#which is again why its like well damnit if you are going this route and throwing away the arc you set up for din

[oflgtfol]

so i literally never wanted din to be mand'alor, i think he very much just wants to be a wallflower and keep his head down and mind his own business, by god he just wants to grill etc. he does not belong as a major player in galactic politics because he's just Some Guy

but the thing is, canon presented us this plotline. and so yeah i geared my expectations for the plot going forward as din becoming mand'alor. i didnt want it but i was expecting it.

and canon actually did endear me to it, because isn't it kind of hilarious that this guy who is the epitome of Do Not Perceive Me becomes a major player in galactic politics? he just wants to grill. it's such a funny and intriguing contrast to maintain so yeah the idea became more endearing to me over time

and then bobf introduced the idea of din actually struggling with the darksaber, which actually created a very interesting arc for din going forward, that he's expected to wield it and lead with it but obviously doesn't want to, and is struggling with all the baggage from s2 anyway, so he's generally unconfident and unwilling and that's why he struggles with it.

so you present this idea, so obviously the audience expectation is that din's arc going forward will be to overcome his struggles with the darksaber, culminating in him being able to wield it properly, right?

but now s3 it's like. i cannot tell what theyre even doing. im kinda terrified that they're presenting bo-katan as the mand'alor instead, which like, if they hadn't done the s2 finale then it'd be whatever, but like. why did you set up din's arc this way then if you're just going to throw it at another character? especially bo-katan of all people. i get that she historically has had more dealings with the darksaber and all that but like, in the self-contained narrative of The Mandalorian alone, it's so weird and unsatisfying to present this clear arc for din, and then like, not follow through with it. what was the point of all that

so like, yeah, in my heart of hearts i dont even want din to be mand'alor, but god damnit they presented this storyline so if they dont follow through with it then i reserve the right to be mad

[womburt]

Please Stay; C. Xisuma x Reader

In which, Reader finds themself hopelessly trapped and injured at the bottom of a cave, until a certain doom guy appears to take them home. 

*Warning! This fic contains profanity and descriptions of blood/injury! Don’t read if this could upset you!

“Shit!” Y/n exclaimed, jumping back in surprise as their shield fell into pieces, no longer of any use. Shaking the remaining bits off their arm, Y/n gulped and brought their sword in front of themselves protectively, preparing themself to fight. A massive hoard of zombies approached, they’d be able to get much closer now that Y/n’s shield was out of service. 

They silently cursed themself for not paying attention to the durability of the gear. Not that they’d expected to be fighting off such a large crowd of zombies tonight, but still, they’d never felt so caught off guard. 

Quickly glancing down at their armor, Y/n chastised themself again. The scrappy iron chest plate they’d brought with looked to be on it’s last legs. Why hadn’t they thought to get better armor before leaving the safety of the spawn village? Gulping down their nerves, Y/n yelped as a zombie grew impatient and lunged forward. They were just barely able to impale the creature, shoving it off to the side and out of the way. Despite their victory against the one, another zombie was quick to take its place, stepping over its fallen ally and reaching toward Y/n as well. 

Y/n sliced that one too, and another nearby, thankful they’d at least thought to bring a decent weapon. They quickly surveyed their surroundings, eyes searching for some kind of high ground or escape route. Unfortunately this particular cave did not appear to have one. Y/n couldn’t even remember where they’re come in at, having begun their mining adventure hours go. 

Unable to locate an exit, Y/n did not notice a skeleton had joined the brigade. It wasn’t until they felt a sharp pain in their thigh that their head whipped back around to find the assailant. 

Y/n wanted to rip their own hair out. How had they forgotten to wear armored leggings? Their regular clothes did nothing to shield from arrows, and now they’d have to pay the price for their lack of preparation. 

Knowing they didn’t have anytime to even acknowledge the damage, Y/n saw the skeleton draw another arrow aiming in their direction. Quickly, they moved to the side, listening to the sickening crunch of flint into rotten flesh. A zombie had accidentally intercepted the shot meant for them. Y/n smiled tightly at the accidental success, the impaled zombie turning around to combat the Skelton further. Now that at least those two were preoccupied, Y/n returned their attention to the rest of the monsters.

Ignoring the pain in their thigh with every step they took, Y/n swung their sword through the mob of the undead, hoping that their amazing sword wouldn’t give up on them like the rest of their materials that night. They felt sickly green fingers knocking at their chest plate, surely taking the durability down even further. Swallowing their fear, Y/n persevered, slicing through every zombie that they could reach. 

“Damnit!” Y/n yelled aloud, losing their footing in a misstep that they hadn’t expected to make. There was a feeling of weightlessness for a few seconds, before an ice-cold shock as their body plunged under water. Struggling to find their way to the surface, Y/n forced themself to swim in the direction they thought was up, bursting through the top of the underground-pond just as they were about to run out of breath. They could see the hoard of zombies standing at the edge, none willing to leave the safety of the rocky ledge. 

Gasping and kicking their now good leg to stay afloat, Y/n couldn’t’t help their preemptive smile, finally safe from the zombies. “Ha! Try to reach me now flesh-eaters!”

The water was beginning to numb their legs. Very aware of the effects these temperatures could have if they weren’t careful, Y/n spun their head around, sight landing on a small patch of stone out of the water, and out of reach of the landmass they’d been fighting the zombies on. Swimming over, Y/n ignored the way the water tugged at the arrow in their thigh, not quite ready to deal with it. 

Pulling themself out of the water, Y/n flopped their body onto the cold stone, rolling over to lay on their back and catch their breath. There as a very low ceiling where they were, and a small dip in the wall that they could use as a makeshift cover if need be. They were far enough away from the zombies now that the whole crowd had lost interest, meandering away to find something else to chase. Y/n watched with a careful eye, making sure that none stuck around to wait for them.

When all of the zombies were gone, and Y/n’s adrenaline had finally diminished, they were forced to confront the reality of their situation: they were stranded at the bottom of a cave, surrounded by icy cold water and the possibilities of monsters, with an arrow in their thigh and no healing potions to be found. 

Pulling a shucker box out, Y/n placed it on the ground half-hazardously, reaching inside to pull out a few torches. They placed enough on the ground to keep themself safe, shuddering at the flicking warmth they provided. They’d forgotten how cold they were since they’d been mostly numb in the water. As nice as the fire was, it brought their attention back to the temperature. 

Rooting through all of the ores and materials they’d collected in their time in the cave, Y/n wasn’t exactly sure what they were looking for. Something to make things better. Food maybe? Or their elytra to fly themself out of this wretched cave and go home? But their food was long gone, having already eaten the few pieces of bread they’d thought to bring. And their elytra was safe and sound back at their base, Y/n having made their way to this cave on foot. 

Leaning back against the wall, Y/n tried to calm themself. Breathing slowly, in and out. They couldn’t help the shivers that wracked their body. How would they possibly get home?

Deep breaths overtook their entire body, Y/n closed their eyes. Back propped up against the wall and legs spread out in front of themself, they counted to ten and back a few times, calming their racing heart. They would find a way out, they just needed to rest first. Perhaps a nap could make them feel good enough to dig their way out. They had no idea how far away the surface was, but there was no way they were getting to it in this state. Sleep would have to be their best option.

------sleepy timeskip------

“Oh Y/n, what’s happened here?” 

Y/n could almost hear a voice calling out, too distant to make out the exact words. 

“Goodness me, you’re bleeding! Oh dear…”

The voice was closer now, but still muffled. Y/n felt warm hands on their shoulders, large hands reaching underneath their arms to get a good hold on their body. Then they felt themself being moved, shifted to lean against something much softer. 

Mumbling their disproval of being woken up, Y/n couldn’t quite convince themself to open their eyes. 

“I know love but you’ve got to let me help you. Here.”

They felt their arms being lifted into the air, someone gently pulling their nearly-broken chest plate off of their torso to reveal the dirtied clothing underneath, still semi-wet from the accidental swim they’d taken earlier. Their arms were let go and Y/n found themself laying back against the soft surface again. 

Somewhere in the back of their mind, Y/n began to recognize the voice that was speaking to them. Worrisome and warm, it was familiar. 

They were shifted again, this time turned to the side a bit so that instead of their back against the soft surface, which they were beginning to realize must be a person, their side and shoulders rested against it. A strong arm supported their back and Y/n slowly opened their eyes to see that they were being cradled by the disembodied voice. 

Eyes scanning over the person’s torso, Y/n made note of a green suit. Finally their gaze landed on the person’s head, coming face to covered-face with Xisuma, whose eyebrows were creased together in concern. His grey helmet was sat on top of his face, and though Y/n couldn’t actually see his mouth, they imagined that his lips were drawn tight in a very thin line. 

“What’s happened?” He asked quietly, eyes looking over Y/n battered body. Suddenly feeling very exposed, Y/n attempted to curl themself into a ball, stopping and yelping when their attempt to move their leg lead to a shooting pain from their thigh. 

“Don’t move,” Xisuma commanded quickly, tucking a pice of hair that had fallen in front of Y/n’s face behind their ear. Y/n watched as he moved a hand, the one that wasn’t supporting their back, to their leg, careful to avoid where they’d been shot. 

They tried not to think about how close they were to the man, not wanting to make obvious how nervous they were around him. Sure they were good friends with Xisuma and spent plenty of time together, but this close? This was new territory for Y/n. They’d never been pressed up against him like this before.

Not that they hadn’t imagined it. Y/n had been infatuated with Xisuma for ages now. They admired his compassion, his drive, especially his eyes. Those wonderful eyes that conveyed so much emotion, even if the rest of his face was hidden. 

“Alright. I’m going to help you, but in order for me to do that, this has to come out.” Xisuma explained, gently gesturing to the arrow. Y/n felt their heart sink at the idea, knowing that Xisuma was right. They’d have to take the arrow out in order to heal, but that didn’t make the idea of touching it any more appealing.

“Just get it over with.” They finally accepted turning their head away so that they wouldn’t have to watch him pull it out, knowing that it would only make the process that much more nerve-wracking.

Xisuma rubbed their shoulder reassuringly, wasting no time and pulling the arrow out as quickly as it had gone in.

Y/n muffled a cry, slapping a hand over their mouth and trying the suppress the tears that threatened to spill out of their eyes. Xisuma hurriedly picked up a healing potion that Y/n hadn’t even noticed he had on him, uncapping it and pouring the liquid over their open wound. Almost immediately, the pain began to dull, and Y/n sniffled their tears back inside, only a few having managed to escape and fall down their cheeks. 

“There. Good as new.” Xisuma spoke gently, replacing the cap on the bottle and setting it onto the floor next to him, his attention turned back to Y/n’s face. He noticed their distress soon after, reaching a gloved hand to cup their face and wipe the salty tears.

“I’m sorry for hurting you.” He apologized with sincerity and Y/n laughed shortly, shaking their head. 

“Don’t apologize. You saved me.” 

Xisuma shrugged and looked away bashfully. “But it hurt didn’t it?”

Y/n bit their lip and shook their head. “Not as much as it hurt when I was bleeding out.” 

Xisuma chuckled with them, patting their leg gently to not agitate the freshly-healed limb. 

“Alright then, let’s get you home.”

Y/n made a move to stand up, but was unable to do so before Xisuma swooped them up in his arms, standing as tall as he could within the tiny space. Their cheeks felt hot with embarrassment, heart picking up its pace again. “Oh! You don’t have to-“

“Nonsense. You haven’t got an elytra with you, so I’m flying you home.” Xisuma cut them off. Y/n could hear a smile in his voice, and they couldn’t exactly argue with his reasoning, so they closed their mouth, and buried their burning face into his chest, unused to be carried around. And no less then by the man they’d been fostering a crush on for ages. 

A moment later, Y/n felt wind rushing by them as Xisuma took off, their face still comfortably concealed and hidden from the cool air. Not long after, Y/n felt the world get brighter around them as they breached the cave exit and emerged into the night sky. The stars were numerous, Y/n noticed when they untucked their head to get a look at where they were going. 

It was sort of a long trip to arrive to the cave when they’d walked earlier, but Xisuma made quick work of the flight back home, arriving in the spawn village in no time. Y/n caught sight of their own base in the distance, suddenly disappointed since they knew that this would mean goodbye. Xisuma landed carefully on a balcony they’d added just for easy access by flight, pushing open a door and finding himself in their bedroom. 

Y/n felt him walk over to their bed, setting them down carefully. Y/n however, remained upright, not quite ready to fall asleep. 

Xisuma, who’d expected them to already be asleep upon arrival, creased his eyebrows in confusion. “What’s wrong? Are you hungry? I can go find something for you to eat.”

He was nearly halfway down the stairs when Y/n caught his wrist. Xisuma turned around slowly, looking at Y/n with concern. 

“I’m okay. Will you just, stay here? Please?” Y/n was looking at the floor bashfully, their bottom lip between their teeth and their heart in their stomach. Xisuma was quiet for a minute, processing their request. Y/n wondered if perhaps they’d asked for too much. 

“O-of course….” Y/n hadn’t expected him to stammer out his reply. Feeling satisfied with his answer, Y/n smiled and turned around towards their closet. They ruffled through their clothes, pulling out a dry set for themself. Reaching toward the bottom, Y/n found a shirt and pants that looked like it could fit Xisuma. They set the clothes in his hands, making their way to the bathroom the change into their own pajamas.

Once they were finished up, Y/n knocked on their bedroom door, which had been shut since they left. They heard Xisuma call out a noticeably clear “come in.” 

Slowly opening the door, Y/n was met with the sight of a helmet-less Xisuma. He was clad in the grey shirt and black pants they’d given him. While the shirt looked a bit tight, overall the clothes seemed to fit well enough. Y/n smiled his direction, taking note of the pink blush on his cheeks.

It wasn’t the first time they’d ever seen his face, but it certainly didn’t happen often. 

Y/n laid down on their bed, tucking themself under the covers and waiting for Xisuma to join them. When he didn’t right away, they patted the space next to them. 

There was a rustling sound as Xisuma crossed the room, then the bed dipped, and suddenly he was laying on the bed next to them. 

“Thank you,” Y/n mumbled just loud enough that he could hear, unsure if they were referencing him saving them earlier, agreeing to stay, or both. 

“Anytime.” Xisuma answered much closer than they expected him to be. Y/n felt very aware of their breaths, as well as Xisuma’s, which were steady and close to the top of their head. They felt a pressure in their side which they decided was his arm when it wrapped around their waist and brought them in closer. Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut and they tucked themself into Xisuma’s chest again.

“Y/n?” 

Their eyes fluttered back open when Xisuma called their name. The mumbled a quiet “hmm?” but didn’t move at all, far too comfortable where they were.

It was quiet between the two of them for a minute, so Y/n reluctantly pulled their head up to meet eyes with Xisuma, who was already staring down at them. Their voice caught in their throat as they held his gaze, neither of them looking away.

Finally, Xisuma glanced down toward Y/n’s lips, so quickly that Y/n was sure they’d imagined it.

“When I found you, you were passed out at the bottom of a cave. I thought I’d have to watch you die.” Xisuma admitted. Although Hermitcraft was blessed with the luxury or respawns, death was never a pleasant experience. 

“I’m just glad that you’re okay now.” He finished quietly, his eyes still on theirs, until Y/n saw them flick down to their lips again.

Y/n reached a hand up to Xisuma’s face, laying it gently on his jawbone and stroking the skin there. Their thumb ran over an old, faded scar, and Y/n heard Xisuma’s breath hitch. His hand moved to cover theirs, interlocking their fingers. 

Without thinking, Y/n leaned up and placed their lips on top of Xisuma’s. He kissed back immediately, squeezing their fingers together. Xisuma deepened the kiss, unlocking their hands to wrap one arm around Y/n’s waist and bring them closer. The other lay on the back of their neck, running over the soft skin there. 

Y/n kept their hands on Xisuma’s jaw, unwilling to let him go. 

When they finally pulled apart, Xisuma chased after their mouth, giving them another peck on the lips before laying his forehead against theirs. Y/n let their eyes flutter shut again, a dopey smile on their face.

“Maybe I oughta be in danger more often.”

[spencerspecifics]

Okay yes hi hello this is me gracing y’all with my writing Bc I’ve had this idea forever!! This is going to be multiple chapters, here is chapter two. Enjoy :)

~

Technical Analyst (ch.1)

~

Short description: Spencer works as a technical analyst alongside Garcia and Kevin, though he hasn’t ever really worked directly with the BAU team, he works more in filing and researching. But when Garcia goes on vacation leave, and Kevin is busy with his own work, Spencer steps up to help- and that’s when he meets Derek Morgan.

———————————��———————————

Spencer hated technology. He hated computers, tablets, cell phones, he hated it all. He hated everything and anything that isn’t on printed onto paper. So how the fuck did he end up as a technical analyst- whose entire job was based around proficient use of technology? In very short, budget cuts.

