the tour shirt do be cute

𝑴𝒆𝒐𝒘𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍 [𝑶𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕]

A/N: This isn't a Raphael x Tav oneshot, it's more of a "Raphael was turned into a cat and Tav takes care of him" oneshot. Goes without saying that this is just a big joke and don't take this seriously. Please.

Blame the discord server for this.

Part 2

Raphael was fuming. He was meant to be the Archdevil Supreme. And yet here he was in the form of a beast, an animal – a cat. Forced, exiled even, to Faerûn. Once a place he schemed at, now his prison. Would he still have any of his humanoid forms, he would’ve already planned his great revenge, alas he was stuck in a ruined house, hiding from something as insignificant as rain. He cursed the entire hells for having such sensitivity to water in his new form.

The Devil never considered how a stray’s life would be, why would he? He was Raphael, a cambion of his rank would never stoop so low to think about the poor animals. If he could he would’ve laughed at that thought. But he wasn’t in any condition to laugh; his brown fur was dirty from being thrown in the mud by the portal that sent him to his doom. Curse Asmodeus, he thought, not even begging will better his fate once I’m crowned. Oh, but would that day even come? 

He growled once more. I’m Raphael, he raged, I will not be bested. It seemed he truly believed that, and yet there was a questioning voice in his mind. Raphael shook his now-tiny head, trying to silence it; but he had to admit that his situation was rather unpleasant. He sent another set of curses to his father, Asmodeus but most of all Haarlep. It was them who mocked his “obsession” with cats; earning him this cruel fate. No matter, he had survived far worse and this temporary setback wouldn’t be his downfall. Once he was able to get back, he imagined all the glorious ways he would kill all three of them.

As Raphael watched the rain, thinking of murder, he heard footsteps coming from the street. The Devil, or rather cat, lazily walked towards the entrance, wondering what idiot would run around in a storm. It was his little mouse. Raphael’s eyes widened, hope rising in him. Hope. He scolded himself for thinking of such things now. But Tav didn’t look towards him, in fact they hurried away from the ruined house. In a desperate attempt, Raphael started meowing as loud as he could, hoping Tav would turn back. And they did. 

Tav was always a kindhearted person, one he could easily use for his own gains; and today wasn’t any different. The hero of Baldur’s Gate rushed towards him, covering themselves with their cape. Raphael smiled but from the outside it looked like a distorted grimace. His little mouse, how ironic, bent down to pet him. In any other case he would’ve cut their hand off, but he reminded himself that currently Tav was the only person who could help him, again. No matter, he was patient after all. Another hundred years was nothing to him. He could wait. 

“Aw, you’re trapped here kitty?” their voice cooed at him. “Come, I can help.”

They took their cape off and tried to make a safe haven for him. Raphael wished he could slash their arms but he wasn’t one to bite the hand that feeds him. Not in this case, at least. He gently settled in Tav’s arms as they did their best to cover him with their cape. 

“Are you ready?” they asked before rushing out.

Raphael hissed as a stray raindrop fell on his head. It was a purely instinctual response, one he hated. The Devil spent so much time learning how to hide his reactions in his devil form; now he had to start all over again. Controlling the tail seemed easiest, as it reminded him of his previous one; but these vocal reactions got the best of him. Thankfully Tav seemed to be occupied with something else to notice. 

In the meantime Raphael started making his plan. First, his little mouses needed to recognise him. That would prove to be troublesome but if he remembered correctly, and he always did, Raphael could recall them using a potion to speak to animals before. He could only hope that Tav still had a potion. Hope, again. Raphael growled, trying to forget her. The last thing he needed was to be reminded of that stubborn fool. 

Before he could even consider where he was, Tav entered a tavern. Raphael didn’t recognize it at first but after looking around, he remembered its name – Elfsong. Not the luxury Raphael was hoping for but he had figured out Tav’s lack of style quite some time ago. His hero rushed upstairs, entering the bedroom. To his surprise, not one soul was present besides his little mouse. Tav set him down before releasing a sigh. 

“Oh you poor thing… You’re so filthy.” they shook their head. Raphael growled at them before setting off to find their backpack, and the potion he was looking for. 

He didn’t quite care what Tav was doing in the meantime, since he only needed them to understand him. Raphael was already sure that his little mouse would laugh at this horrid fate, which they would pay for, but he had to endure it. For now. 

Once he found the bag, he tore the top open with his teeth and claws, and started rummaging around. He hated the messiness of this but he didn’t have another choice as Tav didn’t seem to come after him. Raphael searched around in the hero’s disorganized bag, finding all sorts of things. Scrolls on top of scrolls, food that has been rotting there for at least months, a severed hand. The Devil grimaced just before he set eyes on the potion. He grabbed it with his mouth and began pulling it out before he was snatched away from it. 

“No! Bad kitty! Leave my potions alone, they could poison you!” Tav yelled at him with mocked anger. Once Raphael hissed at them, their expression softened. “Now, now, it’s okay. You’re fine but keep it that way, alright?”

Yet they didn’t put him down. Raphael whipped his head around before setting his eyes on a bucket full of water. Coincidentally Tav was walking right in its direction. Oh no. He took the rain and being thrown in the mud but he was not going to be bathed like some animal. Raphael screamed and tossed around in the hero’s arms, scratching every piece of flash he could get his claws on. He despised how weak he was in this form, unable to stop the fool from dumping him into water. 

“Stop that!” they shrieked. “Gods you’re so dramatic, I’m just trying to help!”

Tav raised him above them as Raphael stared daggers at the hero. His little mouse shook their head disapprovingly. Clearly they had not figured out who he was yet. And if they have and were just playing with him, Raphael was going to make sure their soul would suffer eternally. 

“You remind me so much of Raphael, that bastard.” How dare they. “I think I’m gonna name you after him. Wait, he would probably kill me if he found out. Hm.”

That he will. 

“How about Meowphael?” they laughed. “Yeah, that fits.”

Oh, Tav was going to die.

---

Psst, you like Raphael? Why not sign this petition to get a Raphael romance (or at least more content with him)?

never fear, your fairy godmother is here!

(It's Wei Wuxian. He's the fairy godmother)

Wei Wuxian is riding high off a difficult case finally closed when the next call comes through. He’s staring aimlessly into the beautiful delta waters of Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng when the tingling begins, a familiar sensation somewhere in his chest that tells him that somewhere is a worthy human in need of a guide for their happy ever after.

“–So then I thought, well what am I supposed to do? She doesn’t want a lover or a partner, but her future isn’t fame or riches either.”

Wei Wuxian isn’t sure that Jiang Cheng is actually listening to him, but he’s very proud of himself, so Jiang Cheng can suck it up. He’s used to finding his new charges in difficult and tragic circumstances, but he’s rarely found someone in quite such a sticky situation as poor Qin Su.

“And she insists that she doesn’t have someone in mind,” Wei Wuxian continues. “So you know what I did?”

“Uh-huh,” Jiang Cheng says vaguely, because he’s not listening at all. “Very cool.” He’s not a very good brother, Jiang Cheng. Well, they’re not related, but they also weren’t really born, they just kind of exist, so Wei Wuxian doesn’t worry too much about it.

“I found her a whole team!” Wei Wuxian finishes proudly. “I got a doctor from Qishan, who was looking to get away from her family, and her little brother, and a top disciple from Lanling, and boom! Team of four! That’s a family right there. They’re going to be friends for life.”

“Do you ever consider not boasting about yourself?” Jiang Cheng wonders out loud.

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian objects. “I’ll have you know I’m the number one fairy godmother!”

Jiang Cheng merely rolls his eyes. “As you haven’t stopped saying for the past hundred years.”

“Well, it’s–” Wei Wuxian stops mid-sentence and puts one hand behind him on the wooden planks of the boardwalk so he doesn’t collapse when his stomach rolls.

“Another one?” Jiang Cheng demands. “So soon?”

“I’m in high demand,” Wei Wuxian says weakly.

“But jiejie and I have spent all day making a celebratory dinner,” Jiang Cheng says, dismayed. Then he corrects himself. “I mean, jiejie’s spent all day making dinner for us! Do you want to disappoint her? Do you?!”

Wei Wuxian stands up. If he wasn’t still flushed with success, if only he’d listened to the odd, twisting sensation that said this was not a normal case of a damsel in need of true love, perhaps he would’ve stayed. Perhaps none of what followed would have happened. But perhaps it was always destined to happen.

“I’ll be back before dinner,” Wei Wuxian declares foolishly, and vanishes.

He appears in a thematically dark and twisted forest near sundown. The wind is whispering ominously through the leaves. Wei Wuxian pushes aside a branch in order to enter the clearing from which an ugly sobbing sound is coming from. It must be his new client.

By the light of the dying sun, Wei Wuxian can make out a hunched form dressed in fine white robes. The crying is quiet, but the person’s back shudders. They seem to be holding something. Wei Wuxian takes a moment to adjust. A great pair of black and red butterfly wings appear on his back. Humans more readily accept that he’s capable of inhuman feats if there’s something inhuman (but non threatening) about him. He usually goes for crow or raven wings, but he thinks the current setting might be a little inappropriate for that. Many of Wei Wuxian’s fellow fairy godmothers also opt for fancy robes, but Wei Wuxian’s never really felt comfortable with them.

Wei Wuxian clears his throat. “Hello,” he calls.

The man–because it is a man, Wei Wuxian quickly realizes, with a beauty he’s come to expect from his clients, and a cultivator’s sword–whirls around. He hasn’t got a very expressive face, but Wei Wuxian has spent hundreds of years around people. His client’s eyes are wild, disbelieving. He’s got a Lan ribbon on his forehead, one of the inner clan, if Wei Wuxian isn’t mistaken, and he never is. There are two tear tracks running down his cheeks, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

Wei Wuxian steps closer. His new client staggers to his feet and looks away, but whatever he was holding or looking at is gone. When he looks back at Wei Wuxian, there’s an awestruck look of recognition on his face. Wei Wuxian grins, pleased to see that his influence has reached the ears of humans.

The man takes one shaky step forward. He seems to be trying to drink in Wei Wuxian’s presence, soak him in just by looking at him. Wei Wuxian can’t blame him. He is very impressive.

On that thought, Wei Wuxian spreads his arms wide. “Never fear, mortal! Your hour of distress has come to an end!” Above their heads, a cloud drifts away and allows the moon to beam through, bathing Wei Wuxian with soft light. “It is I, Wei Wuxian, your fairy godmother!”

Now his client is just staring at him blankly. Wei Wuxian’s grin falters. He lowers his arms and clears his throat. “Perhaps you didn’t h–”

“What’s a fairy godmother?” The client interrupts.

Really?

Wei Wuxian sighs. “I am in charge of finding you a happy ending, in whatever form that may take,” he answers.

He waits another beat. This is usually where his clients start thanking him.

The man does not look very impressed. “How does that involve butterfly wings?”

“I–!” Wei Wuxian starts, very offended and very taken aback. “I…thought they would be less threatening than crow wings?”

The man stares at him. Wei Wuxian vanishes the wings with a thought.

“Well, if you have a preference, just let me know,” Wei Wuxian grumbles sulkily. “I am at your service, after all.”

“That is unnecessary,” the man says flatly. The tears haven’t dried but he’s composed himself. He turns away from Wei Wuxian deliberately.

“What do you mean?” Wei Wuxian asks, chasing his client through the clearing when the cultivator starts to walk away.

“I am not in need of your help,” the ungrateful bastard says.

“Wh–! Yes, you are!” Wei Wuxian argues. “I wouldn’t be here if there weren’t a worthy damsel in distress in need of my services.”

At that term damsel in distress the man turns and gives him a withering, wintry glare. It’s under-cut by a deep well of loss, pain, and sadness that Wei Wuxian is convinced he can see on his client’s face. And to the rejection of damsel of distress, he can only shrug. It’s true.

“I’ll have you know I am the top fairy godmother,” Wei Wuxian says, in reply to the glare, as pretentiously as he can. “For the past hundred years. I have never failed a client. Whatever it is you want, true love, honor, treasure, a kingdom, I can find it for you. I promise you I have seen it all before.”

His client finally stops running away from him. Wei Wuxian saunters up to him. “If it’s love you’re worrying about, people are less narrow-minded than you think. There’s bound to be someone out there who’s exactly who you’re looking for. Well, most of them. Actually, my clients are sometimes a little narrow-minded. One of them specifically requested that I find a true love for him that had never been turned into an animal. A little narrow-minded, don’t you think?”

At this point, Wei Wuxian is up in his face, and his client is starting to look a little overwhelmed. Wei Wuxian backs up, gives him a little space. The Lan cultivator turns to look at the spot in the clearing where he’d been kneeling before Wei Wuxian showed up.

“Can you bring back the dead?” His client asks abruptly.

Wei Wuxian falters. “That’s–ehhh, that’s a, uh, gray area. Kind of depends. I’m going to lean towards no. Yeah, feels like a no. No necromancy here. I have definitely never done that before.”

The righteous Lan cultivator actually has the nerve to look disappointed in him. “Then I have no use for you,” he says stiffly, and starts to walk away again.

“Okay, hold up!” Wei Wuxian splutters, hurrying after him. The man does not hold up, forcing Wei Wuxian to keep pace through the dark forest. It’s no problem for Wei Wuxian, but rather rude, all things considered. “How rude! Here I am offering to solve your life’s problems and you question my abilities–you know I once created a whole celestial mountain for one of my clients–hey! Think of my reputation,” he begs, when his rude client continues to walk away. “I have never, ever failed a client before. Think of how it would look if one of my clients just walked away! Just give me a chance. Please. Please?”

His runaway client finally stops running away, right in a thicket of trees. Wei Wuxian almost bumps into him.

“This is important to you?” His client asks finally, without looking back.

“Oh yes, very,” Wei Wuxian knows immediately, because that’s the thing about his clients. They’re all good people, whether they’d like to admit it or not. The only people who like to help more than them are the fairy godmothers. “It would make me very happy to make you happy.”

The man’s shoulders relax ever-so slightly. “Very well.”

“Yes!” Wei Wuxian fist-pumps. He glances up at the moon, reminding himself that humans have to do things like eat and sleep. “Okay, first things first, I’ll get you home,” he decides. “Tomorrow we can–”

“I have no home,” his new client interrupts in a dispassionate tone that suggests this subject has one too many emotions for him to handle.

Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow internally and thinks of his Lan clan ribbon, but says nothing. He merely mentally files this client into the hundreds of lost-their-home clients that have come before him. There’s no telling why his new client lost his home. Usually they tell Wei Wuxian about their woes willingly, without Wei Wuxian having to beg them to burden him with their problems. But there’s a whole host of solutions to the no-home problem, exactly none of which Wei Wuxian can think of when the man reaches up and pulls his forehead ribbon off with trembling fingers.

“Um,” Wei Wuxian warbles. He averts his eyes from the now bare forehead. Later he’ll chalk it up to the difficulty in acquiring this client and the subsequent need to prove his powers that leads him to suggest: “W-what about my house?”

His client turns to face him. He looks a little shocked, but mostly confused.

“I live in the heavenly Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian says grandly. Well, he tries to say it grandly, but it comes out matter-of-fact. “I’ve got plenty of room. And you needn’t worry about politics up there.”

Slowly, his client nods, his face unreadable.

“Great,” Wei Wuxian says brightly. He reaches for his client’s hand, ignores the scandalized look he receives, and vanishes both of them to Lotus Pier.

They appear in a pavilion at the end of one of the many boardwalks. Enormous pastel lotus flowers dot the still waters. In the distance, the still waters cascade into a roaring waterfall that pours off the edge of the heavens. Above them, the sun is setting. Wei Wuxian’s client is winded from the sudden travel, so Wei Wuxian doesn’t let go of his hand. The scent of fresh water and spice sets in.

When the client steadies himself, Wei Wuxian tugs him out of the pavilion. The human’s eyes widen as the halls of Lotus Pier come into view, and Wei Wuxian smirks to himself. That’s the only reason why he’s sad that humans don’t come to Lotus Pier. He’d love a chance to show off his home more.

His client is still trying to take in the magnificent sloping roofs, the purple clouds and the dusk orange sky, when Wei Wuxian urges him into a walk.

“Come on,” Wei Wuxian says, still smiling widely. “We’ll be late for dinner.”

Loud music and hard of hearing conspiracy

~~~

An Unidentified Flying Ship one shot

~~~

The music was blaring loudly but from the hallway at least it was a little muffled. Not entirely, Wes could still pick out the words to whatever awful pop song was playing if he focused but it was muted enough that he could at least ignore it.

How did I end up here?

A week ago everything had been fine, normal. Then everything went downhill.

It started when everyone was getting hyped about prom because it was only a week away. What was once an occasional subject that was mentioned once or twice in conversation quickly dominated the forefront of everyone's minds.

Of course with it came everyone talking about dates and Wes had rolled his eyes at the relationship drama that would proceed the school dance.

"What about you Wes?" His twin brother Kyle had asked.

Wes at the time was glaring at Fenton from across the cafeteria, totally zoned out from the world around him and whatever conversation was going on at the table but his brother's question had reeled him back in.

He blinked, turning his attention to Kyle who sat beside him "What about what?"

"Are you going with someone to prom?" One of the others at the table asked. Oh so the conversation had drifted there.

Before Wes could answer no, he was going to be too busy trying to gather evidence to expose Fenton someone else at the table went "I'm pretty sure he wants to ask Fenton to prom"

Wes' brain blue screened for a moment but when he saw everyone at the table nodding he was immediately snapped out of his stupor "wha- NO! Of course not! Why would you even think!?" Wes fumbled but then Kyle put his hand on Wes' shoulder.

"Bro, no offence but we all know you have a crush on Fenton and that you're just using your conspiracy theories as an excuse" Kyle said while looking at Wes sympathetically.

"I don't- I'm not using anything as an excuse, Fenton is Phantom! How can you guys not see it!?" Wes said, he was pointedly ignoring the heat he felt rush to his cheeks.

Another person at their table just shook their head in pity "Oh you poor thing, still in denial about your feelings. You know well still accept you no matter your sexuality right Wes?" They said and Wes heard his brother mumble something about how sad it was Wes thought ghosts were real.

At this point Wes was left completely speechless at the way all his friends seemed to agree with the outrageous notion that he had a crush on Danny Fenton. A crush.

Wes just stood up and walked away with his tray of half eaten slop. He could hear his friends sighing over how hopeless and oblivious he was.

It didn't stop there though.

Later that day at home Kyle, Wes and their older brother Easton were in the living room together quietly doing their own things. Kyle doing some homework, Easton texting someone and Wes looking over all the pictures he had gotten of Phantom after the fight earlier that day, unfortunately all were too blurry to make out anything Wes could actually use as evidence.

Then Kyle broke the comfortable silence.

"Hey Easton, you think you can give Wes some advice for asking his crush to prom?" Kyle asked, not even looking up from the algebra equation he was doing.

If Wes had been drinking anything he would've done a spit take, instead he settled for just staring at his brother in growing horror.

"Hmm? Crush? Oh you mean Jazz's younger brother?" Easton asked as he looked up from his phone. Wes already knew that Easton was good friends with Jazz Fenton but he became even more horrified by the fact that he had immediately connect the 'crush' Kyle had mentioned to Danny Fenton.

Kyle just nodded and Wes was still too shocked to say anything as he looked between his brothers.

"Well, you can never go wrong with chocolates and just straight up asking" Easton said with a shrug before looking back down at his phone.

Finally Wes regained he ability to speak "NO! I don't have a crush on Fenton!" Wes exclaimed.

"Wes you shouldn't be embarrassed to ask for help. I'm your brother, you can't really hide the fact that you have a huge crush on Fenton from me" Easton said simply and some part of Wes was thankful that neither of his brothers are currently looking at him because he knew his face was probably almost as red as his hair.

The larger part of Wes though was shocked and horrified by what his brother had just said.

Not for the first time that day Wes just got up and left without another word.

The rest of the week didn't fair any better.

Anytime Wes inforned his brothers or friends that he was going to tail Fenton to finally expose that he was Phantom they just rolled their eyes before going "Are you finally going to ask him to prom?" And everytime without fail Wes would turn bright red before stomping off in whatever direction Fenton had ran off to, muttering under his breath about how he did NOT have a crush on Fenton.

Finally, Friday he snapped.

"WHY!? Why does everyone think I have a crush on Fenton!? I thought it was obvious that I hate him!" Wes yelled after Kyle had off handedly asked if he had asked Fenton to prom yet.

"Duh, it's because you're pretty much infatuated with him" Kyle stated like it was obvious.

"I'm NOT infatuated!" Wes said.

"Then what do you have to say about all those pictures you take of him? Or following him and his friends around? The fact that you have an entire notebook filled with little facts about him that no one else would care to notice?" Kyle pointed out.

"That's all evidence! It's me trying to expose that he is really Phantom!" Wes argued.

"Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that but you can't live in denial forever bro. I mean why would you need to keep a catalogue of his interests or have so many photos of him just being normal and not at all 'ghostly' " Kyle said while making air quotes "that stuff can't be used as evidence so why still keep it?"

"Because! Be... because..." Wes stopped. Why did he keep all of those things? They weren't particularly helpful in exposing Fenton so why?

"It's cause you like-like him. Prom is tomorrow so I'm sorry to say your denial made you miss your chance to ask him out" Kyle said while patting Wes on the back.

Wes once again stood from the couch and walk away, up to his room and slammed the door behind him.

He spent the whole rest of the day just laying on his bed, staring at his ceiling. He went to prom the next day because some of his friends insisted he couldn't miss it.

For most of the night he had felt numb, especially as he watched people dance and talk and laugh together while he practically glued himself to the wall.

Then he spotted Fenton and Wes was hit again with his brothers words 'it's because you're pretty much infatuated with him'.

Wes hated to admit it but Fenton actually looked good. He wore a white dress shirt with a dark green bow tie and black slacks. It was simple but he pulled it off quite well and Wes couldn't help but notice how the flashing lights of the gym reflected off of Danny's ice blue eyes. How the constantly changing angle of the light highlighted his face a hundred different ways and none of them looked unflattering, at least not to Wes.

The music was loud, he could barely hear people standing right next to him so of course Wes couldn't hear what Danny and Sam were talking about on the other side of gym but Danny seemed to laugh at something she said and Wes couldn't tear his eyes away. He could almost imagine the laugh in his head, light and easy becoming a soft chuckle towards the end.

Wes looked down at the plastic cup full of punch he held in his hand. He could practically smell that someone had spiked it.

He soon found himself stumbling out of the gym because everything was so bright and loud and he needed more space between himself and Danny, definitely more than just a gymnasium's length at least until he figured out why the heck he felt his face flush when he thought about Danny's laugh.

So that's how Wes ended up sitting on the cool tile floors of the school's empty hallway. The lights were off so it was dark but the smallest bit of light poured in through the high up windows front the street lamps outside so it wasnt pitch black, even if it was hard to make out any details of his surroundings.

He didn't know how long he sat there staring at the swirling cup of liquid in his hands.

Eventually he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and he didn't need to lift his head to know it was Danny.

"Hey Wes" Danny's familiar voice echoed a little in the empty hallway, it wasn't the same kind of echo that his voice gained when he was Phantom Wes absentmindedly noted. He heard Danny sit down next to him on the cool tile floor.

"What brings you out here? Would've thought you'd be in the gym with your friends" Danny said.

Wes jostled the cup a little with his hand before gesturing to it "I think someone spiked the punch" Wes said instead of giving a straight answer to Danny's question.

"Oh? Good thing I was never a fan of punch. You good?" Wes could've sworn he heard actual concern leak into Danny's voice.

"Yeah, I only took a few sips" Wes shrugged and he leaned backwards against the metal lockers that lined the walls.

"What about you? Why're you out here?" Wes could now see Danny in his peripheral vision quite well. His legs were spread out straight infront of him unlike how Wes had his knees tucked against his chest. He also seemed to be leaning against the lockers behind them, looking relaxed against the cool metal.

"Technus decided to try and take over the DJ booth. I managed to stop him pretty quickly but I needed a breather so I came out here" Danny said, making a vague gesture with his hand.

"Hmm" Was Wes' only reply. The source of all his troubles, both old and new was sitting right next to him and they were holding a proper conversation like real people. No threats of exposing identities, no witty banter or mocking remarks.

To someone who didn't know any better it would almost seem like they were on civil terms with eachother.

What kind of terms are we on?

They weren't friends, not by a long shot. But enemies seemed too strong a word now that Wes thought about it. It wasn't like they were physically hurting eachother like Danny's other enemies. It was less literal battling and more metaphorical and figurative battling.

But after tonight would I even be able to do that anymore?

Wes couldn't just ignore the revelation forced upon him. He wasn't one for ignoring the obvious and when Kyle presented the evidence he had to admit his feelings were a tad obvious.

A comfortable silence was now between the two and Wes turned his head to look at Danny directly. His breath caught in his throat.

Danny was completely relaxed leaning against the lockers behind him. His hair was slightly disheveled, more so than usual. His eyes were closed and he had a faint smile on his face. The dim light shining in made his pale skin look like it was glowing, giving him an ethereal look. Wes was pretty sure that he could only glow in ghost form but that didn't stop the way the light reflected to make it seem otherwise. Wes also became hyper aware of the fact that they were sitting very close to eachother, if he leaned to the side a bit they would be brushing shoulders.

'Yeah, super obvious' Wes thought as he felt a blush find it's way onto his cheeks.

Wes managed to pry his eyes away and looked back down at his cup of spiked punch.

"Screw it" he mumbled before downing the whole thing.

"Hmm? What was that?" Danny asked as he peeked an eye open.

