buck’s eyes, the warmth of their breaths mingling together like smoke in the breeze.

It would be so simple now: reach out and steal that first kiss he’d been craving all night. And it would taste sweet. Buck was always going to taste sweet but he’d also tried some artsy blueberry ale and the scent of it still lingered. He could close his eyes and pretend they’d always been kissing; pull him close and never let go.

But he’d never steal their first moment together. It was meant to be shared, to enjoyed equally and with the same longing enthusiasm; he needed to take the plunge first.

“And then you ask them out?”

“Exactly.” Buck, endearingly oblivious Buck, smiled proudly at his protegee and tilted his head away, still not leaving the safety of their bubbly but no longer engaged in their battle of wills that he didn’t realize he’d won.

How was Eddie meant to resist?

“Go out with me?”

“Just like that. I doubt they’ll say no.”

Eddie’s stomach dropped to the ground and rolled into on-coming traffic. “Is that a ‘yes’?”

Buck furrowed his brow in confusion. “Yes, that was a straightforward way of asking someone out.”

There were many times in his career as a firefighter that Eddie had to control his expression for the unbelievable things people said to him on a call – some were awful, some where hilarious, others were just ridiculous – and he was quite proud of his ability to school his features in the face of adversity. He was never prepared to use that super power while off the clock.

“Are you serious?” He gaped at Buck with pure confusion and disbelief – and no short measure of disappointment. “Is this your way of turning me down or did you really not know?” He couldn’t decide which was worse – yes, he could, but he was still fighting his traitorous heart beating out of his chest at the realization of what he was about to reveal.

“Not know what?” It genuinely was so innocent.

With his last ounce of will power, Eddie released his friend’s belt loops and guided him backwards. Cold air hit his chest and he was reminded of how exposed they were in this moment – not only from the elements but from his heart, as cliché as it was. Buck seemed reluctant to release the grip on Eddie’s now-rumpled shirt but he did it, and the space became even greater as he mourned the loss of being completely surrounded.

He needed the room to offer his heart.

“Buck, I was trying to ask you out.”

Silence; the passage of time marked only by the widening of his friend’s eyes.

“Oh.” Realization. “Oh.” Comprehension.”

His heart crumbled. “Yeah. But, I understand that you’re not inter”

“I am.” The panic was surprising but the sincerity knocked him off-center. “I definitely am.” With every rambled word, Eddie was forced to lean back from the sheer gravity of Buck’s energy. “I had hoped and then I had stopped hoping and then you wanted advice and I thought I’d missed my chance and then I got so caught up I thought I was misinterpreting everything and I didn’t want to assume but I also really, like, being close to you, Eddie and if this was my only chance then I was going to take it but it seems like it might not be my only chance unless I’ve completely blown my shot which I might have because I don’t think I’ve ever rambled this much – why can’t I stop talking, Eddie, I’m never like this, I promise – I think I’m realizing in real-time just how much I screwed up what is probably the best thing in my life”

“You didn’t screw up anything.” The urge to laugh at the breathless man before him was smothered by throwing both hands over Buck’s mouth. “You didn’t screw up a damn thing. Though the rambling is new.” He allowed a chuckle to escape and it seemed to ease the tension in his friend’s shoulders. Everything fell silent again as Eddie stared into those bright blue eyes filled with what he finally recognized as the same hope he’d been carrying around.

“Go out with me, Buck?”

Without missing a beat, the other man nodded vigorously beneath Eddie’s hands, feeling the smile stretch wide.

“Good. I’m glad.”

A warm hand circled his, gently pulling his hand away from Buck’s mouth but never straying far from his face; the smile had turned a familiar shade of cocky and cute – though the latter was a newer realization.

“So I guess my technique worked, huh?”

Eddie gaped in some horrible mix between genuine offence and pure joy. The little-how could he-did he think-why would he-he’s trying to-

“Shut up” he floundered, using their joined hands to push Buck’s chest away, though the other man never released his grip and with a simple tug, he found himself back in their familiar bubble. Not safe from the cruel reality, but secure in their new truth and warmed by hope.

“Make me.”

He had every intention of doing just that.

#cj writes things #buckleysjareau #love mack #911 fox #911fox #911fic #911 fic #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz

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hellenhighwater · 4 years

Text

You know how you get excited about something that you can’t actually DO anything about and your adhd squirrel brain starts spinning in circles trying to Get It Done Right Now and hyperfocus is engaged without an actual task?

I’m really excited about these kittens.

The grey one is shy and will want hiding places--none of our previous cats would actually make use of the enclosed cat beds we tried (lets face it, Yama just won’t fit) and so we don’t have any.

SO I bought a Sulk Gourd, a la @copperbadge but in my own preferred monochrome color palette. And now I’m Thinking Thoughts about designing an enclosed cat bed/playhouse but in maximum gothic flavor. I think I could get some laser-cut pieces made at a reasonable cost and then make a little castle? With gothic windows and some decorative etching. And probably it wouldn’t be hard to sell copies if someone wanted one and recoup the cost that way.

I need some graph paper to think these thoughts out.

And some kittens.

#Birdtopia was originally Extremely Gothic but then I found those windows and had to change plans

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azwriting · 4 years

Text

Secrets (Forget Me Not, Kylo Ren x Reader) - Chapter Thirteen

AHH! Only two more chapters left! Me finishing a project? A miracle. Anyways! As usual I hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Summary: To hide from the First Order and Kylo Ren, (Y/N) must resort to desperate measures.

Warning(s): None really(?)

Word Count: 5903

The hallway was silent, no signs of life, as (Y/N) poked her head out of her quarters. It was the middle of the night, everyone was asleep on the Resistance base, except for the occasional patrolling guard. Exiting her room, she tightened her grip on the brown duffel bag that she carried by her side. She was not defecting or deserting, in truth she wanted to stay, but it was no longer an option. She needed to put as much distance as she could between the First Order and her, and being a member of the Resistance she was bound to run into them at some point. It was no longer safe to stay, it was time to go.

The ramp on the Falcon slowly lowered itself, revealing the night sky and the crowd that awaited their return. A mission to rescue a Resistance member who had been captured by the First Order for a long period of time, seemed to gather quite a lot of attention. (Y/N) hovered in the back, allowing for the four to descend first. She was still shaking, eyes watering, and heart in agony. Cheers were heard as Finn and Chewie exited out of the ship and then even more for Poe and Rey. “Did you find Commander Stryker? Does she need medical support? Someone get the medical team over here stat!”

The applause and questions seemed to halt when she came into view, everyone’s eyes staring in disbelief. “Wasn’t she being held captive by the First Order?” One hushed voice drifted across the deadly silent crowd of members. “She was gone for almost a month, how is she not dead?” “Dead? There’s not even a scratch on her!” “She’s even in a dress!”

(Y/N)’s arms clenched tighter around her frame as she tried to ignore the whispers coming from the Resistance members. They were right, why was a highly ranking Resistance member not bruised, bloodied, and beaten to a pulp by the hand of the First Order? If they only knew what their Supreme Leader had done to her heart. With her head down, (Y/N) followed closely behind her rescuers into the Command Center, where more eyes followed.

“Dameron, I explicitly denied you the right to leave this base! All four of you disobeyed direct command I hop-” A familiar voice shouted from the Center, but her rant stopped as Poe, Rey, Finn, and Chewie stepped to the sides revealing (Y/N). Her (Y/E/C) eyes lifted to the source of the shouting, finding a sight that made her heart wrench even more.

“(Y/N)?” General Organa breathed out in surprise, turning to look at Poe. “You found them?” Poe nodded, head held high despite despite the eventual repercussions of his defiance.

“I told you I would.” Leia exhaled, taking in (Y/N)’s disheveled sight, her eyes not so discreetly searching the crowd behind the crying girl. No doubt searching for a tall black haired man.

“L-Lele” (Y/N)’s voice cracked, fresh tears pouring down.