He originally worked in domestic terrorism, though he never fit in well there. He was a good worker, fast and able to do a lot. But his coworkers never let him feel included. He would hear them make plans without him, ignore him in conversations, only reaching out to him for his great memory to help solve a case. It was dehumanizing. He was just a brain for them, nothing more.

Then, the budget cuts came. And he got removed from the team, as he had the least amount of hours in the field- which wasn’t his fault. The rest of his team always forced him into the research position, so while they were off chasing the bad guys, he was stuck researching with a computer he doesn’t trust.

So yeah, he wasn’t an asset to them. But the bureau knew a mind like his in general was an asset, a fountain they’d like to keep a tap on. So they made work for him. It was mostly menial. He would assist with intense cases when necessary, but even then it was just research. No one knew what he would be like in the field, because they never gave him the chance.

Spencer tried not to think about how unfair this was, how stupid and purely tedious it was. He would rather be working as a T.A. at this point- which wouldn’t even be that bad. At least he gets heard and seen then.

~

Spencer’s normal day consists of going from his apartment to the bureau building, to directly into his cramped little office that was about the size of a jumbo walk in closet. A nice size to store clothes, but not so nice when you have to have a person, a desk, a chair, three computer monitors, two filing cabinents, a trash can, a fax machine, and a printer all crammed in there.

Yeah, his workplace was entirely too small. Thankfully it didn’t impact his ability to work, though, most the time Spencer finished his work quickly; and would end up reading. Spencer didn’t venture out from his office that much at all, (he always brought his own coffee so he didn’t have to worry about bugging the field agents.) the exception to leaving his office was to go across the hall to Penelope Garcia, his only sort of friend that he had at work. She was always so bubbly, it was a breath of relief for him to go see her- she reminded him of all the positive things, he definitely couldn’t do the job without her.

Not to mention, she had to train him from starting point zero. Spencer hated technology, after all. So he never made an effort to learn coding, hacking, how to re-route and track things. He knew nothing like that, hell, he struggles with his cellphone turning on sometimes.

Thankfully, she was able to get some sense into him, and he was pretty good at what he could do. Though he was still working out python coding, he was enjoying the learning process of using technology.

That being said- he still despises technology, and he hopes that once he leaves the job, he can throw away his very unnecessary but work mandated laptop.

~

Spencer made his way into the bureau building, messenger bag slung over his shoulder awkwardly as a thermos of coffee was held tightly in his right hand, while the left one reached for the door handle to enter. He got in no problem, security didn’t stop him anymore, thankfully. Though in the beginning, they did check him constantly, verifying that he belonged there. After all, he looked young, and he definitely didn’t belong in the bureau building. But then again, Garcia didn’t look like she belonged there either.

Security just made presumptions about people, he shrugged that thought off as he made his way to the elevator. Thankfully no one else was in there, he pressed the button for floor six, and the elevator doors shut.

The elevator whirred to life, taking him up to the sixth floor slowly. Thankfully today was a slow day, there wasn’t really any important case he had to work on. (Not like he ever really got given cases to work on, anyways.) So Spencer was hoping he would be able to finish his work quickly, as he had some books he brought with him that he wanted to read and re-read before the day was finished.

The elevator dinged, a signal it had reached its necessary location, before the doors finally slid back. He stepped out, taking his usual left down the hallway immediately. Forward through the glass doors was the bullpen with the agents who worked in the BAU. And god, what he wouldn’t give to be a field agent, working as a profiler. That’s why he wanted to join the bureau, and yet he was so close- his office only down the hall. But he was simultaneously so far, not being trusted by all the bureaucratic bosses, who didn’t know if he would be a good agent to warrant being put out into the field.

He hated it, but he tried not to think about it as he reached his office, Garcia’s door was shut, she was on vacation, or so he had heard. Spencer pulled on his office door, entering with ease as he moved into the cramped workspace.

Spencer sat his messenger bag down onto his desk, sitting himself down in his office chair and taking a minute to breathe in and out before continuing. Spencer hated this job. It was mind numbingly boring, he was so close to quitting. He knew the bureau would fight tooth and nail to keep him, however, but if that was the case, why not give him a better job- he didn’t want a nicer office, he wanted to help people.

He sighed, today was just one of those days where he was extra mad about not being treated right, he tried to ignore this thought process as he got ready to work; setting his coffee down by his computer mouse to his right, setting his messenger bag onto the floor next to him, pulling off the scarf that was wrapped loosely around his neck and hanging it over the back of his chair. Now he was ready for the day.

~

Penelope didn’t mean to forget to tell the team that she was going to be gone- she assumed they knew. At least Hotch did, all the rest of them knew was that she was going to take a week off to relax, they just didn’t know when (she had too many vacation days saved up, so she had to use them or lose them. She chose the former.) It was just a total brain fart moment on her part, so while she decided to hit up her favorite stores, spas, and websites; the team had no idea, they assumed she was holed up in her office, hacking away at whatever she normally does.

This would only show itself when Derek needed her, calling her office number and it going to voicemail “Hi, this is Penelope Garcia with the FBI and I’m too awesome to come to the phone right now, if it’s an urgent matter please call Aaron Hotchner-“ yeah, Derek hung up his phone by then, deciding to call her personal cell.

“Hi, hot chocolate!” She answered cheerfully, the sounds of people talking and laughing could be heard in the background, which Derek took note of. “Babygirl- your work phone sent me to voicemail, where are you?” Garcia was quiet for a second, before practically blowing Morgan’s eardrums out; “Oh- damnit! I knew I was forgetting something!” “Care to fill me in?” He asked her curiously, “Yes-“ Garcia sighed before continuing on, “Sorry. I’m taking those vacation days Hotch told me I had to use or else I’d lose.”

“So you’re not at the office.” He stated, “That I am not, I’m sorry I forgot to tell you! But my pal Spencer Reid should be covering for me.” “Spencer Reid?” Derek asked, unfamiliar with that person, “Why not kevin?” “Ugh, I don’t know- he’s doing that thing where he’s actually busy with other work for once. But Spencer is good, I taught him everything he knows- and I’m pretty sure he’s got three PhDs, so yeah, you replaced one genius with another- so don’t worry!” “Okay, well...” Derek took a second, “You sure I can ask Spencer about everything I’d ask you?” He meant work related, within being able to hack and get everything that Garcia would be able to get. Because Morgan knew that her talents were very special, and having someone else replicate them seemed near impossible, so he was a bit hesitant to trust someone new.

“Oh yeah- he’ll find everything easy peasy lemon squeezy. Don’t worry yourself, sugar.” “Okay, thank you mama. Have a good week of rest.” “I will! I have an appointment for a spa, and oh my god Derek- they do a seaweed wrap thing, isn’t that crazy?” “So you’re gonna get rolled up like sushi?” “No! Ew! Don’t compare me to raw fish!”

The phone call continued for a bit after that, as Derek wasn’t in an urgent matter. It was just a filing day at the office, before he hung up he asked where Spencer was, though; “Oh, he’s in the office next to mine, across the hall!” Garcia told him happily. Derek had thought that was a storage closet, but he didn’t tell her- instead thanking her and hanging up.

Now to pay this mystery computer whiz a visit.

~

Spencer was in the middle of re-routing a bunch of information that Garcia needed to send to her boss, Aaron Hotchner. Spencer didn’t share the same boss, since he was technically working in a more basic division of the bureau, he instead answered to Strauss- which was a royal pain in the ass, but he always turned his work in on time, came in when needed, he had never had to face her wrath yet, thankfully.

Spencer typed away, trying to get all the data to get to Hotchner as quickly as possible so he didn’t have to wait, though it wasn’t crucial the work did get completed right now. Spencer just liked to get things done.

A knock sounded Spencer out of his methodical typing, it wasn’t Garcia, obviously. And he knew Kevin was in a meeting right now with some IT people over his keyboard acting funky (Kevin could fix it by himself, but office administration forced him into talking to IT.)

“Yes?” Spencer asked curiously, turning around in his office chair, because he had no clue who it was that could be interrupting his work. The door pushed open, revealing a tall, classically handsome, muscular man carrying some files in his hands. Fuck, that would be Spencer’s luck. An attractive guy swooping in and making his IQ of one hundred and eighty seven go down to sixty in two second flat

“Hi- you Spencer?” The man asked, stepping forward into the cramped office. Spencer stood up instinctively, “Yes, I am. How can I help you?” The man handed the files over awkwardly, “I’m sorry, I usually ask Penelope Garcia for this but she’s on vacation and she referred me to you- I just need these put through VICAP, I’m not too familiar with the system as a whole, ‘cause Garcia usually handles it.”

Spencer nodded, taking the files and looking through them briefly, there were nine of them. “I’m sorry, I know that’s a lot of work to do... I’m sure I can figure it out myself-“ Derek started, doing his best to apologize. Little did he know Spencer could get this done within an hour or so.

“Oh no- not a problem at all, this should only take me about an hour, two at most, but that’s a generous estimate.” Derek raised his eyebrows, “An hour or two? Garcia usually finishes up this many files within three or four. How are you able to get this done faster than her?”

“I have an eidetic memory, which helps me recall anything that I read. I can read these files once and put all the information into VICAP knowing it’s accuracy is one hundred percent without having to double check, that cuts down my speed by half per case file.”

Derek looked confused and shocked. Yeah, Spencer could understand why. “Sorry, um. That’s a weird explanation, but it shouldn’t take me as long. I’m assuming you’re out in the bullpen?” Spencer asked him, putting the files down atop his keyboard.

“Yeah, I’m Derek Morgan with the BAU.” Derek finally introduced himself, reaching his hand out. Shit, this was Derek Morgan? Garcia has mentioned him a few times to Spencer, saying he’d love him “oh he’s so handsome, but so sweet and loving, like the hottest man on earth- I’d marry him in a heartbeat, but we don’t roll like that, Y’know?” That’s how she described him once, and of course Spencer remembered that word for word. Spencer felt like it was just his luck, that his only work colleague was best friends with a man so attractive that his mind isn’t working fully.

Not to mention he was in the BAU, Spencer guessed he was, since Garcia was their technical analyst. But still, it would be just his luck to know this insanely attractive man was part of the team he wanted to belong to so bad. Spencer wasn’t sure how to respond as he kept his composure. After all, yeah, Derek was attractive. But they probably wouldn’t speak again after this exchange. It wasn’t worth Spencer thinking about him, or how Garcia described him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t shake. But it’s nice to meet you, I’ll find you once I’m done. If you need anymore help, feel free to let me know.” Spencer told him, looking back at the files on his desk as a distraction away from this hot guy that was just standing so calmly in his office, as if Spencer ever had any visitors into the cramped space besides Garcia and Kevin.

By the time spencer looked back up, Derek’s arm was back down by his side. “Okay, thank you.”

~

Derek was surprised by their exchange, to say the least. How did he not know about this genius before? How was he not more well known, a memory thing, three PhD’s- that would be a useful asset? How come he was hidden away in a closet sized office? He had to know more. Even if it was nosy and stupid.

Normally, he’d call Garcia and ask her if it was about an employee. But in this case, he couldn’t. And he couldn’t go to Spencer, that would be weird.

So, he did the next best thing. He asked Hotch.

~

He knocked slowly on Hotchner’s door, hoping he wasn’t going to tell him to mind his business and not ask about employee facts when they definitely were irrelevant.

Derek was smart though, he figured out a foolproof way to play this. So when Hotch said, “Yes?” He came in, starting his plan into motion.

“Hotch, where’s Garcia?” He asked him, as if Derek hadn’t immediately checked up on his babygirl when he couldn’t find her. “Oh,” Hotch started, setting a file down that he had been looking over, “She took some vacation time.”

“So, who am I supposed to go to for computer help?” Derek asked, “Well,” Hotchner started, matter of factly, while he reached for a thin, unopened file on his desk. “We have a new guy helping us. Kevin’s busy with helping the child abduction unit reset their computers, as well as he’s in an IT meeting right now, so we have..” Hotch stopped, looking down to read the name off the file; “Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m sure he’ll be just as good.”

“Hotch. No ones as good as Garcia.” Derek pointed out, Hotch shrugged. “Maybe not. But this guy has a glowing personal history- and Garcia told me she taught him everything he knows.”

“What’s his personal history?” Derek asked curiously, stepping a bit closer but still trying to play nonchalance. “You know I’m not able to disclose that. You can go ask him for yourself.” Derek sighed. Of course Hotch wasn’t gonna tell him shit. He should’ve expected this. But sue him, call him hopeful. He was hoping he could’ve gotten some information on this mysterious doctor.

~

Derek made his defeated way back to his desk in the bullpen. And Emily, whose desk was directly across from his, immediately noticed his slight annoyance at Hotch. So she asked in a hushed voice as soon as he sat down;

“Did you get yelled at by Hotch?” Because in her mind, that was the most logical explanation that made the most sense. Derek just shook his head as a response, “No,” he clarified, “I was asking about our Garcia fill-in, and Hotch wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“Garcia fill-in? She’s gone?” Emily asked confusedly looking back to the hallway that led to Penelope’s office, as if she’d magically appear. “Yeah, but just for the week.” Derek explained, “She’s using those vacation days she had saved up. And Kevin isn’t our standby, ‘cause he’s busy. Instead it’s some new guy.”

“Who?” Prentiss asked, this time she was curious. And as if on cue, Dr. Spencer Reid came through the glass doors, and into the bullpen, carrying Morgan’s stack of files.

“Him.” Morgan pointed back simply as a response as he waved Spencer over.

~

To say Spencer felt out of his element by being in the BAU bullpen was an understatement, he felt like a fish out of water. Like he was suffocating and everything around him was too much.

He purposely avoided the bullpen, first reason being because he didn’t have any work with the BAU. But the second reason was he knew if he stepped in, he’d be more upset that he couldn’t be on the team. And the last thing he wanted to do was make his job worse for himself.

But, this experience was an outlier. And though Spencer can remember almost anything and everything, he planned on doing his best to purposely forget all of this. Every last detail.

He wasn’t going to let himself remember how there were field agents with real life guns holstered at their sides, how they were all sitting casually, looking over cases and drinking coffee, how they had the title of SSA (he only had SA, which he still was bitter about.), and then how at a moments notice they could fly away in a jet. How astonishing their work is, how jealous he is.

But Spencer entered through the glass doors nonetheless, looking around quickly before seeing Derek wave him over. Derek was sat at his desk, talking to a woman whose head was turned away from Spencer, all he could see was that she was his desk mate, and that she had black hair.

Spencer made his way over at a brisk pace, he just needed to get in and out. If he stayed for too long, he’d let himself remember to much.

“Hey, I- I got these into VICAP no problem,“ Spencer started as he handed Derek the case files, “But I noticed some errors on the date stamping on when you found the unsub so I corrected it myself, I hope you don’t mind.”

Derek shook his head casually, “Not a problem at all, I have a habit of messing that up. Thanks doc.” Fuck, ‘doc’? Spencer hadn’t been called ‘doctor’ in months, let alone ‘doc’. This was turning into a tailspin moment for him as he smiled awkwardly, feeling a blush rising to his face, he wasn’t sure what else to do. But he wanted to get out of there.

Thankfully, the woman with black hair introduced herself, as once he had rounded the corner to see Derek, he also saw her face. She was pretty, and had bangs. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Emily Prentiss.” She reached her hand over to shake Reid’s expectantly, “Oh I-“ Reid started, hands down at his sides, he wasn’t going to move them.

“He doesn’t shake, Prentiss.” Derek explained casually, “Oh,” Emily said, dropping her hand down, “Sorry! It’s still good to meet you, though. So I hear you’re covering for Garcia?” She asked Spencer, who nodded as he pushed a piece of hair back behind his ear.

“Yeah she’s taking vacation time, and Kevin is currently busy with helping the child abduction unit. So I’ll be you technical analyst for the next week or so.”

“I’m sorry, but how long have you been with the bureau? You look really young. I don’t mean to be rude I’m just-“ “You’re really asking him the rudest possible question, though, huh?” Derek joked to her, and she just smacked him on the arm lightly before turning her attention back to Spencer.

“No you’re fine to ask I- um, I’ve been with the bureau a year and a half, but originally I was on the domestic terrorism field unit.” He explained shortly, he didn’t wanna go into how he got on the bureau to begin with, or how he left the domestic terrorism unit. All he wanted to do was have this conversation end, or else it would just be that much harder to forget.

“Domestic terrorism? So how do you end up doing technical analyst work?” Derek butted in curiously, up until now it has been Prentiss asking all the questions.