"Screw it" Wes said louder as he grabbed Danny by his collar and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Danny froze in place as Wes pulled back. The blush stood out against Danny's pale skin and Wes knew he was probably as red as tomato as he spoke "Wanna go dance? With me?" Wes asked cautiously.

Danny blinked before a doppy smile found it's way onto his face "Yeah, sure" he said.

Wes pushed himself up and held out a hand which Danny took without a moment's hesitation.

Lovebirds.

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 |  omg this is my first request. ilysm anon, im now feelin super cool. also, i just realized i put recc (as in recommended) instead of requests. i’m super stupid LOL. anyways, im touch starved too dw bby, i’m servin u up a long one since i rlly like this request and after all u r my first! 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo x Wife! Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 2307 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | None! 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | Coming home from a long mission in America, precisely 1 year, you’re excited to catch up on Gojo’s students, Nanami, and just Gojo in general.   Leaning out of the car window, resting your arm against your purse, you sighed. A humid wind brushed against your skin, tickling you. It had been quite a while since you had been in Japan, spending almost a year on a huge mission in America. You had killed a battalion worthy amount of special grades.   You spent most of your time in America in mostly horribly rundown places, equally as infested with curses. Although you found yourself enjoying America’s natural beauty, further away from the city life that many of the Americans found themselves enjoying, you much preferred Japan. after all, it was your home, and where you met Gojo Satoru. It would be another day until you could return, and you had gone through hundreds of scenarios of finally being in his arms again, but nonetheless, you were ecstatic at the thought of your husband’s touch.   Your phone’s notification chimed loudly, you threw your phone onto the other seat, heart jumping up to a high rate. It was a recording of Satoru loudly yelling, “OPEN YOUR FUCKING PHONE!” with a flurry of giggles afterwards.    Ijichi jumped, turning left and right. Whispering under his breath, he let out an exasperated sigh, switching the music channel.    The recording was mostly because of the time you had to ghost him due to work. Gojo had snuck on and recorded it, doing some magical tech stuff and giving you the custom notification sound. You had kept it that way ever since, since secretly, you enjoyed that you were so badly wanted by Gojo, that, and you had no idea how to change it back.    But the custom notification was sweet as well.   You smiled to yourself every time you heard it, a familiar twinge of pain flashing inside of you whenever you realized you wouldn’t be able to see him for a while.   Well, today, and the days after that would be different. You’d be able to finally see Gojo again, and his new students that he always frantically texted you about. Nanami, an old friend of Gojo, and also an old friend of yours, would also be there to welcome you back, you found yourself reminiscing about them.   You had heard so much about them, one of the kids being Sukuna’s vessel, you wondered how Gojo could contain such a fear, being around the kid at all times, he always told you about how the kid was actually energetic and happy and an overall great kid, you had heard about Nanami, finally coming back into the jujutsu sorcerer field of work, even though you always found that he still had a thing for finances.   You shook your head, “Save that shit for later, (Y/N).” muttering to yourself, you didn’t want to think of anything but Gojo, after all, it had been one fucking year of being deprived of the man you loved most. You were practically starving for the guy, in more ways than one.   Ijichi gulped, facing towards you, one hand on his steering wheel, “Forgive me Mrs. Satoru, but um.. Forgive me if I misheard, but I think I heard your phones notification go off.. Due to the ah- incredibly loud profanity.”   Now just realizing that you had completely forgotten about the phone notification, you nodded your thanks to Ijichi, a warmth rushing to your cheeks before opening up your phone.    In the small, rounded box containing Gojo’s message, he wrote in all caps, “SUGAR, MY BELOVED, MY QUEEN, HOW CLOSE ARE YOU? I CAN’T FUCKING WAIT I’M LITERALLY BOUNCING UP AND DOWN IN OUR BED.”   Smiling to yourself, you furiously texted back, “Calm down honeybun, I’ll be there in like, 24 hours, I’m not even fucking close.”   You almost instantly got a DM back, making you jump a bit in your seat. Even with the 5 years of friendship, and the 3 years of relationship, and the 2 years of marriage, he still almost always texted you back as quickly as possible.   “God I can’t fucking wait for you to meet the kids! We’ll keep it a surprise, yeah? We have a bunch of treats, and we also got the kids to get some gifts for you! How thoughtful aren’t they? They’re MY offspring by the way, so like, you know, whenever you want a kid, it’s your call ;)”   You snorted to yourself, smiling. He genuinely seemed so excited, and it was all shining through even though it was from a screen.    “Maybe in a few years, I don’t even wanna imagine a little you.”   Despite the excited, bubbling feeling brewing bigger and bigger in your stomach, you figured it’d be best to sleep before the chaos. Happily sighing, you laid down, using your purse as a pillow, drifting into a blissful sleep.  ‧₊˚✩彡.   You awoke to a sudden halt, Looking around your surroundings, you figured you were home. Ijichi looked like he was damn near about to fall asleep on the steering wheel.   Well, maybe that’s what 24 hours of constant driving did to you. You fished around in your purse, silently cursing looking for a water bottle.   “Here, Ijichi, looks like you ran a marathon.” you grinned, handing the slightly crumped water bottle to him.   He beamed as if a guardian angel had descended down and gave him a trillion dollars.   “Mrs. Satoru! You really mean it? The ride was nothing, I was merely instructed to do so and I would’ve done it happily regardless.”   You waved your hand, as a dismissal of the conversation. “You overwork yourself Ijichi, go catch a break, on me. If Gojo tears you apart, tell him he won’t be getting any pussy from me for another year.”   Ichiji nodded vigorously, before dashing off, probably towards a massage center, God that guy needed it. ‧₊˚✩彡.    Gojo frantically hopped up and down, it had been a day, now he was just waiting for you to bust through the door in your wild hair, his legs sprawled onto the whole of a couch, he stared at the ceiling, a dopey smile spread across his face.     “Satoru. (Y/N) will not even want to be associated with you, looking at your current state.” he remarked, staring at the sorcerer with his strikingly dead eyes.     “Nanami, how the fuck am I supposed to act calm?! I’ve waited for this moment for ONE YEAR! Does my hair look normal?!”    “Your hair looks just like an albino porcupine, just as usual.” Flipping the page of his newspaper, he sighed, rubbing his temples. “I will never understand how someone like (Y/N) would be.. Interested in you, Satoru.”     Gojo paid no attention to the insult Nanami had so clearly made, his ears were perked up, eavesdropping on a distant conversation coming closer and closer.     “Gojo-Senpai was telling me about this movie while training my cursed energy! He basically spoiled the whole thing but he told me that the main character was super annoying but apparently she dies in the end in the most gruesome way possible! It’s worth the watch, your soul will feel cleansed as soon as you see her lifeless body!”     “Yuuji, you literally spoiled the whole thing to me just now.” Fushiguro calmly stated, looking bored out of his mind.     “Oh, oops.” Yuuji rubbed the back of his neck. He smiled coyly, tightly hugging his present.    “What’s with the decorations, Gojo-Sensei?” inquired Nobara, stroking her warm toned brown hair. She had figured it was something about the presents that Gojo had forced the trio to get, but he never told them who it was for.    The room had been decorated with various balloons and confetti, scattered about, on the table and the ground. A cake box wrapped with a gigantic bow limply guarded whoever was brave enough to get their hands on something that Gojo seemed to be protecting with his life.    A pink table cover with a crudely drawn Gojo and what would seem to be a girl, a heart in the middle of the pair. In a horrible font with an even awfuller text, the text on top and at the bottom of the drawing proudly stated:    “WELCOME BACK QT”    “-YOU’RE HUSBAND AND THE CREW”    Nobara stood in distaste, trying to disguise the face she made. The drawing, the misused you’re, and the overall poor design choice was enough to almost make her vomit.     Nobara, about to make her distasteful statements about the whole mess, was suddenly shut up as Gojo started hopping up and down, looking directly at his phone.   “SHE’S COMING! SHE’S COMING! EVERYONE IN YOUR PLACES!”    Now, seeing Gojo freak out wasn’t outside of the ordinary, but it was to see him freak out to this extent. He was hopping up and down, blabbering about a certain woman named (Y/N). Nobara was pretty sure that if a curse attacked right now, even a special grade comparable to the one with the uncomplete domain could completely crush Gojo, the guy seemed completely unaware of the example he was setting to the kids. Even Yuuji stood in disbelief, and he had seen multiple tantrums by Gojo.   Nanami, however, licked his finger and flipped the newspaper page. A face of boredom obviously displayed.     Nobara, preparing herself to chew Gojo out about how utterly stupid and embarrassing he made the whole class of jujutsu sorcerers look like, stopped wide eyed as she looked at the doors slide wide open. ‧₊˚✩彡.    You stood, shyly, looking at the ground. Gojo dove headfirst into your arms, laughing like a maniac and digging his face into your shoulder. You breathed in his scent, scanning the room.     Three teens, sat wide-eyed, backs straight as they looked at you with eyes you couldn’t quite read. All three of them held presents.     The one with eyelids underneath his eyes (which you assumed was Yuuji, the vessel of Sukuna) eyed you curiously, his eye twitched.     The other boy, one with wild black-blue hair, sat mouth agape, before closing it. He looked like he was about to say something, before stopping entirely and hugging his present closer to his chest.    The warm haired girl darted her eyes between you two, seemingly trying to put the puzzle together.     Nanami put the newspaper down, glancing over to you two.    “This is obviously Gojo-Senpai’s wife. He hasn’t seen her in many months, and as you can see, really really misses her.” he paused, a small smile spreading on his face, a rare sight.     “I don’t even know why myself, but what can you do with lovebirds?” he thought aloud, his attention now focused to the two of you furiously making out, hands in places Yuuji and the crew didn’t need to see.    “Satoru, (Y/N), leave the kissing for later. Don’t you see the kids?”     You detached yourself from his mouth, panting for breath. The air being exhaled out of his nose fanned over your face, you had just now realized the kids again.     “Satoru, lets sit down. I bet the kids are surprised. “ you motioned to the couch. Gojo whined.     “What? They’re not that dumb, they can tell you’re my wife or at least, you’re my girlfriend, just by the way we kiss right? Isn’t this telling enough?”     “You didn’t tell them about me, ever did you?”     He sighed in defeat, holding tightly onto your arm as you dragged him over and sat down on the comfortable couch, opposite of Yuuji and the crew. Nanami scooched over, before finally getting up to pull another chair from somewhere else. Grunting, he excused himself from the room.     “YOU HAD A GIRLFRIEND, GOJO-SENPAI? AND DIDN’T TELL US?” Yuuji questioned, looking like he was about to faint.    Gojo laughed, snuggling deeper onto you, almost like a koala.     “She’s my wife, aren’t you, sugar? Did you even pay attention to anything Nanami said? He literally said she was my wife.”     Megumi made an obvious gagging sound, but even he didn’t seem as bored as he was usually. He actually looked intrigued.     “Why didn’t you tell us, Gojo-Senpai?” the girl nagged, slamming her fist down on the table.     Gojo smiled, “Uh, well, I wanted it to be a surprise when she came back.”     “Couldn’t you have told us that you had a wife or something?” Megumi butt in.    The door slid open, Nanami coming in with a wooden stool.     “Knowing Gojo-Senpai, that probably went over his head.” grunting as he placed the wooden stool down and sat, he opened his newspaper again.     “Where do you guys know eachother?”    “Was Gojo-Senpai handsome back in highschool too?”    “Do you know what lipgloss Gojo-Senpai wears?”    “Gojo-Senpai, how did you know you loved her?”     “Gojo-Senpai, can we eat now?”     “Do you know why Gojo has such a horrible sweet tooth?”      Before you could even respond, Nanami put his hand up.     “Now, now, lets let the happy couple settle down.” he cleard his throat, not even making eye contact with anyone but the newspaper.     An audible chorus of groans sounded, “What do you expect us to do? We literally just met her!” moaned Yuuji.    “Weren’t you the one that literally asked if we could eat yet?”    Yuuji immediately shut up afterwards.     “Yuuji, she just came back from a 1 day trip. She should be laying down comfortably with Gojo-Senpai and they should be catching up. You’ll have the opportunity to talk to her and learn about her later. Right now she needs space.”    “But-” Nobara whined, clasping her hands together.    Nanami turned to Fushiguro, but even he had his mind set. “I didn’t even begin to think that Gojo had a wife. I really want to know more about her, if you think about it, this is all Gojo-Sensei’s fault.”    Nanami rubbed his temples, staring at the two of you for backup, realizing that you two were making out again.    Nanami sighed, 10 years later and you two were still the same.    

Settle Down: Prologue

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader (kinda enemies to lovers) 

Rating: M

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: None, will be smut in eventual chapters

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N and Spencer don’t get along but turn to each other for the one thing you need someone else for... A baby. You can plantonically start a family, right?

A.N: this is a bad bio but idk how else to put it. it’s a baby fic! I wouldn’t say this is enemies to lovers but they certainly don’t like each other at first so it kinda is. comment on this chap or message to be on the taglist. much love, Cia

                Prologue:  A Powerpoint, Really? 

If you had told 16 year old Y/N that she’d be working at the FBI, she would’ve called you batshit. 

Not only, did you not have any respect for authority or any inclination for rules in that matter, working for the FBI was never in the forefront of your mind. But when given the option of Jail or a full time job with benefits, it was fairly easy to make a choice. You remember the first day when you met your work partner and now best friend Penelope Garcia or specifically the day she caught you. 

You were waiting tables like you did every weekend to stay afloat. Today was unreasonably slow so you were just finding small things to do. That’s when she came in, an extremely brightly dressed woman, sat at the bar of the diner. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” You smile at the woman who looks up at you and smiles. 

“Yes, I’m looking for the Emerald City.” She says, smirking at you. Your face drops, you knew what she was talking about. 

When you started hacking it was only supposed to be a one time thing. You grew up poor, spent most of your life poor so when you saw your childhood home was set to be demolished to build a fancy new headquarters for Scotty Realins, an upcoming asshole tech CEO, without a cent going to your parents.  Something in you snapped. You had already been pretty decent at code and you flirted with a couple of guys in your STEM classes to learn how to hack so you would say you were pretty good at this point. So you hacked into the website and made sure all the Revenue for that day actually was wired to lower-income housing. At the end of the day, it was only a couple hundred thousand dollars but what was pennies to Scotty Realins changed some people's lives. 

So you started doing it more, to different companies under the pseudonym OZ. The money always went to different places that needed it whether it was paying the rent for a bunch of families or anonymous large donations to food banks or soup kitchens. You gained a bit of fame in the hacker community as a modern day Robin Hood. 

All good things come to an end though. And the end was standing in front of you in clunky, rainbow colored jewelry. 

“You don’t look like a cop.” you say, crossing your arms. 

“I’ll do you one better.” She says, pulling her FBI badge out, showing it to you briefly. You curse under your breath. “I’ve been following you for a while, OZ. Though I wasn’t expecting the man behind the curtain to be a woman. I will say, having my computers route back to a loop of “We’re not in Kansas anymore.” everytime I tried to track your IP was impressive. I couldn’t even be mad about it.” 

“Clearly not that impressive because you found me.” 

“Still took me longer than usual, which is saying a lot.” 

“This is a really long winded conversation if you’re just here to arrest me.” You say, taking off your apron. No use in keeping it on if you were going to be in handcuffs soon. 

“That’s because I’m not here to arrest you. I’m here to offer you a job, to work under me as a Tech Analyst in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.” Penelope says. 

“And if I don’t want to?” 

“Then you’re going to want a lawyer and my very good handsome friend outside is going to arrest you. You’re smart and you have a chance to help people which is why you started hacking in the first place, right? Please don’t make me do that.” She looked at you pleadingly like she really cared and didn’t want you to go to prison. You didn’t say anything but something told you she’d been in the same boat as you before. 

“Hmmm…. I’m tired of waiting tables anyway.” 

So you uprooted your life and moved from Philadelphia to Quantico. Garcia took you under her wing and pretty soon the two of you functioned in her batcave like a well oiled machine. You could do without the constant gore that filled your screens but at the end of the day, you loved what you were doing and you wouldn’t change that for the world. 

The team was an added bonus, it was nice to have your own little found family. Garcia, of course, taking on the role as best friend mere days after your first meeting. You met Derek Morgan right after you agreed to take the job, he’d been there to arrest you and was very glad he wouldn’t have to do that. He told you often about how you reminded him of his sister and he regarded you in the role of younger sister from that day on. The next person you met had been Aaron Hotchner, your new boss. It took him a couple of weeks to warm up to you, you guessed he had a difficulty trusting new people and when he would call you guys for information he would always ask for Garcia instantly instead of you, not very trusting in your skills yet. Though that changed when you had been the one to track down the Unsub once. 

Rossi was easily won over when you told him about your Italian side of the family, specifically your grandmother who loved to cook and left you a lot of recipes. You and him often went back and forth in sharing dishes. Emily and JJ had also been easily won over with one bottle of tequila and a regrettable girls night. 

Then there was Dr. Spencer Reid.     

You had a lot of opinions on Dr. Reid, most of them weren’t good. It wasn’t like you hated him in fact, you’d consider him a friend but the two of you seemed to butt heads on well, everything. Both of you needing to be the smartest in the room and neither of you wanting to admit when you’re wrong will do that though. You still respected Spencer though, he was an extreme asset to the team and he was your best friend’s other best friend so you couldn’t really hate the guy. 

You also didn’t have to like him. 

So you had a good job, good friends, a nice house to live in. You were finally happy, content even. So why did it feel like something was missing? 

The something missing came in a stroller pushed by JJ the next week. 

The last case had been rough. Really rough. So while the team was on their way back you and Garcia hatched a plan for JJ to come visit from maternity leave and surprise everyone with the baby. While you guys were waiting for them to land, Garcia wanted to show JJ something she had gotten her godson so JJ asked if you could watch him and feed him until she got back, which you obviously agreed to. As you were feeding the child his bottle, and his ravioli sized fist wrapped around your finger you realized what had been missing. 

Fuck, you wanted a kid. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------

You told Garcia first, it slipped when she noticed how off you were being. You wanted to have a kid bad now and you knew you didn’t want to wait. Penny tried to convince you that you’d “find the right person” but let’s face it, with this job, long term relationships were few and far inbetween. Plus you didn’t need a man, you had a good job and insurance, you knew you could provide a child with a life full of love it deserved. So you made an appointment at a fertility clinic. As the doctor was talking to you about your options, you felt yourself feeling more and more down about your decision and that only increased as you looked in the book of sperm donors in front of you. You looked at too many serial killers daily that it made you uneasy, carrying a stranger's baby. Maybe Garcia was right and your best bet was to wait for ‘the right guy.’ Even though you really didn’t want to. 

You walked into work later, a little sullen. Heading immediately towards the coffee machine. Penelope, who had been at Derek’s desk, makes a beeline towards you.  

“So how’d it go?” She says, smiling. “Did you make an appointment to be baby-fied?” 

You sigh. “I couldn’t do it, Pen.” You say, frowning. “I just-- We see so much here that I don’t want to accidentally end up with a sociopath’s baby because I couldn’t wait.” 

“But you don’t want to wait, do you?” She says softly, empathizing with you. 

“No, I don’t.” You sigh again, finishing making your cup before walking back out into the bullpen. JJ had brought Henry again for the others to see on the slow paperwork day. You tried not to look bitter but it was like she was flaunting the one thing you couldn’t have, even if it was unintentional. You watched as she handed the baby to Spencer, who instantly smiled and made faces at the laughing baby. 

“Spencer is actually a surprisingly good godfather.” Garcia says, smiling at the exchange in front of you. “Kinda makes you wonder what he’d be like with his own baby geniuses.” She says before walking over to the group and scooping her godson out of Spencer’s arms, Spencer still held on to his fist with his pinky, smiling down at the child. 

“Yea…” You say, to no one in particular. 

You had an idea. A probably bad one. 

-------------------------------------------------------

You were sitting in the coffee shop, nervously fiddling on your laptop while waiting for Spencer. You were surprised he even agreed to meet with you for coffee though you were sure he was just doing it out of curiosity because you told him you had something important to talk about. You weren’t even sure if you were going about this the right way. Hey Spencer, I know we’re not even friends but how would you feel about fathering my child? God, this was going to be terrible. 

You looked up when you heard the tell-tale bell on the door indicating someone walking in. Spencer gave you a small wave before going to the counter to get a coffee. You took that time to nervously sip yours. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, it was now or never. 

“Hey.” Spencer says, when he finally gets to the table, coffee in hand. “Why are you all the way in the corner?” 

“This isn’t really a conversation I want overheard.” 

Spencer tilts his head confused at that. “So what is the conversation we’re supposed to be having. I asked Garcia but she seemed to also have no idea.” 

“Yea, I didn’t tell her on account of this maybe going extremely bad.” You say, before sighing and turning your laptop around so Spencer could see the Powerpoint screen you have on it. When he reads it,  he chokes on his coffee.

“A Powerpoint, really?” He chokes, still coughing around the coffee. “Y/N, what is this?” 

“This is Reasons Why You Should Make a Baby With me.” 

“Yea, I got that from the title, Y/N.” He says, still shocked. “Is this a joke?!” 

“I wish it was, Reid.”

“Can I at least ask why you thought a Powerpoint was the best way to ask?”   

“Because I felt you’d be more inclined to consider it if you knew I spent time on a presentation.” 

“That’s true.” He leans back, taking a sip of his coffee, gesturing for you to continue. You hit the next slide. 

“Ok, reason number one is we both want kids.” You say, looking at him. “Garcia told me the other day that you were talking about how much you wanted a kid and I also want a kid.”  

“I did tell Garcia that.” He muses. 

“Reason two, an offspring between us would probably result in another genius. As you know, you are smart.” 

“Yes.” 

“And I am smarter.” You say, Spencer opens his mouth to protest but you keep talking. “A child between us could probably be the next Einstein.” 

Spencer nods and you continue. “Reason three, I’d be a great mom.” 

“That’s a debatable fact.” 

“No, it’s not. You’ve seen me around kids, have I ever given an inclination that I wouldn’t be?” You ask, he shakes his head. “Plus, I happen to think you’d be a great father. Which brings me to Reason 4.” You say clicking through the next slide. “If you don’t want to be involved in raising that’s fine. I’m perfectly fine raising the child myself an--” 

“What?! No!” Spencer says, sitting up. “If I do agree to have this baby, which I’m not completely doing yet. I want to be involved, I want them to know I’m their father and that I didn’t abandon them because I know what that’s like.” He says, seriously. You nod, already knowing this about Spencer. 

“Reason 5: I’d be the perfect platonic co-parent, I won’t ask you for anything unless it’s pertaining to the child and if you decide that later down the road you want your own family, I’d be supportive and help you along the way.”

Spencer nods. “We’re never home enough for a baby.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong because I’ll be here. I mainly stay here anyway and if there’s ever a case where you need a tech analyst to fly out, Garcia’s already agreed to have it already be her when I floated the baby idea around last month.”  

Spencer hummed, silent for a second. “You really want a kid, huh?” 

“Yes.” You say. 

“So much so you’re asking me?” Spencer says, matter-of-factly. “A Coworker you barely speak to?”

Well, when he says it like that. 

“Yes. I’m asking because while we don’t get along the best you are still one of the most compassionate, understanding men I know. And I know that if I have to raise this kid with somebody, you would love them just as much as I would.” You say, Spencer nods at that. “So, please?” 

Spencer sighs. “When’s your next appointment? At the fertility clinic?” 

You didn’t even want to ask how he knew about that. “Next tuesday.” 

He nods. “I’m going with you.” He says, standing, pulling the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. “This isn’t a yes.” 

“It’s not a no, either.” You point out. 

“No, it’s not.” He says, leaving you behind in the coffee shop with a huge grin on your face.

Taglist: @moonshinerbynight​ @crimeshowtrash​

Message/reply to be tagged!!

times they were just too cute

word count; 1.5k

warnings; nothing i think... nothing but horribly written fluff

authors note; i am the WORST at writing fluff. so i hope this is as good as i think it is. this will be a series,,, and right now i have five for sure planned but depending on how well it does, i might do some more!! so i hope y'all enjoy!!

one; spencer reid gives a very sleepy Y/N a piggyback ride through a farmers market. 

Spencer’s warm hand held a slightly cooler, smaller one, as he and his girl walked through the outdoor market. They marveled at each and every tent, smiled at all the fruit and vegetables that they passed. They passed the small, little rooms filled with different knickknacks and toys. It was nearing the holidays— Halloween, both Spencer and Y/N’s favorite. She, all day, picked up numerous seasoned figurines and handed them over to her Sweet Boy and he would laugh and kiss her head before placing it back down where she found it, swearing up and down that they had enough little things in their house (and that was true, the small nicknacks littered the small apartment. so much so, that it was borderline obsessive). 

His Pretty Girl had suggested that they go and pick up some pumpkins to carve later in the week and squash to cook for dinner that night as well as fruits to snack on, while they watched the list of movies they had created to get them in the Halloween spirit. Spencer, being the homebody he is (but if we’re being honest, he wanted to stay home because he just wanted to have his girl all to himself. well, that and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to spend his day with a bunch of random germy people), was on the fence about spending the day with hundreds of other people in a small area— but his girl got the better of him and he ultmetely agreed. Like she had told him, they barely ever got a day off, they should spend it together— not one person out running errands while the other slept the day away.

They had been walking—shopping— for hours, both Spencer and Y/N’s arms filled with too many bags of good food and cute nicknacks, and carve-worthy pumpkins. The Pretty Girl was hoping to carve the pumpkins the following weekend— that is, if there wasn’t another case that desperately needed their attention— don’t mistake it, Y/N (and Spencer) loved their job more than anything (expect, maybe, each other) but sometimes they craved the break from the constant string of dead bodies with the cold eyes. And if there weren’t, she could already imagine her and her Lovely Boy carving silly faces into the orange melon and sipping on flavored coffee and stealing quick kisses— even in her fantasies, it was perfect. 