“You remember…” Leia whispered, confounded once again. She only nodded and rushed into the woman’s arms, completely breaking down again. Leia held her close, feeling the pain that surrounded her aura, stroking her messy hair.

“Clear the room!” Poe shouted. Everyone was quick to leave, retiring for the night or returning to their duties. Leaving the General and the Commander she loved so dearly. (Y/N) stayed in Leia’s arms sobbing, her knees wobbling from the sorrow.

“I-I lost him again!” She cried out, Leia’s eyes watering as she quietly reminded the girl it was not her fault.

That had been a month ago, she had been away from him for a month. (Y/N) tried to bury herself in work, in bringing the First Order crumbling down, in forgetting. But she never could, it was always on the back of her mind, and now it was time to leave. Resorting to running away in the middle of the night, without so much as a goodbye. She had no other choice.

A knock came at her door, pulling (Y/N) out of her wallowing thoughts. She had barely left her room the past few days, still attempting to deal with her pain. “Go away Poe!” she shouted, quite annoyed with her neighbor’s constant pestering. She was not necessarily mad at him, he had thought she was in trouble, and him and her could not continue living in their little pretend world forever, but she was tired of the constant apologies. She only wanted to forget it ever happened.

“Its - Its not Poe.” A distinct voice called from the other side of the door. (Y/N) sat up, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. She made her way to the door, pressing the button on the side panel, allowing for it to open.

Rey stood before her, an uneasy look etched onto her face, hands hidden behind her back. “I’m sorry Rey, I didn’t know it was you.” She apologized hastily.

Rey shook her head, “It’s alright.” The young Jedi’s eyes fell as she shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet, clearly nervous.

“What’s wrong?”

Rey let out a sigh, lifting her eyes, “I need your help.”

(Y/N)’s one brow quirked up, “My help? With what?” She was unsure what use she would be in such a state. Rey let out an uneasy laugh, revealing the two items she held behind her back. (Y/N) sucked in a large gulp of air at the sight, eyes looking up to the young woman in questioning.

“When I was with Luke, he mentioned a padawan who was strong in the Force, strong enough to take his nephew, strong with her lightsaber.” Rey’s hand extended out more, balancing (Y/N)’s lightsaber. She had purposefully left it on the Falcon the night they returned with the intention of never wielding it again.

“I can’t fight him Rey…” (Y/N) muttered, her sadness surfacing once again.

Rey nodded hand still outstretched, “I know I wouldn’t expect you to. And I know you closed yourself off to the Force, but could you train me? You and Ben trained together Luke said, you must fight alike.” (Y/N) winced at his name, the name of the boy she had fallen in love with, his real name. She had blocked out his name solely referring to him as Kylo Ren, it felt like another person when she did. Perhaps because when he had taken on that mantra, he had become someone else.

“You’ve beaten him before, why do you need my help?” Rey let out a loud sigh, filled to the brim with anxiety. (Y/N) was sure if she was still connected to the Force, she would have felt how distressed her aura was. Even without, she could see the stress weighing on the young woman’s shoulders.

“I just - I need to get better, stronger. Everyone is looking to me to step into Luke’s shoes and… it's just a lot.” (Y/N)’s eyes fell in shame. She should be helping the girl, not hiding away like some laser brain. It was not like her, even with no memory of who she was, she still had joined the Resistance to help others.

“I’ll train you, but we must go far into the Jungle. The Resistance cannot see me handling a saber, too many questions would arise and the truth would eventually come out. I could be branded a traitor to the cause.” The base had all been told a lie, to protect (Y/N). She had escaped the First Order rather quickly and crash landed on a deserted planet where she waited to be found. No mentions of Kylo Ren, of her remembered past, or her Force sensitivity. It was the only way to explain why she was not injured or malnourished. If anyone else found out about her previous relationship with Kylo, the Resistance would begin to question where her loyalties lay.

Rey nodded solemnly,“When do we start?”

(Y/N) plucked her lightsaber from the girl, trying to bury the resurfacing memories, “At dawn.”

As the sun began to rise casting an orange hue over the far off Resistance base, (Y/N) and Rey sat on the moist ground of the jungle. “I’m sorry, but I thought you were going to teach me to be stronger during a fight?” Rey questioned unsure as to why they were sitting down cross legged. (Y/N) quirked up an eyebrow at her, had Luke not disclosed the importance of mastering the Force? Silently she was cursing his Force Ghost. He had left her with one hell of a mess.

“I am but you have to know how to connect to the Force to become better.”

Rey nodded along, “So I control it better.”

“No.” (Y/N) shook her head, if she ever saw Luke’s Ghost she would surely have a word with him. “We don’t control the Force nor does it control us. We simply harness it and it guides us. It’s a symbiotic relationship.” Rey remained silent, urging (Y/N) to go on. “Do you recall the first moment you realized you were Force sensitive? I was no older than two and I remember lying in the meadow with my parents and lifting my rattle.” (Y/N) swallowed thickly recalling the summer afternoon with her parents before everything. She knew she was not alone, but she felt it nonetheless.

Rey seemed to look down at the palm of her hands, contemplating. “I thought it was on Starkiller Base, but I always knew something was there especially after one night. It was over ten years ago, I had been on Jakku for a few years by then, and I just remember waking with this awful feeling of pain and suffering. It was gone as soon as it started and in its place I felt this calling, this swell of Light in me.” (Y/N) pursued her lips at her words, dissecting them. Over ten years ago… her eyes widened, Rey had begun to feel her call to the Force when (Y/N) closed herself off to it. Darkness rises and Light to meet it...

(Y/N) slipped past a patrolling guard, stepping out onto the hangar ground. The sky was pitch black, the stars twinkling ever so slightly as she made her way to her X-Wing. She hated leaving, it made her feel like she was deserting her friends, family, and cause. But this was about something bigger than herself now, something she had to protect. Stepping onto the ladder leaning against the X-Wing, (Y/N) hauled herself up and tossing her duffel bag into the waiting ship.

“Leaving without saying goodbye, huh? You definitely got that from Han, no doubt about it.” She turned around on the ladder, finding Leia exiting out onto the hanger in a long nightgown and robe, her hair down and free. (Y/N) was surprised, how did she know she was leaving?

“I didn’t want anyone to know.” She called back, climbing down the ladder, hoping the woman was not here to stop her. She could not be stopped, her mind was already made up. Leia greeted her at the bottom, a knowing look on her face.

“You don’t say? Leaving in the dead of night, I wouldn’t have guessed.” Leia’s words were oozing with sarcasm and (Y/N) could only let out a short laugh.

“I’m not defecting, you know?” The General nodded, eyes holding such intensity it made (Y/N) want to back down from her decision.

“I know,” Leia paused her hands gripping (Y/N)’s upper arms, “(Y/N) this could be the thing to save him.”

The young woman gulped, “You-You know?” (Y/N) racked her mind, searching for any indication of when she slipped up, revealing that she would be running from the war. To her knowledge there had not been a single moment, she had taken precautions. Leia quirked an eyebrow up at her, obviously displeased by her tone of shock.

“Of course I do, I’ve only known you since you were four. I know when you are hiding something.” (Y/N) let out a sigh, knowing there was no she could even deny it now.

“He can’t know Leia. You can’t tell him. I wasn’t enough to turn him or even keep him from turning.” (Y/N) let out a harsh laugh, tears swimming in her eyes. “This won’t save him either, the only thing that can save Ben, is himself. And I’m not so sure he wants to be saved.”

Leia inhaled sharply, “I won’t tell him, I won’t tell anyone.” (Y/N) breathed out in relief, tears slipping down her cheeks as she thanked the General. “Where will you go?”

(Y/N) shrugged lightly, “Somewhere he won’t look, somewhere where he won’t ever realize I left the Resistance.” Leia nodded in agreement, it was best if she stayed hidden.