Spencer stayed quiet for a moment, before finally responding, “If you need anything else, my office is next to Garcia’s. It’s been nice meeting you, Emily.” All he gave to Derek was a curt nod before walking out at the brisk pace he had entered with.

~

“Wow, well you fucked that up.” Prentiss spoke to Derek once she saw Spencer exiting through the glass doors, and turning down the hallway.

He sighed and rolled his eyes at her, “I’m just curious about him, can you blame me?” Emily just chuckled softly in return, shaking her head as she turned her chair around to face him more head on.

“Are you curious about him because he’s cute, or because he’s replacing Garcia for the week?” Derek blinked at her in surprise; “I never said he was cute.” He protested, more confused than anything else.

“You didn’t say it, but your body language did. You think he’s cute. You called him ‘doc’ and he almost blushed, and I have a feeling you’re gonna try and call him ‘doc’ again to see that same result- and you watched him the entire time, even if I was talking.”

“You think random bureau agents are cute all the time, what’s it matter?” Derek rebutted, trying to deflect and ignore, because Prentiss wasn’t making sense. Derek wasn’t attracted to Spencer, he didn’t think he was cute. Spencer’s level of attractiveness had nothing to do with his curiosity.

Derek did have a right to be curious for other reasons, anyways. This guy was replacing Garcia for a bit. It made sense Derek would wanna know more about the guy, even if he was or wasn’t attractive.

“Yeah, I find agents cute. But I don’t go asking Hotch about them.” Prentiss said with a smirk, Derek just shot her a glare. “I asked Hotch because he’s replacing Garcia. And I’ve not heard of the guy before.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Was all Emily replied with as she turned back to her work, Derek just rolled his eyes at her again before turning to his own computer.

Okay, so he knew Spencer was in domestic terrorism. It couldn’t hurt to just search it up, right? It wasn’t anything classified, he’d be able to see it, Derek hoped. He wasn’t meaning to be nosy, but he was just so curious and confused. He just had to know more.

———————————————————————

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

we're living in a powder keg (and giving off sparks)

Fandom: Star Trek Lower Decks

Rating: M

AO3

Beckett Elizabeth Mariner wakes up with the absolute unshakable knowledge that she has done something unspeakable.

“Oh my fucking god.”

On the pillow across from hers, Brad opens his eyes. He blinks once or twice, squinting at the obnoxious sunlight streaming through the blinds. It creates bars of light slanting across the bed and floor. There’s a brief moment of confusion where he stares up at her owlishly before he groans and rolls over, burying his face in the pillow. Clearly not shaken at all by the unspeakable horror coursing through Beckett’s veins.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God .”

“Please lower your voice,” he mutters, voice muffled almost beyond comprehension. Almost. “I think I have a migraine. Or a hangover.” A pause. “Or both .”

“Oh god oh god oh god-”

Beckett’s comm begins chirping on the nightstand, derailing her mental breakdown. She lunges for it, flips the device open and answers the call. “Yeah?”

“Beckett Mariner, where in god’s name are you?” her mother’s voice shrills across the tiny speaker. Not exactly the distraction she was looking for, but she’ll take it. “I’ve been calling you for hours. I swear to god if you’re in prison again-”

“I’m not in prison!” she hisses. “And that was one time!”

“Six times. In the last month.”

“I- mom -”

“We’re in Wvaxuv,” Brad snaps, snatching the comm out of her hand. “We’ll be there in fifteen. Over.” He snaps the comm shut, throws it at the nightstand on her side, and flops facedown into his pillow again. Beckett, both impressed by Brad hanging up on his captain and horrified by him hanging up on her mom , stares at him, mouth agape.

“You just hung up on my mom.”

“Mffffmmn.”

“My mom , Bradward.”

“Mm.”

“Your Captain .”

This does get a reaction out of Brad, but not quite the one she expected? He peeks one eye out of where he’s currently trying to become one with the bedding. It’s cute, in like a cat-like way. Which is exactly where Beckett is trying to keep her thoughts from going. There is nothing cute or nice about waking up in the same bed as Brad. There’s not.

“I think I’ll care about that when I’m sober,” he says, at last.

“You don’t care that you just hung up on my mom, but you know what city we’re in?” Beckett raises an eyebrow, both impressed and unimpressed. She contains multitudes.

“I always know where I am,” he mumbles, turning his face back into the pillow. “Also, it literally says in the tourist brochure on your nightstand.”

Beckett grins and then stops herself. “Okay, Mister ‘I always know where I am,’ how long will it actually take us to get back to the Cerritos ?”

“ Ten minutes if we get dressed like right now.”

She stops, face heating at the reminder that oh yeah they’re both fucking naked under the duvet. Beckett carefully inches away, toward her end of the bed, just in case. She casts a quick look around the room and locates her clothes on the floor, near the bathroom.

“Don’t look,” she warns. Threatens?

Brad gives her a thumbs up, seemingly content in continuing his faceplant. Beckett decides that she can trust him not to sneak a peak--not that it mattered at this point but she was not thinking about that --and hurriedly dives toward them and gathers them up. She throws them on the bathroom floor and slams the door shut.

“Oh my god.” Beckett stares at the yellowing tiled floor. “Oh my god .” She turns on the sink, cupping the freezing water in her hands and splashing it onto her face. It does little to clear her mind, but it does help with the hangover nausea. She grips the sides of the sink, breathing in and out slowly. After a few moments of this, Beckett finally dares to look in the mirror.

She’s looked worse. Especially after a night of getting blackout drunk. Her hair is down, out of its usual high ponytail. It’s also completely wrecked, she notes, running her fingers through it to pull out the tangles. She looks a little sweaty and her eyes are bloodshot with dark circles rimming them, but nothing about her appearance suggests that she did anything stupid or dangerous last night. All of her limbs and toes are accounted for. All things considered, it’s not that bad.

Well, except for the trail of hickeys going down her neck. Jesus , she thinks, straining her head around to see how far they go. Nevermind, she doesn’t really want to know. That’s definitely going to be a problem to examine later. Much, much later.

She quickly pulls her pants on, studiously ignoring her sore muscles and the purple bruises in other places besides her neck and shoulder. Fuck . She can hear her comm chirping again through the bathroom door, but doesn’t make any attempts to hurry and answer it. From the sound of things--or lack thereof--Brad isn’t making an effort either. He probably decided, as she has, that they can get reemed out when they actually get back on the ship.

Beckett pulls her tank top over her head, frowning when she realizes that it does absolutely nothing to hide the bruises on her neck. Where the fuck is her jacket? She pops back into the bedroom.

“Where’s my jacket?”

“You threw it in the Gezorvazors’ fountain.”

“And you didn’t stop me? Dude, that was my favorite jacket.”

He makes a vague hand gesture, still face down on the bed. “You can borrow mine.”

“Yours isn’t nice like mine is,” she snaps, picking his weird hoodie/jean jacket hybrid. “Mine is leather, and badass, and-” She slips his jacket on, pulling the collar up to hide the hickeys. “-And. Oh shit this is comfortable.” The fabric is soft in the way that clothes only get after you’ve owned them for years and years and ruined the fabric with too much fabric softener and shit. Also, it’s a little big around her shoulders, and Beckett’s kind of a slut for comfy clothes that are too big for her. “You’re not getting this back,” she realizes out loud.

Brad finally lifts his head off the pillow, eyes zeroing in on her. His face is unreadable. “Huh.”

“What?”

Her comm chirps again. Brad picks it up and throws it to her. “Call your mom.” He jerks his head toward the balcony on the other side of the suite. “Or don’t. Either way, we’re gonna be late.” He makes to get out of bed, which is Beckett’s cue to get the fuck out of there . She escapes onto the balcony which is less of a balcony and more of a ledge.

She flips the comm open and answers it.

“ Your mom is flipping out,” D’Vana says. “She thinks you went AWOL and kidnapped Boimler again.”

“Her thinking that is a thousand times better than what actually happened,” Beckett replies, relieved. “She’s not leaving, is she?”

“ Without you? Fat chance.” There’s a pause. “So are you gonna tell me what did happen-”

“Just a long night of drinking and bad decisions. I’ll see you back on the Cerritos, ” she swiftly interrupts. “If my mom asks, everything is fine. Don’t worry.” She hangs up over D’Vana’s sputtering protests. “Shit.” What was she going to tell D’Vana. What was she going to tell her mom?

A gust of cool wind blows through the street, cutting straight through her. She wraps the jacket tightly around her. It smells like Brad. “ Shit. ”

_____

Beckett sits in her mom’s ready room with a paper cup of coffee heating her hands. The smell isn’t doing great things to her nauseous stomach, but the warmth radiating through her fingers is soothing and the caffeine is knocking out most of her headache. Turn of the century and there still isn’t a definitive hangover cure for humans. Go figure.

Her mother’s slightly raised eyebrow is both a question and a criticism. She has too much tact to say that Beckett looks like shit, but they both know Beckett looks like shit. Damnit.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Freeman says at last, rubbing her temple with two fingers. “Just please stop violating regulations while on shore leave.”

Beckett wants to ask if this means she can violate regulations while off shore leave, but feels too shitty to get into that argument. “You got it, Cap’n,” she says, instead of emoting. She gives her mom a lazy, two fingered salute.

“Also, please remember to keep up with your birth control, I don’t really need any Beckett/Boimler hybrids running around on this ship-”

“Literally what the fuck -” Beckett all but shrieks, voice way to loud for the hangover she’s sporting. “ Why would you even say-”

Her mom looks pointedly at Beckett’s bruised neck. “I’m not a complete idiot, kiddo.”

“Oh my god,” Beckett buries her face in her hands. “Oh my god .”

Freeman rolls her eyes, flicking her fingers at her daughter. “Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s my job to embarrass you. Now get out of my sight. And ask T’Ana for a hangover cure.”

This has Beckett sitting up. “Wha- T’Ana said there wasn’t a hangover cure .”

Flat look. “Beckett. What century is this?”

Beckett scowls at the desk. “Ripped off for five years and counting,” she mumbles.

_____

Avoiding Brad was harder than she thought it was going to be.

(Not that she’s avoiding him. She’s not.)

(She totally is. )

When he first came back to the Cerritos --almost two years ago now?--it had been easy. He’d been in a state of remorse/guilt, and had basically allowed Beckett to call the shots. This was generally considered a bad idea by absolutely everyone, because it meant that Beckett swung dangerously between watching his every move like a crazed stalker to having nothing to do with him. It had accumulated in Sam and D’Vana going the old-fashioned route by locking them in a storage closet.

Things had eventually ironed out after that. Nothing was ever quite the same--it couldn’t be with Brad’s newfound confidence and Beckett’s decision to see him as an equal rather than someone to mentor--but it was better that way. They worked better that way. At least until Beckett had fucked everything up by having drunk sex with her best friend of four years.

So here Beckett was, hiding in medbay because she thought she might have seen Brad walk by.

“You gotta admit, this is weird, even for you,” D’Vana says.

Beckett peaks over the biobed. “He’s gone, right?”

“Honey, what’s going on between you two? Do I need to fight him? I can totally fight him.”

“What?”

“I mean, the last time you were this mad at him was because--”

“I’m not mad at him,” Beckett waves her off, not too keen on dredging up ancient history. Shitty ancient history at that. “Everything’s fine.”

“Everything’s fine,” D’Vana repeats dubiously. “Which is why you’ve been hiding in medbay--your least favorite place--all day. Instead of doing fun things, like moving everything in Ransom’s cabin a little to the left or putting extra espresso shots in T’Ana’s coffee.”

Beckett grins. “We should put extra espresso shots in T’Ana’s coffee.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I’m not.”

“ So are.”

Beckett scowls. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

“I am, as in I will help you bury the body if need be, but as it stands there isn’t a body to bury and you’re in my way.”

“Rude!”

“Coward.”

“Killjoy.”

“ Both of you, out,” T’Ana snaps, from like 20 feet away. She’s not even looking at them, but one of her ears is swiveled in their direction.

D’Vana gives Beckett a dirty look, turning on her heel and marching out of the medbay. Beckett follows, more subdued.

“Seriously, you need to get your shit together,” D’Vana says, once she’s caught up to her. “I promise whatever happened between you and Brad isn’t as terrible as you’re thinking. It’s probably even fixable.”

“Real encouraging, bestie.”

“I try.” D’Vana gives her a friendly punch on the arm that’s probably going to bruise. “Now go find your man.”

_____

Becket does not, in fact, “go find her man.” First of all, because she doesn’t have one, but also because the idea of facing Brad right now is so mortifying--seriously what is she supposed to say? --that the thought makes her break out in hives.

(Not literally, but still.)

A couple more days of this has Sam and D’Vana returning to the tried and true method of locking Beckett and Brad in a storage closet to sort out their shit.

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!” D’Vana shouts through the door.

Beckett flips her the bird, even though she can see, scowling at the door. “Fuck you, D’Vana Tendi!”

There is no response, meaning that her ex-friends have left her alone with her thoughts, Brad, and Brad’s very loud thoughts. Goddammit.

“Look, just say it,” Brad suddenly snaps after the longest, most awkward pause Beckett has ever had the misfortune to be a part of. His entire body is tenser than Beckett has seen in a hot minute. Probably since before he transferred back to the Cerritos.

“Say what?” she says back hotly, now not really sure if they’re about to argue about something, but also not one to back down from a fight.

“I don’t know-just. Whatever it is- just please. I’m tired, D’Vana’s tired--hell the whole ship is tired of this. So just.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I know it was bad, I know that you regretted it.”

“I. What.”

“But, you’re also my best friend and I don’t want things to go back to how they were when. When I came back and you hated me and I was shitty to you and-” Brad stops messing up his hair. “Just say it was awful and we can forget it ever happened.”

Beckett steels herself as she finally admits: “I don’t remember it.”

It was Brad’s turn to go still and quiet.

“Brad--I. You know how I get when I’m drunk.” Beckett has never felt embarrassed by her drinking habits, but now she wonders if she should. Okay, she’s not, not really. But she was at least regretful that she had done something so stupid as fucking up one of her best relationships while intoxicated. Literally. “I don’t remember anything after the sixth drink,” she groans. “I think I was messing with your hair?”

“You said it was the color of jellyfish.”

She manages a weak smile. “Yeah.”

“And then I said jellyfish were translucent and have been extinct for over a thousand years on Earth so your point was redundant and that’s when you kissed me.”

“Oh.” Beckett wracks her memory. Nothing comes up. She doesn’t know if she feels proud or scared by the fact that she was the one to initiate whatever happened between them. “Was it. Good?”

“For me.” Brad shrugs, nonchalant in a way she wishes he weren’t. “Can’t really say if you liked it or not. Rest of the night is.” He makes a gesture with one hand. “Fuzzy.”

“But you remember more details than I do.” Beckett takes a step toward him.

He takes a step back as she crowds his space. Swallows. “Guess I do.”

“Was that good? What came after?” she asks, steadily, taking another step toward him.

His back hits the wall. He makes a little oof sound, maybe at the impact, but more likely at her question. “I-it was fuzzy ,” he reiterates, voice pitching up.

“Just answer the question, Bradward. I thought this was honesty hour for-”

“Yes it was good!” he snaps. “It was awesome, and earth-shattering, and all the stupid fucking cliches we both make fun of and mock together, and-and you didn’t care the next morning! Actually, no, you were fucking horrified-- so I panicked and--”

Beckett kisses him. It’s a short peck, hardly a brush of lips really, but enough to leave him gaping like a fish after. Kind of shocked, like a computer bluescreening. Goddamnit, he is cute.

“I. I- what .”

Beckett carefully leans in, brushing his hair out of his eyes with one hand--giving him time to opt out or push her away if he wants-- and kisses him again. This time she goes a bit more slowly, somehow coaxing his panicked mind into letting him kiss her back. Only for a moment, sadly. As soon as he begins softening against her, mouth opening slightly to kiss her back, he draws away, face disturbed. “Beck, what are you doing?” His voice is weak.

“Experimenting,” she replies, eyes quickly darting back and forth between his.

“ Experi -”

“I mean, there must be a reason I jumped straight from drunken makeout to lets fuck on our last night of shore leave. I’m just trying to find the missing puzzle piece.” She leans back in. Kisses him again. Pulls back almost immediately. “That means kiss me back, dumba-”

Brad cups her face and kisses her back. Like really kisses her back. Like tilts her face to the side until the angle is just right and slips his tongue in to slide against hers-

“Fuck,” Beckett says, when they draw back for air. “ Fuck.”

Brad drops his hands, but makes no move to pull out of her space. “Got enough data?” he asks sarcastically.

“I might need a larger sample size,” she says breathlessly, eyes darting back down to his lips.

“Well, feel free to go makeout with whomever-”

“Not that kind of sample size, dummy. I'm working with just one test subject, you see.” Her hand fingers the top button of his shirt almost thoughtfully. “My sample size needs to be bigger in quantity, not diversity.”