They were both exhausted— Y/N more than her Genius Boy, of course. The tired girl was moping next to him, feet dragging beneath her. Her bags were falling to the bottom part of her arms, only inches away from the dirt covered ground. 

“Spencer,” she whined, dragging out his name. Spencer laughed to himself shaking his head, feigning annoyance. He knew this would happen. He knew that she would be too tired to continue on and that he would end up carrying all of the things— not that he minded, he loved the time spent with his favorite girl. No matter the cost, he’d move mountains just to be near her.

“No, no. No, you can carry your own bags— I have enough.” He joked; he knew that sooner rather than later, he’d be holding all the bags. And that was true, he was carrying most of their bags. Y/N had tried to carry more but Spencer was too much of a stubborn gentleman and refused to let her carry more than three. Not that she hadn’t tried, because she had, Spencer was just too stubborn— a trait he more likely than not learned from their good friend, Derek. She knew that he had given the innocent boy some tips when they were first going out. Much to Y/N’s surprise, too; she was glad he had done this, she was sure that with out the help, Spencer would’ve been a much different boyfriend— not that it would’ve been bad. It would’ve just taken him longer to let loose, to really be in the moment with her. Though, regardless, she would’ve loved him the same. 

“Spence, I’m sleepy.” Y/N straitened her posture, and shifted the bags to a more comfortable spot. She giggled, tugging on his arm, nudging it with her head before kissing his bicep. She then looked up at him and his heart swelled. He was caving; it was easy, though, when Y/N L/L/N was the person who held his heart in her hands. 

It was a Saturday afternoon— Hotch had given the whole team the weekend off, following a harder case (one involving the small humans— no one’s favorites).

The days were beginning to get cooler and the trees were starting to change color. And it made them happy to see that the world could still be beautiful despite all the darkness they would see in their day to day life. 

The boy laughed again, conceding. “Alright, hand ‘em over. Give me your bags, sweetheart.” 

It warmed her heart— the nickname that Spencer so easily called her. Spencer was not one for pet names or PDA or anything of the sort— but sometimes the love he had for the Pretty Girl got the better of him and he just couldn’t keep his hands off her. 

The sleepy girl perked up, smile wider than normal, warming the boy’s heart for the millionth time that day. She jumped up and down a few times and yipped excitedly (the Genius Boy’s mind compared her reaction to his young godson) and handed him the few bags she had wrapped around her wrists before he could change his mind. 

“Thank you, Pretty Boy!!” she smiled at the boy, who was now blushing and ducking his head, as if to hide the pink on his cheeks. The two had been together for over five years and he still was easily embarrassed and that warmed the young girl’s heart— just knowing that after all these years she still had that affect on the skinny man. 

They walked the long way back to their car, hand in hand, in silence for a few minutes before the tired girl once again groaned— pulling a loud, obnoxious laugh from the genius beside her. 

“What now?” Though the question seemed harsh, Y/N knew that there was no real fire behind the words. She let a laugh pass her lips too, body heavy, “I’m still tired, Spence.” 

As if to prove her point, she stopped, pulling her hand away from her boyfriend’s only to throw her arms out in a very obnoxious manner (another comparison to the young boy he saw so often). She yawned in the loudest possible way she could, her eyes scrunched shut, before she peaked one opened to watch his reaction, arms over her head, stretching.  

The boy had stopped too, bags falling to the ground with a inaudible thud. The Genius giggled and Y/N let her arms drop and she smiled. She loved it when he laughed like that. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it made her swoon for the innocent boy all over again. 

His mouth morphed into a smirk, he knew what she wanted, but he still asked, “What do you need from me?”

She grinned even wider, eyes wilder than any four-year-old being handed candy. “Carry me?” 

He would’ve said no, he would’ve joked and said she had her own two legs to walk on and that he was tired too and that she should carry him, but then he saw the look she was giving him.

She was giving him the look that she knew made him weak in the knees. The look that got her anything she wanted. The look that everyone knew was his soft spot. 

She gave him the look that caused his heart to swell more than it had ever had. 

And so, with his heart three times bigger than normal, he laughed and lowered himself enough that she would be able to jump onto his tall frame. “Get on, but you’re carrying the bags then!”

Ecstatic, Y/N gathered all the bags and jumped onto his back. The boy under her gripped her thighs, refusing to let her fall— no matter how tired he was, he would carry her until he couldn’t anymore. 

And maybe a few miles after that, too. 

Her arms, totes up to her elbows, wrapped—lightly, as to not choke the poor boy—around his neck and she giggled as he began to walk again. 

The boy smiled too and he said, “You know. . .you’re lucky I love you.”

“I know.” She ducked her head into the crook of his neck, bouncing with each and every step he took. She left a few, soft, kisses there, goosebumps raising in response. She felt the boy shiver beneath her. “And, I love you too, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Another giggle and another kiss to his neck and then his cheek.

resurface; kim jungwoo.

synopsis : all you had wanted was a quiet summer by the beach to relax, escape the oppressiveness of the city, and get your mind off of your last disastrous relationship, but apparently peace was hard to come by, especially when a figure from your past reappears unexpectedly in your life.

pairing : kim jungwoo x fem!reader

genre : beach resort au, university au, romance, fluff

warnings : (very) mild profanities

length : 7.1k

soundtrack : let me drown - deanz ft. andy delos santos; u n eye - boy in space; sun goes down - aiyo

author's note : this is part of the ot23 "resonance beach" collab hosted by @amorajae. thank you so much for letting me participate & go check out the collab masterlist for more addicting summer reads!

Socializing had never been so suffocatingly painful and pretentious.

Clinking champagne glasses, aimless mingling and a forever unending charade of polite smiles that never quite reached one’s eye, they surrounded you like a shroud that made it hard to breathe, a shirt that was too tight and biting uncomfortably at the neck. Much like the very dress you were wearing at the moment; form-fitting, over-the-top fancy, and narrow in all the spots you hated.

Oh, how you wished to change out of it all. Rip off the structured binds around your entire being, take off and away from the repetitive scene that had become more frequent over the past weeks and the main cause of your headaches. But there was nothing you could do about it except stare uselessly at the clock as its hands ticked by at an excruciatingly slow pace, and you hated that fact more than anything else.

“Well then, it has been lovely to meet you, Miss (Y/N). I can see that your parents have done an excellent job raising such an elegant and well-mannered young lady.” The concluding words, along with an outstretched hand, snapped you out of your misery and forced your attention back to the middle-aged man before you. Already, you were struggling to recall his name from the brief—or was it excruciatingly long?—introduction he’d done when he sought to strike a conversation with you twenty minutes earlier. Was he a superior of your father’s? Or maybe a recent acquaintance of your mother’s? You didn’t know, nor cared, really. After two hours of entertaining your parent’s countless associates with answers to their onslaught of questions about which college you attended and other various aspects of your personal life, you no longer had much energy left to spare for further pretense.

For the entirety of the exchange, you’d somehow gotten by with absentminded nods and murmured agreements. Thankfully, your latest companion was too immersed in his tales to notice your drifting focus and lack of interest, at which you almost heaved a sigh of relief. If your parents had received word of your misbehavior, you’d be a goner for sure, and you certainly were not looking forward to another round of their droning lecture about mannerism, etiquette, and public image.

“It was nice meeting you too,” you managed to return with a smile that was just about passable for being semi-enthusiastic, though inside, you were cringing hard at your poor attempts of keeping up the graciously civilized front your mother had always insisted for you to display in public. Forget the crowded dinner parties, forget the fancy evening galas, with every passing minute you were closer to less than a hair’s breadth away from plopping down on the nearest sofa and calling it quits. But you retained your composure and made sure to wave politely as the man stepped away, only letting out a long-held breath after his figure had completely disappeared amidst the crowd.

The room was getting uncomfortably stuffy, and your desire to leave was ever growing as you struggled to get through the throng of chattering bodies for some space alone. Sure, you’d been at a number of clubs and parties with your friends, but they were always on the more laid back and easygoing side of the atmosphere spectrum. You didn’t have to put up a perfect front for others to examine, nor be pressured to uphold your entire family’s reputation. And you certainly wouldn’t be obliged to answer your mother’s calls from ten feet away, beckoning you over to no doubt meet another friend of hers.

It was all the same, over and over. Introductions, small talk, and then going into the personal life of the (L/N)s’ “all grown up” daughter.

“Neo Tech University? The top school in the area? How nice!”

Your father beamed proudly. “Of course, she’s my daughter, after all.”

The adults laughed. You didn’t join them, instead picking at the fabric of your gown until the conversation required your participation again.

“She’s matured so much, I bet she has all the boys at her heels already,” The lady commented, to which your mom immediately responded with a pleased smile and, “Of course, she’s got a boyfriend too. They’re soo cute together. Hey, honey, how come he hasn’t come around in a while?”

God, why? Why, of all things, did they have to bring this up? You felt your insides squeezing together painfully at the mention of the topic, your fists clenched so hard you could feel your fingernails digging into your skin. You’d thought this night couldn’t get any worse than it already was, but you were wrong, it just did. Their gazes were all set on you expectantly, and you hated the attention. Hated being the focus of the conversation and picked apart to the seams.

“We broke up,” you said eventually, avoiding your parents’ eyes.

Your mother's smile fell away to an expression of shock and disbelief. “Why? I thought you two were doing so well with each other.”

Yeah, we were, before he cheated on me, you were tempted to say. To firmly erase any of your mother’s misconceptions that she had even a single idea of what was going on in her daughter’s life. But you just shrugged nonchalantly, as if the breakup was only a trivial matter. If you’d told them the truth, your mother would’ve no doubt considered it a huge blow to her reputation.

“It’s alright, you’ll find someone else who’s worthy of you,” the lady patted your shoulder sympathetically, and you felt your face heat up in a mixture of humiliation and frustration. The last thing you needed was someone telling you that in public.

You figured this was a good time to leave, maybe dig a hole and bury yourself in it. Tonight had been a suitable enough reason. Murmuring a quick apology to the adults, you excused yourself and made your way toward the exit before your mother could intercept. People stared as you passed, but at this point, their hypercritical looks were the least of your concerns. If grown-up life was beyond the point of “childishness” and “selfish acts”, then you’d grown beyond the point of caring.

By the time you’d arrived home, it was already ten o’clock. You and your parents had left for the gala around six-thirty, which meant you’d spent at least a good three hours and a half at the venue, engaging in hollow, repetitive conversations with near strangers. It was exhausting, to say the least, and you found yourself craving a warm bath the moment you stepped through the door. But you had your priorities set straight, and after changing into some casual clothing, you made a beeline for the kitchen to make yourself a pot of ramen. You were practically starving after almost an entire night of strolling around and snacking only on lady-like portions of foreign delicacies at the event.

While the water boiled, you dialed your best friend’s number. She’d told you of her plans—or the lack thereof—this evening, consisting of nothing but binge watching anime and consuming an inhumane amount of triple chocolate fudge ice cream. That was basically an open invitation for you to call her whenever you felt like ranting about old men and how it just wasn’t fair no one else was obligated to chat for hours on end with them about stock market prices, and you accepted it gladly.

Yera picked up on the second ring. True to her word, you could hear the incoherent Japanese shouting of the characters in whatever anime she was binging at the moment.

“How did it go? The gala?”

Just the sound of her voice was enough to ease some of the tension in your shoulders. Your best friend always knew what to say and how to lift your spirits in times like this, no matter how blunt and straightforward she may be, and you were looking forward to her advice.

“Terrible,” you groaned. “Whoever came up with the idea of stuffing over two hundred boring, judgmental business people in a room far too bright and oxygen-lacking must’ve been out of their mind.”

You heard Yera snort from the other side of the line. “Yeah, no shit, sherlock. You know, I’d reassure you it’s not that bad, but I know it’s exactly that bad.”

You shifted your position so that you faced the kitchen window, where a view of the city’s nightscape unfolded before your eyes. The sky was dark, but thousands of glimmering lights made up for it—neon billboards, cars flying by on the busy streets below, office lightings, roadside lamps, and glowing patches of yellow from residential buildings like your own. You stared out at the sea of twinkling sparks, and for a moment, felt so very small amidst the immensely vast world.

“They mentioned him.”

There was only a beat of silence. Yera didn’t need long to catch onto who you were referring to.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, they were talking about boys and then my mom brought up the fact that I have a boyfriend—had, actually,” you sighed, an action you found occurring more often than not lately. “Guess I forgot to tell them he’s an ex now, but then again, they didn’t ask before.”

“Gosh, that must’ve been so awkward.”

“It was,” you shut your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose with your forefingers. “You tell me. I had to leave, right away. I’m just glad it’s over now.”

“Wait wait wait, hold on. How many of these event thingies have you gone to in the past week?”

“Three, not counting the time my mom had some friends over for lunch. They stayed until dinner, actually, and we had to go out and eat.”

“What the heck?? And you let them drag you along?”

“It’s my duty to accompany them, I guess. They’d be mad if I don’t go and let them show me off for a bit. But then again, there usually aren’t this many events. My dad just signed a contract with some important clients, and my mom’s been invited to a bunch of social gatherings, plus the fact that normally, I’d have school as an excuse. There’s just been more of them recently, and it’s not like I have any good enough reason to opt out.”

Yera gasped. “It’s summer. Summer!! That’s all they should need. It’s summer break right now and it’s your time off. They shouldn’t need any more reason than that. And whether it’s the norm or not, you have to know that you are in charge of yourself and that you get to decide what you do with your own life, not them.”

“You have a point, Yera, you always do, but...” you shook your head. “I honestly don’t know at this point. Things are easier said than done. I hate it all, but in a way, it’s part of my responsibility.”

“Okay, oookay. That’s it. No more dinner parties or rich people galas for you, (Y/N). It’s your time off and I’m going to make sure you take some time off. Aren’t you tired of them ordering you around? You’re the one who’s in control of your own life, (Y/N). Go have a nice vacation and stay away from adult business for at least a few weeks, or I’m not letting you anywhere near my mom’s homemade honeycomb brownies again, got it?”

If Yera was bringing her mother’s brownies into the deal, then you knew she was serious. Somehow, despite the situation, you almost felt like laughing. Felt like you were invincible, as if her words brought a surge of confidence along with it. Smiling up at the night sky, you said, “Well, I guess I have to do it for those brownies.”

“Good, now go on and take on the world!”

The world—or, namely, your parents—was clearly not amused when you dragged your suitcase into the living room at eight in the morning the next day, dressed in a flowery blouse, your favorite jean shorts, and a pair of heeled sandals. They’d been eating breakfast at the dining table just ten paces across as you entered, engrossed in a conversation about the latest commercial trends and news of the business world. They looked up at the sound of wheels against the marbled floor, an initial expression of shock crossing their faces as they took in your outfit and the luggage in your hands.

Your father looked almost bewildered as he glanced between you and your mother, who’s brows had deepened into a frown. She shook her head as if to clear away thoughts of disbelief, though you could detect the note of disapproval that was weaved into the action.

“What’s with this?” she asked, her tone stern and commanding, almost as if to compel you into saying exactly what she wanted: “Nothing, mom. I’m not going anywhere.”

It had always been that way. You’d intend to do something, and she’d shut you down before you could even try. But not this time.

“Carrying out my plans for summer break,” you replied and paused before continuing. “Why?”

The lines on your mother’s forehead deepened. “Plans?”

She was waiting for you to either straight up admit what you were up to or give up. You knew that, and you didn’t want to beat around the bush either, so you looked her right in the eyes and said, “Summer vacation plans, mom. I’m leaving today.”

“(Y/N), I thought we already talked about this. You can’t just—”

“Go around and quit my duties? Yeah, I know.”

“Then what are you doing right now?”

“I’m not quitting,” you said through gritted teeth, “I’m taking the break that I deserve.”

“You’re running away,” your mother accused, her voice trembling with incredulity and, despite her apparent effort to keep it controlled, a slight hint of anger. “You’re going back on your promise and you’re not going to do what you should just because you don’t want to. Stop being so selfish and naive, (Y/N). You’re not a child anymore.”

It was something just suddenly snapped inside you, and all your pent up frustration boiled over. “Selfish? Mom, do you ever think about how I feel? I’ve put up with all the things you wanted me to do and I can’t even have a single moment when I try to focus on my own happiness for once?”

“You promised—”

“I’m not a replacement for him!”

Your parents stared, momentarily speechless from your outburst. In the silence, you felt the frustration and anger wear away and bubble down to something that resembled a fevered hurt. The broken pain in your mother’s face seemed to mirror your own, but the words slipped out anyway.

“No matter what, I can’t be him. I can’t replace him. I know that’s what you want me to be, and that if I was, maybe you could think that he’s never gone, but I can’t. I just…”

You could see that your comments had hit their mark.“(Y/N)—” your mother started.

But at this point, you were too tired of arguing to continue. You didn’t wait to hear what she had to say, only picked up your bags and headed for the entranceway. You exhaled as the door clicked shut behind you. Gosh, I’m really going to do this, am I?

Resonance Beach Resort was a nice change from the usual fast-paced schedule of your daily life that was full of unwanted obligations and tasking duties. You'd visited often in your early childhood and teenage years, and had loved the place for its elegant, luxurious accomodations and the spectacular view of a pristine beach that spanned along the resort's outer edge. But since some time ago, all the pressure and weight of your increasing responsibilities had suddenly just came crashing down on you, and you found yourself taking cram school more often than not due to your parents' constant urging. There just simply wasn't any time for you to take the long vacation you desperately craved. Now that things have finally lessened up to nothing but socializing with your parents' acquaintances, this was the first place you'd thought of for the perfect getaway. Just hide away from the rest of the world for a little bit before reality kicks in and you'd sink back into your busying routine. Here, you could finally have some peace and quiet, be able to breathe easier for once. No more business events or get-togethers, no more forced polite conversations over tall glasses of champagne. If you were going to party, then you should at least do it properly. You figured that aside from relaxation and watersports, Resonance Beach Resort had exactly that.

You'd switched over to your spare phone for the duration of your stay. If your parents decided they've had enough of your “childishly selfish acts”, they'd be greeted by a long period of ringing without answer, followed by an irksome beep and the message that, "sorry, the number you've dialed is not available".

The fight still simmered fresh at the front of your mind, and you shook your head in an attempt to brush it away. A small part of you felt almost guilty about your abruptly impromptu runaway, but it was merely a fleeting thought that passed as quickly as it had come. You knew how hard it was for your parents since what had occurred years ago, and that they were afraid of the same thing happening with you. Still, it wasn’t fair for you to bear the burden of two and act in as a mere substitute only to make someone else feel a bit better. Since when did you owe your parents your entire summer break to play pretend anyways? It isn't as if it actually helped you do anything except feed your growing boredom and frustration for hours on end.

You walked into the entrance hall and made your way to the reception area that sat in the middle of the gentle hum of music and red carpets and golden chandeliers. After going through the check-in process, you received your room cards and headed toward your room to drop off your luggage first.

The west-side elevator was mainly empty aside from a few other visitors who, like you, arrived earlier than most do. They’d entered before you and stood along the side panels, each scrolling through their devices for news and texts. Why take the time and money to come and visit, you wondered, if they were going to just be on their phones all the time? But then again, you were glad none of them paid any attention to you and savored the peaceful silence. The back of the elevator was adorned with clear glass panes that overlooked the beachside, allowing riders to gaze out at the scenery below them as they rose high above ground. You stared at the swaying palms and foaming waves in the distance, and thought that—despite being here so many times before—the view had never looked so welcoming before. You couldn’t wait until you could get down there and enjoy the feel of the warm sunshine on your back, hear nothing but the calming hum of the ocean.

There was a short ding! as the elevator doors opened and a middle-aged woman exited. You turned briefly to watch her leave and the doors clang shut once more behind her. Some passengers shifted around to space themselves more evenly upon her departure, but other than that, it was the same, still, silence as before. A few more minutes passed, and the process repeated until it was just you and another man standing by the front. On the controls panel, only one floor button was lit up.

He was handsome in the most traditional sense, tall and fit with tousled dark hair, flawlessly smooth skin and wide doe eyes directed at his phone screen. Although he was only dressed in a simple graphic tee and sweatpants, they looked too expensive for the average person to afford and the look suited him so well he could no doubt pass for the modern-day version of Cinderella’s Prince Charming. You almost laughed at the thought. That had been your reaction too when you first saw your ex, and you fell for him so quickly, so easily, it didn’t take much to convince you that he loved you as much as you loved him. After all, why not? His family had been wealthy and influential like your own, and your parents—mostly your mom—had absolutely adored him. You thought you’d been living the perfect fantasy until it all broke down and your palace had turned into nothing more than rubble and ashes.

In the quiet buzz of the elevator, you could hear as the stranger dialed a number on his phone and put it to his ear. Whoever on the other side must’ve answered immediately, because the man started to talk right away.

“Hey, where are you guys?”

“Okay, just checking that you’re in the suite because I don’t have the key.”

“Yeah, I’m almost there, why?”

“Woo wants another bag of his favorite chips from the convenience store? Seriously? We’re at a fancy beach resort and he wants chips from the convenience stores? God.”

“Yeah, I brought them, don’t worry. I swear he stuffed my trunk full of them when I wasn’t looking because I barely even have space in there anymore. Geez, you’d think he would die if he went a day without those.”

“Yeah, okay. Mm-hmm. That’s fine by me. Sounds fun. See you.”

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the conversation, but the slight echo in the space made it easy for you to hear every word the man said. And for some reason, it brought back long-ago memories of you and your brother, having the time of your lives marveling over the elevator’s view. Arguing about whose snacks the ones in the bag were. Roaming around the resort like it was your own home. That wasn’t possible now, of course. He was farther away than ever, and happier. There wasn’t anything you could do except be happy for him, though that did nothing to help the sore ache in you.

Your entire life felt like a train wreck at the moment, but then again, that was why you were here at Resonance Beach Resort in the first place. And as the elevator dinged once more, you were determined to make your summer better. Much better.

An afternoon in the sun seemed to do its trick.

After spending several hours out by the rolling waves, reading magazines and enjoying the spontaneity of doing whatever you’d wanted to on a whim, you were ready to call it a day. The freedom was exhilarating, and though you’d done much less that you would’ve on a typical weekday, you felt much more fulfilled than before. You’d eaten a quick informal dinner down in the dining hall, too tired to spend time on a full-course meal, only stopping by the vending machine on your way back to your room for a drink.

You inserted your money into the slot, pausing for a moment to look at your choices. Ginger ale would be good, you decided absentmindedly, your thoughts already drifting elsewhere. When the drink rolled out of the machine, you stooped to pick it up before preparing to leave. You turned and, not realizing there was someone behind you, ran right into them, your arm bumping against theirs. The impact knocked the can of ginger ale out of your hands and you quickly bent down to pick it up before it could roll away.

“I’m sorry, that was my fault.”

You straightened up to see the man from the elevator. He rubbed his neck sheepishly, an apologetic smile on his face. He was close enough that you could see the curved bow of his lips and the way his eyes crinkled in good humor, the way the tips of his ears were red in embarrassment at having knocked into you.

You blushed at the close proximity between you and the stranger, before remembering your manners and shaking your head lightly, “No, I’m sorry, it was my fault as well. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

The two of you stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say or what to do, until the man’s eyes landed on the room card in your hand.

“Suite 1009? What a coincidence, my friends and I are right next door. Want me to walk you back since we’re—you know—going the same way?”

You gave a little startled laugh, finding a bit of comfort in the fact that even a man as good-looking and confident-seeming as him could stumble over his words in situations like this. You’d pegged him for the type with an air of arrogance, but his voice held a sort of genuine sincerity and modesty along with the charm you’d expected. “Of course, I’d love that.”

As you walked down the corridor together, he seemed to realize something, and started in surprise, “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Jaehyun. Jung Jaehyun.”

“I’m (Y/N),” you smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. Is this your first time here?”

“Well, yes, my friends and I were planning to go somewhere for the summer, and one of my friends recommended this resort. How did you tell?”

“I used to come here a lot, but I haven’t visited in a while. I came back to escape city life, I guess, though I must admit I missed this place tons. The things adult life takes away from you are just plain cruel.”

“I know right? Sometimes I wish I could just go back to seventeen and—”

“Relive that teenage dream?” you finished.

He laughed. “Yeah, exactly.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

“What, don’t you agree?” he looked at you in feigned shock.

You looked up at the ceiling as if searching for the answer in the lights above. “Yes,” you said truthfully, “I do agree.” Though it wasn’t exactly how you felt completely all the time, there was no denying that at least you’d loved the various aspects teenage years had to offer.

“You sound almost cynical about it.”

“Do I?” you shook your head. “Oh, well, personally, maybe, I guess?”

He gave you a weird look. “Think you could sound any more unsure about that?”

The two of you burst out laughing, the sound echoing against the walls of the hallway. As you chatted with Jaehyun, there was an undeniable tingle at the bottom of your stomach, spreading to the tips of your finger and your rosy cheeks. You didn’t know if you were willing to fall in love again, especially after your previous failures and bad encounters in romance that extended beyond your last relationship, but there was no denying that Jaehyun was fun to be around and you enjoyed his company immensely.

So when you both arrived at your destinations, you almost felt sorry to go. You lingered for a second, turning to him almost hesitantly.

Of course you’d see him again, being next-door neighbors for the next few weeks or so, as long as he’s here, but you didn’t want to leave and be all alone by yourself just yet.