“Send word when you are safe, wherever. Don’t tell me where though, can’t risk the First Order intercepting it.” (Y/N) concurred with a curt nod, that was the last thing she wanted, the First Order finding her. There was already a mandated order floating around the First Order that if any Stormtrooper identified her that she would need to be brought to the Supreme Leader unharmed. Poe’s informants had heard the news and relayed the information and she had experienced it first hand.

Rey and (Y/N) danced around each other in the early morning sun, lightsabers raised and pointing at one another. “Breathe Rey, just breathe.” (Y/N) reminded her. “Feel the Force surrounding you and every living thing. Let it guide you.” Rey took a deep breath, closing her eyes momentarily. Her concentration and (Y/N)’s lesson was cut short by a loud ringing noise sounding in the distance. The two women stared at each other, eyes wide, before they took off back towards base. (Y/N) carefully concealed her saber in her small satchel as they came out of the clearing and onto the landing strip.

A group had assembled outside surrounding the higher ranking officials. Finn and Poe were pushing their way through the crowd, eyes scanning in search of someone. Finn’s eyes suddenly fell on them and pointed, the two men scrambling over. “Finn! What’s going on?” Rey questioned as the four merged together in the center of the landing strip.

“We got a mission.” Finn answered bumping his shoulder into Rey.

“The four of us.” Poe clarified.

“What?” (Y/N) gulped, unsure whether she was ready to go back into the field. To face all the possibilities.

“It’s nothing crazy, just gathering supplies on a neighboring system.” Poe added, reading the concern on her face.

“Then what was the siren for?” Rey pondered.

“Some of the other pilots have to escort new recruits to the base, The First Order seems to be getting close.” Finn informed and everyone nodded, moving towards the Falcon. (Y/N) felt the fear rise in her, scared to come anywhere near the First Order. Poe informant’s had gotten ahold of him the other day, stating that there was a hefty reward being offered to First Order members if they found a Resistance member with large burn tissue scarring the right side of her neck. Kylo wanted her back and it seemed he would result to anything just for it to happen.

Landing on the nearby planet of Thalrira, the village situated on top of a dry mountain range, the friendly natives greeted the four with open arms. They were people who sympathized with the Resistance cause. Poe and Finn got started right away with loading up the Falcon with the medical and food supplies the village was donating while (Y/N) and Rey loaded up the fabrics and boxes of devices and new equipment. Setting down the last box, (Y/N) stepped off the ship to thank the villagers along with the rest of her group. Outside the ramp, she was met with a sight that made her stomach drop.

Stormtroopers had circled around the four of them, their own weapons raised back at them. Their helmets raised at the sight of her, looking at her exposed scar.

“Get her!” Ordered one, two of the six stepping forward to grab her. But (Y/N) was quicker than them, her hand dipping into the satchel to retrieve her lightsaber. Purple light illuminated on the Stormtroopers white uniforms before (Y/N) drove her saber straight through one’s chest, quickly doing the same to the other. She jumped over the three, saber raised at the other four Stormtroopers. She blocked their blasts and quickly took them all down, Poe and Finn staring at her in shock.

“Is this what you guys do in the jungle every morning?” Finn asked.

“I didn’t know you could do all that!” Poe exclaimed after.

Normally (Y/N) would find their banter humorous but thundering footsteps behind squandered the opportunity. She turned to see another group of Stormtroopers stalking forward, and turned back to the group of Resistance members.“Ready?”

Rey bent down and received her saber from one of the fallen Troopers, “Always.” The two women smirked at each other as Finn and Poe retrieved their blasters. They all nodded to each other as Rey and (Y/N) took off first, the boys providing them cover. (Y/N) and Rey were quick on their feet, bodies dropping to the ground with a thud with purple and blue light whirling along the way. Poe and Finn having a shootout with a few Stormtroopers. Driving her lightsaber through the last Stormtrooper, (Y/N) let out a sigh of relief. She was unsure how the First Order had found them but it scared her.

“We better get out of here before more show up.” Poe informed, wiping away the sweat gathering on his brow. Everyone nodded eagerly, turning for the Falcon, but more thundering steps were approaching.

Another group of Stormtroopers were emerging from a First Order transporter just beyond, a group of six black dressed men following closely behind them… The Knights of Ren. (Y/N) gulped, eyeing her surroundings, did that mean their Master was here too? She could not face him.

“(Y/N) you have to go, we got it from here!”

She looked back to her friends, fear evident in her eyes, “N-No, I can stay. I can fight.” Her voice shook as she tried to feign strength, twirling her saber for good measure.

“You’re no use if you get captured.” Poe pointed out, ushering her behind them all. “Go, we’ll meet you at the rendezvous point!”

With that the three took off, weapons pointing at the incoming group. (Y/N) exhaled shakingly and ran on board of Falcon, heading straight for the cockpit. With familiar ease, she lifted the Falcon off the ground and flew off, to the cave just beyond the mountain range. The designated rendezvous point where she hoped her friends would arrive safely too. Inside she turned off the lights and sunk into the pilot’s seats, sobbing into the palms of her hands. She was endangering everyone just because of her stupid naive self, it was not right.

They had barely escaped that day and after that (Y/N) was not permitted to step off of the base, she was a dangerous to everybody. “Tell Rey I’m sorry I wasn’t able to finish training her.”

Leia smiled gently, “Don’t worry, I’ll help her finish her training.” (Y/N) nodded, tears beginning to quickly escape her eyes.

“Tell them I love them and I’m so sorry.” She thought of Chewie who she had known since childhood, of Poe since she was nineteen, and of Rey and Finn who felt like the younger siblings she never had.

“(Y/N/N) honey, its okay. They’ll understand.” She shook her head, collapsing into Leia’s embrace.

“No they won’t, they’ll think I deserted. They’ll never know the real reason, not as long as this war continues. Maybe even after that.”

Leia stroked her hair, shushing her blabbering nonsense. “If they know you at all, they will know there was a reason.” Her words seemed to calm her down, but the tears still continued.

All these emotions seemed to whirl around in her, bringing things she never said to light. “I never said thank you Leia.” (Y/N) mumbled into the woman’s shoulder.

“For what dear?” The General’s voice sounded puzzled.

“For this life. For taking me in, giving me a home, a place to feel safe in, for giving me h-h-him.” She hiccuped at the end, squeezing Leia tighter. “Despite it all, it’s been one amazing life.” She pulled away, taken aback by the tears in Leia’s eyes. She was not sure she had ever seen the woman cry. Leia opened her mouth to say something, but to squeeze so many feelings into such little words it was difficult, so in return (Y/N) just squeezed her hands. “I know Lele.” The woman let out a wet laugh and released her hands.

“Be safe.” (Y/N) nodded and backed away, clambering back up the ladder.

“(Y/N)!” The General called once more and she quickly looked down to the small woman who had been like a mother to her. “May the Force be with you.”

(Y/N) let out a chuckle tears still pooling in her eyes, “May the Force be with you!” She was unsure if she would ever see the woman again and something inside her broke at the thought. She quickly turned away, starting up the X-Wing, the engine roaring to life, and slowly began to lift up into the sky. With one last wave, (Y/N) disappeared into the night.

“General Organa! We have an unsanctioned departure!” A patrol member shouted running up to the woman.

Leia only smirked watching the X-Wing jump into hyperspace, fading into the stars, “Don’t worry, they had authorization.”

(Y/N) landed in the clearing of the vivacious forest, the light blue roofs barely peeking out over the trees in the distance. She hoped it had been smart to come here, she hoped she could disappear here. During her flight, all she could think of was this place and how it only seemed fitting. If she was smart, the First Order would never know she left, and if so no one would ever think to look here. Especially him. It was her objective to fade into the Galaxy and never be seen or heard from again, besides the occasional message she would need to send Leia. This planet would hopefully grant her her wish.