“ Beck- ” he whines.

“What, so you get to remember this awesome, showstopping one-night stand while I wonder forever if you're actually as good as my sore everything implies?”

Brad’s face visibly heats up. “Well, it's not a one-night stand if we do it again, is it?” he mutters.

“No,” Beckett replies curtly, making her eye contact as direct as possible. “It's not.”

“And you really want to fuck in a storage closet.”

“It can't be much worse than on a planet of jellybean aliens.”

“Gezorvazorians,” he corrects. Pauses, considering. “It might not be that good sober.”

“Are you seriously trying to talk me out of having sex with you?” Beckett groans again in exasperation. “This is literally a one time, limited offer, Bradward.”

“I have anxiety, Beckett! It was fine when I was on drink number eight, but I'm going to freak out if I do this without-”

“Oh my god, just stop thinking-” she shoves him back into the wall, hands fisting his stupid Starfleet shirt, “-just do what feels good.”

Apparently what feels good is letting Beckett once again call the shots on this one, like she does on everything. He lets her crowd him back against the wall, pop each of his shirt buttons and makeout as aggressively as they can while still standing upright.

“For the record,” she says, in between kisses, “if you don't want to have sex with me, that's a hundred percent fine, I don't want to pressure you-”

Brad rolls his eyes. “You really gotta-” kisses her again, “make up your mind-” her hand pulls at the short hair on the nape of his neck, eliciting a high pitched noise “- getting mixed signals-”

“My mind is made up, it's just that I realized that I maaay have been a bit pushy-”

Brad pulls away to give her a deadpan expression. “Yeah, if there's one thing I do remember about you in bed, it's that you're kind of pushy. Actually, scratch that, you’re relentless.”

Beckett flushes. “I-”

“I don't mind. Just as long as you're sure.”

“I am,” she meets his gaze challengingly, fighting her blush down.

“Cool.” He nods once, curtly. The image doesn’t exactly mesh right with his disheveled hair and unbuttoned shirt. “Cool, cool, cool. I'm probably going to freak out in the middle of this, fyi.”

“Don't say ‘fyi,’ it's lame.” She glances around the room. “So. Floor or wall?”

_____

They don't actually fuck in the storage closet, much to Beckett's disappointment and everyone else's general embarrassment. D’Vana in particular is going back and forth between remorse and spastic giggling. It’s just as well. Brad really couldn’t stop laughing at her after her “floor or wall” comment which made getting laid kind of hard. No pun intended.

_____

The next few days are kind of a living hell for the Cerritos. Which is unbelievable, considering how weird Beckett and Brad had made it for everyone before their conversation in the storage closet.

It really really doesn’t help that Brad’s bunk is like. Right over hers. Goddamnnit.

“Good news is we have shore leave again in three weeks,” Jennifer says, handing her a wrench.

Beckett, who’s holding a screwdriver in her mouth, makes whahed? noise, eyes glued to the charred remains of the food replicator. Jen leans back against the counter casually, flipping her silver hair over her shoulder. She’s not really helping Beckett, just watching while she takes advantage of her own buffer time. Beckett doesn’t mind because a) everyone’s entitled to their own buffer time and b) Jen isn’t bad company. At least when she isn’t involving herself in the soap opera worthy drama that is Beckett’s life. Like right now.

Jen gives her a bemused look. “You don’t have to tell me what happened last time,” she says, which is great because Beckett has no intention of bringing up the events of their last shore leave, “But you want my advice? Fix it this time. For everyone’s sake.”

Beckett takes the screwdriver out of her mouth and places it on the counter. “I literally have no idea what you are talking about,” she says in lieu of feeling an emotion.

“Me neither,” Jen admits, sighing. “Look, I don’t put much stock in the rumor mill, but even I know there’s something going on between you and Boimler.”

Oh. Shit.

“Oh, shit,” Beckett says.

Jen grins. “Yeah, shit Mariner. Who’d have thought: you and Brad Boimler. Six years ago, I’d have laughed in your face.”

Beckett makes a face. It’s not a laughing one. More of a grimace, really. “It’s not whatever you’re thinking.”

“With you it rarely is.” Jen looks wary, but the corners of her eyes still crinkle with amusement. “I’m just saying, I know something’s up. Don’t really care, but it’s making this ship socially awkward. I refuse to work somewhere socially awkward, Mariner.”

“Oh, we are in agreement,” Beckett quickly defends, holding her hands up.

“Good, then fix whatever the fuck’s going on. I can’t take much more of this.”

Beckett doesn’t have much to say to that. Mostly because she’s in total agreement, but also because that’s the moment D’Vana comes around the corner and she’d rather not get Into It with the perky Orion today.

_____

It’s Sam who brings it up. “So, shore leave on Earth,” he says. “Who’s down?”

The four of them are sitting at the bar, pretending like nothing weird is going on between two of their members. It helps that Sam is sitting between her and Brad, but it also doesn’t because he keeps catching them staring at each other. It’s super fucking awkward, so Beckett takes the opportunity to direct their attentions elsewhere.

She groans loudly, dropping her face onto her folded arms. “If I wanted to be on Earth I wouldn’t have joined Starfleet,” she grumbles. “This fucking sucks.”

D’Vana perks up immediately, like Beckett knew she would. “I love Earth!” she says, enthusiastically gesturing with her martini glass. “So many different cultures and languages and religions on one planet. If I wasn’t stationed in deep space, I’d have asked for a position there.”

“All those religions and cultures and shit is why Earth has a reputation of not getting along with itself,” Beckett mumbles into her arm.

“That’s not specific to Earth though,” Brad points out, pretty much speaking for the first time that night. He looks a bit surprised, like he hadn’t meant to talk to her at all or make eye contact. Which was most likely the case, considering. Still, he pushes on. “I mean, how many interplanetary disputes have we broken up in the last year alone?”

“Yeah, but I don’t come from those planets so I don’t have to feel bad about it,” Beckett mutters.

Sam snorts. “So is that a no?”

Beckett shrugs. “Fuck if I know. Will there be alcohol?”

“There can be.”

She flutters her eyelashes at Sam. “Well, if you insist then.”

Brad and D’Vana exchange a look.

_____

Earth isn’t too bad.

Beckett should know, she was born there.

The distinct lack of shenanigans she can get up to are fairly disappointing, however. And the distinct presence of cops is still as annoying as ever. But Sam drags the four through downtown San Francisco, intent on making the most of it.

He is determined to teach D’Vana how to surf, so they find themselves at one of those swim stores--the ones that smell like chlorine and weed and have like a display of goggles that takes up two entire ailes and the walls are covered in surf boards and body boards, and there’s little naked mermaid figurines everywhere. It’s one of those out-of-this-world vibes that has Beckett remembering the little things about earth she misses.

Sam somehow cuts a deal on four surf boards and some swim trunks for him and Brad. Beckett, who had the foresight to bring her own swimwear, doesn’t spend a dime on anything but the salt water taffy up at the front counter. D’Vana, who showed up for shore leave already in a bikini and has chronic steal Beckett’s food syndrome, walks out of there the least broke.

“So we want to start in the whitewater,” Sam says, rubbing copious amounts of sunscreen on D’Vana’s back. It’s a wise move, considering the last time they spent free time on a sunny planet, D’Vana walked away with the worst sunburns. “That way we can work on your stance without any pressure.”

“Speak for yourselves,” Beckett flips her shades down. “I’m heading out for the Big Bois. The Chungos, if you will.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Have you ever surfed before?”

“Does doing handstands on a floatie in my pool count?”

“No.”

“Then listen to the expert. We also probably don’t want to go way out until we get wetsuits. Trust me on that one,” Sam says, grimacing. “I mean, I’ve gone without, but it’s cold as shit out there.”

Beckett snatches the sunscreen from Sam’s hand and squirts a glob on her calf. “Fine, defeat me with your logic. You want some of this, white bread?” she asks Brad, who very much lives up to said nickname. He sighs, accepting the bottle from her.

All sunscreen up, Sam stands, picking up his surfboard. “I’ll take D’Vana out first,” he says in a blatant show of favoritism.

Brad and Beckett roll their eyes in tandem. “Whatever,” Beckett says, shooing them off with one hand. “I’m taking a nap.” She flops down on a towel under the giant umbrella that D’Vana got from god knows where . Brad looks from her to Sam and D’Vana unsurely before deciding that he’ll strike out on his own for a bit.

“Don’t drown,” Beckett says, already half asleep.

“Duh.” She can practically hear his eye roll. “Remember to wake up in two hours and apply more sunscreen,” he shoots back.

She gives him the o-k hand signal, not opening up her eyes. “You got it, Mom.”

_____

A few hours later--way past when Beckett was supposed to dump more chemicals on her skin (and yes she’s going to be feeling that later)--Beckett wakes up to Sam and D’Vana’s dulcet tones. By dulcet tones she actually means they’re belting out I’ve Had the Time of My Life in tandem with the music booming on the speaker Sam brought because they are those annoying beach people .

D’Vana must’ve gone to one of the street vendors on the boardwalk, because she has a tray of tiny sandwiches and a paper bag of popcorn that she’s sharing with Sam. Beckett tries to get in on that action, but because D’Vana is the biggest hypocrite Beckett knows, she finds herself banned from the snacks.

“You and Brad can get your own,” D’Vana says stubbornly.

Beckett rolls her eyes. “Where is he, anyway?”

D’Vana points vaguely off in the direction of the water. Brad is sitting on his surfboard, looking more relaxed than Beckett’s seen him in a while.

She stands up, stretching out the kinks and stiffness in her joints, grinning when Sam winces at the cracking of her spine. Shaking the fogginess away, Beckett makes her way out into the waves, shivering at their chill. In a stroke of genius, or maybe just chaotic evillness, Beckett ducks under the water, swimming beneath where Brad is peacefully sitting.

“Nice view,” Beckett says, bursting out of the water. Brad flails, arms pinwheeling. He does fall off his perch on the surfboard, but Beckett catches it before the waves can take it away. She heaves herself gracefully over the side, sitting with her legs in the water. After a moment she offers a hand to a very sulky looking Brad, who’s usually coiffed hair is plastered to his skull by the water.

He takes her proffered hand and sits beside her.

After a moments pause, where they sit bobbing in the waves and watching the sunset, Brad says, “I would like to say that not even the holodeck can recreate colors like that buuut-”

“We do have top-of-the-line technology,” Beckett agrees. “It’s still nice knowing it’s real, though,” she adds.

“How sentimental of you,” he says, almost teasingly. It does wonders for the tension Beckett’s holding.

“Shut up,” she gets out, shoving his shoulder good-naturedly. It’s not hard enough to push him back in the water, but it’s enough that he swats her off. “I’m just saying .”

“So Earth isn’t so bad, after all?” he asks, smug.

Beckett rolls her eyes. “I guess ,” she allows, grudgingly. “But don’t go telling anyone.”

Brad just grins, turning back to the sunset. They don’t say much more after that.

_____

Beckett is lying in bed, staring at the ceiling of the hotel they’re staying at overnight, when she comes to a decision. “I’m going to have sex with Brad.”

D’Vana, who Beckett had been pretty sure was sleeping, chokes in the dark. “Beckett what the fuuu -”

Beckett sits up. “I’m going to have sex with Brad,” she reiterates, throwing the covers off.

The bedside lamp clicks on, washing the room in a pale, yellow light. D’Vana’s expression is somewhere between I’m too sleep-deprived to deal with this shit and a murder is happening tonight .

“Like, right now?” she asks, finally.

“No time like the present,” Beckett says, already halfway out the door. Whatever protests D’Vana has is cut off when the door slides shut behind her. Sam and Brad are staying just across the hall, so it takes no time to get there and knock on the door.

“So are we gonna fuck or what?” Beckett asks the minute Brad shows his face. Sam makes a choked, gagging noise from somewhere behind him. Brad makes an equally despairing sound.

“Sam, could you-?”

“Gone! I'm gone.” Sam pushes past them, heading for the other suite. “I'll just sleep with D’Vana-- in D’Vana’s room!” He hurriedly course corrects, “In her room. I'm--I'll. Bye.” He ducks behind the door, slamming it.

“Yeesh, my girl ain't getting any tonight.”

“But we are apparently,” Brad dryly remarks. Or tries to dryly remark. It comes out strangled. “I thought that was a limited offer.”

“Yeah well, maybe I changed my mind. Are you gonna invite me in or what?”

Brad opens the door wider. “I didn't know you needed a literal invitation like some sort of vampire.”

“I was being polite.” She brushes past him. “I am capable of that on occasion.” She flops on the bed with forced bravado. Brad starts doing that thing where he avoids eye contact but realizes it's awkward so he then makes too much eye contact. Beckett resists the urge to tease him about it, if only because she's starting to feel weird about everything too.

“I’m not saying no-”

“Jesus, okay, rejection time-”

“But right now might not be the best time,” he finishes, face crimson.

“What?” She glances around the room. “Master suite in a five star hotel in San Francisco is a worse time for you than a storage closet? I didn't know you had an exhibition thing-”

“ I don't.” Brad scowls. “I'm just not in the mood.”

Oh.

“Oh,” she says, leaning back with her hands supporting her behind her. She kind of feels like an asshole for just assuming he’d be down anytime. There’s another moment of silence. Awkward.

Then, “I have some old timey soap-opera that Jen gave me, on my padd. You down?”

_____

“I don’t think this is a soap opera,” Brad says, ten minutes into their third episode.

They’re both lying on top of the covers, padd propped on a pillow, watching a collection of random episodes Beckett seemingly has. There’s about four feet of yawning distance between them, four impossible feet that’s frankly starting to piss Beckett off for reasons she’s trying not to examine.

“He’s married to his best friends’ daughter which means his mother-in-law made out with him,” Beckett replies, rolling her eyes. “His wife and her parents are pretty much the same age. He gets assassinated by his wife who was trained by a cultist group to take him down. How is that not a soap opera?”

Brad shrugs. “It just seems to be more action based.”

“Give it time, you’ll get it.”

Silence as they watch the main characters get chased by dinosaurs. Brad, surprisingly, does not offer up why it’s unrealistic--(she can totally hear him lecturing on about how dinosaurs actually had feathers, Beckett, and that one was definitely bipedal why is it on all fours?)-- instead tapping his fingers against the mattress and occasionally spacing out.

Whatever. Beckett’s perfectly comfortable reclining on the other side of the bed and ignoring him.

“It’s not me, right?” she blurts out. “I didn’t like, push you too much and now you want nothing to do with me?”

Way to sound insecure, Mariner.

Brad startles in surprise. “What? No!” He sits up. “Why would-”

“I don’t know, it’s just weird! And we’re not weird like this--we watch shit all the time together and make fun of it and it’s not socially awkward!”

“I’m not trying to be socially awkward! I just-”

“Well you are -”

“I thought you were mad at me ?” He tries, looking askance.

Beckett blinks across the bed at him. “You thought-- what --that I was mad at you for not being up for-”

“If you make that pun, I swear to god-”

“Not a pun, I’m being literal-you thought -”

“Beck-”

“You thought I was upset that you aren’t in the mood for-for my weird need to-to-” She can’t even finish it.

“Ughrhrh.” Brad covers his eyes with his hands. “It sounds bad when you say it out loud.”

“Yeah no shit, Bradward.” She huffs loudly, turning back to the episode only to find that it’s over.

“Sorry,” he says at last, still into his hands. “I’m having a weird night.”

Aaaand now Beckett feels like shit. Because of course she was making everything about her when there were other people emotionally involved. God she needed to talk to her therapist.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asks, nervously tapping her foot at the air.

Brad drops his hands, staring at her flatly. “Do you really want to hear my weird TMI relationship hangups?”

Oh fuck, it’s gonna be that kind of talk.

“Uh, yes? I tell you my weird shit all the time-”

“ Unsolicited -”

“And you don’t give a shit. Why would I be upset about you telling me your weird shit? Is it a kink thing? I bet it’s a kink thing.”

“It’s not a-! Just-just let me talk!”

Beckett makes a phhhft- ing noise, but relents. She twiddles her thumbs for a moment, a mannerism she picked up from D’Vana over the years. Brad’s eyes zero in on the motion for a moment, as he nervously begins tapping his fingers against the mattress again and then stopping to clasp his hands tightly.

“You know how I don’t really. Date people?” he tries, wincing slightly.

“Yeah, sure.” She shrugs.

“Have you ever wondered why-”

“Because our friend group is so batshit fucking certifiable that any potential boyfriends or girlfriends get scared off. It’s why Amina and I were never gonna get back together.” Beckett doesn’t say duh , but it lingers in the air.

Brad rolls his eyes. “ Yes that, but also I don’t date people for the same reason it took D’Vana six years to figure out she and Sam were dating.”