Jaehyun seemed to feel the same, and he paused. “So, see you soon?”

You started to respond with a definite yes, but didn’t get a chance to answer. The door next to yours opened slightly, and some inaudible conversing trickled out from the crack. You caught a few words in the back-and-forth as you stood by your room, an amused smile at your lips. Jaehyun rolled his eyes, clearly used to this type of behavior from his friends.

“Oh, don’t mind them. They’re always like this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “They seem fun to be around.”

“Yeah, yeah, when they’re not nagging twenty-four-seven at me to get snacks for them.” Though you could see by the teasing grin on his lips that he was only kidding.

Jaehyun’s friend pushed the door open a little more so that the conversation became more distinctable. And then, a sudden recognition made you freeze in your tracks. Your heart dropped. No. No way. The smile fell from your lips, replaced with a rush of confusion and near-disbelief.

Was that…?

You heard his voice before you saw him.

“Jaehyun! You’re back, just in time—”

Brown hair, plump lips, and bright, playful eyes. His boyish features evolved into something more mature but not unlike its younger version, still lined with the same youthful innocence as years before. He was taller too, though in that moment, at first glance, you felt as if it was the only significant change in him. The familiarity jolted awake a feeling you had not felt since long ago, flipping back the pages of yesterday until it landed on a distant memory that seemed so close yet was so far away. It was like the world stopped spinning for a moment, freezing in time that had both given and taken so much from you.

Your stomach twisted with a mixture of fluttering anticipation and dizzy uncertainty.

Why here, of all times and places, did you have to meet Kim Jungwoo again?

Kim Jungwoo, who was your first love, but also your first heartbreak.

It all started the summer before your high school sophomore year, with an ice cream date as friends and a piggy back ride. You and Jungwoo had known each other for years, having met in elementary and developing a close bond over time. Though you each had your own separate friend groups, outside of school, the two of you often hung out together and spent time at each other’s houses. It wasn’t abnormal for you to have dinner at Jungwoo’s place—because your parents often went on business trips and rarely ever cooked even when they were home—and it certainly wouldn’t be a strange sight to see him on your couch, watching TV and snagging snacks from the basket on the coffee table as he waited for you to finish up your homework so the two of you could go out to the nearby park. It was practically routine when, two weeks after break began, he asked you if you wanted to go down to the beach with him and get some ice cream along the way. You texted back a quick “yes, of course” before flopping back onto your bed and blinking up at the ceiling as if in a dazed dream. And for some reason, you thought hard about what to wear.

It was an issue you never had to concern yourself with before. Jungwoo had seen you in your pajamas, bed hair and all, random mismatching clothes you’d thrown on in a hurry, and even ridiculous costumes you wore as a kid. He’d seen you down in your lowest low, face a mess with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Heck, he probably knew all your embarrassing moments by heart and could recite them on a whim. But recently, you’d started to feel more self-conscious around him, and as days passed, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror more and more, holding up different tops and pants in an attempt to decide which would look nicer. A few years ago, you would’ve laughed at the thought. You? Fussing over clothing for Jungwoo’s sake? Ridiculous, you’d never needed to. But now, it seemed that the fact that he was a boy—and a very attractive one too—just sank in, and suddenly you became all too aware of it.

After shuffling through your wardrobe for ten full minutes, you finally ended up with a closet strewn messily with discarded options and clothing racks and an outfit you dimly recalled that Jungwoo had once expressed his liking for. You’d chosen a pair of thin, spaghetti sandals that were lined with gold, a gift from one of your mother’s shopping sprees, and made an effort to brush your hair neatly to go along with it all. Good enough, you supposed, as you turned left and right to check up on your appearance. Hopefully.

You grabbed your phone and keys, scribbled a note for your parents that you doubted they’d even read, and made your way out the door. Jungwoo was waiting for you at the front, standing casually by his car with one hand in his pockets. Your heart beat faster as you approached, the continuous drumming resonating within your chest and ears.

He’d been looking down at the pavement, scuffling a stray pebble around with his toes, but quickly lifted his head at your footsteps.

“Hey,” he greeted, smiling up at you.

“Wow, looking unexpectedly grown-upish today,” you lifted an eyebrow, trying to mask your nervousness in his presence with the usual snarky remarks. You spoke with a heavy hint of sarcasm, meaning that you were only joking about the matter, but what you said was true in a way—Jungwoo did look nice, though you weren’t about to say that aloud to him. It was as if you’d just noticed how much older he’d become, and how much more matured he looked.

“Really,” he said flatly, though his eyes were crinkled in good humor. “You’re the only one in the dark then.”

You laughed. “Because other people still call you an adorable baby?”

“Haha, so funny.”

You settled into the passenger seat beside Jungwoo and watched as he leaned over to put the vehicle in ignition. His hair had grown longer since his last haircut a few months ago, and they fell over his eyes. He shook them out of his face, reaching up a hand to brush away any remaining strands that stuck to his skin. He turned to grin at you before switching over to your favorite radio station as he started to drive. You tapped your fingers to the beat, and not a minute later, the two of you were singing along to the familiar tune. Jungwoo’s voice soared up and down as he sang in a weird mock accent, and you tried hard to keep your own from trembling with uncontrollable laughter. You both knew that Jungwoo was an amazing singer, but even more so a natural at comedy.

Jungwoo parked the car a few blocks away, deciding that trying to find an open spot in the crowded beachside lots was too much of a hassle. Summer had lured many people out with the promise of good weather, and combined with the dazzling scenery of the sea, who was to say no? The brightness of the skies was all too infectious, your mood soaring like the winds above that cast a blessing of gentle coolness upon the world. It was all so perfect that you’d even surrendered to Jungwoo in a water fight, although quite begrudgingly and continuing to splash in his way afterwards.

The sparkling waterdrops glittered midair like multifaceted diamonds so that although knee deep in water, you felt almost as if you were living in the midst of a glowing fairytale. After spending some time among the rolling waves, the two of you decided to walk around a bit and let the warm air dry your clothes before going to the ice cream store. Morning went by all too quickly, and soon noon had arrived. The sun shone brilliantly overhead, the pavement burning at the soles of your shoes. You grimaced at the heat, hopping slightly to avoid getting scalded and wishing you’d worn something that wasn’t so flimsy and thin. Jungwoo seemed to notice your discomfort, glancing your way worriedly.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” you groaned. “But thanks for your concern.”

He stopped as if to consider something, then squatted down in front of you. “Here.”

“What—” you started in surprise, caught off guard by his sudden action.

“Come on, I’ll carry you.”

You thought your face couldn’t get any redder than it already was, but you swear it just did.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to. It’s my fault anyways. I should’ve worn something more suitable,” you managed.

He grinned up at you. “Yeah, you probably should’ve, but that's what I’m here for, right? Moral and well—physical—support when you make those beginner mistakes.”

“Argh, you bastard,” you half-huffed, half-laughed, whacking his shoulder lightly with one hand.

“Hey! I’m just trying to help here.”

Caught up in the slight back-and-forth, you’d forgotten entirely about the source of it all and let out a strangled gasp when a red-hot pain shot up your feet.

“Yeah, it’s not up for debate at this point. Come on, just get on already. Grab on tight.”

With surprising strength, Jungwoo hoisted you up upon his back, his arms wrapped firmly around your legs to secure you in place. Instinctively, you reached over to cling onto his neck like your life depended on it.

“Gosh, not—this—tight,” he choked out, and although you knew he was half-joking, you mumbled a laughing apology.

You were tense at first, afraid to make a single wrong move. But after a while, you felt tired of staying so still and uptight like a board and relaxed some more. When the sun’s rays stung at your eyes, you laid your head sideways against Jungwoo’s neck, your breaths falling together in the same even rhythm. He hummed a tune you did not recognize, probably another one he’d just made up randomly, and you smiled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you replied innocently. Just thinking how ridiculously likeable you are.

You wondered if Jungwoo could feel, through the thin fabric of your shirt, the pounding of your heart at his back, the same way you could smell the scent of the salty sea air and his favorite cologne on him. Raising a fingertip, you traced a heart lightly against his skin. He flinched. You held back a laugh. You’d done it right on his most ticklish spot.

He wouldn’t be able to tell, what you’d drawn and what you felt toward him, but at that moment, it felt like a nice secret, nestled comfortably within the confines of your heart. Maybe you’d tell him one day, when the time is right. You’d like to.

The ice cream shop of Jungwoo’s designation was just up the street. Apparently, it had opened just a while ago and, according to Jungwoo, he was dying for you to try some of their flavors. You didn’t have a favorite place you preferred, so you agreed without any conflict. As the two of you neared, you held on for just a little bit longer before hopping off reluctantly and fixing your clothes. You wished it didn’t have to end, that the two of you could stay that way forever, snug in each other’s embrace.

But it all changed when you walked inside the store.

The interior was neatly organized, with pastel-colored walls and light brown tables of different sizes scattered around the semi-spacious room, most of them occupied by other visitors. A long counter spanned the back of the shop, most of it built-in glass cases that displayed a colorful array of ice cream in their silver tubs. A couple workers stood behind it in sky-colored uniforms, occupied with a variety of tasks and tending to customers.

You breathed in softly, taking in the scent of chocolate and vanilla and an assortment of fruit. The air around you was cool, and you were immensely grateful for the air conditioners that made the atmosphere so welcoming after spending a long time in the sweltering sun.

“It’s nice here.”

“I know right?” Jungwoo grinned. “Just wait until you taste their ice cream. It’s the best.”

There was quite a line at the counter, and your skin itched with the particles of sand that had stuck to it uncomfortably. Your hair was wind-blown and a tangled mess atop your head, and you felt conscious of the fact that you probably looked like a mess. “Hey, Woo, I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright,” he gave you a thumbs-up. “I’ll pick out something for you. I swear you’ll love it.”

“Okay, thanks,” you laughed. “I’ll look forward to it then.”

After fixing up your hair and wiping yourself clean with a paper towel, you felt semi-presentable and headed out of the restrooms to find Jungwoo. You didn’t see him at the tables nor in the line, but in the close distance, almost hidden from view the rest of the shop but clearly visible from where you were standing, caught your attention.

Jungwoo.

Except he wasn’t alone.

A pretty girl around your age stood by him, donning the uniform of the store workers. She seemed to have just gotten off her shift and was loosening her hair from the ponytail she’d previously kept it in. Jungwoo was chatting animatedly, and she laughed at something he said, then shot back with her own response. He reached over and engulfed her in his arms, swaying her from side to side almost exaggeratedly.

There was a familiarity, closeness, in the way they interacted, and as you watched on, you felt your heart slowly clench tighter and tighter until it felt impossibly suffocating. Was this what heartbreak felt like? An ache so terrible and soul-splitting that you couldn’t quench no matter how hard you tried.

At the side counter, they were still going at it. He grabbed at her to kiss her cheek, but she turned away, pushing herself out of his grasp. He made a few more futile attempts, to no avail, and the two of them burst out laughing, her high, lovely one mixing in with his lower, boyish baritone.

You looked down, and wished you could just disappear into a hole. When you returned to the table after you made sure the commotion in the front had died down, Jungwoo was already waiting with the ice cream. One for him and the other, your favorite favor. He handed yours to you, but you found that you didn’t have the appetite for it anymore. You managed to muster up a feeble “thanks” and a strained smile, staring at the cone in your hands.

“What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t see Jungwoo’s expression, but you could hear the concern lacing his voice. As if he wasn’t laughing so merrily just a second ago.

“Nothing,” you replied, staring at the table. “I should probably go now. My parents said we were going out for lunch today.”

“But you said you didn’t have any plans,” Jungwoo said, confused.

“Well,” you shrugged, “It’s really my mom’s. Anyways, see you later.”

The bell jangled behind you as you exited the shop, the sound not as cheerful as it had been just a while before. A rush of hot air greeted you, but the stinging at your feet could no longer compare to that of the pain in you.

“Oh, okay. See you.” You could still hear his disappointed voice, although you couldn’t fathom just why he wouldn’t be glad to have some time with his girlfriend without you there as an awkward third-wheeler.

You didn’t see Jungwoo again that summer.

TO BE CONTINUED.

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meltdowns and meditation - spencer reid

summary: spencer helps his daughter through a meltdown.

paring: spencer reid x daughter!reader

word count: 1086

warnings: mentions of a bipolar disorder, depression, and social anxiety.

a/n: I'm aware everyone deals with their own mental health issues different ways, I'm just writing from my own experiences. I'm sorry if I trigger anyone too much.

when spencer's teenage daughter was diagnosed with a bipolar disorder, things went to havoc for the small reid family. every outbreak she's ever had, made her feel like she was insane. never wanting to talk to any therapist her father would suggest, made her feel sad, like she was too much for him to deal with on his own that he'd need a stranger's help.

on top of the depression and the inability to be around others without the feeling of being suffocated, felt almost inhabitable. with her father being gone most of the time made a lot of things worse. spencer was her bestfriend, and she needed him the most.

y/n was a teenager, which meant that she was mostly on her own now when spencer was at work. when she was younger there were endless babysitters and nannies who all of quit due to her condition. you could've guessed they just didn't want to deal. but their neighbors were great, at least some of them for the most part. theyd help out y/n when spencer was gone in any way they'd can.

some days were better than others but today, not so much.

y/n was homeschooled, spencer would occasionally call her when he was at work checking up on her, making sure she was safe. that she'd had eaten, if she was feeling alright. but because she was homeschooled, she didn't have many friends, she was more like spencer in ways more than most, and her mother wasn't a subject she liked talking about. she left y/n and spencer when y/n was only four. knowing spencer would've spent the next eleven years raising a little girl on his own was quite terrifying, but he was doing great despite his own hardship.

when spencer had gotten a call from his neighbor telling him that his daughter was having a meltdown, his heart broke but his feet raced out of the building driving home as fast as he could. when he ran up the stairs seeing his front door wide open and his neighbor standing inside of it, he knew it wasn't good. he could tell that the lady was scarred for the poor young girl who didn't have any say when the next time his daughter would break.

"thanks, I'll take it from here". spencer slowly walked in the apartment not wanting to scare y/n anymore than she already was. she was smashing plates and ripping up papers. she was upset, angry, and scared. she knew how these things started and he knew she must've said something to someone else on accident that made the other person feel uncomfortable. it wasn't like she could control it, because she couldn't. but seeing his own daughter this way made him break in a way he didn't know how to fix.

but by the time he'd already been inside the home she threw a large cutting knife at a door and another almost hitting spencer by his face before he jumped out of the way. looking back up at his daughter, he could see just how terrified she was.

"hi daddy". "hey baby, come here". she walked slowly towards her father, knowing he was just as afraid as she was, only not as the same. she was afraid of herself, he wasn't scared of her, for her more so. he hugged her then picked her up wrapping her body around him with her head buried in his chest.

"I'm so sorry, I made a mess". "oh, it's alright. it's okay, I'm not upset but we're gonna go to aunt penelope's. okay?". she hummed in response as spencer leaned down grabbing her shoes then leaving their home driving to garcia's.

♤♤♤♤

when y/n had woken up she was on penelope's couch. just in time pen and spencer walked in the room quickly to see if she was okay. "hey sweetie, how are you feeling?" penelope asked. "fine, I guess." y/n sat up leaning back against the couch against her fathers arm. "I'm sorry". "don't apologize, it's not your fault." spencer was doing his best at reassuring her making sure she understood none of this could have been her fault.

"I wanna try something with you, yeah?" penelope had gotten up from the couch laying mats on her apartment floor. "it's just a bit of relaxation, we're going to meditate for a bit okay?" y/n had looked up to her father seeing him nod his head then walking over to her aunt. "sit".

about ten minutes in, y/n mind was running a hundred miles per hour while the whole time penelope was so calm. why couldn't she do that? by that time her and spencer had switched places while pen started making tea.

"dad, this is lame, how is this gonna help me". "it's supposed to calm your mind like penelope said, you could've given me a tracheotomy with that knife, I wanna try anything with you to help. I know I'm not here much but I'm trying my best to now." by then penelope had given them their tea walking back to her bedroom. "dad. do you think I'm broken?" "no baby I don't, youre not broken, I'm here to help."

y/n had stood up setting her cup on the counter with her father following after her. "I'm surprised you have time for me since you're gone everyday". spencer sighed sitting across from his daughter. "I know, I'm sorry. I'm taking time off of work and I'm going to be here for you all the time now, I'm sorry I wasn't here before like I should've been, I'm going to be bothering you 24/7 making sure that you're okay, especially in public". y/n groans to herself remembering all the times her father would embarrass her in public, him having no problem showing the world his love for his daughter.

"I'm sorry dad. for everything". spencer grabs his daughters hands holding them in his own, "I understand why you think you need to apologize, but you don't. I will never be angry at you for anything. I mean as long you don't come home drunk then everything will be okay" y/n laughed at that knowing he was only partly joking. y/n stood up walking over to her father.

"I love you daddy"

"I love you too baby."

spencer hugged y/n knowing she was be okay.

she's a fighter, a lot like her father.

Their Doll 17

He loves you

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: you and Bucky stay in bed for a while. Y/n meets Sam

Warnings: fluff, kissing, implied smut, there’s probably some swearing somewhere

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Layers of pale sunlight streaked through the thin, flimsy white curtains, forming a rich sheen of dull yellow light across the room. The encroaching stream of gold cast over y/n's face blinked her awake, her heavy eyelids fluttering and her mouth opening in a sinfully beautiful yawn. Or at least Bucky thought so, but he thought everything about y/n was beautiful.

Bucky had been laying there for a near hour now, blue eyes gazing over his girl's features as she looked blissfully peaceful immersed in a deep sleep. Last night's events must've really fired her out. Y/n's small hand was splayed against his bare chest, chin tucked into the crook of his neck and body embraced by his warm, flesh arm. His fingers danced in small swirls against her back, drawing small figurines ever-so-lightly against she sunlit-skin.

A soft smile had found his lips, tugging them upwards into almost a grin at the sight of y/n in his arms. Her leg was still thrown over his waist haphazardly, his shirt ridden up to around her ribs, panties doing little to conceal what the shirt had revealed.

Y/n's head lifted slowly, his soft smile contagious in the way it curled upon her lips, too.

"Morning, soldier." She mumbled, raspy and broken with a mixture of the strain and sleep. He pulled the girl into him further, his small smile growing when he felt her nuzzle into his warmth. Her disjointed voice was cute, Bucky thought, a reminder to him that he wasn't the only one still struggling to fit in.

He'd spent nearly five months in Bruce's lab, on ice once again as the man and Tony both tried to figure out how to rid him of his winter soldier side. They'd recovered him the first mission they'd gone on, the one without Steve. And not even Steve new Bucky was back until a week ago, although the soldier was only released from the lab yesterday.

Bruce had offered to take Bucky to the party with him, but the super soldier had politely - albeit quickly - declined his offer, knowing almost off instinct that the party scene wasn't one for him. Instead, he'd asked for directions to y/n's room, where he had waited for probably close to an hour before y/n had come storming in.

"You sound like you've been gargling glass." Bucky teased, unable to keep a deadpan expression as the words formed on his lips. Y/n's mouth opened in shock, and she used one arm to prop herself up whilst smacking Bucky's chest with the other. He chuckled, grabbing the hand she'd used to hit him before lifting it to his lips. Bucky kissed each of her fingertips in-turn, before bringing it to cup his face and holding her warmth against his skin. He turned his mouth towards her palm, plump lips fluttering against it as y/n looked in with pure...adoration in her eyes.

"I love you." The words tumbled from her lips like a simple thank you before she could think it through, Bucky's lips stilled against the palm of her hand, his eyes searching hers as if he was trying to find a hint as to why she just said that. It took her a moment to realise that he could be confused, after all, she blurted the words rather quickly and even she wasn't sure that she would've heard them had they come from someone else's mouth. "I love you." She said slower, as if she was hand picking each word before she said it. "I'm totally and completely in love with you." She murmured, eyes captured by the awe struck across Bucky's face.

"W-why?" He finally mustered the courage to say, dropping her hand back to his chest. Y/n took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she did so as if to prepare herself for what she was about to say.

"Because, you were my calm after the storm. Everything bad that seemed to happen, you were there to pick up the pieces after." She explained, moving the hand that'd been dropped to his chest to rest over Bucky's heart. It was racing.

"But all I did was...look at you. Sometimes I was the problem." Bucky argued, almost with himself. It was like he didn't believe what y/n he said, like he thought she was trickling him.

"But your eyes...they quelled the anger, the frustration, the hurt and the pain," y/n continued on, "it's like the real you - not the winter soldier - was always waiting, like you were simply hiding in the sidelines." She confessed, a slither of a tear making its way across her waterline. She opened her mouth to say more, but she found her lips already pressed against his.

Bucky rolled them over, his frame hovering above y/n's as he covered her face in small, affectionate kisses.

"I love you too." He whispered against her ear, giving the lobe a playful nip that made y/n squeal and giggle, a sound that had Bucky grinning boyishly and tickling her sides with his slender fingers, relishing in the cute sound she made.

"Please!" She gasped, face red and tears of laughter streaking her face, "please, h-have mercy!" She pleaded with him.

"Only if you say it again." Bucky smirked, straddling her hips and tickling his fingers against her sides.

"Say what?" Y/n breathed, her small form writhing beneath his as he kept up him ministrations.

"You know exactly what." Bucky mumbled as he leant over y/n, beginning to kiss and suck her neck too.

"I love you." She said softly, voice not as crackly now that she'd spoken a little bit more. Bucky's fingers halted for a moment, his nose brushing against hers and their breaths mingled as his stared deeply into her eyes.

"I know." He whispered, pecking the tip of her nose before beginning to tickle the poor girl again, a wolfish grin playing against his lips.

"You promised!" Y/n gasped, trying desperately to get out his grip.

"Oops." Bucky mumbled against her lips, connecting them once again.

...

We had stayed in bed most of the morning, desperate to avoid Steve and my dad for as long as we possibly could. But at noon Bucky ushered me out of bed, claiming he was to meet with a friend and that it was bad for us to spend all day in bed.

I had sighed, getting out of bed with a huff before he was pulling me into his lap, back against his chest and his lips kissing my neck softly. His warm skin against mine made me relax, his hand on my cheek tilting my head back to meet his in a sweet kiss all the convincing I needed.

Sweaty, hot, and flustered, I panted as I climbed the stairs to the floor my apartment was on in the tower. I swiped my forehead, grimacing at the sticky feel of my sweat covering the back of my hand.

To blow off some steam and the manifesting stress of yesterday, I'd decided to go on a short run. That had turned into five bloody miles. So naturally, I was a knackered, panting mess with hair clinging to my face and sweat forming dark patches under my armpits.

I conquered the last flight of stairs - too stubborn to take the elevator as I was more likely to bump into Steve or Tony that way - and dragged my feet the whole way to my room.

I pushed the door open, a hundred-percent ready to flop onto either my bed or my sofa and die. But when I walked in, I was greeted by the sight of Bucky and some guy I'd never met sat at the small breakfast bar in the kitchen of my apartment, two coffee mugs resting in front of them.

The sound of the door opening had caught both mens' attention, both facing me. I offered a weak smile, shoulder slumped with her tiredness. I was mentally cursing, embarrassed that Bucky's friend was seeing me like this the first time we's met.

"Hey, doll." Bucky smiled, clearing his throat when I looked at him questioningly. "This is Sam. I hope you're okay with us using your room." Bucky said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck and giving me an apologetic smile, "Steve was meant to show me to mine last night. Obviously that's not going to happen now." He said, met with a chuckle from Sam.

"You must be y/n. It's great to finally meet you." Sam smiled kindly, his face soft and he seemed to not be affected by my state, or if he was he didn't show it. I smiled back, slightly wider this time.

"Yeah. It's nice to meet you to, although Bucky's never mentioned you before." I commented, trying to keep my tone civil, the ache in me to just collapse to the floor growing. He chuckled, so did Bucky.

"I, uh, I met him a while back. Six months ago maybe? Of course, he was trying to kill me at the time." Sam said comically, slapping a hand onto Bucky's shoulder a Bucky looked down at his drink, pearly whites shown as he laughed.

"Oh." Was all I said, instantly connecting the dots. That's when I was with HYDRA, I realised. The second time. Sam stood slowly, grabbing his jacket from the back of the barstool before turning to me.

"Well, it was wonderful meeting you."

"You too." I smiled.

"And thank you for the coffee." He finished, directing it at Bucky this time. The soldier smiled and waved at Sam as he left, standing from his own seat to deposit the used mugs in the little sink. Sam's exit was announced bu the thud of the door as it swung shut.

"At least give a girl some warning, next time." I instantly chided, shoulder slumping at Bucky sauntered over to me. He was amusedly smiling, teeth on show as her hooked arm arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his chest.

"Sorry." He mumbled, placing a chaste kiss into my hair. "Now go have a shower, you need it." He said, pushing me away and turning me towards the bathroom.

"Hey!" I complained, yelping as I felt his hand connect with my ass as I began to walk away.

Nerves (Request)

This was my first request, and it was fun to write! Anon wanted a reader around Sam’s age whose nerves Dean mistakes for fear until he confronts her about them. Thanks for reading, and of course I would love any advice or critiques!! If you have a request, drop it in my inbox and I’ll definitely write it if I feel like I can do it justice. Just a little bit of weekend fluff. 

Title: Nerves

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Word Count: 2715

Summary: When helping Sam’s college friend, the reader, Dean can’t figure out why she’s so scared of him. 

gif from forgetthisbull

“Dude, Dean, I’m serious. Don’t be a fucking creep to her,” Sam said, shutting the door to the Impala and following his brother into a greasy spoon called Little Bavaria with white scalloped curtains.  