She climbed out of the cockpit, tossed her duffel bag down, and jumped down into the grass. She looked up finding the treeline above to be perfectly concealing her X-Wing. Always one to be overly cautious, (Y/N) cut down a few surrounding shrubs and placed them overtop her ship, hoping it would do the job. Hauling her duffel bag up she started the trek down to the villa that would become her new home. It had been years since she had been here and quite frankly the last time she was, was a painful memory. The warm sunlight trickled in through the tree coverage, reminding (Y/N) just how confining her white high neck sweater and brown pants were. She was misty certainly not dressed for the year long warm that graced this planet. Stepping out onto the cobblestone pathway, her eyes lifted to the magnificent villa, Varykino.

It was dead silent, no signs of life, she suspected the summer villa had been long deserted. There were no other surviving family members to reside here anyways, it would be just her for awhile. Her black standard issue Resistance boots clicking against the stone as she made her way towards the front of the villa, that had a perfect view of the endless blue that stressed across the beautiful planet. She first smelled the sweet fragrance of cherry blossoms, then the sound of lapping water, before she finally emerged to find the place that made her heart ache. It was silly of her to assume that it would not affect her by picking this place. The place they had married, oh so long ago. Her throat seemed to close, maybe picking Naboo was not the best idea, let alone the family’s long abandoned inherited estate. But she had no other choice, no one would look for her here, she could live out the rest of her days here peacefully. (Y/N) turned away to face the large wooden doors, finding it strange that they were open. Stepping inside, she expected to find dust to be covering every square inch of the house, but instead she found it oddly cleaned. She dropped her duffel bag in shock and moved silently through the house in examination. Something was not right.

A soft creak sounded from behind her and (Y/N) wasted no time igniting the purple lightsaber that was strapped to her waist and pointing it wildly at the source. An old woman with olive skin, braided up gray hair, and transfixing green eyes stood before her carrying a basket full of freshly made loaves of bread. The greens of her dress seem to reflect into her intense gaze, eyeing (Y/N)’s purple lightsaber. The two women were silent as they stared at each other, eyes attempting to read the other.

“For someone on the run, you use quite the distinguishable weapon.” Her voice was low, sweet, and raspy, bringing (Y/N) to the realization she was pointing her lightsaber at a frail elderly woman.

“I’m not on the run.” She tried to defend but the woman only pointingly looked at the saber. She exhaled lowly, turning off her saber and sheathing it back on her belt. “I’m sorry, you frightened me.”

The woman nodded in forgiveness and moved past her to the large table in the back of the villa, (Y/N) following instinctively. The elderly woman placed the basket of bread down on the glass table, turning quickly to face her, eyes narrowing in realization.

“Naberrie blood.” (Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows, in confusion.

“What?” The woman’s green eyes scanned her body, an unreadable look in them as she did.

“I sense Naberrie blood.” (Y/N) was puzzled at her statement, was this woman insane? How could she sense blood? Let alone the bloodline of Senator Amidala’s family? A part of her knew why, but she could not admit that. Not to a strange woman.

“You must be mistaken, I’m not related to Senator Amidala, I just knew the family that was. That’s why I’m seeking shelter here.” The woman only lifted an eyebrow at her words, a smirk falling onto her paling lips. (Y/N) wanted to squirm under the pressure, hoping the woman would not see through her lies.

“I see with more than just my eyes dear. Naberrie blood.” She reiterated herself and (Y/N) shrunk down into herself, knowing the woman knew her secret. The woman looked at her with such sincerity, she had no choice but to trust her.

Mutely, (Y/N) confirmed her words. The woman pursued her lips in satisfaction, her wrinkled hands grasping onto her tightly.

“You will be safe here, the Villa is yours. Princess Organa has had me looking over it for the past few decades, but the Villa belongs to the family of the Naberrie.” (Y/N) shook her head, graciously thanking the woman for her kindness. She was relieved, knowing she could find refuge here, where he would never find out the truth. “What is your name dear?”

She contemplated lying, using a false name, but Leia had trusted this woman, meaning she could too. “(Y/N) Stryker.” A wrinkled finger lifted from her tight grasp, waving it tauntingly in front of (Y/N).

“Your real name child.” The woman was already far too perceptive for her liking, she had a feeling they would get along well.

“(Y/L-” A tisk flew from the elderly woman’s mouth, halting her word. The green eyes seemed to stare into her soul and (Y/N) knew she was asking her once again, “Your real name child.” She gulped, eyes casting outwards to the endless water of Naboo, remembering the white and purple flowers and the hushed words of promise. Her eyes drooped, her heart already too broken to crack more, but it felt like a boot squashed down on the broken fragments of it. She turned back to the waiting woman, eyes watering as always.

“Solo, (Y/N) Solo.” The old woman hummed in content at her confession, her wrinkled finger wiping away a stray tear.

“Ah, the bride from so long ago.” (Y/N) nodded numbly, her arms wrapped around herself protectively. “My name is Euora Accu, come I will show you around.”

The sun shone brightly in the sky, reflecting against the glistening blue water as (Y/N) watched it from underneath the shade of the large tree. The tree she had been married under. Euora had retreated to her small hut hidden in the treeline for the rest of the afternoon, promising to return later for dinner, leaving (Y/N) to her thoughts. The past week had flown by so unrealistically fast, she had had no time to process anything. From trying to keep her secret from the Resistance and First Order to running away to Naboo. It was all so much, what this new chapter of her life would hold was nothing short of unfamiliar and frightening. She wished she could reconnect to the Force, ask for guidance on where to go from here, but she would risk Kylo and her connecting. It could not happen, he could not find her, he could not find out she left and why. There were so many secrets whirling around in her head, she felt lightheaded. The past eleven years of her life had been one big secret, one she had not remembered, so what was the next few decades? But many questions arose with it. Would she tell them who she really was? Who he was really was? Or would their lives be lies too? So many uncertainties plagued her mind it was frightening.

(Y/N)’s thoughts derailed at the blurry sight of something standing down on the lower level by the docks. She squinted her eyes and an audible gasp soon fell from her lips. She took in a sprint, stumbling rapidly down the flight of stone stairs, stopping behind the blurry object. It was a woman, watching the lapping waves, who was not fully tangible, a blue light edging her frame. (Y/N) stepped forward, stopping at the woman’s side to see her fully. She wore a rich blue dress that made her appear to blend into the water. Her brown hair was long, curly, and decorated with many little flowers and colorful ribbon. A hand hung by her side, fingers holding a necklace tightly. She was beautiful, a true vision, and oddly familiar looking. The woman’s warm brown eyes turned to her, a soft smile on her peachy lips.

“(Y/N).” Her voice was soft, as she greeted her, but (Y/N) was startled the Force Ghost knew her name. Her eyes narrowed observing the woman closely, the beauty mark on her one cheek and warm brown eyes seeming to connect the internal dots. She suddenly saw Leia in the woman, than Luke, and Ben…

“Senator Amidala?” She was in complete dismay staring at the young beautiful matriarch of the Skywalker family. How was this possible?

“Padmé.” Padmé corrected her ushering her in closer.

“H-How is this possible? Were you Force sensitive? Why are you here?” (Y/N) rifled off still struggling to process the image before her. She had never seen a Force Ghost before, only ever reading about them in the Jedi texts.

“Oh no,” Padmé laughed lightly, “I was never Force sensitive. My husband, son, and your great uncle are using their powers from the Netherworld to project me here before you.” (Y/N) nodded in astonishment, the words ringing in her ears.

“Is everyone okay? Luke? Qui-Gon? Wait your husband? Anakin is in the Netherworld?”

Dark side Force users did not reside in the Netherworld and if Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader, how was he there? Padmé smiled at her, enjoying her look of bewilderment. “Everyone is alright dear, Luke and Qui-Gon are quite proud of you. They knew you seeked guidance and we all deemed I was the best suited to talk to you. And yes, my husband is in the Netherworld, a fact my son and daughter should have told Ben and you. Could have spared this family additional pain.”