Oh.

“Oh. Oh .” Beckett blinks for a moment, world realigning. “Wait, how did I not know that about you? I know everything about you.” Which is entirely the wrong response to your best friend sharing something that personal, but Brad doesn’t seem to pick up on it so Beckett thinks it’s okay. Hopefully.

“Apparently, not,” he replies, amused.

“But, you’re like. Okay hooking up every once in a while.” God, she hopes so. If she pressured her best friend into having drunk sex with her-

“Yeah, I’m in the mood every once in a while. Like, once a year kind of once in a while,” Brad says casually, alleviating her worries. “Just not right now.”

“Oh okay, cool.” A pause. “Thank you for telling me.”

He rolls his eyes again like she knows she’s going over every social media post and session with her therapist concerning how to handle your best friend coming out to you in her head and settles down next to her. “Whatever. What’s happening?” he asks, turning back to the padd.

Beckett apparently has episodes out of order because the main characters are hijacking the 1969 Earth space missions. “An alien race that controls humans through post-hypnotic suggestions is giving them the technology to land on their own moon.”

Brad huffs, amused. “Naturally.”

_____

Everything kind of goes back to normal after that.

Well, as normal as things get on the Cerritos .

Beckett takes her conversation with Brad to mean that he’s not interested in le sex with her (at the moment anyway) and backing off is in their best interests.

Whatever, she didn’t really know what she was going on about anyway. It’s not as if she was using not remembering their one-night stand as an excuse to hook up with Brad because she’s suffering from unacknowledged requited feelings.

(She’s not. She’s not . Goddamnit.)

The ship seems to give a collective sigh of relief, now that Beckett and Brad aren’t doing...whatever it was they were. Beckett is back to annoying the shit out of her best friend and Brad is back to pretending like he hates everything she stands for. It’s a comfortable equilibrium that Beckett’s glad to be back to.

Even if she still ponders all of the what ifs .

_____

If Beckett’s life is a movie--which is a metaphor she hasn’t used yet, but now’s probably the best time to start because the drama of hooking up with her best friend is totally some awkward comedy shit--then the Halloween party Sam and Jen throw is the punch line. Or the climax--whatever, no pun intended.

Beckett didn’t even know Halloween was like still a Thing until she and her friend group came across a Halloween themed shop during shore leave.

“Isn’t it July?” Beckett had pondered. “I’m pretty sure this holiday is supposed to be in October?”

“It’s one of those “Holiday in July” shops,” Brad said, rolling his eyes at D’Vana who’d donned a witches hat on and was cackling appropriately. “They were totally a thing when I was a kid.”

Sam pulled out his comm. “You know how Jen wanted to throw a party for the end of our assignment in the Neutral Zone? I think I know what theme we should go with.”

Beckett had laughed, delighted at the idea of them throwing a Halloween Bash on the Cerritos , but hadn’t taken it seriously until she walked into her favorite bar on the ship, which was now decked out in the most ridiculous decorations she’s ever seen.

“This is amazing,” Beckett says.

D’Vana grins. “Right? I think I’m going to marry Jen.”

“If I don’t get there first,” Sam retorts, darting off in Jen’s direction. D’Vana shouts after him, breaking out into a run. Beckett shakes her head and heads off to find a corner to enjoy her alcohol in peace.

She finds one, and gets through one red, plastic cup of cheap beer before Brad is at her shoulder.

“So, we’re done being weird, right?” Brad confirms. Surprised that he actually has the backbone to bring The Incident up, Beckett shrugs, eyes still on a dancing D’Vana. She’s somehow roped to humans into a weird-threeway dance that is honestly making Beckett wish she had a recorder device on her.

“Yeah, we’re good,” she says. “Sorry for. You know.”

“It’s cool,” Brad replies, giving her a thumbs up. “I mean, it was bound to happen eventually?”

This gives Beckett pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, someone in our friend group was eventually going to hook up and make everything awkward,” Brad rubs the back of his neck, laughing, well, awkwardly . “Sucks that it was us but,” he shrugs in a what can you do way.

Beckett nods back, almost absentmindedly. “Yeah. I mean. Yeah,” she finishes off, lamely and god this is awkward. “Could have been worse,” she finally settles on.

“Could’ve been me and D’Vana,” Brad agrees, nose wrinkling at the thought. She’s pretty sure he had a crush when they first met, but it mellowed out over the years. Especially after D’Vana made it clear to a handsy ensign that she was only interested in girls .

(And being in a co-dependent/queerplatonic relationship with one Samantha Rutherford, but that was beside the point.)

Still, something about the suggestion of the two hooking up leaves a sour pit in Beckett’s stomach.

“It’s too bad though,” she blurts out, “that it happened like the way it did.”

Brad pauses, brow furrowed.

“I mean,” she bulldozes on when he doesn’t say anything. “If I’d have had a choice on how it would have happened...I would have done things differently.”

“Oh?” Brad angles his body toward hers. She leans back against the wall, trying to calm her racing heart.

“Yeah.” Her voice sounds far away.

“How would you have done things?”

“I-” She fists her palms and then forces herself to relax them. “Well, for starters I wouldn’t have been drunk .”

“Ah.” Brad winces, probably remembering the terrible hangovers they had the next day. “Yeah that probably wasn’t the best -”

“And it would have meant something.”

There. She said it.

It’s what her mom’s been hinting at for years now, what D’Vana had been getting at and Jen and Sam and even Brad himself; the one truth that Beckett had been shoving to the back of her mind, since even before that shared night with Brad.

Brad Boimler is her best friend and she’s in love with him.

The pause goes on for too long. Beckett doesn’t dare look at him, doesn’t dare breathe. She keeps her eyes firmly on D’Vana, who’s been joined by a slightly tipsy Sam. They dance around each other, ridiculous and fond.

“It did mean something.”

Beckett whips her head around, meeting Brad’s gaze disbelievingly. He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing.

“Of course it meant something,” he says. “It was with you.”

Beckett likes to think that she’s smarter than the average person. And if not smarter, witty enough to pass as smarter. She has an automated response for every situation, a retort for every comment, a comeback for every line. There isn’t much that phases her-at least not until she woke up in a hotel room, naked, with her best friend at her side. And just like then, Beckett finds herself speechless.

“Oh,” she says, dumbly, as if she just hadn’t shown her own hand less than a minute ago.

“Mmm,” Brad agrees, looking stressed out. He doesn’t take it back though. He doesn’t do much of anything, actually, beyond staring at her intensely. Then, “Oh god, I made it weird again.”

“No, no,” Beckett holds her hands up placatingly as Brad begins to freak out. “ I made it weird first, you don’t have to-”

“Well I made it weirder!”

“No,” Beckett grabs his collar, shaking him slightly, “-no you didn’t -”

“ Then why are you freaking out? ” He throws his hands up in the air, almost dislodging her grip on his shirt. She tightens it, bringing him down to her eye level.

“I’m not freaking out you’re freaking out -”

“Then why are you the one all up in my personal spa-”

“I’m not-”

“ Jesus Christ , WILL YOU TWO JUST KISS!” D’Vana shouts over the booming bass of Spooky Scary Skeletons Communist Remix.

Beckett freezes , as does Boimler. She’s suddenly aware that the two of them are standing, nose to nose, practically shouting at each other--even though the loud music drowns out what they’re saying to the people around them (thank god).

Beckett slowly lets go of Boimler’s shirt.

“Uhm.” She blinks up at him, every part of her completely aware that she left the ball in his court last time they had an opportunity to do anything.

Brad looks like he’s wrestling with himself--not an uncommon emotion when it comes to the uptight little dude--eyes darting from both of her eyes to her lips, to over her shoulder where D’Vana is probably being a little creep. Then, all of the tension bleeds out of his body, all at once and a determined look lights up in his eyes.

“ Fuck it,” he says, cupping her face and kissing her.

_____

The walk from the bar to Beckett’s room has never seemed longer, but maybe it has something to do with the fact that they can’t keep their hands off each other.

Even with the buzz of alcohol in her system, Beckett feels entirely present for once in her life. She pushes Brad back against her door, pressing kisses into his lips and the length of his jawline. He gives a little huff when she nips at his skin, pushing her off enough to get a good look at her.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Never been surer,” she replies, already having a go at his buttons. She gets down to the final one, pleased to note that this time they aren’t interrupted. “Are you sure?” she blinks up at him. “You’re in the mood, right?”

“Yes, Beck, I’m in the mood.” Brad rolls her eyes. It looks fond. “Are you in the mood?”

“So so in the mood,” she agrees.

“Great, now that we’ve covered the consent end of this-”

Beckett interrupts, diving back in for more kisses, much to his bemusement.

A few minutes later finds the two of them on her bed, sans their clothes. Beckett wants to feel very very smug about the fact that it’s been a while since that first, mistaken one night stand and Brad still has bruises in places unmentionable, but she’s kind of in the same boat.

“Holy shit, watch it ,” she swats at his face as he kind of nips at a dark bruise on her thigh.

“Oh I am .”

“Stop, that’s not sexy,” she kicks his shoulder, scowling when he snorts.

“Uh-huh.”

“No, no it’s not .”

“Yeah, okay, I stopped doing it .” Brad stares up at her unblinkingly for a moment.

Beckett stares back, arms folded-which feels weird because she’s super naked right now, but she’s already started doing it and Beckett fucking commits to shit-scowl firmly in place. Their little stare off only lasts for a minute longer before Beckett groans, “ Ugh , do it again.”

Brad does not, in fact, do it again because he's laughing too hard at her.

Beckett raises an eyebrow, flipping them over. Brad does not look like he minds, though, blinking up at her with equal amounts bemusement and what Beckett is assuming is appreciation. Whatever, it’s not as if Beckett doesn’t know that she’s smoking hot. It’s nice to see that Brad can acknowledge it though.

“Sooo,” he says, hands on her hips, steadying her as she grabs a scrunchy off the nightstand to pull her wayward hair out of her eyes. “How do you want to do this?”

Beckett takes a moment to make herself comfortable in his lap. “How did we do this last time?”

Brad’s face turns red. “Uhm, I’m not sure if-”

Beckett grins, leaning in. “How’d we do it last time, Brad?”

“ Beckett ,” he whines. She flicks his nose, but then leans in to give him a quick peck. “That’s cheating,” he tells her.

She shrugs, unrepentant. “Well you have all the time in the world to make an honest woman out of m-”

“ Stoooop ,” Brad covers his eyes with his hands. “I hate you. Maybe we should ’ve been drunk for this.”

“I have tequila under the bed.”

“Why do you-nevermind.” Brad sits up, jostling her slightly. “I really shouldn’t be surprised anymore.”

“Too much talking, more kissing,” Beckett says, pressing a couple of featherlight kisses on his lips. She gets her way--as always--and there’s very little talking after that.

(That’s a lie, of course, because it’s BeckettandBrad, meaning that there’s a lot shit-talk and laughing and an embarrassing amount of awkward moments where Brad elbows her in the eye or Beckett makes a noise that’s distinctly not sexy, but honestly? Neither of them would have it any other way.)

_____

The next day goes like this:

Beckett shows up to her shift 40 minutes late, a string of freshly made hickeys on her neck and a shit-eating grin on her face. Freeman takes one look at her and reassigns her off the Bridge for the day, muttering something incomprehensible about grandbabies that Beckett’s forcibly not thinking too hard about.

She finds D’Vana just outside of medbay, who looks utterly delighted by Beckett’s disheveled appearance.

“So, everything���s fine between you two?” D’Vana is grinning a little evilly.

Beckett throws an arm over her shoulder, delighted as always over their height difference. “Oh so fine, mi amore.”

D’Vana shoves her off, but looks just as pleased as Beckett feels. “Thank god,” she says. “I couldn’t take much more of your sad, sad faces. It was embarrassing.”

This gives Beckett pause. “Hey, we weren’t that bad,” she protests.

“Oh, you definitely were,” D’Vana promises. “There’s only so many times Sam and I can lock you two in a storage closet before our quaple isn’t worth it anymore. We were like a minute away from throwing you out of the polycule.”

“I- polycule? Since when -”

“Oh Beckett,” D’Vana sighs. “I have some bad news for you.”

“Did you know that we were in a platonic quaple with Sam and D’Vana?” Beckett shrieks, practically flying out of the turbolift.

Brad stares at her. “...yes?”

No one tells Beckett anything.

[alolowrites]

The Nightly Adventures of a Lost Shopper

Summary: Getting lost at night is one thing. But stumbling upon some crazy beating in a musty back alley? Yeah, no thanks. 

Author’s Note: Soooooo, it’s almost been a month since my last story 😅 Work life and gym life really are keeping me busy. Anyways, I was inspired by a prompt I saw on Tumblr and like always, I had to run with this stupid idea lmao.  Please enjoy! 

Genre: Mafia!AU (if you squint lol) Warnings: Mentions of blood (just a smudge really); reader having no self-control when it comes to grocery shopping loll  Word Count: 1.6K+

You stand underneath a flickering streetlight, swiveling your head left and right as though you’re checking for some car to drive by. Everything is so eerily quiet that a squeaky noise makes you jump on the spot. You crane your neck up and sigh—it’s just a lonely traffic light swinging mindlessly in the breeze.

The yellow light blinks nonstop, unaware if it’s broken or maybe it does, and the thing really doesn’t care anymore. You don’t blame the poor traffic light; the streets are more dead than a groundskeeper working the midnight shift at the local cemetery. At least the worker knows where they are.

You, on the other hand, don’t and admit defeat. “Damnit, I’m lost.”

A hiss escapes your lips, and you grip the grocery bags that weigh like a stack of bricks. In hindsight, you should have created a shopping list. There’s a reason why you can’t be trusted with buying your groceries without some plan. Now you’re standing at an empty corner all alone in the middle of nowhere, dealing with two screaming arms and muttering a curse at your dead phone with the awful battery life.

“Alright, let’s just go this way,” you mutter and trudge forward, praying that your bags don’t tear open. You can only handle one problem at a time. Yet, your life is anything but simple. The universe always has something up its sleeve for you, just waiting for the right moment to strike.

Your bags might be intact, and there aren’t any dark clouds threatening to rain on your parade, but you do hear loud grunts in the far distance. They cut through the deafening silence almost instantly. You quirk an eyebrow and waddle closer, curiosity getting the best of you.  

Big mistake.

In front of you is a man screaming in agony, crouched over as he endures powerful punches from the red beast towering over him. The blows never stop, each one more brutal and vicious than the last. No shred of mercy given despite the desperate pleads howling into the deep night. You watch helplessly as the final punch is thrown. The sheer force alone breaks the man’s ribs so hard that a sharp pop echoes throughout the narrow alley.

The red-haired guy tugs his personal punching bag and growls, “You ready to talk now?”

“Yes-s.”

“Good, so where’s the money you owe us?”

“At a secret hideout,” he rasps, blood dripping out his swollen mouth. “I-I can take you there a-and give you the money-y. I promise!”

He gets dropped like an old sack. “Drag him to the car.”

“Got it, Big Red.”

Said man finally turns around, and your heart stops. His bright red eyes land on you, blinking in surprise. You stare back at him, wondering if you can just crawl into the disgusting dumpster and hide there. But you don’t move a muscle nor say a word, too shocked at what you’ve just witnessed.

Oh my god, am I an accomplice? You grip the bags tighter in your hands, and his eyes glance at them before looking at you again. Eventually, you mentally slap yourself out of your stupor, blurting out the first thing on your mind.

“I’m sorry!” You stumble backward, legs shaking for dear life. “I-I didn’t see anything! I’m just—gah!”

You spin on your heel, wobbling out of there before who knows what could happen to you. Getting lost at night is one thing. But stumbling upon some crazy beating in a musty back alley? Yeah, no thanks.

“Hey, wait!”

You freeze at the sound of his voice—it’s rough and commanding but not too intimidating. His footsteps falter, and you quietly count to ten before turning around, your bags rustling behind your legs. The man (Big Red was it?) stares at you, almost like he’s figuring out where you fit in this bizarre puzzle he’s trying to solve.

Meanwhile, your eyes bounce between him and the barely conscious punching bag that’s being dragged to the black SUV, leaving a trail of red droplets in its wake. You swallow a tiny gulp; this is all too much.  

“Listen, I swear I didn’t see anything,” you exclaim, jumping on the defense. Seconds later, you wince at your mistake. “Okay, that’s a lie, b-but I promise I won’t say a word! I mean, not like I can call the cops on you since my phone is dead—”

“Huh? Wait a sec—”

“—which is honestly terrible since I’m lost! Do you know how long I’ve been walking all night? I’ll tell you: an eternity! And my arms feel like they’re about to fall apart any second now because these bags,” you shake them like a pair of maracas, “ are heavy!”