“Dude, Dean, I’m serious,” Dean mimicked in a nasal sing-song. “And when am I ever a creep?”

Sam glared at Dean in exasperation. “Please? Just please? Can I have one friend you don’t hit on?”

“Fine! Drop it!” Dean snapped, yanking open the door and pulling his face immediately into a saccharine smile for the rosy-cheeked grandma-type standing behind a cash register that could not have been made after 1983.

“Thank you,” Sam said, obviously relieved. He scanned the room before seeing her sitting in a back booth.

You waved excitedly to Sam as he walked toward you, looking like a sun-kissed and confident man rather than the floppy haired boy you remembered.

As the brothers made their way over to you, a waitress dropped off plasticized menus and glasses of water. Sam waited for you to stand up before wrapping you in a bear hug. He smelled clean and familiar in a way that made you feel slightly lighter immediately.

“I like the new hair, it looks good on you,” he said, charming as ever.

You reflexively touched your head. “Oh! Right, I forgot that was after college. You look great!”

Sam’s smile was easy and wide as he turned to Dean. “This is my brother Dean.”

Dean raised a few fingers in a weak wave, decidedly not giving you anything Sam could construe as bedroom eyes or a flirtatious smirk. “Nice to meet you. Sorry it isn’t under better circumstances.”

“Yeah, well,” you trailed off.

“Should we sit?” Sam asked, graciously offering you an out.

After the requisite coffees and Dutch babies were ordered, Sam looked across the table angelically. “I’m really sorry this is happening,” he said, his voice smooth and soothing.  It was all Dean could do not to roll his eyes, one arm slung across the booth behind Sam as he slouched back. He tried for the appearance of nonplussed neutrality. “If it’s okay with you, I think you should stick around us until we figure this out. I don’t want to leave you alone in that house,” Sam urged.

You kept the relief off your face better than you’d expected you would. You were trying to play it cool in front of Sam and his hopelessly cute older brother, but you were scared enough of going back your new house that you just repeated what they ordered, unable to focus even on the menu. As you had been doing for the last day and a half since you called, you thanked God for the small instinct to call Sam. Sam, who you hadn’t seen in a few years but was the least judgmental person you’d known in school. Somehow you knew even if he thought you were crazy he would come anyway. Now he was here, bigger and looser than you’d remembered, not making fun of or pitying the girl who thought her house was haunted, and you felt like you could take a deep breath for the first time in weeks. In a weaker moment you might’ve cried, and for that reason it was better that Sam had brought his brother. It might not have been so embarrassing to break down with an old friend, but you couldn’t ugly-cry in front of the Rebel Without A Cause at the table, all pillowy lips and long eyelashes. Distractedly you tried to remember if Dean looked this good in the two or three pictures Sam had scotch-taped to his dorm wall but couldn’t call them up. You channeled all the chill-girl energy you could muster and shrugged. “If you think that’s better, I can.”

“I do, yeah. It’s just that we don’t know what’s going on yet,” Sam offered. “If you need to get some stuff from your place, we can come with you. Right, Dean?”

“Sure,” Dean said, his tone clipped and his lips pressed tight. “Whatever Sammy wants.”

You heard a thump under the table and Dean smiled slightly more reassuringly.

Over breakfast Sam had about a hundred questions about everything you’d been up to lately. He seemed genuinely interested as you told him about the new job you’d moved here for, wanting to know more about the goofy drama between your coworkers and odd clients as though it was fascinating. You’d forgotten how much you desperately missed him until you saw the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and heard his laugh twinkle out over the coffee steam and powdered sugar. All the while, Dean seemed to be boring into you with those green eyes, sometimes adding a meaningless trite comment or chuckle but not genuinely engaging. You tried only partly successfully to ignore him, focusing on Sam and your food and how nice it was to feel safe.

3 cups of weak coffee after you’d finished eating, knowing you’d be jittery but not caring from the giddiness of the reunion, Dean took out his wallet and threw about double what you’d guessed the tab might be down in cash. “Should we go get your stuff?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you answered, taking one last sip before getting up from the table. A look you couldn’t decipher passed between Sam and Dean so quickly that you would’ve missed it if you hadn’t been staring right at them. You followed the boys out of the restaurant, feeling a very odd and fleeting moment of jealousy when Dean thanked and winked at the older woman behind the cash register, giving her a slow languid smile like warm honey. He was so pretty. As quickly as the thought had come over you, it was replaced with disgust at yourself. At a time like this, when your whole world was in chaos, you were worried about some hot guy—who clearly wasn’t into you from the way he was acting—instead of your own safety. You were still cursing yourself mentally when you slid into the back of the gigantic black car they’d arrived in.

Sam’s friend was cute. Like, really cute. Beautiful, even, and Dean was beyond annoyed that this was the one time he promised Sam he wouldn’t hit on one of his friends. Not that it seemed to matter, because she only had eyes for Sam. It was like she melted when she saw him, staring only straight at his kid brother all through the time they stayed at the breakfast spot. If Dean was being honest with himself, he was more than a little hurt, not used to being looked at with anything less than adoration by the women he wanted. What added even more salt to the wound than the way she seemed so infatuated with Sam was the way that she looked when she saw Dean. Dean peddled in monsters and the looks of attractive women, and he knew fear when he saw it. He’d spent the rest of breakfast with Sam’s comment about him being a creep running through his mind on a loop, careful not to lean too close into her or say anything less than strictly G-rated. Unfortunately, that limited him more severely than he realized it would.

When she got into the back of the Impala, she sat straight up like she was in a cotillion class, not comfortable enough even to sit normally in his car. Was Sam right? Was he a creep? Dean suddenly felt weird and predatory, like maybe the blood and guts of hunting was changing him in some irreparable way that people could sense. He tried to smile agreeably the way Sam did up at her in the rearview mirror and saw a shark reflected back at him. Looking quickly away, Dean put both hands on the wheel the way he thought someone non-threatening would.

It didn’t help that Sam thought something was off, which meant Dean wasn’t pulling off his act and maybe couldn’t even pretend like he wasn’t the kind of person who makes a beautiful girl’s eyes go wide in fear. Each time Sam had side-eyed or kicked him under the table, the point was re-emphasized. Dean was desperate to relax but worried he’d freak this poor girl out somehow, so he kept himself tightly wound as he took directions to her house.

By the time they’d finally figured out the problem—not, as you thought, that your house was haunted but that a coworker was in fact a witch trying to torment you—the three of you had gotten into a semi-comfortable rhythm. You were crashing on the couch in their motel room, carrying your toiletries into and out of the bathroom every morning like you were at sleepaway camp and trying to keep your clothes as wrinkle-free as possible while living out of a suitcase. Some parts of it were so nice; you were still just as grateful for the protection you felt as you had been in that café, and you had forgotten how comforting it was just to know there was someone else around. Other parts, however, were not. You hadn’t slept on a couch, let alone a scratchy-creaky motel one, for so many days since college, and you were remembering why. On top of that, Dean was so compelling that it felt like you expended half of your energy each day just trying to keep yourself from staring at him.

And naturally, the more you got to know him the harder it got. He was not only the pretty boy that was obvious from the first time you met, but also so kind and respectful, seeming to be very aware of the potential discomfort of immediately sleeping in the same room as a strange man and giving you a wide berth for as much privacy as possible. He even picked up coffee in the mornings before you and Sam got up, that first day getting a black coffee, a nonfat latte, and ‘whatever the coffee guy said was most popular’ because he didn’t know what you’d like. If anything, it felt almost as though he was being a bit too gentle, and you wondered if Sam had told Dean you were some kind of fragile and delicate bird that startled easily. When you’d asked Sam about it after a couple days, he just shrugged and said he hadn’t really told Dean much other than some stories from college. You decided to drop it. Maybe Dean was just like this, which made it all the harder not to develop the kind of crippling, blushing, oh-my-god-is-he-going-to-sit-next-to-me crush you hadn’t felt since middle school.

When the coworker had been ‘taken care of’—a careful answer from Dean that you chose not to pursue—you were left feeling unmoored. It wasn’t like you could go back to the now-destroyed house, or even imagine how you’d explain away the chaos of the last couple weeks to the few people you knew here. Sam seemed to pick up on it intuitively, and offered for you to come along with him and his brother until you figured out what you were going to do next. Like it had when he had driven across the country and tossed you the last life raft over the formica table at Little Bavaria, it felt like Sam was saving you. He seemed excited when you said you would, and was out grabbing sandwiches for the road while you and Dean packed up the motel room when Dean asked if he could borrow you for a minute.

You were so embarrassed at the small, cartoonish voice that agreed, sitting on the side of the bed while Dean draped himself effortlessly—God, how could he look so cool even just sitting down—over the arm of the sofa.

“I, uh, if you’re going to come on the road with us I think we should talk,” he started. Your pulse started thumping in your chest and you hoped you weren’t blushing as you raised your eyebrows, signaling for him to continue. Dean cleared his throat and fiddled with his ring before continuing. “Listen, I don’t know how much Sam told you before we met, or whatever, but I swear I’m really not that bad.”

You’d been focusing so hard on not looking desperately infatuated that you weren’t able to keep the surprise off your face. “Bad? Of course not, you’ve been amazing. You and Sam saved my life. I’m so grateful,” you sputtered.

“Right,” Dean said, looking slightly confused. “Then I’m sorry if I did something maybe, because I don’t want you to think I’m some, like, animal—”

You cut him off. “Dean, you’ve been unbelievably sweet, way above and beyond what you needed to do. I’ve felt so safe the entire time I’ve been with you guys, and now you’re letting me stay with you for even longer; I don’t know how I can repay you, seriously.”

Dean looked up at you, his confusion tinged around the edges of his eyes with something wounded. “Then why are you so scared of me? You jump whenever I come in the room, you only look at Sam, you don’t even slouch when I’m around. I know I can’t do Sam’s puppy dog eyes act, but come on, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. You act like you’re waiting for me to sock you.”

You opened your mouth and closed it again, realizing you didn’t know what to say. It was hard enough to think with Dean’s eyelashes sweeping over his cheekbones like the most delicious metronome you’d ever seen, let alone process what he was saying. “I—Dean, I’m not scared of you,” you finally squeaked. His face didn’t change with the spark of recognition that would’ve allowed you to stop there with a soggy handful of dignity left, and you took a deep breath to steel yourself to continue. “God, this is so embarrassing,” you murmured under your breath. “Okay,” you started, hoping your voice sounded resolute and firm. “I mean, it’s just that you’re so cute, and cool, and self-assured, and I was worried I was going to do something weird or whatever, and now I guess I have anyway. I’m truly sorry if I made you uncomfortable, or especially feel like I wasn’t anything other than thankful for you and everything you’ve done. I’ll try to act like less of a total freak, I promise.” 

You winced, waiting for the inevitable pity from this gorgeous man who must hear these proclamations from every woman he meets. Instead, Dean chuckled, which was maybe even worse. Pity you were ready for, could swallow and heal your ego from in private, but open ridicule was too much.

“Okay, well, that was fun. Sorry,” you said, smacking the tops of your legs and getting up from the bed. Dean grabbed one of your wrists as he pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing his eyes.

“No, wait, sit down,” he said, smiling.

You obeyed, feeling a little lump of embarrassed tears forming in your throat but not seeing a way to extricate yourself from the room gracefully. Dean’s callused thumb swiped affectionately across the back of your hand.

“That is way better than what I thought,” he insisted.  “Sam made a big deal about how I shouldn’t act like a creep to you, and it got in my head. I thought I was coming off as a total perv or something.”

His eyes locked you in like quicksand before you could answer, not pitying or withering at all as you’d thought, just soft and tender and the impossible green of a perfect matcha. “No, I’m the perv here,” you offered, attempting to make light of your shyness.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sweetheart,” Dean purred. Heat swelled up into your cheeks, and Dean brought your hand to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to the back of your hand as he gazed up at you.

As you were desperately scrolling through the Rolodex in your mind for something witty to say, Sam opened the door to the motel room. You were equally and fiercely relieved and stymied as his hulking frame filled the doorway, grabbing the duffel he’d left on the tile. “You guys ready?” he asked, his smile bright and carefree.

Dean dropped your wrist and winked at you as he got up from the couch unhurriedly. “More than ready, Sammy. Let’s hit the road.”

-

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass, @akshi8278​, @dream-believe-and-love​

sleep to you who wander

(As far as I’m concerned, The Castle of Cagliostro already has a perfect ending, especially for what’s supposed to be Lupin III’s final adventure.  But what happens after our heroes ride off into the sunset and life continues for them, anticlimactic as it might be?  I wrote this after pondering that very question, with help from @dying-suffering-french-stalkers and her reference to a simiilar scene in The Princess Bride, where the ride off into the sunset doesn’t go quite so smoothly.  We’ve had a looooot of DM conversations on the topic, and this was the result--I hope you guys enjoy it!)

“Did we lose ‘em?”

Meeting Jigen’s eyes in the rearview mirror for a second, Goemon glanced out the back window.  There was a reassuring lack of sirens on the road behind them.  “We lost them.  Fujiko must have headed them off at the border.”

Lupin let out a quiet chuckle from the passenger seat.  “Oh, so she wouldn’t share the plates, but…”  He trailed off and sank further down, tempted to tilt the seat back, but not wanting to scare the poor unsuspecting samurai sitting there (not that ending up in a blushing Goemon’s lap wouldn’t be nice…)

Besides, they’d have to make a pit stop soon, anyway.

“Hey, Jigen?  As soon as we find a petrol station, pull over.”

“We’ve got plenty of fuel still.  And don’t tell me you gotta take a leak—”

“Just pull us over, all right?  I gotta take care of something.”

A pause.  Jigen and Goemon’s eyes met again through the mirror.

“… Get me some cigarettes while you’re in there?”

“Done.”

The last of the Cagliostro countryside turned into the Italian countryside, and the back roads turned into the streets of Ventimiglia, Italy.  So many people were out on the sidewalks, perusing shop windows and outdoor stands, lined up across each block in herds, almost drowning out traffic… what day was it?  Lupin realized he hadn’t even been keeping track—the only indication he’d had of the time passing was the newspaper clipping of the Count’s failed wedding.  The fashion markets happened on Fridays, right?  He remembered Rebecca mentioning that to him… how long ago now?  It couldn’t have been too long, could it?  Maybe if he watched the crowds now, he could catch a glimpse of long blonde hair streaked with blue (or maybe she’d gotten bored of that color and switched to pink or purple or something.  Women did so love changing up their hair), but he couldn’t twist that far without a rib digging directly into his lung and making him gasp.

Where the hell was a petrol station when you needed one?

It took about fifteen minutes of Jigen honking furiously at pedestrians and growling for them to “share the goddamn road” before they were moving at full speed and finally pulling in beside one of the pumps.  Jigen emphatically buried his spent stub of a cigarette in the ashtray, driving his own point home.  “You promised—”

“Don’t worry, I’m good for it.”  Lupin tried to reach for the First Aid kit under the seat as nonchalantly as possible as he opened the door and rose to his feet…

Jigen was too quick on the uptake.  Grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm just so, forcing Lupin to look up at him?  “Whaddya need it for?”

“C’mon, it’s not a big—”

“What do you need it for?”

… Well, right now, the last thing Lupin needed was to have the truth choked and yanked out of him.  Even sighing made his chest hurt.  “Get my jacket off for me, would you?”

Jigen obeyed, pulling it off carefully by the arms and draping it across the back of his own seat.  At the same time, Lupin unbuttoned his black shirt until the wrappings and bandages underneath were showing.

There was actually less blood than he’d expected.  Maybe he hadn’t torn everything open… just enough to make a mess, though.

Over his shoulder, he heard Jigen hiss in shock and the back passenger door open as Goemon bounded out.  “Why the hell didn’t you tell us?” came Jigen’s choked voice as he almost jumped out of the driver’s seat, letting Lupin’s head fall back against it.  Lupin almost made a joke about how he’d been cheated out of laying in two very choice gentlemen’s laps, but it died in his throat as he let his back fully stretch out for the first time in hours.

“Wasn’t really the biggest thing in on my mind,” he admitted, unable to keep from wincing, but forcing himself to relax more as Goemon knelt and inspected his wounds.  “We had a wedding to stop, a princess to rescue, a treasure to uncover, a Count to defeat… kind of a packed schedule, even for us.”  Still, getting into a fight in a clocktower and then plummeting several hundred feet into freezing cold water on top of that didn’t exactly do wonders for multiple gunshot wounds and a concussion.  Who would’ve thought?

“You still should have told us you were in pain,” Goemon replied somewhere near his waist.  He lay one cool hand over where one of the bandages had come loose, a warning and a request, and Lupin nodded and gritted his teeth in anticipation.  “We could have helped you when you first came back.”

“Yeah, I know… I just had a lot of my mind.”  Goemon went slowly and gently as he tightened the wrappings, occasionally mopping up the blood with a paper napkin from the glove compartment along the way, and Lupin tilted his head back for any friction to distract from the sting and pull in his skin.  Normally when he was being treated like this, he would either playfully swoon over his wonderful nurses and how good they were with their hands, or he would rail loudly at how unfair it was and that he couldn’t be slowed down like this.  Right now, he didn’t have the energy for either.  His chest was still tight, and it had nothing to do with the bandages.

“If you ever need help, just let me know.  I’ll come running from anywhere on earth to save you.”

Just don’t need me yet, kiddo—I’m not in the best shape for it right now.

“You gonna be okay?”  Jigen’s voice again.  The seat right above his head dipped, and Lupin looked up to see him crouched right above him, his knee almost grazing the top of his hair.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll be fine.  You know me—it’s gonna take a lot more than this to knock me out of the running.”

“Says the guy who was knocked out for three days straight not that long ago.”

“But isn’t that why I have you?”  Lupin tilted his head further back and shot Jigen the brightest, most charming smile he could manage.  “To gallantly nurse me back to health when my strength fails?”

Jigen didn’t answer, but he did mutter something that sounded like “smug little prick” before raking a hand across Lupin’s head, fingers digging through his hair into his scalp.  Lupin shamelessly leaned into the touch—it was enough to make up for the lack of Goemon’s hands after he tied off the last of the bandages and buttoned Lupin’s shirt back up to the collar.  He still couldn’t tie a necktie, but Lupin didn’t want to bother with it right now.

“Do you know where we’re heading next?” Goemon asked, offering a hand to help Lupin straighten up.

“Not a clue.”  He tried to pass it off as casual, his usual devil-may-care recklessness, as he rose to a sitting position in the passenger seat once again.  “You guys have any ideas?”

Jigen shrugged as he climbed back in behind the wheel, but Goemon hesitated, still kneeling right outside with the First Aid kit in his lap… ears going slightly pink.  “I… may have one.”

“Oh?”  Now Lupin was extremely alert.  “Well, you know I’d loooove to hear it, Goemon!”

“I would like to go back to Japan--Suminawa’s village, specifically.  I have… some loose ends I’d like to tie up.”

No sooner had those words left his mouth than Jigen let out a knowing cackle.  “You’re wanting to see Murasaki again, aren’t ya?  Isn’t it about time you made an honest woman of her?”

Goemon’s extremely pink face was answer enough for both of them.

“Hey, that sounds great!”  Lupin leaned forward, shifting just so he could sling an arm around his partner’s shoulder.  “Tell you what—we’ll make a road trip out of it.  Just the three of us.  We’ll just drive until we need to find a ship across, and if there’s any place you guys wanna hit along the way, we can do it.  Doesn’t even have to be a heist—if you guys wanna go sightseeing or shopping or anything at all, just let me know!”

It felt a bit like stalling, and maybe it was.  Maybe he just didn’t want to let Goemon go just yet.  Maybe the prospect of him settling down (even if it was with a nice girl like Murasaki) felt a little too much like never seeing him again.  But he’d already left way too soon after the three of them hightailed it out of Monaco, and as nice it was to spend all that time on the road with Jigen… the Fiat’s backseat did feel pretty empty.

And there was still that tightness in his chest he wanted to put off dealing with for as long as possible.

To his relief, Goemon nodded.  “That does sound nice… as long as you don’t get us lost on the scenic route through Russia on the way.”

“Hey, that was one time!”

“And the only time, right?”

Before Lupin could say anything, Jigen was cackling again and actually aiming a gentle kick right at the small of his back, forcing him to his feet.  “C’mon, dumbass—you’re still on cigarette duty before we hit the road.”

***

He had planned for a couple of heists along the way.  Just a couple—there weren’t many places Lupin hadn’t already stolen from or at least had a memorable encounter therein.  At some point over the campfire, he’d dug out a collection of old roadmaps and traced the many annotations he’d left in it.  Every continent, every large metropolitan area in every country.  X-es and checkmarks over where he’d been, notes scribbled in the margins.  Lists of traps to look out for, supplies to bring with them.  Lather, rinse, repeat on every page.  Sheafs of hotel stationery tucked into the bindings with diagrams and estimated floorplans and arrows mapping out everyone’s positions, including Zenigata’s.

(Where was Pops now, anyway?  Was he still out there looking for them?  Had he given up?  Hell, there was a chance he’d stumble across their little campsites any second… in which case, Lupin was tempted to just offer him a sausage and tell him to take a load off.)

Very little empty, unexplored space left on any of them.  That, too, sat heavy somewhere in Lupin’s chest.

But he did want to eke out a handful of smaller jobs.  Mostly second tries at treasures they hadn’t quite managed to steal, moving from one museum to another.  The Faberge Museum had apparently found more eggs to display, and what the hell, it might be nice to have something pretty for the hell of it (and they’d lost their old haul somewhere in a Moscow hotel the last time) …

It seemed only appropriate that Fujiko beat him to it.

The Fiat had parked overnight along the Moyka River Embankment, nestled inconspicuously among the other cars.  The engine was running just enough to leave the heat on, and Goemon was sitting upright in the backseat, head lolled gently against his chest, while Jigen had tipped his own seat all the way back so that his head nearly rested on Goemon’s knee.  Lupin had spent the past six hours driving, and his jacket was actually buttoned for once so he could burrow into the neck, trying to force himself to sleep.  Jigen’s snores didn’t usually bother him, but right now they were unnecessarily loud.

He'd almost mistaken the rumble of Fujiko’s bike for another snore.

But as he leaned his cheek against the window, there it was.  And there she was.  Still blonde, her surplus military uniform traded for her old red biker’s gear.  Goggles pulled up over her forehead as she sidled up to the car, eyes finding Lupin’s and giving him a slight, amused smirk as he could only blink at her at first before rolling down the window.  She’d been so far ahead of them… how had she caught up?  Or rather, how had they caught up with her?

“Nothing there that we haven’t already picked over, unfortunately,” Fujiko said, hefting a large satchel into her lap.  “Still… I did manage to come away with a few little beauties.”  With some effort, she lifted out a large golden egg latticed with starbursts and topped with a diamond the size of an eyeball.  And when she cracked it open, a miniature red coach, also studded with gold and propelled by golden wheels, tumbled gently out.

Lupin couldn’t help but whistle.  “Very nice… I don’t suppose I can get you to share, Fujicakes?”  He pressed his hands together under his chin like a child praying at Christmas, tilting his head up and exaggeratedly batting his eyelashes at her.  “I’d settle for just the coach, y’know.”

“Not a chance.”  Fujiko quickly tucked the treasures back into her satchel.  “I know appraisers who would pay in blood just to touch the Imperial Coronation egg.  And last I checked, you came away from Cagliostro empty-handed.”

“Hey, I was the one who uncovered the Roman city underneath the lake—that has to count for something!”

“But you can’t exactly carry a city, Lupin.”

“Well, not with that attitude.”  As if he couldn’t still picture it perfectly, even after so many weeks.  Or months—had it been months since they started?  It felt like hours since he’d been there walking the ruins, jumping across causeways Clarisse couldn’t reach so he could catch her on her way over.  He’d stolen San Marino, he’d stolen Paris, he’d stolen New York City more than once, and now he had this little piece of Cagliostro… there was something romantic about that.  Something suitably grand for the world’s greatest thief.  Lupin the First would definitely approve.

Fujiko just hummed skeptically and let it go, repositioning her bike in preparation to drive away.  “So where are you all off to?”

“Back to Japan—Goemon wanted to patch things up with Murasaki, and I told him we’d make a trip of it.  What about you?”

“Mmmm… I haven’t decided yet.”  There was a note of wistfulness in Fujiko’s voice, in her eyes… Lupin always found that particularly beautiful.  Not that she wasn’t a knockout when she was confidently conning her way through droves of men, himself included, with that hard set in her face and that edge in her smile—lesser men had died just for a glimpse.  But these spare moments of uncertainty, especially in the dim light when she still had some plausible deniability, were that much more precious.  Lupin had missed seeing them, now that they weren’t in such close quarters anymore.  “I know at least one dealer in France who would pay pretty handsomely.  And I haven’t been back there in a while… you know, I actually miss it.”

“Even with all the bullshit from last time?”

She actually laughed, if only just a little.  “Even with all the bullshit from last time.”

“Hey, say hi to Ami for me.  And save me a reservation at the Ritz—we could catch up.”

There was something oddly final about this, too.  Maybe he was just overthinking things; after all, this was Fujiko, who couldn’t be bothered tying herself to any one city or any one man or woman.  They’d see each other again someday.  It was almost inevitable.  That was why he didn’t bother giving her a date—maybe it would be months, maybe even years, but at least that table would be there, waiting.

Still… he pictured this going differently.  Maybe after one more grand heist, one more merry chase through the hallways of some huge museum or manor house before they emerged onto a balcony and Fujiko leaped onto the ladder of a waiting helicopter, leaving him with empty hands and tingling lips once again.  Or maybe one last tumble, for old time’s sake (not that there was room in the car for that, and Jigen would bawl him out if he dragged them all to a hotel just for her).  This felt… weirdly anticlimactic in comparison.