(Y/N) clenched her jaw, that meant Anakin had been turned back to the light before death. A fact that most definitely could have prevented Kylo from turning, prevented her from losing him and her memory, and her now being all alone. She could not focus on that, not now, no she needed to know what guidance Padmé would provide her. Padme seemed to read her suffering and terror, a gentle hand coming up to rest on her cheek. (Y/N) could not feel her but the notion was comforting nonetheless.

“I wanted to tell you that everything is going to be okay.” She nodded rapidly trying to fight the tears rising, but to no avail they began to trickle down her cheeks.

“I’m frightened.” She cried, arms trembling as they wrapped around herself. “I don’t want him to find out, but at the same time I wish he was here by my side through it all.” Padmé nodded, her own tears reflecting in her eyes.

“I understand. I was scared too and just wanted Ani through it all. But (Y/N) you cannot let this fear and sadness control you, you have to rise above it.” (Y/N) agreed, wiping away her tears.

She had left the Resistance to protect her secret, came to Naboo to be safe, and she would be strong and fight through it. Padmé’s words seemed to pull her mind out of the darkness and remind her of her strength. She had been a powerful Jedi, a resourceful Resistance fighter, and now she would be strong, without him.

“Thank you.” (Y/N) smiled softly and the woman grinned back.

“Euora will help you, her father used to look over the house when I was a girl. Everything will be okay.” She reminded her with a telling grin. (Y/N) could see where Leia had gotten her unwavering strength and was thankful the women had passed it along to her. She stepped back from Padmé, now with the determination and confidence that everything would be okay.

Just before she faded away, Padmé issued one last piece of advice, “When choosing the room, might I suggest the one overlooking the gardens? It was where I wanted theirs to be.”

(Y/N) let out a wet laugh in acknowledgement, “I agree, that sounds quite lovely.” Padmé grinned, her eyes looking up to the towering peaks of Varykino. A content hum floated out from her lips and soon her beautiful figure faded away, leaving (Y/N) alone. Except she was not alone, she smiled to herself heading back up the steps.

In fact she had everything she needed.

Taglist:

@benpeggycartersolo

@2heures

@thephantomwriter

@thefandomzoneisdangerous

@carol-chann

@gambitsqueen

@pancakefancake

@zaneholtzwrites

@moonmamma03

@siren-queen03

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #ben solo #ben solo x reader #ben solo fanfiction #star wars #star wars series #star wars imagine #Adam driver x reader

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aliciameade · 5 years

Text

Ever-after

Title: Ever-after Author: aliciameade Rating: T for dark themes but like, it’s not that dark Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: For Day 2 of Pitch Perfect Horror Week 2019 - Accidentally Summoning a Demon. And that's...literally the summary here. AU set in Chloe's second senior year at Barden. Largely influenced by elements from Kim Harrison's "The Hollows" book series. (Read it!)

Also on AO3

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When Chloe digs out her antique hand mirror from the bathroom drawer and looks at her reflection, she frowns. “Seriously?”

It’s been scratched to hell. Purposely, if the geometric lines are anything to judge by.

Furious, she storms downstairs and into the den where her sisters are deep into planning the annual Barden Bellas Halloween Extravaganza. She usually leads the party committee but she chose to take a sabbatical this year to make an actual attempt to graduate this year. She’s on year five and while five years is pretty much average, there was no reason she couldn’t have graduated on-time last Spring if she’d simply...tried.

“Who did this?!” she demands, steamrolling over whatever conversation Ashley and Jessica are having.

“Who played Pictionary on your mirror?”

“That’s literally what I just asked,” Chloe snaps at Cynthia-Rose. She’ll apologize later. Her eyes scan the deathly silent room for the guilty party until they land on Lily, uncharacteristically nonchalant on a couch. She’s way too interested in her phone to not be trying to hide something. “Lily.”

Lily’s eyes meet hers and for all the quiet girl’s quirks—some more disturbing than others—Chloe’s learned how to see through her, at least some of the time.

“This was my great-grandmother’s. It’s been in my family since 1903! What did you even do to it?”

Lily’s lips move but Chloe’s too far away to hear. “What?”

“She said she saw it in a dream and had to draw it,” Flo offers before performing the sign of the cross on herself and shifting to the opposite end of the couch.

Chloe’s on the verge of angry tears. She can feel her face burning with rage and sadness. “I don’t even know what that means,” she bites. “No one better ever go through my shit ever again.” She leaves before she fully breaks down, running up the stairs to slam her bedroom door.

She knows her friends will think she’s being typical overdramatic Chloe, throwing a fit over a few scratches on a mirror. But the mirror, an ornate work of art made of pearl, brass, and silver, had been given to her mother, passed down from her grandmother and from her great-grandmother before her. It had been a cherished possession through wars, through her family’s emigration from Europe, through famine and the depression when it could have been sold to put food on the table.

Chloe’s mother had given it to her when she was 17 as they laid together in her mother’s bed at the hospice center. She shared with Chloe the stories she’d longed to hear after so many years of her mother refusing to let her daughter even touch the object lest she break it.

She passed away two weeks later. Too weak to attempt more chemotherapy and radiation.

Chloe is devastated.

She cries herself to sleep clutching it to her chest.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She knows the girls are whispering. They still don’t understand why Chloe was—is—so upset about a mirror. They give her strange looks and a wide berth as she carries the memento with her everywhere now. She’s compelled to protect it.

Two weeks pass and while her anger and fear have faded, she still keeps the mirror close by. Tonight, it’s tucked under her hands while she lies on her stomach in bed while she struggles to make it through the current chapter of Dostoevsky’s Demons. It’s not about demons at all, she’d realized early on with disappointment, but rather, political and moral nihilism.

Which is ironic, given her lack of belief that there’s any real point to having to read this irritating book.

“Lizavita Nikolaevna Tushena.” She has to sound it out, the unfamiliar combination of letters tripping her up every time they introduce a new character. She doesn’t even know if she’s saying it correctly.

She feels a zap, like static electricity, under her hand. Which is weird, considering she hasn’t moved in order to generate any static electricity. She ignores it and tries the name again. “Lizavita Nikolaevna Tushena.” She rattles it off again quickly, barely noticing the dull ringing in her ears until she finishes speaking it the third time and feels what she can only label as the entire room popping.

“Dude, what the fuck? I was in the middle of dinner!”

The voice comes from the other side of the room and Chloe nearly leaps out of bed in fear at the intruder until she sees it’s...just a girl?

“Who are you?” she asks, panic-stricken though her fear of imminent death has faded.

“Are you seriously asking me that?” The woman is small. No, not small: petite. And dressed, for some reason, in a tuxedo, though the collar is undone and bowtie hanging untied around her neck. She’s brunette and wearing black sunglasses with round lenses and is leaning on a walking stick that could be made out of obsidian for the way it shines.

There’s a hint of sulfur in the air, as though someone’s struck, lit, and extinguished several matches. “Why are you in my room?”

“You tell me.”

Chloe sits up and tries to understand what’s happening, but she fails. “Okay, how are you in my room?”

“I’m asking myself the same thing,” the girl says as she shifts the walking stick to her other hand. It seems to be used for fashion, not physical need. “Where did you learn my name?”

“Your name?”

“No one’s spoken it in 2,000 years. You must have read it somewhere.”

Her...name? “Lizavita Nikolaevna Tushena?? Wait, did you say 2,000 years?”

The unexpected visitor grimaces like Chloe’s just run her nails down a chalkboard. “Can you stop saying it? Just...Beca. Call me Beca. Don’t ask how it got from...what you said to Beca. It’s a long story. Like, a five-millennia-long story.”

“I’m going to need you to tell me what’s going on. Or am I dreaming? Did I fall asleep studying again?” She looks down at her bed and sees the handmirror resting alongside her thigh. The scratches that had been etched into it are now glowing orange. She leaps away from it expecting to be burned but when she pushes it away, it’s still cool.