“Hey—”

At this point, you start airing out all your grievances in one go.

“I think there’s a pebble inside my left shoe, rolling around like it owns the place. My house keys keep pinching me against my hip, and one of my shoelaces feels so loose that it’s probably untied, waiting for me to trip.” Suddenly, the stress becomes overwhelming that your lips quiver. “It’s super late right now. I’m all alone and scared and—and,” you thrash the bags while wailing, “and my ice cream is melting!”

You inhale sharply like a person reaching the water’s surface after a deep dive. Your face is flushed, and your heart beats a mile per second, the adrenaline soaring through your veins as you finish your explosive rant. Eventually, you calm down and remember who is standing in front of you. Big Red looks on in astonishment, his mouth gaping like a fish.

...I can’t believe I just did that.

“Oh, god. I...I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, ducking your head and closing your eyes as a feeble attempt to protect yourself. “Please don’t hurt me!”

“Hurt you?” You bravely peek at Big Red, who sports a concerned look. He cautiously steps forward with his hands raised. “I don’t wanna hurt you, trust me.”

You snap your head up in disbelief. “Y-You don’t?”

“Of course not,” he says, giving you a gentle smile that washes some of your fears away. Big Red takes another step closer. “Why would you think that I’d hurt you?”

You give him a ridiculous stare. “No offense, but you did beat up that guy into a bloody pulp; I’m pretty sure he has no ribs left.”

Big Red laughs, catching you off guard. He jerks his thumb at the parked car and gives you a lopsided grin. “Oh, him? He’s just business. I would never harm an innocent civilian, though. It’s part of the code.”

“Part of the code?” You scrunch your eyebrows. Then it hits you. “Oh...Ohhh.”

Everything makes sense now. The suspicious, burly men with fancy suits. The rather gruesome violence in a random yet bare alleyway. The vague demand for money that’s owed. Yup, you walked into an unfortunate episode with the mafia; just your luck. You raise one finger, mouth ready to say something but then decide against it.

Big Red notices your hesitation, scratching behind his neck like a guilty puppy. “Look, I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t mean to scare ya’ with all the blood and violence and, well, you know…” He laughs awkwardly, making the corners of your lips quirk.

His voice is so soft and gentle that your breath hitches. It’s unbelievable that this is the same man who was growling like a wild beast before. The memory fades away as you judge his words, realizing that there isn’t any malicious intent behind them; he is honest and sincere.

Perhaps Big Red is right—maybe he won’t hurt you. If he did, he would have done it by now. Instead, he flashes a friendly grin that brightens the entire block, unlike those deadbeat street lights. The grin alone is enough to make you relax and crack a small smile at him.

“Alrighty then,” you hum, tapping one finger on your grocery bag that miraculously hasn’t broken yet. Stepping back, you start making your exit. “I guess I’ll leave you to finish your, um, business.”

“Whoa, hold on!” Big Red squeezes your shoulder, stopping you mid-way. Without warning, he tugs the bags out of your grasp. You jump as his massive hands momentarily brush along your skin, making you fumble over your words like an idiot. Big Red then shouts over his shoulder to his buddies. “Go on without me, guys. I gotta help this sweet peanut here get back home.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. Sweet peanut? Get back home? Him carrying your grocery bags?

“Please, you really don’t need to—”

“I want to,” he cuts you off, his warm eyes and boyish grin leaving you speechless. Big Red adjusts the bags without breaking a single sweat. “Listen, you’ve been through a lot tonight; let me take you back home.”

You gawk at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yup!” He puffs out his chest and gives you a wink. “Besides, you won’t be scared or alone when you’re with me.”

Well, you can’t argue with that.

“I guess I won’t,” you chuckle, bowing your head slightly. “Thank you, Big Red.”

“Kirishima.”

“What?”

“My name is Kirishima,” he repeats, a blush creeping on his cheeks. “But-t Big Red is fine, too.”

You share your name and cheekily joke, “But Sweet Peanut is fine, too.”

Kirishima’s face lights up like the stars scattered across the night sky, absolutely smitten with you to the bone. He purposefully takes the longest route back to your house, hoping to spend as much time with you as possible. Luckily, you don’t mind—he is charming and sweet.

Guess it wasn’t so bad getting lost after all.

As always, thanks for reading! 

[cassava-49]

Death 5

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 6/ Part 7

"G-guys," Allegra called as she pointed at the figure from afar. "Is that what I think it is?" she asked worriedly. This made them all go to the windows as Felix's eyes widened in shock. "That's a Geryon," he said in a breathy voice. "A what?" Kenya asked not understanding what he meant. "Look at the structure, it has humongous feathery bat like wings and scorpion's tail. I have only seen pictures of it depicted in the Divine Comedy, but I never imagined Hawkmoth giving someone such abilities to do so," he explained. Marinette, however, was shell shocked as she recognized its rider. "Lila," she said in a hushed tone as she began backing away. Noticing her reaction, Felix knew who the intended target was.

"Everyone, we need to do something," Felix said getting their attention. "What do you mean?" Lindalee asked in concern. "The villain's target is Marinette, and from the looks of it, she wants her dead. We need to protect her," he continued as he took Marinette's trembling hand in his trying to calm her down. "No, it's not only me," Marinette said in a low voice. "From the looks of it, she'll kill anyone in her path. We need to protect everyone in this hospital," she stated in a more powerful voice. "Alright, what do we do?" Claude asked with all seriousness, willing to protect his friend from such fiend.

...

"Stupid Grim," Allan mumbled to himself as he continued destroying the tree in front of him. "Why couldn't you take me away! I want to go home! I want to live in peace already, damn it!" he continued shouting. "What am I going to wait for? When Earth becomes hell?" he sarcastically asked as the ground shook. He then saw a shadow loom over him and the tree. He slowly turned to find three slobbering heads of a vicious dog with an undefinable breed looking at him with hunger in its eyes.

He immediately jumped onto its heads to avoid their jaws as he narrowly escaped. For some reason Cerberus could see him, and it could've bit him. He could feel it's warm breath, which was strange given that he's dead. "What the hell?" he asked to himself as he jumped onto the top of the nearest building to observe what was happening to Paris. It seemed as if hell needed more space and transferred some of its residents to France. To his right he could see that the colour of the Seine turned to blood, with Charon was cruising with some petrified people, while centaurs were at the banks, prepared to shoot anyone who wishes to escape. To his left he could see the akumatized victim stalking it's prey.

"You can't hide from me forever Alya!" the akumatized victim cried. He looked at her and observed. "Come on out. I'd hate for you to be the last, that's Marinette's place," she continued. "There you are," she stated as she made Alecto lift the car that was blocking her vision. "Lady Luck and Monsieur Noir will stop you," Alya declared as she said her punishment. This made Castigare cackle saying, "Oh, I doubt that Alya. No one can, Kim or should I call Monkey King, and Alix are currently having a blood bath battle for their wrathful attitudes. Rose, Juleka, Nathanael and Marc are enjoying their rain fire for being homosexuals. And Max, poor Pegasus, he lost Markov and is currently burning in his tomb. Mylène and Ivan on the other hand, such pure souls, yet were gullible nonetheless to chase sinful opportunities, they're currently experiencing a blind race over an every shifting flag on a ground of maggots," Castigare informed with a sinister grin. This made Alya's eyes prick with tears as she awaited her punishment. "But for Marinette, oh she'll suffer. After my furies tear her limb from limb mercilessly. And her screams are silent, for she is asleep, for now," she added menacingly.

This caught his attention, Marinette? Why would she want Marinette? Unless, he thought realising who this girl was. "Lila Rossi," he muttered under his breath as he made his way into François Dupont to find Lady Luck and Monsieur Noir struggling to keep the she-wolf at bay.

The two continued to fight off the three beasts forgetting the easiest escape, taking a different route. Allan sighed at their attempts to fend them off. Given that these creatures can see the dead, he might as well distract them to give the two an escape to save his friends. He picked up a discarded book and threw it their way. This caught the beasts' attention as the three of them began to corner him. He stood his ground as he watched Lady Luck and Monsieur Noir escape to hunt Castigare down. He smirked as he said, "Well then, let's see if your dead bodies could make a difference."

...

Allegra and Marinette stood inside her room, carefully monitoring her body to make sure no creature would enter. Lindalee and Kenya were monitoring the hallways near Marinette's room, given that they're the second most skillful comatose ghosts in their group. Felix and Claude, on the other hand, were in the frontlines, waiting for the villain's arrival.

"I'm sorry," Marinette blurted out. Allegra immediately rushed to her and engulfed her in a hug. "There's nothing to be sorry about," Allegra assured. "But because of my vulnerable body, it's making all of you worked up in protecting me," Marinette said guilty. "Well, we can't help it can we. It's natural to not want help from those around you, thinking that it makes us feel like more of a nuisance. But we are doing this because we want to keep you safe, because we know that you would do the same for us. You're our friend, we're not going to let anyone harm you. Chin up, darling, everything will be alright. Don't freight," Allegra soothed.

"This would be a lot easier if Allan were here," Claude commented as they watched Lila get closer. "Well, he's never at the right place at the right time," Felix answered. "Let's just make sure that there wouldn't be any casualties. There are a lot of vulnerable people in hospitals," Claude mentioned. "Yeah, we just slow her down until the heroes arrive," Felix replied. With that Castigare jumped off Geryon and waltzed into the entrance.

The nurses gave her an annoyed look as she shouted, "Which room is Marinette Dupain?" The security guard immediately tried to remove her from the building, only to have his actions in vain as Castigare summoned her furies and pointed them to him. This meant for them to take action as they took him away. Castigare approached the front desk to ask the nurse again, the drawers began to vibrate making everyone to look around. The first thing that they used were the vials. Using their enhanced speed, Claude began throwing the glad from different directions. Felix took a couple of surgical needles and aimed it at her, with one was full of general anesthesia.

"What is happening?" Castigare asked as she was being attacked by office and medical supply. "Is this a new miraculous?" she began to ponder aloud. She clenched her teeth, she didn't have time for this. She immediately summoned her Cerberus to find Marinette.

The three headed dog complied and barged into the hospital and began looking for Marinette's room. Upon nearing the hallway to her room, Kenya and Lindalee immediately destroyed the floors, making sure no one was at the floor below them. This did not stop Cerberus though, as he began to fall, he was able to snatch onto Kenya's shirt. It's claws digging deep into her skin, piercing it to the rib cage and damaging her lungs causing the young girl to release an ear piercing scream. "Kenya!" Lindalee shouted as she tried to grab her friend.

Their wandering souls are a lot like Voodoo dolls, any damage they get may affect their actual bodies. Right now, Kenya's body is not receiving enough oxygen. Her heart began to speed up rapidly, causing the nurses and doctors to panic as they try to revive her. Kenya's soul, however, was slowly feeling lighter and lighter. Lindalee jumped down as she tried to look for her friend beneath the debris. "Kenya! Kenya!" she continued to call out. Once she got to one of its paws, she immediately raised it to find Kenya there. She's not bleeding, since she's a ghost, but she was slowly fading. There may be two meanings, either she's waking up or, she's dying. Lindalee placed both her hands on her mouth in shock.

"Did you hear that?" Marinette asked. Allegra nodded as she opened the door to find the destroyed hallway. "Where are Lindalee and Kenya?" Allegra pondered out loud. "Allegra," cried a voice from below. "Lindalee? Where are you?" she asked with concern. "Down here, help me, no, help Kenya, please," Lindalee pleaded, her voice getting softer. "Marinette, I think they're in trouble. I'll be right back," Allegra said as Marinette nodded. "Go, I'll be fine. Keep them safe," Marinette answered.

Once Allegra left, Marinette felt another pit of guilt in her stomach. Please be safe, please be safe, she chanted to herself. Hoping that all her friends were alright. She looked at her body, she looked at peace, her breathing was normal so was her heart rate. She looked out of the window and saw that the blue sky turned into a blood red shade as monsters polluted the sky. People were given different sufferings depending on their heaviest sin. She could see limbo, lust, gluttony, greed, anger, heresy, violence and fraud. Paris turned into a living hell and Lila's destroying it all.

...

"Cerberus?" Castigare tried to call out as she began dodging all the things that came her way. "Damnit, where are you?" she tried again. Realising that the dog will not be coming anytime soon signified that it has failed her. "Geryon," she shouted as the monster came crashing through, protecting her from all the destruction coming her way. With that, she allowed it to block the passage as she stalked her way to Marinette's room.

"She's heading their way," Claude called. "I've got it, don't worry," Allan said as he entered. This made the trip boys smile at their friend's arrival. "What? You didn't think that is let you guys have all the fun. This could be a better way at venting, no holding back," Allan joked as he cracked his knuckles. "Go crazy," Claude supported. "We'll be outside her room to make sure nothing goes that way," Felix said as they nodded at each other and began.

"Hey, ugly!" Allan tautened as Geryon turned to face him. "What are you doing!" Castigare scolded. "There's no one there! Let's get a move on!" she raged as she tried to steer him to Marinette's room. "I see you can't resist the souls of the dead," Allan continued. "Why are you still here? Have you not found your way to the afterlife?" Geryon asked seriously. "Well, let's just say that some souls aren't meant to cross, yet," he answered casually. "Come along, I will take you King Minos for your judgement," Geryon ordered. "Wait, wait, who said that I'm meant for hell," Allan replied. "Knock it off!" Castigare demanded as she smacked it's head with her sceptre to behave. Being a demon, he shook her off as he began chasing Allan around for his judgement saying, "All souls must cross over. No soul must be left wandering the world of the living!" Allan laughed as they began the chase and continued taunting him, "Not this soul. You have to be quicker if you want to catch me."

"Come back you useless monster!" Castigare shouted, feeling slightly embarrassed by being thrown off. "Listen Castigare, you're no longer holding your end of the bargain. Hand me the miraculouses or else I'll take your power away," Hawkmoth reminded. "Shut up, Hawkmoth. You will need me so by taking my akuma away you'll lose your closest ally," Castigare threatened back. This earned an evil laugh from Hawkmoth. "Oh, really now. Don't think that your irreplaceable my dear. If I recall correctly, even if I take your akuma away there's still a chance that you will be deported and your parents will know about everything. You would be trialed for terrorism, even though your a minor, you willingly allowed yourself to get akumatized multiple times. I can even vouch on that, don't forget hospitals have cameras. Don't think that I don't know about what you had don't to your victim, Marinette Dupain-Cheng," he slapped the truth in her face menacingly. This made her grit her teeth at the truth that Hawkmoth slapped in her face. "Shut up! Shut up!" she cried out as she held her head trying to block him out. "Never bite the hand that feeds you," he mumbled to both of them as he began threatening the removal of her powers, but unlike Evillustrator, this one's more painful. This made her screech in pain as she felt her whole body on fire. "Alright, alright, I'll get the miraculouses," she conceded. "Good girl, now you'll hold up your end of the deal. Use your new found powers for both yours and my desire," he said as he stopped her suffering.

[currentfandomkick]

Marinette did not sign up for this pt2

forgot to post this before i passed out last night. part one here ao3 here

It was almost four years into being Ladybug when the Justice League made contact.

In that time, she and Chat had built the miraculous team and they both knew each members identities, but swore them all to not seek out one another’s identity. (Though Alya was Alya and had Carapaced figured out on his first outing… convincing her not to reveal that to him took a bit. The girl was determined, but Marinette follows Fu’s rules to the letter (as much as she can) and that meant Secrets Stay Secret damnit.)

Not contacting the JL themselves was partially due to some fallout the Mayor and Parisian government with a (dissolved) Justice League’s branch. It was well before her team’s time. Something about collateral damage and if her miraculous could fix damage dealt by JL members or not playing some role in that too.

She decided it was a good thing when two years later she found a fucking dagger with a large bouquet on her balcony. It became a regular occurrence for special occasions—birthday, winter holidays and on Easter (she didn’t even know why on that one. Her parents aren’t Catholic. Maybe Murder Robin was, or thought she was?). She would just find some weapon with flowers somewhere in her room. She had no fucking clue what Murder Robin (Alya found articles where the ‘new’ Robin was cited as likely having killed multiple people in Gotham and just, yikes) or his friends or even her father (Fucking Batman, the Ghost of Gotham) might have meant by leaving it, but it was clear they had her address, knew which room was hers, and could do a lot of damage if she toed the line. She wasn’t testing any of those ‘no contact rules’ after that.

Hiding a dagger and various other weapons (so many knives and throwing stars) from Maman by giving it to Fu and later passing it off as an eccentric gift from him to her for always helping him out was… an adventure when Fu was still Master Fu. She hopes Murder Robin doesn’t find out about that bit. She has no clue how he or his family (not hers, hers are in Paris with her. Hers at least tried to talk to her, tried to listen and did make time for her. His family? Complete strangers she may share DNA with.)