Maybe that was only fitting.  It wasn’t really an end per se, or at least it didn’t have to be.  Nothing ever really ended between them.

Fujiko smiled.  “We’ll see how things turn out.”  And she started to turn around to leave…

“Oh, Fujiko?”

She stopped midway through lowering her goggles.  “Hmm?”

Lupin was tempted to ask for a kiss, or even to just take her free hand and kiss it in farewell.  But neither felt right at the moment, and on the chance she’d refuse he didn’t want them to leave on bad terms.  So instead he just gave her a smile.  “See you around.”

Her own smile brightened, and she gave him a wink in return before revving her engine and riding off down the road.  Lupin watched her go until the motorcycle was a dot in the distance before sinking back into his seat, not even bothering to roll the window back up.  There was a breeze coming in from off the river.  Beside him, Jigen had backed nearly all the way up and off the passenger seat toward the back, still laying flat with his hat over his face, but nearly on top of Goemon, who barely registered his presence.

It was a nice night.

***

It was a nice night when they finally dropped off Goemon as well.  They’d long since lost track of how long they’d been on the road--the Fiat had lasted several dozen tanks of gas, two flat tires, one fussy engine that Jigen had taken multiple attempts to jumpstart, and a barge across the Sea of Japan.  By the time they reached Murasaki’s village, the air brushed coolly through the open windows, the caps of snow on the mountains nearby had grown whiter, and the trees rustled red and gold.

The world had been green when they started out, Lupin noted.  Maybe he just hadn’t noticed the change.

Halfway through a familiar glen, where a small roadside garden stretched slowly into view, Goemon motioned for them to stop.  “I can walk the rest of the way.”

“You sure?”  Lupin pulled over to one side and parked, but didn’t kill the engine just yet.  “We can drop you off right on her doorstep, it’s no problem.”

“I think I would rather talk to her alone when I get there.  We’ll have a lot of ground to cover… since I’ve been gone so long.”  Climbing out of the backseat, sword in hand and travelling hat tucked under his arm, Goemon came to stand in front of them.  “So we can say goodbye here.”

Oh, to hell with that.  The second he and Jigen climbed out after him, Lupin reached out and took Goemon’s hands and, when he seemed receptive to that, swept him into a hug, one hand on the back of his hair.  There was so much he wanted to say… most of it variations on thank you.  For putting up with his nonsense, for coming through every time they needed him and every time they didn’t, for staying by his side even when Jigen couldn’t, for being so absurdly loyal and brave, for making him laugh and feel alive even from the moment they met, for letting Lupin make him laugh when he thought he never would again, for letting him be a part of his life at all… they’d be here all night if he kept counting the reasons.

For now, one quiet “Thank you” would do before he pulled out of the hug and gave Goemon a kiss on each cheek.  “You take care of yourself, okay?  Her, too.”

Goemon nodded, throat suspiciously tight as he moved onto Jigen, who wrapped him into his own tight hug.  “Don’t be a stranger,” Jigen murmured before dropping his voice and whispering something only he could hear into his ear.  Lupin didn’t try to listen, tempting as it was--he just stood back alongside them, hands in his pockets.  When Goemon finally stepped away, his jaw stuttered with the beginnings of half a dozen parting words before snapping closed as he gave them both a nod.

“Travel safe, you two.  I’ll… I’ll be in touch.”

Lupin gave him the same smile he’d given Fujiko, feeling it pull even more at his lips this time.  “We’ll hold you to that, y’know.”

And with that, Goemon turned, let in a deep cleansing breath that eased the remaining tension in his shoulders, and started off down the road.  His partners watched him go until he, too, was only a dot disappearing around the bend in the wake of a tiny indoor light glowing yellow and drowning him out.  Saying goodbye to Fujiko had felt strangely unsatisfying, but somehow just right.  This… this just felt right. 

Didn’t stop his eyes from burning against the dark, though.

Lupin hadn’t realized how dark it had gotten--how long they’d been standing there--until Jigen nudged him, a fuzzy indigo blur in the shadow of the car.  “C’mon.  Let’s find a place to sleep.”

Neither of them moved for a few minutes after that.  Even with nothing left to see but the fireflies in the grass.

***

“You can take that off now, you know--it’s starting to creep me out.”

Lupin grinned behind the mask of Zenigata’s face.  “Hey, maybe Pops’ll take the hint and join us for a breather.”  It had been almost a year since they’d seen hide or hair of the good inspector (hell of a thing to process), and Lupin was starting to miss him.  And after all, no matter where he was in the world, there was no better way to summon him than somebody reporting a false sighting.

Jigen rolled his eyes, but patted him on the shoulder as the elevator landed and he peeled back off down the hotel hallway.  “Yeah, well, you go change.  I’m gonna go check out our room--they better have been serious about the bar.”

Once he was alone, Lupin ducked through the doorway to the courtyard, glancing around him before pulling off the mask and tucking it into the pocket of the great brown overcoat before slinging it over his shoulder.  There were still a few weeks left before the snow stayed down in drifts, so for today the sky was blue and clear, and piles of grey slush clumped around the remaining patches of grass and the little patio that had once been surrounded by summer flowers…

He’d almost walked right on past, but his eye finally caught the figure sitting on the sofa.  Surrounded by large antique suitcases, flanked by an old man in rough-hewn gardener’s clothes and  two hulking security guards the size of professional wrestlers.  A petite figure in a purple dress, red hair pinned elegantly at the nape of her neck and hidden by a wide-brimmed hat.

Lupin recognized her in an instant.  She recognized him, too--as she rose and rushed over to meet him, her arms went out as if to hug him, but at a start from one of her bodyguards, she resisted and forced them back down to her sides.  Instead, she held up a hand for him to kiss, as befitting a proper young lady, but as he did so her voice was breathless with excitement.

“I knew… I just knew we’d meet again someday, Mr. Thief.”

And the ache in Lupin’s chest yawned so fiercely he feared it might swallow him.

***

Their hotel room did not, in fact, come with a bar.  With much grumbling, Jigen had taken them to the one across the street.  It was admittedly a very nice place--the staff were friendly, the drinks were great, and the in-house jazz band had the tact to slow things down after a certain hour and more than a few patrons needed cut off for the night.  Right now they were playing a melancholy piece for saxophone and piano, more of a reflection than a true song.

It gave Lupin something to focus on… the ice in his glass was melting and the condensation leaving rings on the table, but he couldn’t bring himself to drink.

“Been doin’ an awful lot of sighing there, buddy,” came Jigen’s voice beside him, slowly nursing his own glass of scotch.  When Lupin didn’t rise to the bait, Jigen heaved a long-suffering sigh of his own.  “Look, I’m not gonna choke it out of you in front of a buncha strangers, so you might as well tell me now.”

“All, right, all right…”  Where did he even start, though?  It was all a disorganized jumble in his head, and that bothered him more than anything.  That, and the stupid lingering anxiety of how Jigen might react.  He raised his melting glass and downed it, desperately drawing energy from the burn in his throat.  “You’ll never guess who I ran into earlier when we first checked in.”

“Better not have been Pops--at least not while you were still wearing his face.”

“Nope.  Clarisse.”

Jigen’s face softened a bit.  “No kidding?”

“No kidding.”  Lupin wanted to smile, but he only managed a slight upturn of his lips.  “She’d snuck into Japan to ask for help establishing a tourist program for Cagliostro.  She was just on her way home, though, so we… we didn’t actually get to talk much.”  But there was so much more to the conversation, short as it was, that Lupin wished he could go into.  How Clarisse had dedicated so much to dismantling the tools of her family’s corruption and making public statements to the world about undoing the damage.  How she was personally helping to convert the underground printing press into shelters for the poor.  How she’d spent her seventeenth birthday touring her kingdom and getting to know her subjects, even taking the afternoon to make tea for an old woman and her grandchildren.  How Christopher was still a good friend, how Karl was still lively as a puppy even as “an old man in dog years.”  How healthy she looked now that she was no longer a prisoner in her own home, how she wore the poise of a queen when she was still so young.  How much difference a year had made for her.

How much it hurt to say goodbye to her twice.

“Glad she’s doing okay.”  Jigen’s voice was soft, as if intuiting everything Lupin wasn’t saying.  “She’s a good kid.”

Lupin nodded, staring down into his empty glass.  He was tempted to ask for another, but the way his mind was now, it would only lead into a dark drunken spiral, and he didn’t need the additional static in his head.  This was a conversation he needed to have sober.  “I don’t know how I’m ever gonna top it.  Cagliostro, I mean… we saved a princess, we saved a whole kingdom, we uncovered this whole conspiracy, we found the city under the lake… kinda hard to go any bigger.”

Jigen tipped his head in agreement.  “Not to mention how often you almost got yourself killed.  More than usual for you.”

Oh, if he only knew… there had been a split second, right before he and Clarisse hit the water, that he thought if he were to actually die--not just faking it for the sake of a scheme, but for real--it wouldn’t be a bad way to go.  Foiling the Count, shielding her from the impact.  Being the hero for once.

A few more drinks, and he might wonder if it was a shame the fall didn’t kill him after all.

“What haven’t we done at this point, Jigen?”  He knew how tired and pathetic he sounded and couldn’t bring himself to care.  “We’ve been on the road together for how long, and now it’s just us… what else is there left?”  He thought back to his collection of maps, how many checkmarks and X-es marked where they’d all four stayed and stolen.  How many places they could never go back thanks to bounties on their heads and warrants for their arrest, how many people they’d left behind.  It was hard keeping in touch when you were constantly moving around; so many unopened letters and dropped calls from Rebecca, Ami, Maki, Laetitia, and he’d lost track of how many others sat waiting for replies that would never come.  Before it might have felt freeing, but now it was just lonely.  Especially with Goemon and Fujiko gone and the roads ahead of them drying up.  The world felt so much hollower.

It took a few minutes for Jigen to answer.  The saxophone wailed plaintively from the bandstand as he drained the last of his scotch and sat contemplating, leaning heavily forward with his arms crossed over the table.  “You remember a couple years ago in Paris?  I told you to consider retiring now that things were getting more complicated?”

Lupin looked over at him.  “You still think I should?  Just… pack it in for good?”

Jigen gave the briefest of shrugs.  “It’s an option.  If you ever wanted to.”

It was strange to even think about now.  He’d joked about it on plenty of occasions, and Jigen had promptly barked at him to shut up and not treat the topic so lightly.  And he’d taken breaks before, usually for the sake of a woman who’d caught his eye and even once for Fujiko.  But the idea of well and truly retiring… how would he even spend it?  His grandfather had still taken undercover jobs on the side--as a tutor, a museum curator, a Minister of the Interior, even as a private detective.  That might not be a terrible idea; Lupin had rather enjoyed his last stint at solving a mystery rather than causing one.  And even if he didn’t go with that, he’d still promised that girl Marie he’d ask after her someday after she’d helped him.  He might actually have time for that now.

His father had died in a train crash that left only two survivors.  Even as a teenager watching the last car go up in smoke, Lupin had promised himself that he’d never die like that.  Every close call, every false alarm since then had simply been to head off what everyone said was inevitable at the pass.  To steal himself more time.  And now, for once, he had an abundance of it.

At least until he looked in the mirror one day and found more wrinkles under the makeup, more grey under the black.  He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

For now, he managed a small, humorless chuckle.  “Honestly… it’s the one thing I still haven’t done yet.”

“Figured out what you wanna do?”

“Not yet.  I might stay here for a while, make a few calls until I do.”

“Well, you’re not gettin’ rid of me, I hope you know that.”

“... What?”

“You heard me.”  Jigen tipped back the brim of his hat, exposing his eyes and the total honesty therein.  “I know we’ve been having this whole farewell tour, but… where you go, I go.  I meant it then, and I mean it now.”  A few years ago, there might have been some flicker of uncertainty in his voice, as if afraid that Lupin might turn him away, but now that fear was gone, replaced with a gentle conviction.  Offering reassurance instead of asking for it.

Lupin wanted to cry.  He hadn’t even begun to plan how he would say goodbye to Jigen, even on the way to the hotel.  Nothing seemed like enough, even the wildest, tenderest night of passion before they parted ways.  Knowing his track record so far, it might have been something unremarkable, a final cigarette or meaningless conversation in an alleyway before Jigen exited one way and Lupin another.  Either way, one last goodbye in this endless series seemed inevitable.

But here was Jigen still.  Until the end of the line.  Sparing him any more.

He still felt unbearably tired, but he let that fatigue sink comfortably into him as he leaned against Jigen’s shoulder and slipped a hand into his.  “I’m glad.”

Title: Witness

Summary: Scrooge is on trial and he needs a character witness, but he's not sure how helpful she'll be. Ship: Scrooge/Goldie Word count: ~3080 Notes: I needed to write something after seeing the summary for the upcoming episode, The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29510085

-

“This trial is a sham!” Scrooge shouted, slamming his shackled fists onto the desk in front of him. “You havenae allowed me a proper lawyer or allowed anyone to testify on my behalf!”

The giant mystical judge scoffed and held the gavel in his hand, ready to use it if the duck continued yelling. Holding him in contempt of court would be an easy way to end this trial early, but he wanted to make sure Mr. McDuck paid properly for his crimes.

The prosecutor rolled his eyes and walked in front of the desk. “And whom would you have testify for you? In the High Mystical Court of Good Versus Evil, family members aren’t allowed.”

Scrooge gaped. “Not even as a character witness? I spend all my time with my family!”

The smug, suited creature shrugged at him with a smile. “Too bad, then. Looks like we’ll just have to continue listing how you’ve corrupted these fine men and women and forced them into lives of villainhood.”

The old duck seethed, grinding his teeth and considering his options. If he let the trial continue this way, his poor family up in the spectator’s seats was about to watch him get destroyed and they had yet to even discuss punishment, but Scrooge was sure it would be worse than anything he could get on Earth.

As he glanced up at his family - Donald, Della, and the boys in particular - he wondered if Webby or Twenty-Two would’ve been allowed to defend him had they been zapped here along with the rest of them. They just happened to be in the kitchen at the time of abduction and were probably losing their minds with worry. Hopefully one of the boys was able to send some sort of textual message to let them know what was going on.

At that thought, Scrooge’s eyes lingered on Louie and his phone, and a thought suddenly came to mind. It was something he wasn’t sure about...perhaps it’d be a bad idea...but he had no other options.

“I know someone!” he shouted. “I have a character witness who’s not in my family!”

The judge and prosecutor stared down with their many, many eyes - giving Scrooge an expression he could only describe as terrifying and suspicious.

“You still want to try this?” the prosecutor asked. “Alright, fine. Who is it?”

“Goldie O’Gilt.” Scrooge ignored the reactions from his family - particularly Della and Donald’s resounding ‘oh, please no’ - and hoped this would be a good choice.

The prosecutor looked up at the judge, who nodded his head and slammed his gavel down three times before snapping his fingers. “Alright.”

A few seconds passed without anything happening or anyone saying a word. Scrooge glanced from side to side. “Should you...call a recess so I can contact her?”

“That would be a waste of time,” the prosecutor said as there was suddenly a poof of purple smoke at the witness stand.

Everyone stared as the smoke dissipated to reveal one Goldie O’Gilt - currently wearing a bathrobe and her hair was down and wet and as soon as she opened her eyes she was immediately very unhappy.

“Oh, what the hell is this?” Goldie shouted, choosing to stay seated but glaring around the room. “What am I on trial for this time?”

Scrooge felt himself getting sweaty. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

“Nothing, Miss O’Gilt,” the judge said as he leaned down to look at her. “Mr. Scrooge McDuck is on trial for crimes of harassment, manipulation, and corruption against multiple innocent victims.”

Goldie blinked up at him and then turned her head to look at Scrooge.

He gave her a toothy grin and a small, nervous wave.

“So what does that have to do with me?” Goldie asked as she grabbed her hair and wrung it out onto the floor.

The prosecutor stared at the puddle of water and then glared up at their new witness. “You’ve been called as a character witness for Mr. McDuck. Now do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Sure.”

Scrooge dropped his head to the desk while the prosecutor and judge glanced at one another.

The bailiff walked over with a large brown book that had a giant lock around the side and was shaking a bit and making snarling sounds. Goldie raised an eyebrow as he held it towards her.

“Put your hand on this.”

Goldie grimaced. “Must I?”

“If you don’t want to testify, we can’t force you,” the prosecutor said with a pretentious glance up and down her body. “Clearly you were in the middle of something, after all.”

Goldie glared at him and in that moment decided she hated him more than she enjoyed inconveniencing Scrooge. She slapped her hand down on top of the book. “I swear to tell the truth.”

The bailiff mumbled something under his breath and then the book lit up and shone a bright light onto Goldie for a few seconds before fading away. He walked away as Goldie rubbed at her eyes.

“What was that?”

“That was a Light of Honestly,” the prosecutor said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Which means that so long as you’re at the witness stand, you’re physically incapable of lying or excluding relevant information from your statements.”

“What?!” both Goldie and Scrooge shouted at the same time. They immediately locked eyes with one another and could feel their shared nervousness almost psychically.

“Since when do you use something like that?”

“It was specifically requested and provided by one of the accusers in this case. Now, could you state your name and occupation to the court, please?”

Goldie’s left eye twitched as she squeezed the sleeves of her robes into her hands. “Goldie Kathleen O’Gilt. I…” She paused as if considering her words - or, Scrooge suspected, trying to find a way to word her lie so that it was still true. “...I own and operate a hotel.”

Scrooge’s eyes widened. She did what? He attempted to make eye contact with her so he could let her know how confusing what she just said was to him, but she was purposefully avoiding his stare.

“And how do you know Scrooge McDuck, Miss O’Gilt?”

Goldie frowned and glanced up at Scrooge before glaring at the lawyer. “He’s my…” She seemed to struggle with the words again. “...boy...friend?”

A collective groan could be heard from the duck boys in the peanut gallery while Scrooge couldn’t help the small smile that came to his face.

“Are you asking?” the judge asked sternly, leaning towards her again.

She grunted and angrily waved her hands around. “We’ve never really talked about it, alright? He’s the love of my life and we’ve been seeing each other on and off since 1897. How’s that for you?”

Scrooge was surprised not to hear another groan, and looked back to see the boys and Della looking quite touched by Goldie’s confession. They weren’t the only ones - even after their little Florida adventure, he never expected to hear those words come out of her mouth. Now he had ten times as much reason not to die right then and there.

“That’s descriptive enough, I suppose,” the prosecutor responded, clearly not recognizing or not caring about the emotional turmoil Goldie was going through after blurting that out so carelessly. “In the one hundred and twenty years you’ve known Scrooge McDuck, have you found him to be cruel?”

Scrooge stared at her pleadingly, despite knowing she physically couldn’t lie he still hoped she’d find a way to make him sound good.

Goldie brushed her fingers through her damp hair. “On occasion. But usually I was cruel to him first.”

“Usually, but not always?” the prosecutor asked, taking a look at the jury who were watching with gradually increasing interest. “So he has been cruel without provocation.”

“The first night we met involved me drugging his coffee and then him kidnapping me,” Goldie said nonchalantly, clearly starting to realize there was no fighting the Light of Honesty. “At the time I thought he was cruel, but looking back on it, I don’t mind that it happened.”

Scrooge closed his eyes and wondered what his family was thinking at that moment. He was thinking about all the different painful, mystical punishments he was going to face after Goldie destroyed his already limited chances of surviving this trial.

“Interesting. And over the years, have you witnessed Scrooge McDuck inflicting such cruelties on anyone else?”

Goldie rolled her eyes. “No. I like to think our relationship is special,” she added with a wink.

The prosecutor scoffed, annoyed by her response. “Can I assume this means your time spent with Scrooge McDuck is usually just the two of you, making you less than an expert on how he treats people he’s not having sex with?”

“Objection!” Scrooge yelled, standing up. “Curse me kilts, there are kids here!”

The judge shrugged. “He’s got a point.”

“Fine,” the prosecutor responded, putting up his hands in mock surrender. “But my question still stands.”

Goldie huffed. “Unfortunately for me, I have spent plenty of time with Scrooge’s other associates. I can’t confirm whether or not I’ve seen him around your particular accusers, but I’ve interacted with most of his enemies at one point or another.”

“...good to know,” the prosecutor said and brushed invisible dust off of his lapel. “Have you ever known Scrooge McDuck to harass others?”

“Only when they owe him money.”

“Oh? And does that happen often?”

Goldie let out a short laugh. “No one would be dumb enough to borrow from Scrooge! He adds interest even when you borrow five bucks for lunch.”

Scrooge pouted and ignored the temptation to argue that he had every right to do so.

“Have you known Scrooge McDuck to be manipulative?”

There was a pause at that question, one that filled the space between Scrooge and Goldie with a modicum of tension. “Yes.”

“...can you elaborate on that?”

Goldie sighed. “Well, he’s the richest duck in the world, a businessman, and an adventurer. You can’t be successful in any of those categories without being at least somewhat manipulative. Though he’s certainly not the most manipulative man I’ve dealt with, he’s not exactly a saint.”

Scrooge groaned and slammed his head against the desk multiple times in a row.

The blonde pouted angrily and tried to think of a way to save face. “That being said...if the accusers in question aren’t ex-business partners or fellow adventurers, I question the relevance of anything I’ve said.”

The jury seemed to find that statement interesting and the prosecutor glared angrily at Goldie for causing a stir. Scrooge lifted his head and smiled at her - now he was sure she was fighting to help him.

“I think we can allow the jury to decide the relevance of this information for themselves,” the prosecutor said with a snarl. “We don’t need any unfair extrapolation from our witnesses, Miss O’Gilt. Stick to the facts.”

Goldie let out a short, low hum and grabbed her hair to wring it out once again, getting water all over the attorney’s shoes. He gasped and stepped away from her.

“Oops!” Goldie put a hand to her beak, but offered no apology. No one needed to think twice to realize it was because she was incapable of doing so at that moment.

“Corruption is the biggest charge,” the prosecutor said matter-of-factly. “The accusers all claim that their villainy is a direct result of damages done to them, their property, or their livelihoods by Scrooge McDuck. Have you known Scrooge McDuck to be a corrupting person?”

Scrooge wondered about that charge against him in particular. He couldn’t deny that a lot of his enemies were a direct result of something he did - but it wasn’t purposeful nor was he the only person capable of causing these problems for them. If Scrooge hadn’t indirectly negatively impacted their lives, some other billionaire would’ve done it instead. It’s not like he was the only businessman-adventurer in the world.

“...yes.”

Scrooge sucked in a breath. He didn’t know what Goldie was going to say, but it couldn’t be good.

“Could you elaborate on that?”

“Not in any way that’s appropriate for the audience,” she answered with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want to corrupt the kids, too, after all.”

Scrooge exhaled loudly and blushed. Alright.

The prosecutor slapped a hand against his forehead. “Not that kind of corruption!” he shouted, pointing a finger into her face and getting much too close for anyone’s comfort. “Have you witnessed Scrooge McDuck influence the life of an innocent person in a way that led to them falling down a path of villainy?”

The jury reacted more than expected to the prosecutor’s anger, whispering among themselves briefly. Scrooge and the prosecutor both looked over at the Jury Box, but Goldie kept her eyes forward.

“...not purposefully, but yes.”

The prosecutor smiled. “Ahh, well naturally, if it wasn’t on purpose, then it doesn’t matter! Is that what you’re saying?”

Goldie’s left eye twitched again. “You asked me to state facts. I stated a fact. Do you have any other dumb questions?”

He glared at her and glanced up at the judge, who was leaning on his hand and watching their discussion closely. “I want to summarize what you’ve told us so far, Miss O’Gilt.”

“According to you, Scrooge McDuck may not be prone to harassment, but he is often cruel, fairly manipulative, and has been known to corrupt innocent people to villainy. Is that all correct?”

She frowned and tapped her fingers against her leg. “That’s all accurate to what I’ve said here, yes.”

The prosecutor turned back to look at Scrooge, whose expression could only be described as defeated. “Some character witness you’ve found yourself, Mr. McDuck.”

“Stick to the witness, Prosecutor,” the judge said quickly, holding up his gavel.

“Yes, Your Honor,” the prosecutor responded, moving back towards Goldie again. “Now, Miss O’Gilt, based on what you’ve told us here, Scrooge McDuck is not a nice man nor is he a noble man. Yet you referred to him as the, quote, love of your life, unquote. This leads me to believe that you, yourself, may not be a nice or noble person, either.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s your point?”

“If anyone has any doubts as to whether or not Scrooge McDuck is a cruel, manipulative person capable of horrible deeds, we need look no further than the fact that his girlfriend here is similarly cruel, manipulative, and as many of us here are already aware - a criminal.”

There were gasps among the crowd and the jury - the prosecutor turned his head towards them as he continued. “Yes, everyone, Miss O’Gilt here is actually quite familiar with the inside of this courtroom. She’s been on trial dozens of times over the past one hundred years for theft of mystical artifacts from every dimension and realm you can think of.”

Scrooge closed his eyes again and started counting. Perhaps if he did this long enough, he’d wake up from this nightmare he found himself trapped in.

Goldie, on the other hand, was unperturbed. “Been on trial, but never been convicted. Who’s the one bringing up irrelevant information now?”

“I simply thought it was important for our jury to be aware of the witness’ extracurricular activities.”

“The activities you have no evidence of,” Goldie said sternly. She glanced up at the judge. “I believe your prosecutor is harassing me when all I’ve done is comply with every question I’ve been asked both here and at previous trials.”