“You’re not dreaming.” Beca crosses the room toward her and she shrinks back toward the corner of her bed, evaluating her routes of escape should they be necessary. She thinks she should probably just run and not wait to be given a reason, but despite the stranger invading her home, she doesn’t feel any real fear. Just intrigue. “Where did you get this?” Beca asks as she picks up the mirror to inspect it.

“It was my mother’s.”

“Your mother kept a scrying mirror?”

“What’s a scrying mirror?”

Beca tilts the glass toward Chloe and she flinches as though laser beams are going to shoot from it, but nothing happens. She points at the etchings. “This is a scrying mirror. Used for divination, fortune-telling, and most relevantly, demon-summoning.”

“Demon...summoning?” Chloe’s gaze slides from the glowing mirror to Beca’s face, seemingly perfect in its soft planes and angular features. She can feel her brain trying to put the pieces together like her tongue had tried to put the syllables together but it keeps getting caught up on the fact that this intruder is painfully, unfairly attractive. “Why are you wearing sunglasses? It’s nighttime.”

“It lessens the shock.”

“Shock?”

Beca lifts her hand, the one holding the walking stick, and Chloe watches agape as the stick evaporates and Beca pulls her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to reveal glowing red eyes.

“Oh, my God!”

“Let’s not bring her into this,” Beca says as she pushes her dark glasses back into place. “And you see what I mean? Shock.”

“I’m dreaming,” Chloe says as she starts nodding to herself. She pinches her arm. Then pinches it again. “It’s a nightmare. I just have to wake myself up!”

“Not a nightmare,” Beca says as she tosses Chloe’s mirror back onto the bed and starts to stroll around the room with casual curiosity.

Chloe’s heart won’t stop pounding and she wants to scream for help but something is stopping her. She watches as this stranger looks over her things; she seems interested in the photos tacked on Chloe’s wall, particularly one from the Bellas’ Regionals competition last year.

“Who are they?” Beca asks and Chloe watches in awe as the tuxedo dissolves into a Bella uniform, pencil skirt, blouse, blazer, paisley scarf, and pumps. Her hair even twists into place, but the sunglasses remain. “And why do you wear this?” she adds as she turns. “It’s so uncomfortable!” It shifts back into the tuxedo she’d arrived in and Chloe wonders if she could pass out from shock.

“Leave my friends alone.”

“Friends?” Beca says as she looks at the photo again. “I’m not going to do anything to your friends.”

“Why won’t you just tell me who you are?” She thinks she might cry soon.

“You already know who I am, but you still haven’t told me how you do.” A high-backed velvet chair appears just as Beca begins to sit and she settles into it comfortably.

“I read it in a book!”

“A book?” Beca’s head turns toward the book that’s fallen to the floor in the chaos. “Were you trying to say ‘Lizaveta Nikolaevna Tushina’?”

“That’s what I said!”

“No, you said...it was different.”

Chloe huffs. “Stop playing word games. Please explain what’s going on.” A tear escapes then and she sees the pompous look on Beca’s face shift the tiniest bit.

“My informal name is Beca, and you summoned me here from the Ever-after.”

“I...summoned you.”

“You spoke my summoning name three times whilst placing your hand on a scrying mirror. Interrupting my dinner, if I may remind you.”

“So you’re—”

“A demon, yes, let’s move this along. The Ever-after is—” she stomps a polished black loafer on Chloe’s floor “—basically down there, for those who don’t understand multidimensional planes of existence. It’s what you mortals think of as Hell, but it’s honestly nothing like what you think. No rivers of lava. It’s all much, much worse. I could take you back with me. Give you a VIP tour. And I could use a new familiar.” An unnerving smile starts to curve Beca’s lips. “Are you going to tell me what your name is? It’s the polite thing to do, given you’ve managed to drag me here.”

“Chloe.” She has no earthly idea why she offers this...this demon her name.

Beca sits back in her chair and crosses her legs at the knee. “Chloe.” She seems to be thinking and is silent for a few seconds before she says, “Isadore Goodwin Abraham.”

“What?” The name is vaguely familiar as if she read it once in a book as a child.

“Isadore Goodwin Abraham was your sixth great-grandmother. She tried for years to summon me. Never could, though. Couldn’t get my name quite right. We’d talk through the mirror. She was a powerful witch. Always unsatisfied, always trying new spells and divinations. Never married. She did have two daughters, though, and was cast out of her village. Ironically, not for witchcraft but for having a child out of wedlock. I miss her sometimes.” Though Chloe can’t see them, she can feel Beca’s eyes on her. “You look like her. Are you a witch?”

“What? No!”

“Are you sure?” A glowing, evil-looking ball of green and black appears in Beca’s left hand and before Chloe can process what’s about to happen, she throws it right at her.

She can feel its energy transferring through the air around them. Can feel its heat and its ice and its evil, like it’s full of souls screaming to be released and it’s all hurtling at her and she does the only thing she can think to do.

She closes her eyes and hopes to live.

There’s a pull on her psyche like a plucked guitar string followed by the sound of sizzling and the stench of sulfur.

“Still think you’re not a witch?”

When she opens her eyes she realizes she’s trapped. Trapped inside some kind of a bubble that’s swirling with tints of yellow and blue and the odd smudge of black that’s sitting around her as the green and black energy rolls down it like water on a window to disappear into the floor. She panics and moves and as soon as she touches the edge of the energy field it pops to nothing.

Her heart won’t stop pounding and it’s making her dizzy. “What just happened?”

“You cast a circle of protection.”

“I did what?”

“Look, babe; I’m not here to teach you about witches and demons. That’s what libraries are for. Or, I guess now you have something called The Internet. Read about it and then get back to me.”

Chloe hisses as a burning line drags across her wrist and she looks to see a small scar appear, fresh and red as though she burned herself on an iron. “Get back to you? About what? What did you do to me?”

“You summoned me here, and now you owe me. Learn the basics and then I’ll bring you back with me. I can tell you’ll be a great familiar. So much natural talent. When I decide you’ve repaid me, that mark will be removed.” She’s still grinning like she knows Chloe’s deepest, dirtiest secrets. “But until then, I’m going to get back to my dinner. You have no idea how difficult it is to find fresh fruit and veggies there and I have a carrot and an apple calling my name that I paid handsomely for.”

There’s a chorus of shrieks followed by laughter downstairs and it gets Beca’s attention. She stands and the chair evaporates as she turns toward Chloe’s bedroom door.

“No, don’t. Please!” Chloe calls out. She’s not sure what she’s trying to stop. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps the stealing of the souls of her closest friends by an evil being from the underworld.

Beca keeps walking but turns and does so backward, still smiling. “They sound like they’re having fun. I can be here until sunrise, so I think I’ll go join the party. Do you have any apples?”

“Please don’t hurt them.” Chloe wants to run but fear weighs her down. Fear and confusion.

“Who said anything about hurting them? After all, you’re the one who owes me, not those girls downstairs. I’m going to go see if you have any apples.” Beca smiles once more before she vanishes right through the door leaving Chloe in silence.

Eyes wide, she looks around the room, sure she has to still be asleep. Everything seems normal now; the mirror’s glass is nothing but silver once again. But there are two burn marks on the hardwood floor of her room right where she remembers the black and green energy Beca had thrown at her dripping off her...force field?! and through the floor.

She looks at her own hands; they still tremble from the rush of emotions: fear, confusion, dare she say intrigue? and, above all else, pure energy that she can still feel flowing through her. She feels it like wind rustling the leaves of a tree making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It’s nothing like she’s ever felt but suddenly experiences from her life start sliding into place. The day a car nearly struck her dog but it stopped when she screamed. The way her friends say she’s able to put people under a love spell, falling for her in the blink of an eye. The curious talent she has in the kitchen at combining counterintuitive ingredients and yielding wonderful results. She remembers sneezing near a candle once and it igniting.