She (logically) should be terrified that Murder Robin knows her alias and secret identity are the same person; if he’s really one of the world’s greatest detectives’ kids, why wouldn’t he know? Batman must have known for years—why else would Murder Robin be able to find her? the DNA scan was in a closed match system to just Paris. And she knew there was no way Goddamn Batman, Ghost of Gotham, would hang around Paris long enough to get dragged into the system for him to have a ping.

He just did not want anything to do with her or her city’s trouble since it wasn’t his. She wasn’t his. Wasn’t wanted by him. That was fine—he has enough to worry about in his hell city.

Sending Murder Robin out to do his dirty work?

Not fine.

Her team and her were… managing the Hawkmoth situation. Keeping it from spilling out of Paris since Startrain. Goo-guy managed to give them a break—people can grab akuma that aren’t meant for them and become much weaker akuma than if the akuma reached its target. Same with the few that could grab an akuma in the air. It meant when akuma went out, some citizens were willing to bear Hawkmoth’s wrath for a bit—even groups taking turns sometimes—to prevent someone from getting akumatized until Ladybug could purify the akuma or Chat Noir could destroy it.

And for akuma battles, well, she has more than just her and Chat, Luck (Creation) and Destruction. Viperion gave them multiple chances to change costly choices in battle. Bunnix fixed the ones that Viperion couldn’t. All oversized opponents fell to Ryuko and her mastery of the elements, even if she can’t always make it thanks to different schools and tight schedules. Miss Sting was chosen by Marinette—Aurore was easy to lean on for news team reports and media appearances that Ladybug and Chat Noir don’t have the time or energy for. Plus, Aurored needed the anger management, so win-win. Don’t even get her started on Pegasus or King Monkey always being ready at a moment’s notice and how they both started joining Nino and Alya’s parkour dates that have morphed into group hangouts in last two years. Seriously—if she knew where she needed to be, Max was ready to answer her call. If she knew more chaos would work as a distraction, long live King Monkey, the Great Distractor.

Then there’s her emotional support in the field (besides her chaton), Carapace. He’s a great shield in battle, good with civilians and quick to defend. He’s also big on mental health (something their team sorely needed). How Nino managed to get turtle headphones, Marinette doesn’t know. She does know she nicks them from him regularly as Ladybug for team hangouts and when she needs to clam down on patrol.

Then there is her civilian bestie, the one who convinced her to stay as Ladybug, Alya Cesaire, aka Rena Rogue and the Ladyblogger. Rena Rouge is by and far one of her favorites to talk about potential Hawkmoths with, and work out akuma prevention techniques with. In the battlefield she was one of the first to strike (even if that’s not how she should be using the flute, Marinette has no room for judgment given how she uses all of her Lucky Charms.) Alya always posted and circulated anti-akuma tips and altered the Ladyblog to have each icon for known miraculous mean something.

Marinette was nothing but supportive of her friend, even if the blog is a behemoth to maintain and resulted in Alya retiring as her Deputy (Rose took over gleefully as Deputy). She liked that the Ladybug was for news, and the Cat for if an attack is ongoing. The Butterfly tracks akuma sightings before an attack, and was a bit on the nose in her opinion, but it’s effectively mapped out areas where Hawkmoth’s lair is or has an opening, giving them an area to investigate and patrol more heavily. The Turtle offered guided meditation videos and yoga sessions (somehow always on-going), while the Fox was for group chats and various akuma-related support groups. The Peacock offered mental health resources, and was constantly growing. The Bee was for self defense videos and sat next to Dragon for akuma survival tips. The Snake was one of her personal favorites, advice on calming down with guided breathing if someone feels close to being akumatized, and she’d used it herself more than once. The Horse was the one she’s the least familiar with, for shelter routes that she never used. The Monkey held a number of fun distractions, videos and memes uploaded by her followers with art and songs, and was overall very light hearted.

Marinette is proud of her team.

Though it doesn’t mean there aren’t days she’s waiting for it all to unravel, or for an Older Bunnix to appear again and tell her they have to undo the day Marinette’s identities were compromised. But that is a always an apocalypse event option only. Chat Blanc still haunts Marinette’s nightmares, and Alix’s too. the Princess Justice timeline haunts Alix since she lived it in real time, but it’s Adiren’s nightmare come to life in multiple other akuma attacks. Apparently if Marinette is akumatized, she brings about a second Reign of Terror so encompassing, it made Robespierre’s look like a child’s drawing of what a reign 

It was during another Syren event when things went from workable to a slow boiling unbearable. All but Alix were transformed and fighting minions to clear a path for Ladybug to get to the main akuma.

Imagine her frustration when Aquaman and Aqualad appeared behind her while she was scouting on the outskirts, and both refused to make any eye contact, practically kneeling in water to her and making themselves a target. When they should be able to read the room and see that the battlefield isn’t the place for this.

“Oh Great Paschalítsa” Aquaman began, “I understand your hesitance in this matter, given the Miraculous and Atlantis’ history,” Aquaman continued as she dodged yet another minion further ahead and kept working her way to where the akuma was, ignoring his speech. “But I ask that you do not sink—”

Marinette gave up on her current task to ensure there wasn’t some international incident of Ladybug letting Aquaman be captured by akumas or something. She’d never head the end of it if she didn’t.

But now they were surrounded. Aqualad at least kept his attention on the task at hand (re: keeping minions from spotting her) as they all worked out a way to escape, even if he wasn’t looking anywhere near her. Apparently Aquaman got the message (finally) and did the same as his sidekick(?) after Aqualad made a few gestures she wasn’t paying attention to. She does have an akuma item to break and akuma to catch and purify.

The pair did manage to act as decent bodyguards and distractions while she worked out the kid’s item and how it connected to their fixation—no swimming until their grades up meant all of their gear but a whistle was taken away. One Lucky Charm and convoluted plot that merged fighting in 3-D, a pair of scissors and a lot off kicking off underwater buildings later, and Paris was back to normal.

She managed it without talking to Aquaman once. She could give quick directions to Aqualad without toeing the line—he wasn’t part of the Justice League and was known to operate in the ocean alone when Aquaman wasn’t there.

“Great Paschalítsa,” Aquaman began and Marinette wanted him to go off and leave her alone. Him and Aqualad. “As king of Atalntis, I humbly offer my aide in whatever has caused you and the great Mávri Gáta to show yourselves to the world.”

What was with all this formal speech? Marinette thought they knew French, or well, Alya mentioned it said they did in their bio, but it clearly wasn’t the kind her class used for projects. And Marinette was exhausted, frustrated, and now did not have a good and convenient target for her rage (re: akuma that drowned Paris) and well…

Well, she blew up. A bit. But can you blame her?

They wouldn’t take the hint. (Silence means Fuck Off).

“Look,” Marinette whirled on them, ignoring her team’s shock and not even going in for the celebratory ‘Pound it’.  “I told Murder Robin—“ the pair winces at the that wording. Good. They knew who she meant then.

“—that I won’t get involved with anything involving our dad.”

She didn’t miss the sharp intakes from her team. Chat knew, only due to a freak out over being left a freaking sword one time and she panicked, okay?

“And I meant it. Just because Batman felt guilty or something,” She doubted it. Ghost of Gotham doesn’t feel anything and can apparently take out entire buildings on occasion. (Even if she was pretty sure that was someone filling in for him, she wouldn’t discount it either.) “That Doesn’t mean I’m going to change my mind on the matter—My team has got this. And we don’t need a handout four years too late.”

They had to. Fu was gone (For three months now. Three months Marinette held the weight of being The Guardian on her shoulders alone. She had to have this. She wouldn’t trust random elements sent by Mr. ‘I accept my murderous son and ignore the one in constant peril that blew herself up twice to save Paris.’  

“Bug out.”

She knew her team would have questions, but Chat could answer them for now and Miss Sting would be able to handle any questions if any the media tried anything. Bright side of having the main Miraculous Team journalist as Rena with a determined hacker Pegasus; if it was personal to the team, the pair made sure it was never there.

--

Later at JL HQ

Aquaman walked up to Batman once the meeting was over. Batman knew the man had something on his mind and that it was related to himself—why else would he keep looking at him during the meeting? Whatever was troubling the Atlantian, Bruce could only hope it wasn’t emotions. That was really, really not his department… Jonn was much better with issues like that.

“Batman, may I have a word?”

Batman nodded, quick to follow the other out into a more private room.

“It has come to my attention that your daughter and you have a, uh, tricky relationship.”

Batman raised an eyebrow, as his relationship with Cass was doing well… he thought. Maybe he should visit her more? She was doing fine on her own and was always warm to him when he visited her in China on her missions against the Triad. Perhaps he should see if she was open to working with him on a case on that, or see if she wanted to come to Gotham again.

“And I don’t mean to judge here,” Aqua man continued, obviously nervous. “But uh, apparently your current Robin is well aware of her existence.”

Batman raised an eyebrow under the cowl. “Black Bat and Robin are close.”

The way Aquaman’s face contorted indicated nothing good. “Your other daughter.” The man paused, waiting for Batman to understand. “Ladybug.”

Bruce… Bruce froze. “I don’t have another daughter.” Not to his knowledge.

Aquaman ran a hand through his hair. “Well apparently ‘Murder Robin’ has met her,” Aquaman said with air quotes of all things. “Years ago.”

Bruce felt his heart stop. Damian’s… adjustment into the family had not been easy. And a few years ago Damian was much more… willing to do things against the Batcode, things that had him thriving in the League of Assassins. Things that changed a person. Things he’d need to ask this Ladybug—his daughter, another surprise child—about.

“And given that a Ladybug being active has always been a sign of a potential apocalypse—“

Batman’s red flags began flashing. Hard. His child was in danger and fighting a potential apocalypse event. Without his help. Without Batman’s resources.

“I assume Ladybug is a mantel.” Bruce hoped she had a mentor, someone to ease her into hero-work.

“Yes.” Aquaman looked… hesitant then. “Were it not for one Ladybug’s mercy, my people would have died when Atlantis was sunk by her equal, the Black Cat’s user. It seems this time they’re allies this time, against the Butterfly—I, Batman, are you alright?”

Bruce was not okay, at all. There is an ongoing apocalypse event, a daughter he never met stopping it (how old was she? Was she Damian’s age or older? Younger? He didn’t want her to have to live with this life, but she was and was doing so without him, without his help, without someone he knew she could lean on for support) and apparently his youngest son was well aware of this and did nothing to help. Did not even tell him.

He was going to have words with Damian.

“Excuse me.” Batman turned to leave. He has a son to interrogate, research to do, and a daughter to find (beg forgiveness for not getting to her sooner, and help her) on top of the usual workload. A Bat’s work is never done.

Wonder Woman who stopped him while he was reeling with this information, her grip too solid on his arm, and unlikely to break.

“It is not wise to rush in.” She began, appealing to reason in the hopes of keeping a panicked “Batdad” from making the situation worse. “From what Aquaman has told us, she does not welcome your involvement,” she said slowly, hoping it would sink in. “The Ladybug Miraculous has always been an agent of creation, of healing.” Diana hoped that would set her friend’s mind at ease. Ladybugs were notorious for their battle prowess and strategies, yes, but first and foremost their duty was to undo damage. “Ladybug herself will have much on her shoulders if her role is anything like my mother’s when she was among the Chosen, and adding yourself to the equation before her adversary is defeated will only serve to distract her from her goal.”

Batman remained tense, but didn’t struggle against Wonder Woman’s grasp. Good.

Green Lantern was the next to approach, as planned. “So why don’t you focus on your family in Gotham before rushing into meeting this kid,” Green Lantern—no, Hal suggested. “We’ll work on finding out what’s causing this possible apocalypse. You get your house in order.”

Bruce heard the words that weren’t said. Find out what your ex-assassin son did your demi-god daughter and make sure he doesn’t screw up anything further.

“That is not—“

“Batman.” Wonder Woman squeezed his arm. “This is not a suggestion.”

Cold curled in Bruce's stomach. His daughter was in danger, fighting against a potential apocalypse, and he was told to sit this one out. When it was personal. (His daughter who he needed to meet, to learn about, to see what made her tick and work out how to help her wherever she might need it. His daughter who he had lost years with.)

(They were ordering him to lose more time with her.)

“You are benched from League activities until this is sorted out.” Wonder Woman continued, as though she hadn’t just gutted Bruce. “I will take lead on Ladybug’s case. My people have much experience with her and the Black Cat as allies.” It was Diana that was smiling then. “Perhaps Mother’s connection will convince her to allow our aide.”

Green Lantern nodded along. “And when I’m not with you guys, well, GL core is in charge of keeping things not-apocalypse-y across the universe and keeping it from spiraling. And Miraculous tend to like the whole Balance thing, so it shouldn’t be too much for me to help out every now and then with them too.”

Bruce twitched where he was. He wasn’t going to win this. Not by a long shot.

But they were taking Aquaman and a Green Lantern. Granted, at least it wasn’t Guy. But a Lantern. Over him. When it involves his family.

He had to get his house in order quickly.

--

Damian would say he was quite pleased with himself that day. He managed to decide the type of weapon that would help his sister defend herself against others best, given her profession as a seamstress, he was annoyed he hadn’t thought of it sooner. Selecting the type of needle to give her, and to ensure they could be used for fabrics to give her a reason to carry them on her person, was crucial however.

She had rejected his other offerings thus far, though he could hardly blame her. This would be his seventh attempt. He did hear it was a lucky number from somewhere… and he had gotten better since his last attempts at understanding the type of person she showed herself to be and the type of person she wished to be seen as.

The Swiss dagger on his first attempt was too bulky and not hidden enough for a style of fighting she should strive to cultivate. His second attempt was an ear dagger which were easier to use and she could add additional force with her thumb. He thought it was better protection for her, and it was small enough this time to be kept in her purse. Much better than his first attempt. Only from her pictures he knew it wasn’t ever in her purse.

He had failed to find her an acceptable apology gift that offered her the protection she needed. The third was when he moved to a larger blade, hoping the thin rapier could be hidden well enough as decorative or as a fancier fencing tool than standard. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility given her closeness to an Olympic level fencer and this ‘Adrien Agreste’ who often partnered with Tsurugi. He was glad she had taken to displaying it at the least, though Adrien claiming to have given it to her left a bad taste in his mouth.

His sister wished to not have it known she had her own weapons then, he could handle that. His fourth attempt was  going to be a butterfly knife but given legal restrictions that he had come to realize she would follow (as idiotic as they were) he changed it to a classic Swiss knife. He did see this carried on her person on occasion, but not often. He looked into more easily concealed knives and gifted her a ballpoint pen knife—it looked like a pen and he made sure to customize it to resemble the pens in her room (he took a sample for reference) and did see her often carrying that one, though by active attempt or chance he couldn’t gather. He decided she would need a long range item next, and gifted her a small variety of throwing stars (and a knife or two, she seemed to favor possible close combat weapons of those he gave her). He noticed that none of these were carried on her person (he may have bugged them with trackers to figure out her preference) and they rarely left her room.

That was why he concluded that this time needles that she could use for sewing or battle were his best bet. Finding a way to walk that line was proving challenging.

Father came in while he was making his selection. He did find it odd Father hadn’t mentioned her to the rest of the family, but it could be that he wished her a more peaceful life. Damian would not disrespect his father’s wishes by bringing her up.

“Damian, we need to talk.”

Damian furrowed his brow, running over what could warrant that tone. He came up empty.

Father did move closer and see he was looking at needles this time. And showed surprised.

“For Okhti Al Kobra,” Damian stated, hoping his father wouldn’t be upset at him recognizing her. He knew now it was better for her to be apart from them, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do what he could to help her protect herself. His older sister deserved better.

Father did freeze at that.

Had Damian displeased him? (He wouldn’t… wouldn’t send him to back. Damian knew that. But that look… it brought back the boy that wondered when he’d be tossed aside by the Great Batman for no longer being a good solider.)

“Father? I know you don’t like to speak of her but.”

“You, you’re getting her needles?” it was a question. He didn’t get why.

“Yes, my last presents seemed inadequate. She has taken to the penknife, but only sometimes. She keeps the Swiss on her sometimes too—haven’t you been keeping an eye on her social media? She posts a disgusting amount. I figured given the boutique it wouldn’t be unacceptable for her to carry needles on her as a weapon and tool in the future, should anyone else discover our connection.”

Bruce stared Damian, waiting for him to finish.

“She does keep the flowers I left her, though she does react oddly. The first time she was very pale.” Looking back, it was likely fear. She was a civilian after all… “However I believe she has come to accept that even with distance, she is still a Bat by blood and as such, should remain vigilant.” Damian hoped his report was adequate.