The judge considered this for a moment and looked down at the prosecutor. “She has a point. Was she convicted of any of the crimes you’re accusing her of?”

The prosecutor frowned. “No, but-”

“But nothing,” the judge said as he slammed down his gavel again. “You will move on from this statement of irrelevant accusations or I will have you replaced with another attorney.”

“...yes, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said with a bow, glaring at Goldie.

She smiled back at him, then glanced at Scrooge and blew him a kiss.

======

After court was adjourned and Scrooge’s handcuffs were finally removed after all those hours of magical metal chafing against his feathers, he spent an enjoyable few minutes being congratulated by his family before Goldie stepped out of the courtroom and stared at them.

“Um...Uncle Scrooge?” Louie said, tugging at his uncle’s sleeve.

“Yes, lad?”

“I think Aunt Goldie wants to talk to you.”

Scrooge considered taking a moment to discuss that nickname with his nephew, but Goldie’s presence distracted him enough that he simply turned around and walked towards her.

“You really saved me in there, O’Gilt,” Scrooge said softly as he reached down and grabbed one of her hands.

Goldie shrugged and squeezed his hand back. “Well it wasn’t like I could let them throw you in interdimensional prison. They don’t have conjugal visits, you know.”

He blushed and pulled his hand away. “Must you always be so inappropriate?!”

“Not always,” Goldie said as she took a step closer to him. “Just with you.”

Scrooge felt his heart racing and couldn’t help the nervous smile that came back to his face. “...I would’ve thought you’d run out of here as fast as possible after what you said.”

She played with her hair for a bit, roughly running her fingers through the knots that had formed since the judge had summoned her from her bathroom before she’d had a chance to brush. “It’s not like I said anything you didn’t already know.”

He smiled brighter and leaned forward to press a quick kiss against her beak; a disgusted groan sounded from behind him that he was pretty sure was Louie’s. “Is the judge sendin’ you back home?”

“After I’m done with you, yes.”

Scrooge grabbed her hands again. “How about you come to the mansion instead, dear?”

Goldie breathed out a laugh. “As much as I appreciate the offer, I’m not wearing anything under this robe and I’d kind of like to do something with my hair before it knots into a nest.”

“I’ve got some of your clothes,” Scrooge said quickly. “And showers. Towels. Hair brushes. Anythin’ you need.”

She raised an eyebrow and glanced back at Scrooge’s family who were all pretending not to pay attention to them. “Well...I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

So scattered AU is cool

A small little fic based off of this ask about the Scattered AU! I’d submit this but the askbox is closed (I’d imagine it’s absolute chaos over there) so I’m gonna tentatively tag @hermitcraftheadcanons and hope it’s alright.

Cw// there’s a lot of drowning in this fic. And a good helping of helplessness, too. It’s angst through and though with nothing in the way of fluff. I hope you enjoy!

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It was agony. Bitter choking agony. Every waking moment, and Impulse couldn't sleep, was spent in excruciating pain as his death loop dragged on and on.

Impulsesv drowned

Impulsesv was killed by guardian using magic

Impulsesv drowned

Impulsesv drowned

Impulsesv was killed by guardian using magic

Impulsesv was killed by Elder Guardian using magic

Every time he felt he was making progress, dragging his aching, tired body through the frigid, waterlogged corridors of the ocean monument, every time he thought he could feel the warmth of light on his sun-starved face, every time he caught a glimpse of the surface, of salvation, it would all be whipped out from beneath his feet, as his breath failed, or one of the monument's inhabitants found him. And he'd be back to the start, with nothing but one breath of air in his lungs, and a whole expanse of monument ahead of him, seething and ready to kill him at any cost.

However, He was making progress. Slowly but surely managing to get further and further from his spawn in the middle of the Monument. Learning the corridors, even, on one particularly short life, managing to take out a block in one of the walls. A valuable shortcut through the underwater maze.

Deperatley working to make progress little by little was all he could do to keep himself sane. Clinging onto the hope of escape, the slowly fading images of his friends in his mind. It was all he had. But has the days wore into weeks of the endless torture, he felt the urge to give up growing stronger and stronger. Each respawn replenished him physically, but the constant drowning was maddening. He hadn't slept since he first spawned in this hellish place, and although the respawns kept him going, he was desperate for rest, for a break.

He just had to hope his friends were in a better place then him. Maybe they were looking for him! He knew his constant deaths much be clogging up their communicators. They must know he's in trouble. The world must be big, and there must be hundreds of ocean monuments. They just hadn't found his yet.

That must be it.

Right?

Despite the doubts clawing at his mind, he had to hold onto the desperate hope that he was being looked for as he continued his slow advance through his underwater grave. To loose hope would be to loose everything. He wasn't ready to give up. Not yet. Although the temptation dragged at him with each rush of pain as water filled his lungs, as he coughed and hacked underwater, his body screaming for air but finding only more water, until his vision was plunged into darkness once more. Then back in the dreaded prismarine room. He made a mental note to never look at another prismarine block for as long as he lived, once he got out of here.

… If he got out of here.

The weeks had long since turned to months by the time Impulse finally ran out of hope. He was so tired. Everything hurt all over, even when he wasn't drowning. The constant ache of his lungs made it hard to hold his breath, and he found himself drowning sooner and sooner. It had been months, trapped in the painful monotony of the death loop. He'd given up on the idea he was being looked for, and the life he spent fumbling with his communicator, fingers too numb to do anything besides open it, painted a grim picture. The chat was flooded with his constant death messages, but those of his friends too.

Grian froze to death

Xbcrafted starved to death

Goodtimewithscar fell out of the world

BdoubleO100 fell out of the world

His friends were trapped, just like him. They weren't coming to find him. And he was never getting out. He'd long since established that he couldn't hold his breath long enough to swim out of the monument; he'd found the exit plenty of times. He was all out of hope. He was all out of patience. He could scarcely even remember the faces of his friends, the details fizzling out in his mind as he let his body go limp, and drag in the breath of water it begged for. His eyes were closed, and his body was racked with wild coughs and convulsions as he choked, and his lungs burnt and screamed for air that he knew would never come.

Impulsesv drowned

Impulsesv drowned

Impulsesv drowned

Impulsesv drowned

Impulsesv drowned

When he respawned for the fifth time after giving up, he immediately noticed something was off. He was so used to his tomb that it was easy to feel the difference, even before he dragged open his eyes. The salt water made them sting, but at this point he was used to it. Straining to hold his breath, he looked around the room, eyes fixing on the little hole in the wall.

A pair of mismatched eyes stared back at him.

He felt a burst of sudden joy. It was Etho, come to save him! He hardly even registered the bitterly tired look in the man's eyes, and his lack of equipment as he swam into Impulse's room. Impulse lurched towards him, but his limbs didn't seem to want to coordinate. His arms too tired to do much else but flail. He could already feel his breath failing, and he finally registered the look in Etho's eyes. One of horror, and fear. Impulse couldn't tell if it was for him, or for Etho himself, as the strain on his broken lungs came to a breaking point. Etho reached for him, pulling him into a hug as the bubbles burst from his throat. Impulse would've cried if he could. But underwater, drowning, exhausted, he simply couldn't. Finally, another person, and he was going to die here all the same. He felt Etho's breath run out too, the bubbles tickling the back of his neck, too soft for what they represented.

Impulse went fully limp in Etho's arms as his body finally gave out, and Etho was filled with a horrible feeling deep in his chest. He'd finally found the poor, dammed man, and could do nothing for him. He pushed himself down to the floor of the room as he drowned, straining to live long enough to see Impulse respawn once again, too tired, too drained to even open his eyes. He was the picture of despair, and Etho felt himself sharing in it too, the gravity of Impulse's impossible situation fully hitting him. Watching the death messages stack up in chat was one thing, but seeing the desperation, the loneliness, the dark bags under each eye and too pale pallor of his skin, holding the broken man in his arms as he endured another painful death was another. It was simply a taste of what Impulse had been dealing with for far too long, and it was with deep regret and sadness that Etho finally succame to the ocean, his final thoughts tinged with fear as to what horrors he would see next.

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That’s all! I hope you enjoyed it ;3 It’s pretty grim tbh. But at least Etho will eventally end up somewhere safe! Same can’t really be said for Impulse tho.

Collide / Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Chapter 6)

[a Star Wars x Avengers crossover]

Summary: You go to Onderon and meet someone you’ve been longing to see. Another call to home ensues and hearts get broken.

Warnings: angst, maybe cursing, I can’t think of anything else. oh and bad plot lmao

WC: 4.0k

A/N: this isn’t proof read so it might be scuffed. 

read chapter 5 here

C O R U S C A N T

After the nightmares began, Anakin was rarely around, only making you more susceptible to the dark side. You truly did want to tell him about what had been keeping you up at night, but how were you going to contact him when he was never around and the connection the two of you shared was seemingly cut off? You weren’t able to feel his emotions nor feel his presence. It was as if he had blocked you off, almost like he was dead, but he wasn’t. You knew that he went on more campaigns as he was barely spending time in the temple, wanting to stay as far away from you. And if the two of you ever were in the same room by sheer luck, he pretended that you didn’t exist.

On days where both Anakin and Obi Wan were gone, you trained with a girl named Xin. In a way, she reminded you of the mandalorian Sabine: intelligent, strong, and creative. She was skilled with her lightsaber, but also greatly skilled in hand to hand combat, making her an excellent training partner. When all three of them were gone, you spent time learning binary after shortly being gifted a droid. R2-KT, or Kaytee as you liked to call her, accompanied you on your walks around the Jedi temple, often telling you random facts about it or Coruscant.

As time passed, you noticed how the council became weary of your presence. After noticing the color of your saber, which wasn’t hard to miss, the Jedi Masters seemed to focus their attention on you whenever you were in the room with them. You would have liked to believe that you had begun to earn their trust, but you understood their cautiousness towards you. Hell, you would’ve probably reacted the same way if someone came to Earth using a big stone hidden in the middle of nowhere claiming that the fate of the universe rested in their hands.

The halls of the temple were empty- excluding the sentinels- as you roamed around with Kaytee at your side. It was still so surreal being in the Jedi temple. Six months ago you were on Earth, spending time with your family. It seemed so long ago since you were first introduced to Star Wars.

You were foreign to the concept of bonding, spending time with your peers. After spending almost 17 years in foster care, you learned to not attach yourself. To become cold, detached, and observant of your surroundings. With your arrival to the tower, it became a shock to you when you found out that the team spent time together willingly. Some nights they played games like Uno and Cards Against Humanity. You would always sit in the corner and watch them, not comfortable enough to be engaging with them in such a way like that. On the nights where they watched movies, you would always sit in the furthest seat away from the group. It stayed like that until Peter started coming to the bonding nights.

Due to the fact that he was still young, he stayed with his Aunt May. Only coming to the tower to help Tony with his projects. So it was a surprise to see him there, but you couldn’t help feel more comfortable knowing that someone else your age was there.

“So, what’re we watching tonight?” He asked. The team let out a couple of groans, unsure of what they were getting into. “How about we watch Star Wars? I bet you those two grandpas haven’t seen it yet.”

“Hey! Watch it, Peter.” Steve said, putting his hand over his heart to feign hurt. All it took for him to apologize was one glance at Bucky. “Sorry Mister Winter- uhh James- Bucky-- no. Sir Barnes. And Steve.”

He goes to sit down, but before he does, he takes a survey of the room. He notices you sitting alone on the couch, “Hey, why don’t you come sit closer?” He asked. You shake your head, telling him that you were alright where you were. “What about you? Have you seen Star Wars?” You quickly shake your head, you see Peter’s eyes widen and he takes off to sit in the empty spot next to you.

“OMG. WHAT? How have you never seen the movies?”

“Not everyone has the privilege to have a normal childhood. I just so happened to be one of those kids.” You informed him.

“Right, sorry.” He apologized, his hand awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sure you’ll love the movies though.”

Peter was right. After watching A New Hope, the team had retired to their respective rooms, but the two of you had stayed up all night finishing the movies. After watching all three trilogies, you had a new found obsession, especially for a certain Skywalker. Even though some people thought that Anakin was a bad character, and sure the script was really bad, you really did love him. So when he betrayed Obi Wan to save Padme, your heart couldn’t help but break. Poor man was so whipped for the pussy :( I guess you could call it to die for.

Although your time on Coruscant was limited, you did your best to enjoy it. The six months you had spent here so far had been a gift. The environment was truly mesmerizing, and you wanted to share it with Peter. You tried not to call him often, the time difference was just slightly confusing. While six months might’ve passed for you, it had only been a month for your family back home.

You were broken out of your reverie by the buzzing of your holocom, requesting your presence in the council room. Making your way into the room, you told Kaytee to wait by the doors. You stood in the middle of the room with your hands clasped behind your back, waiting for them to address you.

“Nice to see you it is.” Master yoda said. “A task for you, we have.”

A task? What could they possibly want you to do? There was no way they’d be sending you on a mission, they never did.

“We want you to travel to Onderon. They are celebrating their liberation from the separatists. I don’t know why but Anakin and Obi Wan would like for you to be present-” Before Mace can finish his sentence he is cut off.

“I believe what Master Windu is trying to say is that they would both like for you to experience what our galaxy has to offer.” Shaak Ti answered for him. “There will be other Jedi there too, but you will be traveling on your own.” She said. “Oh, and please keep in mind, this celebration is also being held in remembrance for Steela, their fallen leader.”

“Understood, may I leave now?” Master Yoda gave you a nod, allowing you to leave. You made your way to the hangar, Kaytee following close behind you. Well, it looks like it was time to see Anakin again.

-

O N D E R O N

Your journey to Onderon is short, but you take the time to fiddle with Kaytee. Cleaning her up to make her look presentable. Weeks after you were gifted the droid, you took the time to fix her up and reprogram her to your liking. With the touch of a button, you could make her record a hologram, send her your location, or gouge out someone's eye if needed. You truly did love your droid, and you thanked the stars that Stark taught you how to code, program, and build trinkets of your own.

Kaytee lands the ship with a heavy thud, “I know you're excited to see Artoo, but we need to be careful with this ship. It’s not ours.” You told her, and in return you get a series of apologetic beeps. The door opens with a hiss, you signal for Kaytee to follow you. Stepping off, you notice all of the other ships outside of Iziz. It was like all the entirety of the galactic senate was here, which you really didn’t doubt. You felt out of place in your Jedi robes. People were arriving in magnificent, mind blowing outfits. Gowns with tails that trailed far behind them and tuxes with flowy capes. This ball was going to have it all.

The bustle of the market only intensified with the oncomers. You had to make your way to the temple before you got distracted. By the time you reached the temple doors, the crowd lessened, or so you thought. Entering the temple, you were greeted at the sight of hundreds of people. You felt blood rush to your cheeks as people began to turn and stare at you. Screw the Jedi Council for not giving me a nice outfit to change into. Just as you were about to turn around and wander through the market, you heard your voice being called out. You tried to find where the sound was coming from, only to get confused and jolt your head around violently as if you were a loth cat.

“Alyra! Over here!.” Your feet began moving on their own accord. As if you were being drawn to a presence. You come to a screeching halt in front of.. Anakin, of course it's him. Why am I not surprised that the force has literally brought me to him? Along with Obi Wan, R2, and Padme. Oh my god, wait, it’s Padme. I could kiss her right now if I wanted to. But I won’t. That would be weird, won’t it. Kissing her in front of her husband, who is my-

“Alyra, are you alright?” Obi Wan asks, breaking you out of your internal ramble.

“Yeah, I was just...trying to take all of this in. I’ve never seen anything like this.” You responded, pretending to look around the temple.

“It seems like you space out a lot.” He jokes, a smile on his face before he realizes no one else is laughing. He rolls his eyes before continuing, “Anyways, welcome to Onderon. This is my good friend, Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo.” He turns to face her while he introduces you to her. You hold out a hand, expecting for her to shake it. Instead she walks up to you and takes you within her hold. She hugs you tightly, you can feel her protruding belly.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you! Anakin has talked a lot about you.” Both you and Obi Wan furrow your brows at the mention of Anakin speaking of you. Padme is quick to notice this and corrects herself, “I mean of what he’s mentioned to me about you today. Right, Ani?” She validates.

“Yeah, only good things though.” He testified, avoiding your gaze. It was weird that he was mentioning you to his pregnant wife, what was there to talk about? Not to mention the fact that he had been avoiding your presence for months now.

You squinted your eyes at him, “I could only hope so, seeing as though we haven’t spoken in awhile.” you accused. What in the world is he up to now?

You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he tries to come up with a comeback, before he can utter a word, he’s interrupted by Padme.

“C’mon, let’s go to your room and get you changed.” Once again, you furrow your brows.

“Changed, what do you mean changed?” You ask her.

“What, did you think I’d just let you roam around the ball in those ugly Jedi robes? Come, I’ll let you borrow one of my dresses.” She drags you away by the arm, Anakin and Obi Wan shouting at her. Something about Jedi robes not being ugly, you couldn’t really hear with Padme’s giggles silencing them. Kaytee let’s out a giggle of her own as she follows you, Artoo’s personality rubbing off on her.

Padmé all but practically throws you onto your bed as she ushers one of her handmaidens, Teckla, to bring the dresses into your room. Teckla wheels in a rack filled with elegant looking dresses, along with a bunch of different heels. All looking like they could snap your ankle in half if you walked the wrong way. The first dress she hands you is body conforming up until it reaches your knees, from there it fans out creating a mermaid gown effect. While the dress itself was very beautiful, you thought of it to be too plain for an event like this. You and Padme both share a look before agreeing that this was in fact not the dress.

However, the next dress she hands you is a proper ball gown. You slip it on, taken aback by how heavy the dress was. She walks up behind you to tighten the corset of the gown. She does her best to tighten it up without hurting you, but you can’t help let out a wheeze as she gets closer to tying it off.

“Sorry, as much as I love this dress, I also hate it. I’m so glad I’m pregnant so I don’t have to feel it stabbing me at every given chance.” She said, breaking the silence.

“How many months are you?” You asked.

“I’m six months along now, almost seven.” She finishes tying up the corset before stepping aside. “What do you think?”

“Well, it certainly is fit for an event like this and I do think it’s beautiful. But it’s crushing me with every breath I take. I feel like if I sit down, I won’t be able to get back up.”

“Right, well I can fix that.” This time she takes her time picking out the next dress. She lets her fingers brush across the different fabrics, stopping at one that caught her eye. “Here, try this one!” She suggests. By the look on her face, you can already tell that this is the one. The dress is flowy and soft looking. You step into the dress, pleased to find yourself correct. It feels like you have nothing on. Padme helps you zip the dress up, along with clasping together the leather pieces. The light blue tulle layered over the dark blue, almost purple material complimented your skin tone. The dress had a deep v-neck, showing off your cleavage. Right below your collarbone laid a strap of leather, connecting to either side of your thick shoulder straps. From those straps, a thin piece of tulle was stitched on, giving you two separate mini capes for your arms. Aside from a strap of leather covering your spine, the dress is completely backless. It feels like you could go frolicking in this dress. Who am I kidding, Padme probably went frolicking in this dress with Anakin.

“So, what do you think?” Her tone is hushed, as if she was trying to figure out whether you hated or loved the dress.

“It’s beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.” You respond. “Kaytee, what do you reckon?” The droid let’s out a series of delights beeps, showing her contentment towards the dress.

“Great!” Padmé says before ushering you into a chair. “Now, we're going to do your hair and makeup. So sit still.” For once in your life, you shut up and sit still, allowing Padme to work her magic.

“Do you know the gender?” You asked, your question breaking the silence, and while the atmosphere wasn’t exactly awkward, it wasn’t comfortable either.

“Oh no, I’d rather not. It’s not like it matters to me anyways. As long as my child is happy and healthy, then so am I. But it’s ironic because I haven’t been to a check up yet.” Padme gently pulls your hair back, leaving two pieces in the front to frame your face. It was simple, not taking any attention away from the dress.

No check up? Maybe that’s why Padme didn’t know she was having twins. “So you haven’t seen a doctor or a medical droid yet?” Your eyes follow her as she pulls makeup out of her bag, her collection vast.

“No, not really. I don’t have very much time to myself due to the fact that I’m a part of the senate. But I do my best to make sure I stay healthy for my baby and me. I also just want it to be a surprise.” Padme finds a foundation shade similar to your skin tone and blends it in.

“What if you have twins? What will you do then?” You probably weren’t supposed to be asking her questions like these, but you couldn’t help it. Maybe you should’ve asked why she had so much makeup instead.

“Well..” She sighed while blotting powder all over your face. “..I suppose if it happens, then it happens. It’s the will of the force.” She finishes powdering your face before moving to your eyebrows. Padme takes an angled brow brush and begins to fill them in, giving it a naturally fuller look.

“So, you believe in the force?”

“How could I not? I work so closely with the Jedi, I’ve seen what you guys have done. The father is very close friends with the Jedi.” Padme said, implying that the father was in fact a Jedi. It felt like you were intruding, but then again, you weren’t necessarily forcing her to tell you this. You had only met her moments ago and she already trusted you enough with her secrets.

“Really? I thought the Jedi weren’t allowed to form attachments?”

“Oh… we weren’t really together. It was sort of a one night thing. But he’s going to be in the child’s life.” She covered up.

The conversation went on like that for a while before Padme announced that she was finished with you. After finishing your makeup and adding some finishing touches to your hair, she finally stepped aside, letting you see yourself in the mirror.

The second you saw yourself, your mouth fell open in shock. You looked absolutely ethereal. Padme kept your makeup very natural to bring out your features. She also added small, white flowers into your hair. You excitedly thanked her and got up to hug her as a way to show your gratitude.

“Shall we get going now?” She offered

“Oh, if it was alright with you, I was going to stay behind. I have to contact somebody.” You asked

“Of course, I’ll see you later then.” She said before gathering all of her belongings and leaving with Teckla. As Padme arrives, Anakin notices that you weren’t with her.

“Where’s Alyra?” He asked her, eager to see what she would look like out of her Jedi robes.

“She said she had to talk to someone.”

Meanwhile, in your room you were getting ready to call Peter. Honestly, you had no idea if you had connection on Onderon, but you were about to find out. Taking off your necklace, you were pleased to see the green light, indicating that you were indeed connected to the bridge. You scroll through your contacts before finding Peter’s name. You hit the dial button and wait for it to connect.

-

E A R T H

Peter is sleeping when he gets a call, the bracelet on his left hand vibrating. He thinks nothing of it and almost declines the call. That is until he realizes it’s you calling on the bracelet he had designated just for you. He jumps up from his sleeping position and quickly answers your call. Peter can’t help but let out a gasp of awe the very second your face pops onto the hologram.

“What? Is there something on my face?” You move closer towards the camera and inspect your face, only to find no flaws.

“Nothing...it’s just been so long since I’ve seen you like this.”

“Like what?” Your eyebrows scrunch together, the confusion clear on your face.

“All… dolled up.” Peter’s response makes your face blush a hot red. You let out a shy laugh as your hand comes to rest at the back of your neck. He was right, it had been so long since you’ve felt this pretty. It felt good, for once you had felt good.

“Thanks, Pete. It feels good to be in something other than Jedi robes.”

“Not that I’m saying you can’t be dressed up like this, but exactly why are you so dressed up?” He pondered, he knew it wasn’t like the Jedi to go about their duties in exquisite gowns.

“I’m actually on Onderon.” You pan the camera towards the view outside of your window. “The Jedi have invited me to a celebration of Onderon’s liberation. But also in memory of Steela I believe. I really wish you were here with me. I still don’t understand why they couldn’t have sent both of us.”

“I miss you too, but you know I have a duty here on Earth.”

“Duty? So did I Peter!”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that. With me being Spiderman-”

“It’s not like they don’t have any other superheroes. I mean come on, admit it! You know more about Star Wars than I possibly could. You should be here with me.” You huff out before changing the subject, “Anyways, how are you? Did you end up fixing things with MJ?”

“I’m fine, but no, we didn’t. We both agreed that we’d be better off as friends. Besides I’ve already moved on.” He confessed, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. It’s now or never Peter, you’ve gotta tell her.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear about your split. But hopefully you and this new person will work out-”

“It’s you.” He says, abruptly cutting you off. Peter watches you tilt your head as your brows scrunch together again.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s you,” He repeats, taking a deep breath before speaking again, “It’s always been you. I didn’t realize it until you had left… I didn’t think I could miss someone so much.”

“Peter…. I don’t know what to say.” You uttered out,

“Please, say something- anything.” He begged, hoping he hadn’t just ruined years of friendship. Peter watches as you open and close your mouth, searching for the right words.

“...I can’t.” You say as you shake your head. “I can’t be with you, Peter.”

“Why? Is it because of my age? Come on, Y/N, I’m only two years younger than you.” He pleads

“It’s not that. You’re just not the right person for me, Peter. I know it in my very soul.”

“Oh yeah? And who is, Anakin?” He taunts, he can feel his eyes water as he watches you look away from him. “No freakin’ way. You’ve got to be kidding me.” Peter lets out a scoff.

“You’ve got to understand Pete, I love him. I really do.”

“NO! You don’t love him. You’re just obsessed with him. You think you can save him but you can’t! No one can! You can’t change his destiny.”

“What do you even know about love? You can’t tell me who I can and can’t love. It doesn’t work like that. You know nothing about it-”

“I LOVE YOU!” He screams, breaking the silence in his Queen’s apartment, surely waking up May. “Why isn’t that enough?” Peter watches as tears slowly stream down your face as he lets out a few of his own.

“I’ve got to see this out until the end, you know that Peter...I could only wish that it was enough, but it’s not. You’re like a brother to me, don’t do this to me. To our friendship...I’ve got to go now.”