“What the heck?” she whispers to herself. “A witch?”

She feels the room pop and suddenly Beca’s right next to her, lying on her bed casually as if she was there all along to watch a movie together. “And a demon,” Beca says with a grin before disappearing again.

“Wait—Beca!”

“That’s my name; don’t wear it out.”

Chloe can’t even see her but it sounds like she’s right next to her.

“Hey, Chloe!” Stacie’s voice rings up the stairs. “Your friend Beca’s here! Quit studying and come drink with us!”

“Literally, what the heck,” she repeats as she stands. Her entire body is trembling like she’s full of caffeine or carbonation. It could be adrenaline, but she can feel it. Feel the energy of everything around her, of where the circle she’d somehow cast used to be. Of where Beca appeared— and then disappeared. Of the river miles away that feeds the nearby lake and how the water seems to interfere with the energies of everything around it. She can feel her friends downstairs and their happiness but above all, she can feel Beca. And though she doesn’t know what Beca is doing, she can read that no one is afraid, so at the very least, Beca hasn’t killed anyone. At least, not yet.

“I’m coming!” she shouts back as she hurries toward the door to make sure her friends are safe from the demon that’s in their home.

And to ask Lily more about her dream.

The end…?

#HW192 #bechloe #pitch perfect horror week #bechloe fanfic #this was fun #i might come back to it

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windyfiend · 4 years

Note

Characters: Josh and North. Prompt words: Trust, magic, angle!

Thanks zalein!!! Wooo two underrated characters! At first I misread “angle” as “angel” and now my brain won’t unsee it, so I’ll do both! 😂

—

“Magic markers?” North leaned on one knee and craned her neck, squinting up at Josh as if he’d just suggested drawing on the Sistine Chapel in crayon. “That’s your big business idea?”

“Hey,” Josh objected, waggling the marker at her, “they’re permanent, they come in a ton of colors, and they’re a hell of a lot cheaper than the multi-thousand-dollar laser etching systems I would rather be using. Every great business has to start somewhere.”

“You realize every single android can pick up a magic marker and duplicate any image they want.” North rolled her eyes. “No one’s going to pay you to do it for them.”

“True, but anything they copy can’t compare to my unique, original designs.” Josh grinned triumphantly. “Trust me. It’ll be great. Everyone will want one. And you’re my first customer.”

North glared at his bright hopeful smile for thirty seconds before she huffed a resigned sigh.

“If you screw this up,” she growled, “you’re going to wake up from stasis one day with an asshole drawn on your face.”

“Deal!” Josh hurried to prepare his new collection of magic markers while North deactivated her skin and pulled up the back of her shirt. “So! What kind of tattoo do you want?”

“Angel wings.”

Josh paused a beat.

“Angel wings?” he asked, skeptical – but the demonic glare in her eye made him rethink the question. “I mean, angel wings! Perfect!”

“Fuck you.” North suppressed a grin.

Josh uncapped a marker with his teeth, leaned over North’s plastic back, and began to draw.

Ten minutes later, a masterpiece had been born: sweeping detailed feathers draped in crystal blue and gold, shadowed with shades of indigo and violet so that the white feathery wings looked almost real.

“Okay!” Josh crowed, triumphant. “It’s done.” He took a step back to admire his work…

…and discovered that the wings were positioned at a considerably skewed angle, so much that they looked like one was attached to her armpit and the other came out of her spine. It was a unique placement to say the least, like a bird with a strange deformity. He must have been looking at the details too closely to notice the bigger design was positioned wrong.

Josh’s nerves balled tight in his throat. He stared at it, horrified, knowing it couldn’t be undone without replacing the plastic panels in her back.

“Well?” North glanced at him with an impatient smirk. “I want to see it.”

“Uh, yeah! Sure!” Josh blinked to take a snapshot of the tattoo, and in his head he quickly edited the image so that it fit perfectly at her shoulders the way he’d originally intended. She couldn’t see it herself, so she would never know the difference … right?

With a nervous grin, he transferred the image to North.

North sat up while she readjusted her shirt, and her skin and hair shimmered back into place. A smile warmed her eyes.

“Y’know what? I like it. It’s … kind of beautiful.” She stood up with a full grin and gave him a gentle punch to the shoulder. “Maybe this business of yours isn’t such a bad idea.”

“Heh, heh, thanks!” Josh stood grinning stiffly while North walked away, and he wondered whether it might be a good idea to skip town before she showed that tattoo to anyone else. His chances of survival were nonexistent.

#fic prompt #detroit become human #dbh josh #dbh north

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paulfc · 4 years

Photo

Studio / Kitchen : I have said before it’s probably a good job I don’t live with anyone.

The place is untidy, you won’t get food poisoning but a heavy object may fall off a shelf and fracture your skull.

Tight rope walker

Some things are obvious, some things need a little thought and somethings hurt my brain.

Harmonograph

Sets of gears, I made the pitch (tooth size) of the gears too small in the first attempt, I wanted big numbers of teeth, more complex patterns, see previous, but my laser cutter is about A4 max so you get about 20cm diameter for the largest gear. Small pitch high friction wouldn’t turn but it does make a nice spirograph.

When I was a child Gyroscopes, Etch a Sketches and Spirographs used to fascinate me and they still do.

#spirograph #studio #kitchen #sketch book

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wendip-week · 4 years

Text

Of Masks and Men: Part 4

Abel's eyes widened at the abrupt end to the moment he seemed to be having with his horticultural aunt and uncle. What Grunkle Mason had implied; he didn't like the sound of that. "W-what do you mean? What are you going to do with me?"

"It's just how it sounds, Abel. You know too much, and that, unfortunately, puts our entire race and secret-society at risk," Mason replied, a serious expression etched on the monster's face. "From Dana, to tourists, to the occasional paranormal-investigator looking to leave his mark in the world of science, one little slip-up could be the end of us."

"That means we're going to have to take drastic steps, I'm afraid," said Wendy, somberly shaking her head, a slight rustle sounding from the leaves in her red-hair. "One way or another, you can't be allowed to give us away."

Abel quickly replied, "I won't tell anyone. I swear!"

"First, we don't allow swearing in our house," the plant-woman said.

"And second," Mason continued, removing a rubber glove (one made to resemble a human-hand) and revealing a brown, wooden hand resembling the end of a tree-branch. "that's a chance we just can't take." The male Pistachion stretched out his exposed hand, which disassembled into vines and extended past his human nephew towards a nearby desk. To Abel, that would have been really cool in a movie. A moment later, he retracted it, carrying what looked an old-timey laser with a big light bulb.

He held it up for Abel to see. "Do you have any idea what this is?"

Abel stared a moment before a look of recognition crossed his face. "Wait a minute, isn't that one of those memory guns or something from the Journals?"

"Yes. This gun is designed to erase specific memories from the target. We could erase this entire afternoon from your brain. You wouldn't feel a thing, and by morning, it would seem like just another day."

"Well..." started Abel.

"There's just one problem, though," Wendy said, cutting the boy off. "There's a pretty high chance it might cause mental-issues, especially if you do that more than once. Not exactly something you might want; and nothing we really want to put up with. Plus, how would we explain that to your grandma?"

"Then there's Option 2," said Mason, looking toward the tarp his nephew was tied up in front of. "This." His wife reached over and pulled it off, revealing a more modern interpretation of a ray gun. "It's one of the MULCH devices we use to convert humans who would benefit us or learn something they shouldn't into plant-people like us."

"Oh, crud! No! Please, just no!"

"Of course, there's still the issue with my sister. I doubt, even with a rubber costume, you'd fool her, your grandfather, or your sister for long."

"And we're really not in the business of turning family, anyway," the female Pistachion interjected. "We didn't do it with Mabel, and we aren't about to start now."

Abel's great-uncle stepped forward, looming over his nephew, now looking rather somber. "Sadly, if we can't do anything that'll leave you living with some kind of permanent effect, there's only one option left."