“No, you don’t get to leave again-”

“I’m sorry, goodbye, Peter.” You end the call and Peter is left staring at the wall, mouth hung open in shock. He couldn’t believe this just happened to him. He faintly makes out the sound of Aunt May knocking on his door.

Without waiting for a response, she cracks open his door. She takes notice of the tears falling off of his face and closes her mouth. Aunt May is silent as she makes her way across his room, holding her arms out for him. Peter gratuitously accepts her embrace, his sobs muffled by her clothes.

No words are spoken as Peter cries his heart out, never in a million years did he think you’d be the one to break him.

--

collide tags: @deepcollectionmagazine​ @amesstm​ @haileyybird​

Fanfic:: Hunter and Prey

To be a Mandalorian pirate is to be both hunter and prey. This, Din understood after being taken into their care as a child.

Now he is hunting a Mandalorian artifact to deliver his charge to the aquatic sorcerers in order to teach him how to handle his magic. His quest brings him to a sandy stretch of shore, Mos Pelgo.

Link to AO3

For Day 4 of @dincobbweek aka AU day!

The prophecy as foretold; I have a hyperfixation, therefore I must write a pirate AU. And oh my god, I loved writing this fic so so much.

Huge shout out to @staranon95 for betaing and @ayantiel for providing the needed inspiration to get this thing going!

-=-=-=-

Mayfeld took in a deep breath, letting the salty air fill his lungs. There was a lot riding on today, his reputation, Ran’s reputation, but with the Empire’s finest knelt at his feet, all of their note-worthy possessions, he thought he was doing pretty well.

“No one makes any dumb decisions and you all will get to live,” he called out, voice carrying over the wind so even the poor bastards at the end would be able to hear. “We’re just here for what’s ours and then we’ll leave you be. You’ll never have seen us.”

Xi’an was getting her brother from the prisoners down below and Burg was raiding the captain’s office. Sure, the objective was to get Xi’an’s brother before he made it to the Empire’s colonies, but this was an Imperial vessel. The three of them would have to be stupid not to rob the Imps blind when they had the opportunity.  Plus, their informant assured them that not only was this a prisoner’s vessel, it was a transport vessel, moving a map that led to a whole lot of Mandalorian gold.

It was the perfect plan; do a job for Ran, undermine Ran, get filthy rich, and live the rest of their days on an island in the Outer Isles.

And everything was going great, when Burg burst through the captain’s doors, startling everyone on board. Everyone jumped, bar Mayfeld. Burg cut an intimidating figure, a mountain of a man, horns poking through holes he made in his hat so he had to crouch to get into most places. His sudden presence didn’t startle Migs. What was a surprise was the concern on his face.

“Migs! The captain is dead!”

He rolled his eyes. “And? Do you want me to pay you back for the ammo it took to do that?”

“No, he was already dead! And the map’s gone too!”

His blood ran cold. He gave up the act and ran into the room, grabbing onto his hat so it wouldn’t fly away. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. He couldn’t tell if there had been a scuffle or it had been Burg who had torn up the room. Drawers were half open, hanging out, papers scattered, a blood-spatter, maybe, but there was so little Migs couldn’t tell if it was recent.

And in the center of it all, the captain, dead in his chair. His body was cool, so Burg wasn’t bluffing in saying someone had shot him before. There had been a lot of commotion when they had first boarded the ship, could the thief have entered then?

“You swear he was like this when you got in?”

Burg nodded.

“And he wasn’t holding a pistol?”

Burg nodded again and the evidence confirmed it. There was only one pistol in the room, halfway across the floor. That didn’t happen when someone tried to off themself for fear of the pirates coming on board.

Migs pushed the body to the floor, getting on his knees to root through the drawers, hoping to find the map, to be able to smack Burg upside the head, but there was nothing. He ripped them out of the desk, holding them upside down and shaking them, but still nothing. Just useless documentation with Imperial seals splayed everywhere.

He slammed the top of the desk as he stood up.

“Did you check everywhere?! Every possible drawer, false drawer, any of that bullshit?”

“Yeah! But it ain’t here!”

Migs pulled off his hat, balling up the rim in fist before throwing it back on.

Ran would tell him not to get greedy. There was an unknown element at play now, so focus on getting Qin out and run. With the group back to what it was before Mando sold them out, they could rob big ships again, but who the fuck cared about that. If Ran knew about the map, he would’ve said to hell with Qin, focus on the pay-out.

Migs stormed out of the quarters and back onto the deck. It was too sunny to see, but that didn’t stop his furious walk back to the line of Imperials on the ship. He grabbed the one in the fanciest looking clothing, who he could only assume was the quartermaster or second mate, and hauled him to his feet by his collar.

The man made a choking sound and face-to-face, looked at Migs with terror.

“Where the fuck is it?”

“Wh-Wh-Wh-?”

“The fucking map! Lost Mandalorian treasure? I need it, and if you don’t, Burg here will make sure you meet those fucking dead ass Mandalorians that hid it in the first place.”

Something must’ve gotten the man brave, because he said, “I thought Mandalorians were extinct, like you pirates are going to be.”

And as if signing his death wish, he spat on the floorboards near his feet.

Well, Migs wanted a nice clean run, but he had a reputation to uphold.

He threw the man back down to the floor and before he could get his arms out from under him, Migs pulled out his flintlock pistol and aimed it at him.

He was a second away from painting the floor with this asshole, when Xi’an ran out from under the deck, her brother trailing behind.

“Captain! It’s Mando!”

That made Migs whip his head up. “Mando? Here?”

She nodded. “We saw him climbing down. Port side, now!”

The four of them raced to the railing, watching as the small craft sped away, faster than any ship could hope to move. She flew familiar colors, the flag of someone who had sold Qin out in the first place.

Migs thought today couldn’t get any worse.

Then the flare went out, bright and brilliant even in the daytime sky. An Imperial flare, that would’ve had to have come from the captain’s quarters, that they wouldn’t have been able to spot in the chaos of the room, that was absolutely going to call every Imperial ship in a hundred miles radius.

Fuck.

Fucker didn’t even have the decency to flip them off as he sailed away.

-=-

Din keeps his eyes low to the ground, brim of his hat pulled low over his head, scarf pulled round his face as he weaves in the crowd. It’s Nevarro, so he knows he blends in with the rest of the criminals that inhabit the port town, but he finds himself more cautious these days.

Especially with the small cargo at his side.

It’s only when he takes a corner into a dark alley, down a set of stairs just off the tavern, into the gloom, does he look at the bag at his side.

As they passed a torch on the wall, the Child looked up at him and beamed, his pointy teeth just coming in, ears unfurling as he lifted the flap.

“You doing ok?”

The child babbled in reply.

“Good, we’ll be there soon.”

For what was basically an underground network for a bunch of criminals, it was surprisingly clean. There were puddles of brackish water that Din stepped around to avoid, along with passing others, but it wasn’t as piss-soaked as Nevarro was up top.

Hiding a whole community under a criminal network didn’t seem like the smartest idea at first, but the thing about criminals is they can either be paid off or disappeared with little problem. As he stepped around a pair of running children, he hoped there would be one day Mandalorians wouldn’t have to hide. He had no idea how that would happen, but no one had ever died on hope.

They finally arrived at their destination, a door on the far side of the hallway. He knocked on the door and opened it when he heard the familiar voice say, “Enter.”

She was already sitting at a table, a bottle of rum in front of her, a candle burning, doing its best to light up the space. Her hat was beside her, feathers drooping so they touched the brim. He made a mental note to pick up more on his next supply run.

He took off his hat as he shut the door behind him, keeping his bandana firmly in place.

“How was your trip?” the Quartermaster asked coolly, picking up the bottle to pour him a drink. It had been years since she had manned a ship, but the title still carries in their community.

He pulled out both the kid and treasure from the bag, setting the kid down on the ground to run around the space before sitting across from her.

“Successful.”

He spread out the map in front of the Quartermaster. He heard those fools talking about Mandalorian gold, and it wasn’t entirely true. It was a map to a compass that would reveal what the holder most desired, which for some might be Mandalorian pirate gold or power or love.

Or the location of the aquatic sorcerers the child needed.

The child wasn’t fully human. He needed to spend a lot of time in water in order to spend time on land, which meant a lot of time spent swimming alongside the Razor Crest. He could also shoot water up out of the ocean, a gift Din was well acquainted with, it being one of the child’s favorite games to play.

Since he had failed to fully deliver the child to the Empire, he had had privateers and other pirates on their tail for months. This map was their last hope to make sure the child got back with his people and then…

And then Din would go back to what he did best; providing for a people now scattered by his actions.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of the Quartermaster’s chair scraping back. She stood up, only to bow over again, her back parallel to the table. She moved her scarf to the side so her lips could ghost over the map as she spoke words of power into the paper.

She stood back up fully as the ink on the map shifted and moved. Waves rolled in place, sea serpents dipped in and out of the surface, all the while the path moved like an eel, slippery and changing, until everything at last was at rest and the ink seeped back into the page.

All three bowed their heads over the map. The starting point of the path was now the tiny cluster of islands of Nevarro and the end point was…

“Tatooine?” he asked out loud. “They’re basically land locked. What would a Mandalorian be doing there?”

Tatooine was a coastal stretch of land, surrounded by jagged rocks and ship-wrecks on one side and impassable mountains on the other, with desert in the valley.

She raised her head, scarf now back in place. “I suspect you’ll find out when you go there.”

He nodded and the child cooed. Din looked over at the child grabbing at the map, hands scratching at the lines like he could pick them back up.

“Come on, little one. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

-=-

Din sailed into Mos Pelgo, following the instructions Peli had given him.

“You have to arrive at low tide, that’s the only way you’ll see all the shit you have to get through. If you haven’t decided to turn tail and leave, you have to keep to the south. If you go north, you’re dead. Last I heard, there’s a pile of sticks they call a dock if you keep going south.”

The dock was a simple thing, as she’d said. Rotten wood, with just one post tall enough to hold the rope to the ship. Din was half tempted to jump straight into the water and swim to shore rather than test the strength of the wood, but resisted the urge with the Child in his bag.

He could see the town in the distance and set off on the beach, letting the Child out to stomp around on the beach.

The town was small, a couple of shacks on stilts for the stormy season. Few people were out, and those that were openly stared at the two of them. Din paid them no mind, one goal in his head.

He walked into the cantina, knowing if there ever was a way to learn about a town, it was going to their cantina first.

And not half a minute of talking with the Weequay bartender, the “Captain” walked in. The man wasn’t a Mandalorian, his face was bare, showing off white hair, sun-freckled pale skin, and a well-trimmed beard. His coat was sturdy, but patched to high heaven, with a bright red scarf around his neck. He wore the compass on his belt like he was flaunting it. It made Din’s blood boil. If Din were a younger man, he would’ve shot him right there for it.

But he tried talking. The compass should be in the hands of a Mandalorian. The Captain swore up and down he had gotten it fairly and therefore it should be his.

“I’ve given you an easy out already. Take it off,” Din said, “Or I will.”

“We gonna do this in front of the kid?”

“He’s seen worse.”

The Captain stood, fingers already itching for the flintlock on his hip, no doubt preloaded like Din’s were. They were interrupted by cries from outside. The Captain holds up a hand before smoothly exiting the cantina. Din follows, but stops in the doorframe to take it all in.

There were several broken fishing boats being led through the rocky shores, dragged onto the sands, people shouting, people carrying others. The Captain was in the middle of it all, shouting orders, trying to bring organization to the chaos.

In the distance, was the unmistakable view of a large tentacle slipping beneath the waves.

Din didn’t want to get in the way of this organized chaos, but then a twi’lek with scarred lekku was shoving bandages into his arms and gesturing over to a house across the way. Din wasn’t going to say no to that.

The house was quieter than outside, only pained whimpers and soft, hushed voices. A collection of wooden splinters already piled beside the bed as the doctor continued to take tweezers to one of the people who came in. Din placed the bandages by their side before stepping back, nearly colliding with the Captain.

He looked at the scene with a pensive expression. Immediately, Din could see that his care for his people went further than words. There was corded energy in those shoulders, anger that wanted to be released at the creature that did this to his people.

The Captain ushered him out of the room.

As they walked back to the cantina, the Captain said, “How about this; you help me with the kraken, I give you back your compass.”

“Deal.”                                                                                                          

-=-

The Captain led him past the edge of town to the cliff’s edge. On the journey he told his name was Cobb Vanth; Din held off on his own introduction.

“None of us are much for traveling,” Cobb said, “but the kraken planted itself right where we normally fish. Even when I send people to fish in a different spot, the damn thing follows after. We’ll be starved out sooner rather than later.”

They crested over the hill and the expanse of ocean fell before them. The kraken was visible from the cliffs, a dark mark under the waters, swimming languidly around the coast.

Din did a mental inventory of what he had on the Razor Crest; a handful of spears, a harpoon, some rope. Cobb had shown him the town’s stores before they left. It wasn’t going to be enough.

He stepped back from the ledge, back where Cobb is. “Is there a Tusken encampment nearby?”

Cobb raised an eyebrow. “The Tuskens? But they’re-”

“They know the coast and water better than anyone. We can’t kill it with just the two of us.”

“If they know the area then won’t they want to… I don’t know, not kill it?”

“Then, we’ll just have to ask.”

“Ask? You don’t ask a Tusken anything.”

He could, in fact, ask a Tusken for things. Din was thankful for the cloth in front of his face, masking most of his pride as he watched Cobb’s jaw drop as he asked the Tuskens for their help. It turned out, they did want help in defeating the kraken. Its sudden appearance had also affected their fishing.

They had to travel further to where the kraken had made his home. Din stayed in the back with Cobb, where he seemed more comfortable.

Cobb also apparently liked to talk when he’s nervous.

“So, you spend your days on the ocean? All the time?”

“Mhm. Do you spend all your days on land?”

“Mostly. I used to be on a ship, but not like you. I was a galley slave on an Imperial ship, but before then I had dreams of being as free as you, traveling the waters on a boat with a crew of my own.” His face fell. “Haven’t thought about that dream… for a while.”

To have something that should have meant freedom be taken away from you, Din couldn’t imagine.

“But you escaped?”

“Kriff, yes. Raised a mutiny, sunk those fuckers to the bottom of the sea. I found the compass in the captain’s drawers and it pointed us here. Few more people joined, some left, but it’s as home as we can get.”

Din could only nod. He found himself surprised with the thought that he was glad that Cobb got the compass. He had no idea what the Empire was doing with a Mandalorian artifact, but it was definitely put to better use finding people a home.

They made camp up in the dunes. Din had to waste a bullet, firing into the air to disrupt the startings of a fight between Cobb and the Tuskens. Planning was slightly easier after that.

He took off his coat, bundling it up into a nest for the child to sit in. He rolled up his sleeves to free up his arms as he continued translating. He noticed Cobb looking at the tattoos that traveled up his arms. He doesn’t comment on it.

-=-

Small boats littered the coastline the next day. The plan was for people from both the Tusken band and Mos Pelgo would distract the kraken long enough for a boat of explosives to be set up and ignited close enough to kill it but not the people.

It doesn’t go great.

There were enough boats in the water to pick up people who capsized in the wake of the monster’s waves, the thing lashing out as folks took pot shots with pistols and arrows. They managed to set the boat laden with explosives off in its direction, but when the time came to ignite, the explosion happened, but it just managed to scratch the beast.

Din reached for the harpoons he brought as backup. He and Cobb try firing at the kraken, but they skim off its skin.

The Tuskens were still firing their weapons at the creature. Mos Pelgans took turns firing guns and reloading in turn. All it did was keep the creature at bay, which wouldn’t last long at all. He needed to think of something to kill the creature or everyone here would die.

He furtively scanned around the deck for something, anything. His gaze landed on the extra explosives they had kept on hand. The monster’s skin was too thick for the explosions to take but elsewhere…

Din doesn’t think, he just moves. He grabbed as many sticks of dynamite as he could, stuffing them in the pockets of his coat. There was a coil of rope tied off to the railing, which he took and wrapped around his waist. Even after years of living on ships, his hands shook as he tried to tie it. Suddenly, Cobb was in front of him, taking the rope from his hands and tying it tight around his midsection.

He pulled it hard, once, twice, and it wasn’t going anywhere.

“What are you gonna do?” Cobb asked.

“I’m not sure,” Din said, pulling the rope tighter around his waist.

“Then what should I do?”

Din looked at him, really looked at this man who was willing to do so much for his community in light of so much hardship in his own life. He looked back at the dark shape in the water racing for their boats

He took off his hat and tossed it at Cobb. “Take care of the Child.”

And before Cobb could do anything beyond catch the hat, Din leaped off the side of the ship. He couldn’t tell if Cobb shouted anything after him as the kraken burst from the water. He forced himself to keep his eyes open as he fell straight into the kraken’s maw.

-=-

It was nothing but darkness inside the beast. Even with the scarf over his nose, the scent of salt water and death was everywhere. He dug himself in the mouth of the beast, boots scraping against bony protuberances in the things throat. He emptied his pockets as fast as he could while holding on for dear life as the monster bucked and screamed.

He hoped the kraken was out of range of the boat.

When he was left with one explosive left, he fished around in his pockets for his matchbook. He struck the match and lit the explosive before chucking it down with all the others like it.

He turned and clawed at the kraken’s beak, heart pounding in his chest. If he doesn’t get out of here before the explosion goes off-

Suddenly, a roaring filled his ears and a mass of hot air flung him out of the monster. His scarf twists around his head and he can’t see anything as he flails. He landed hard in the water and then it was silent as the dark water pulled him down.

He wasn’t sure how long he drifted. The shock of cold water and the heaviness of his coat made movement impossible.

He didn’t regret asking Cobb to take care of the child, he’d be in good hands.

Something wrapped around his waist and pulled. Din tried to resist, not sure if he was being dragged toward air or to his death, but his arms were useless, heavy and leaden. He had no strength and so he let it happen.

And then they broke through the surface of the water, a cool wind icing his skin instantly. He took a shuddering breath and nearly choked on water and his sopping wet scarf. Hands came up and pulled the scarf off his face. He coughed, chest shuddering with each intake of breath. He realized he’s being held, arms around his waist, and it isn’t until he can take a full breath did he finally bother to wipe salt water from his eyes and look at who was holding him.

It was Cobb. His hat and coat were off, red shirt darkened to maroon with all the water. He was searching his face for… something.

Din took a breath, resisting the urge to cough again. “I thought I said- you need to take care of the kid!”

“I am!” Cobb said, holding his head up to avoid a passing wave. “By making sure his daddy lives!”

Cobb maneuvers his arms so he’s gripping a floating piece of rowboat. It’s thankfully big enough that when Din leans his whole weight on it, he doesn’t sink back into the ocean.

“Everyone okay?”

Cobb gave him a look that Din thinks means he’s stupid. “Yes, thanks to you, partner.”

They only have to tread water for a couple of minutes before a rowboat headed by the twi’lek Issa-Or arrives. Cobb makes sure Din is pulled aboard before climbing in himself.

-=-

They stayed the night. Din isn’t in any position to argue with Cobb’s hospitality. He didn’t think he’d be able to turn the wheel on the Razor Crest let alone sail it out of harbor.

Cobb opened his house to them. It was a small abode, raised off the ground like the others. Its small size made it even more obvious the telescope and sextant were on display on the only table in the main room.

Din wanted to pass out then and there, but Cobb firmly set him in one of the wooden chairs before disappearing behind the one door in the house. He returned with a roll of bandages and water. He thought it was to drink, until Cobb started peeling back the wet layers of Din’s clothes to reveal burns and scratches he hadn’t even felt. Cobb dips a rag into the freshwater, rinsing out the salt and detritus from the wounds.

He worked in silence, both too exhausted from the day to say much. They could hear the sounds of the party outside, Tusken and Mos Pelgan alike celebrating the death of the beast.

A drunken group walked past and the two of them can hear the butchered shanty they sing. They glanced to the window then to each other, sharing hidden smiles.

All patched up, Cobb gave him the bed and set something up for the child. Din knew he should be aware of his host, should know where his host himself is sleeping the night, but he couldn’t bring himself to care with exhaustion tugging him into the bed.

Voices from the other room kept him up,  cracking one eye open to focus on the now familiar drawl.

“You know, in the past few days, whenever I looked at the compass for a sign of how to kill the kraken, it always pointed out to sea. I didn’t know what that meant, if I had to go sailing for a kraken expert or find a sunken treasure that would kill the kraken. I don’t know, I was getting desperate. But now… I’m thinking it might’ve been pointing to your dad.”

He heard the child’s burbles of delight and finally, finally, he slid into unconsciousness.

-=-

Din woke up to the sun shining in his eyes, light reflecting off the compass placed on the pillow that wasn’t there last night. Any lingering drowsiness left him when he realized what it is.

The Mandalorian compass.

He grabbed it and opened it up, thinking about Grogu and the teacher he needed. The arrow spun around, until stopping, hovering at a point out back toward the ocean.

A heading. He had a heading.

He fell back into the bed, just staring at the compass. It was embedded in a box made of dark wood, carvings all around the edges, Mando’a script, if he had to guess. It’s incomprehensible, chipped to the point of  being illegible.  

Something in the bed crinkled as he shifted. He turned and searched for the source and founda scrap of paper. It took a moment for him to parse, but it was just Cobb letting him know he had business to attend to and he would be back when Din left.

Right... they had to leave this town to continue their quest.

He reminded himself of that as he went out to find the child. The house sounded suspiciously quiet for all the mischief the child got into.

-=-

They got their affairs in order quicker than expected. Some people had spent the night alongside the Tuskens preparing the kraken meat to distribute to the rest of the town – and Din, apparently.

It seemed like the whole town had come out to see them off. They apparently had held off giving their thanks until they knew he was conscious. Din looked over the grateful townspeople’s heads to see Issa talking intently with Cobb. When Cobb glanced over his way, he ducked his head back down.

Normally he would sneak out of this kind of attention, but the kid was eating it up, beaming like he was the one who took down the beast, so Din went down the line, nodding respectfully at every given comment.

By the time he got to the end of the line, he was already ready to take a nap, but he raised a hand to bid them all good-bye and turned to walk out of town.

“Mando!”

Din turned around to see Cobb running after him, heel kicking up sand.

He stops in front of him. “Do you- do you need help on your quest?”

“Are you offering? Thought you had a town to look after.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Well, the kraken was our biggest threat, and with the peace brokered with the Tuskens, there’s not much for me here.”

Din tried to tamp down his excitement, not believing what he was hearing. “You still have your sea legs?”

“Long as you don’t lock me up below deck, I should get them just fine.”

“I’d never,” he said quickly. 

Cobb smiled. “Well then, permission to come aboard?”

Din hoped Cobb could tell he was smiling behind the bandana. “Granted.”

-=-

As they sailed out of port, Din kept glancing at Cobb, who was fidgeting up a storm. He kept tapping his fingers against the railing, glancing out at the disappearing coastline.

Finally, after even the Child was tapping on his pant leg to point out Cobb’s unease for him, he hatched a plan. He affixed the wheel so it wouldn’t turn on its own. Then he went about setting the sails and ropes for the same task, keeping them on course while Din took care of Cobb.

“We can still head back if you want to,” he said as he approached the other man.

Cobb turned over his shoulder. “No, I’m not having second thoughts. I’ve… My friends know I’m not exactly made for land.”

“Oh?”

Cobb flipped his scarf up to wipe at his head. “Before we made landfall at Mos Pelgo, we took out a few Imperial ports. Small things that we only noticed because of the ships with galley slaves, but… I ain’t felt that alive in a while.”

Din fished the compass out from his pocket, flicking it open. The arrow spun lazily, pointing back to Cobb for a second before spinning around in the direction they were sailing, the same direction it had pointed when he thought about what Grogu needed.

He snapped it shut, coming up to stand beside Cobb.

“I’m sure we’ll run into something along the way. Here, I’ve got something to show you.”

Cobb raised an eyebrow. “Alright, I’ll bite. What is it?”

Din bit his lip, glad for the bandana. “Do you trust me?”

Cobb chuckled. “I would have to be an idiot to sail out to who knows where with a man I didn’t trust.”

Din nodded. “Then let it be a surprise.”

Cobb acquiesced, letting himself be led to the middle of the deck. When they were under the main mast, Din grabbed the main line in one hand, pulling Cobb close with the other. He ignored how his cheeks flushed with the sudden closeness.

“Hold on tight,” he said.

“Wha-?” That’s all Cobb got out before Din flicked the switch with his foot and the two of them went rocketing up toward the crow’s nest. Cobb’s arms circled around him like a vice, his shouts lost in the wind.

Din made sure Cobb got in the basket before he did, especially when he realized his eyes were shut.

“Cobb, open your eyes.”

Cobb cracked one eye open and then both flew open as he realized what he was seeing. Glittering blue ocean, as far as the eye could see. There were two dots in the far distance, ships of some sort.

There was no better way to experience the vastness of it all, than looking at it from above.

He glanced at Cobb and saw his eyes tearing up a bit.

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, letting Cobb take it all in. This was what being on the ocean was supposed to mean, freedom and possibility, beauty and wonder. Din didn’t expect to do much in laying a balm over Cobb’s past, but he hoped he could communicate with this view that he wanted to help when he could.

Cobb turned to face him and Din knew he understood.

“Thank you, Mando.”

“Din, my name is Din Djarin.”

“Then thank you, Din.” And to his surprise, he leaned over and kissed him just above where the scarf covered his face.

Neither of them acknowledged it, except for an exchange of eye contact. Neither could contain the mirth in the crinkles of their eyes.

“We should start plotting a course, shouldn’t we, Captain?” Cobb asked.

“Yes, Captain.”