"Mason, wait. Are you sure there's nothing else to be done? He's our nephew; Mabel's grandson."

"I'm afraid not, my love. Either he knows, or he gets changed somehow. But this way is our only choice. This kind of thing happens all the time around here. And Mabel wouldn't suspect a thing," the scientist reasoned.

The pistachio-headed redhead had a despairing look on her face before turning away. "Okay," she whispered. "But you have to do it. I-I can't bear to watch."

"I understand. I'll tell you when it's over." The male-Pistachion turned back toward his great-nephew.

The young pre-teen started thrashing real hard, struggling to break his bonds (to no avail). Finally giving up, he stared back at his former-hero. "Grunkle Mason, please don't!"

"I'm sorry." The Pistachion slowly reached forward, just beneath Abel's head. Too frightened to look, the boy closed his eyes, ready for the end. He felt the wooden fingers brush against his neck. He felt a snap...

Only to feel the vines tying him to his chair slacken significantly. His eyes shot open. Abel looked down and discovered they had fallen off. And the humanoid pistachio-tree that was his great-uncle wasn't reaching toward him anymore. Abel looked up; the man had his arms folded, and he was... grinning?

"W-what is this? What's going on?!" You didn't need to see to realize that confusion and exasperation were on the young man's face.

"We're letting you go," the Pistachion replied simply.

"What? I don't... what?" He heard giggling to the side. He turned to see his great-aunt with her hand over her mouth, trying and failing to suppress her laughter. "Aunt Wendy?"

"Sorry, but what did you think we were about to do? Hurt you? We're your family, dude."

"But I... I thought... Wait, was letting me out the plan the entire time?" Abel asked, still trying to wrap his head around these developments."

"Basically," Mason said with a shrug.

"But-but why all the tricks and tying me up and stuff? Couldn't you have just let me go, or maybe tell me you're going to after you're done talking?"

Wendy rolled her red eyes. "Yeah, like you'd buy our story. 'The pistachio-monsters cornered their human-nephew... to talk to him!!! Dun-dun-duhhhhn!' We had to get you to listen somehow."

Abel groaned as he stood up. "Point taken."

Mason patted him on the shoulder. "Welcome to Gravity Falls. Believe it or not, this is nothing compared to what we've been through, even at your age."

Wendy: "He's right. When I was a human-teenager, I once got turned into a tapestry. Needless to say, when you're not even a person, you kind of appreciate the simple things in life. Well, once you're a person again and actually alive and sentient enough to appreciate life, anyway."

"The nightmares from that..." Mason reminisced. "Anyway, I bet you're still trying to make sense of all of this. Got any more questions?"

Abel looked thoughtful for a moment. "Actually... this explains a lot of things. This is why we don't see you that often, isn't it? You're trying to hide your secret."

"Well, I suppose that's part of it," said Mason. "We do live in another State you know. Plus, our work does sometimes require travel."

"Plus, man, we really don't like leaving Gravity Falls."

"True. You've read about the weirdness of Gravity Falls itself. Right, Abel?"

"Sure. Something about it being a magnet for that stuff?"

"Yes. The valley seems to draw in weirdness. It's essentially the highest-concentrated source in the world. Wendy and I... we basically feel drawn to it. Of course, we called this place our home long before we were MULCH-ed, and we aren't bound inside the weirdness-barrier surrounding the valley, so whether that's a contributing factor is debatable."

Wendy nodded. "And as far as weirdness goes, we're basically a 6 or a 7 on a ten-scale. Anyway, enough about that. What else makes sense to you?"

Abel smirked. "The nut-puns." His aunt and uncle just stared quizzically. "Seriously, 'nut-jobber'? Or how about Aunty Wendy saying how you've always been nuts for her? And there's that joke Grunkle Dipper always says while you're out of earshot."

"What joke?" the redhead asked.

"Wait, maybe we should change-"

"Oh, no. I wanna hear this," Wendy said, not giving her husband a chance to finish that sentence.

"That you're a nut with a rubber bu-"

"Next question!" Mason almost shouted, clearly embarrassed.

"Then there's the thing with Dana's soda and her music..."

Wendy sighed. "Yeah, sorry. Certain soda-brands are potentially lethal to our kind. We're not taking any chances with something unfamiliar. Trust me, she'll get it back later. As for her songs, I just don't like Straight Blanchin' and Chop-Chop. Sue me."

"Okay... I guess this is also why you two lock your bedroom door every night: so Dana and I can't see you without your masks on."

"Yes!" Mason replied (rather quickly, too). "Let's just go with that!"

"Uh, agreed!" said Wendy. "Anything else?"

"Umm... actually, something is bothering me. I'm not complaining, but you said I know too much. Why would you just let me go? I could expose you."

Mason gave a toothy-smile. "True... I guess we're just going to have to trust you with our secret."

"But we really can't have you telling anyone," said Wendy. "And we mean ANYONE."

"Even Dana?" Abel asked?

The Pistachion spouses looked at each other for a moment. Mason turned back to his nephew. "Listen, we're not trying to drive a wedge between you two, but this is strictly need-to-know. My great-uncle Ford trusted me with a secret once that I couldn't share. While that was logical, there was some disdain in there for family due to old, untreated wounds. This isn't like that; we just can't risk anything. We're asking you not to say anything to anyone. Please."

Abel paused a moment, seemingly mulling over all of this. He looked at the two. "I promise," he said with a sigh.

"Excellent," his aunt replied. "And hey! Next time your sister has a slumber party, maybe we can invite the family over and you can see us as we really are."

"Really?" asked Abel. "Man, I think the way I see the world has changed. I have got so much to think about this summer."

"Well, you can start that thinking in your room," said Mason. "You're grounded for the rest of the day."

"Wait, what?"

"Dude, you pulled your uncle's hair. Imagine if it had been real. And even if it was a regular toupee, that would have just been disrespectful."

"But it was Dana's dare!" the pre-teen boy argued.

"And she's grounded, too, as soon as we find her. Take the elevator up and go home. Don't tell the Ramirezes what went down just now. They think you were treated for an alien disease," said Mason. "Your aunt and I will follow; we need to get our masks back on."

"Fine..." he said, defeated.

The two Pistachions waited for their nephew to get inside before they replaced their masks.

"Well, that was something," said Wendy.

"Yeah," her husband replied. "Do you think we're doing the right thing by letting Abel in on this? There definitely is a risk, even if he has no intention of betraying us."

"Well, you said we should make it a point to reconnect with the family outside of the Falls. In fact, isn't that the reason we agreed to look after Abel and Dana? To bond with them? What better way is there than to show that we trust them?"

"But what if Dana finds out? Will that hurt our bond with her or her bond with her brother?"

"If she finds out, she finds out. It'll be alright. Whether things get tense or not, it'll be alright. You and Mabel always seem to hammer things out. Heck, Stan and Ford managed to find that old brotherly-bond they lost years ago. And that's just sibling-bombshells."

Mason chuckled. "You always know what to say, don't you?"

Wendy smirked. "Better believe it. The same way you always somehow give me faith in general just by being you... Dip." She gave the her nut-like spouse a peck on the cheek. "Now straighten your mask and get moving! I'll follow in a bit."

Mason looked confused. "Why?"

Wendy folded her arms. "You think I'm going to give you an opportunity to look at my 'rubber-butt' as we walk home? Forget it, Mister."

Mason gave a half-amused groan. "I'm in the doghouse, aren't I?"

"Pretty much… at least until you make it up to me."

"Well, I'm sure I can think of something."

The End

Well, that's the finale. I hope you all enjoyed this. And if it wasn't clear, yes, this is technically a crossover, or rather a sequel to a crossover, with Milo Murphy's Law, which I wrote for Wendip Week. Take care.

#wendip #Wendy Corduroy #Dipper Pines #Gravity Falls #fanfic #older!Wendip #older!Dipper #older!Wendy #submission

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