“She… how old is she?” Father’s tone was softer then. but the question didn’t make any sense.

“Father, you should know how old she is.” Damian waited for the man to respond.

He didn’t.

Damian furrowed his brow. “Father, you do know who she is, right?”

“Ladybug.”

Damian blinked at that. He had no idea who that was, but he knew an alias when he heard one. “She’s a civilian—when did she—”

“Damian.” He stilled at that. “How old is she?”

Damian straightened then. “She was twelve and a half when we first met. She will be sixteen in two weeks.” Damian glanced at his abandoned screen. “She enjoys design.”

“Her, her name.” His father looked… lost.

“I, we don’t revel secret identities?” Damian was a bit lost. Father should know of his sister. They were only two years apart. She was from before his father’s training became serious. He should know of her, at least. And if he didn’t, wasn’t it a betrayal to her if he revealed who she was without her permission? Whenever he tried to visit, she was always elsewhere, and he couldn’t very well show up as Damian Wayne. That would reveal the family and she didn’t need to know that. Didn’t need that burden.

“She knows she’s my daughter.” Father sounded…desperate.

“She knows she is Batman’s. I didn’t reveal your identity, or the family’s.”

“I…”

Damian took a deep breath. He didn’t want to betray his family. Or further hurt his older sister. “I believe that we should speak to her before discussing her identity. It… it should be her choice.”

Father looked pained at that.

“I assume you don’t…” No, father would not know how the first meeting went… right?

Father said nothing before leaving.

Damian wondered if he should visit her sooner. He eyed his cart and got her a set of weaponry needles, knitting, and a set made for seamstresses with small hands. He hoped these were to her liking. Perhaps he should add white heather (Protection) and purple hyacinth (I’m sorry) in addition to the zinnias…. Or just give her two with the zinnias mixed between them, as Damian reasoned the heather and hyacinth wouldn’t looks the best together. Yellow (daily remembrance) and scarlet (constancy) zinnias with heather (protection) and some greenery should be fine, and purple hyacinth (I’m sorry) mixed with magenta (lasting affection) white (goodness) and perhaps a white daffodil (stay as sweet as you are) with a filler of some sort would work well. She accepted his apologies (albeit in flowers) before, and he hoped he had proven he was paying enough attention to her for her to see that he meant it.

He was glad he hadn’t killed her that day.

Now he had research to do to help his sister.

He missed Brown as she slipped out. And completely missed finding out she was messaging Todd, Drake and Cassandra the news: there was a missing Bat into design, goes by Ladybug, and Bruce has no clue what her identity is.

Cass didn’t send anything in response.

Jason stated he would find her before Tim.

Stephanie was just excited for another girl in the group. Little sister in need of help? Count her in—being Spoiler versus being Batgirl was a world of difference. Having a team made it easier, and it shouldn’t be too hard to convince the girl to give it a shot, right?

--

Thanks for waiting. part three here

tags: @heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06

debating which bat will find her first (in person), so feel free to state any preferences, and thanks for the comments and kudos--it really does help with working this idea out.

[maniacalmagician]

EVERHOOD: Pinocchio in Psychedelic Purgatory: the Rock Opera Adventure. OR: I walked backwards into hell, and felt euphoria as I became privvy to the Divine Truths

Hello tumblr people. I’ve been Away. I played a game recently and I wanted to talk about it.   damnit i really wanted to put pictures into this mini essay. ive been away from this garbage site for too long, i dont know how to do it lol.  ok anyway    First, I want to say to the developers and anyone else that this has quickly become one of my all time favorite games. Currently writing I have personally never felt a greater emotional attachment to an experience with a piece of software. Perhaps it is the extreme idiosyncratic nature of it, perhaps it is the deeply intriguing storyline, mostly however it is a combination of those in addition to some of the most outstanding psychedelic visuals I have ever seen, particularly in the finale sequence, and a killer soundtrack that combines many genres but focuses mostly to being as bangers as possible. I will be upfront and say this game comes with a boatload of trigger warnings, and thus the aforementioned idiosyncratic nature of it may not appeal to everyone, however I feel it necessary to indicate potential content warnings here as I would hate for people to be triggered: epilepsy is the big one, I myself have mild stutter based epilepsy and it didn't cause health problems or anything but my case is not universal. Anyway. That is a hard warning on epilepsy. I do it because The Incredibles 2 did not, lmao (that's an example of the kind of visuals that trigger me personally. An aside ) Other things include (spoilers): arachnophobia, misophonia (screeches, unsettling sounds), themes of death, immortality, suicide. Some game mechanics are not immediately intuitive and puzzles require some pretty clever but sometimes obtuse solutions. Direction is not always super clear either. People have complained of performance issues but I am leaving this review after playing the switch port, which played smoothly other than some awkwardly long loading times here and there. What I have played of PC so far runs smooth but as of writing, performance for me was fine (my pc is a lowend budget build). There is a difficulty to it. Even playing on easier modes, it can be quite unforgiving. If you're a fan of hard games (I am but I suck at them) and rhythm games (this is, uh, Not? That? Almost functions as half walking sim, half rhythm Game, dodgy shoot em up kinda feels. Truly unique gameplay I think. Constantly switches things up, too. But yes I also adore rhythm games, and yes i also do suck at those too.), half of it is that. The devs troll you with puzzles. It's truly a wild experience as it advertises, one of a kind. And yet, however.... This game wears, much like its heart,, its references, on its sleeve. If you are not into that kind of thing, you will probably be annoyed by this game. It also loves to delv into meta, as many puzzles and interactions are references to the UI of the game itself. Personally, I'm not wild about meta but I appreciate the ernestness here, so I'm willing to roll with whatever this game throws at me because every turn feels unexpected, fresh, funky, somber, and wildly intelligent, with boldly sincere ludonarrative choices, script and art direction. If you like Geno from super Mario Brothers, which, guess what, narrator here LOVES Geno from Super Mario Brothers, this is functionally the game you've always wanted that Nintendo could never make because Square has held Geno hostage in some kind of underground torture facility since 1995. Turns out they were rather right to do so, because when that puppet is out serving a higher authroity, he can be quite dangerous. Narrarively it borrows much from its sources but I would argue there's proof the writers have spent time thinking about the implications of their source materials worlds, and that reflection casts itself back to create this, experience that is wholly unique even if we know Red is Geno and "Gaster" (who was based on Uboa from Yume Nikki or princess mononokes forest spirits), and some kind of disco Marceline character who changes their identity frequently, skeleton brothers- well undead brothers, really - We have to remember in the creation and consumption of media sometimes, influences and archetypes are ever present and Everhood almost itself is a realm that would indulge in the idea of self referential material. It makes for this very Jungian experience of friendly archetypes we're familiar with, which works well with this setting of an immortal realm. Thats not to say the personalities we do meet aren't expounded upon - they are, heavily, and become uniquely their own. (Spoiler) if my theory is to be believed this world is a purgatory where people have made their own artificial vessels and as time has made them bored (though some seem to be having a good time) while typical strains of the Pinocchio myth are thrown in about questions of identity and death - and probably even more so towards Timothy Learys concept of the Ego Death, or the return to the collective soup of unconcious being. Undertale will probably always be a reccomendation even by its own reference to it so comparisons to it will be littered through here. It feels like the developers were emboldened by Toby Foxs spirit in game development (his creative energy is rather infectious) and shared many similar ideas, but this feels far more aimed towards a maturer audience (references to the things I mentioned in the trigger warning list) and focused on achieving this feeling that its predecesors have as well. Yume nikki. Lisa. Earthbound. Toby's games. super Mario rpg in its humor, Cat Soup in its psychedellic depressive vibes, all this cool indie cult classicy kinda mash up soup.  bizarre antics and then these characters who have surprising depth the further you go. It has been 6 years since Undertale came out, and the developers for Everhood have called a lot of the "what ifs" that fans of that game ask, an answer in their own game. (What if No Mercy was forced, for example? What if going against destiny is the wrong thing to do? Why is Death such a Bad Thing? etc!) And the further along you progress, the smarter the story gets, the more complex the narrative threads and characters. This game knows how to write compelling literature and that wasn't an element I expecting but god am I so glad for it. Literally my pea brain saw Red's design flipping around some frets on a streamers videocapture (shoutout to based fellow tampa native Charles White, thank you for being witty and having good taste and your Floridian comisery.) one night and went "oh i like." But the experience I got in exchange was, so, so much more than that (but the tetris effect won't let that image disappear from my eyelids quite yet haha.) I hear there are multiple endings and one requires a 3 hour long trek. I'm not done with the game at the time of reviewing. You bet your sweet ass I am going to find out the Ultimate Truth. I found a way to deal with some of the bullshit in other games, I may not be great at games but I want to see whatever imagery these guys put on screen so it compels me to seek out all the alternative routes. I am going to be following these developers projects very closely. If this is their debut, their next project will be ... ... I would hate to force expectations, like if you just made a magnum opus like this it'd be perfectly alright to retire, but I just once again want to say thank you to the developers for putting your heart on display for the world to see. I see it. I have dealt with struggles similar to the ones in the stories this game articulates about anxiety and depression, existentialism and dread, dissociation and all the heavy themes that were risky to include narratively - I'm certaintly glad you took the risks you did. May update this review as I get further along the story but yeah. Tl;dr: haha pinocchio myth done well make brain go brrr. 9.99999999999998/10. I am taking an infitisimal fraction of a point off because of the ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ spider in the monster maze. that thing was abhorrent, but I won't let it deter anyone else who wants to play.

[kittinoir]

Phantoms Ch. 6

“Ladybug said I was awesome.” Not entirely true, but Queen Bee never could stand silence. “She said that I’d made huge improvements.”

Koira didn’t even glance her way. “And?”

“And?” Queen Bee repeated as they arced around the Eiffel Tower. “And a compliment to me is a compliment to you. I thought you’d like to know.”

“Compliments from Ladybug are meaningless” Koira said as they began the second half of their patrol. 

Outrage boiled up in Queen Bee, for once on behalf of someone else. “Are you seriously saying you think you’re better than her?”

“I’m saying she thinks too much,” Koira said, coming to an abrupt stop on a slanted roof. “I’m saying this whole mess could have been avoided if she’d just asked for help. I’m saying Ladybug doesn’t like me, I don’t like her, and it’s fine. And I’m saying if you worried less about what Ladybug thought of you and more about what you wanted, you’d be even better.”

There was so much to unpack there, Queen Bee didn’t even know where to start. “What mess are you talking about?” Her heart beat painfully in her chest. There could only be one mess he could mean. She’d stupidly thought he of all people would never hold it against her. She’d thought they were the same.

But Koira just laughed, a bitter sound without any real humour. “There’d be no point in telling you.”

Queen Bee stomped her foot in frustration. “Why? You think I’m so enamoured with Ladybug I’ll just take her side? Or am I too stupid to understand?”

Finally, finally, Koira met her eyes. The usual disdain had vanished. In its place was…pity?

“You won’t be able to hold onto it,” he finally said as he began running again. “It’s a waste of time.”

Unease swirled through Queen Bee as she followed, but it was overwhelmed by hurt. He really did think she was stupid. He really did. 

“Why do you even bother with me, then,” she choked out. Damnit, she was not going to cry. Especially because Felix had hurt her feelings. As if she cared about what Adrien’s cranky cousin thought of her anyway. As if she cared what any of them thought! She was Chloe Bourgeois! She had beauty, style, grace! She was the real deal; Felix was just too blind to see it. And that was hardly her fault.

“Ugh,” Koira groaned, glancing back at her over his shoulder. “This is why I wanted to wash my hands of this whole thing. I work better alone.” But still, he stopped, dragging Queen Bee into the thing shadow of a chimney. 

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” he said, scowling. “But you won’t remember. The team is at a disadvantage because of Ladybug and Chat Noir’s choices. Everyone’s identity is one mistake away from being revealed.”

Even as he spoke, Queen Bee was having trouble remembering the words. She managed to hold onto them - barely. “Speaking from experience, your identity being known isn’t the problem. Hawk Moth had an advantage when the Miraculous were being dropped off, but now that we hold onto them full time - ”

“He can come and get them any time he wants,” Koira interrupted, starting off again. 

Queen Bee followed, at a loss. He wasn’t wrong. Hawk Moth had done that very thing to her when he’d targeted her parents. He’d known she’d do anything to save them. And it was her fault most of their team was now at the same disadvantage. But…

“What were they supposed to do?” Queen Bee said at last as she followed her partner through an alley. “What would you have done?”

She was close enough she could see him scowl. He was quiet so long she didn’t think he would answer, but then he spoke.

“It’s impossible to know.” He sped up. “I’ve never loved someone that much.”

Neither had she. She hadn’t even loved herself that much. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Queen Bee finally said. “It’s done. The only thing that matters is whether or not you trust them.”

Koira glanced back again, a half-smile on his face. “Not really,” he said, “And if you knew what I do, you wouldn’t either. But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that we have the same goals. That’s enough for me.”

Maybe it was her recent experiences with Ladybug, or the fact that she now knew who wore the earrings, but Queen Bee found herself agreeing with Koira. She trusted Ladybug and Chat Noir to do their best, but around each other…

Love was a weapon. Her parents had taught her that. It had only ever led to pain. 

Queen Bee was so engrossed in her warring thoughts that she nearly hit a weathervane, narrowly avoiding it only by throwing herself into a graceful arc over the obstruction.

“Where are we?” she demanded as she glanced around. “This isn’t our normal route.”

“No,” Koira agreed. “I thought it was time to do more than just damage control.”

Queen Bee scowled at her partner. “Meaning?”

“Why are we always cleaning up Hawk Moth’s messes?” Koira said as he led her down another street. “Why are we always being chased instead of chasing?”

“Like, a million reasons.” Trust was one thing, but questioning how things were done… it wasn’t perfect but it worked. “One, we don’t know anything about him. Two, he, like, never shows up in public. Three, we don’t know anything about him.”

“Don’t we?” Koira said, finally coming to a stop on the roof of a random building. “After all, Chat Noir thought he didn’t know anything about Ladybug until he had to find her.”

Queen Bee opened her mouth to argue, but the words died on her tongue as her heart beat once, then twice. A tone rang briefly in her ear, distracting her, until she abruptly refocused on Koira shaking his head, the last few seconds a hazy blur.

“We just think we don’t know anything about him,” Koira continued as though nothing had happened as he pulled a loose tile out. “Truth is, LB and Chat Noir have been so busy cleaning up they haven’t had time to do anything else. But now they have us.”

“Are you going to stop being cryptic or do I have to continue to pretend to be interested in whatever you’re rambling about?” Queen Bee snapped. 

Koira scowled, but leaned back to show her the map he’d pulled out from under the tile, marked with dozens of red dots. “Do you know how criminal profiling started?”

“Like…instagram accounts for bad guys?”

“Profiling.” Koira pointed to the map. “Where detectives and scientists would put together a profile on their bad guy based on the data of their crimes to help them catch them when they didn’t even have an eye-witness to go on. It started when investigators would mark where suspects carried out their crimes. More often than not, the crimes would take place in a radius around where the suspect did the deed. They didn’t like to go too far from home, but they didn’t like to be too close, either. Too obvious. Problem is, you’re left with a nice little target on your head that anyone can find if they just notice the pattern.”

Queen Bee frowned at the map. “But that doesn’t look like anything. There’s dots all over Paris.”

“But just Paris,” Koira said, splaying his gloved hand over the map. “So we know he’s probably in the city.”

“Puh-lease! He’s after the Miraculous, right? Which is where Ladybug and Chat Noir are. So he’s creating akumas here. That’s all that proves. After all, you’re not from here.”

“He has to be close,” Koira insisted. “The Miraculous have limits. He wouldn’t be able to feel negative emotions from too far away.”

“Not necessarily,” Queen Bee said, crouching closer to the map for a better look. “The horse miraculous and rabbit miraculous have no limits on distance, temporal or physical. He akumatized a villain in the United States just a few months ago.”

Koira huffed, running a hand through his hair. “This is why I bother with you.”

Queen Bee blinked over at him. “What?”

“You’re so combative.” He traced an invisible line from dot to dot. “You just love to be right.” His hand abruptly froze on the map as he looked over at her. “I see things more clearly with you.”

Queen Bee could feel every nerve in her body tingle as those green eyes bored into hers. So similar, but so different. Amber flecks instead of blue. But looking at Adrien had never made her feel like this, like every nerve in her body was on fire.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re right,” she whispered. “He would want to be here, to get his hands on the Miraculous as soon as possible. Maybe not when everything first started, but now…”

“He’s appeared in the city,” Koira said, but his gaze didn’t stray from her face. “He saved Mayura when she was in danger. He wouldn’t have been fast enough if he’d been elsewhere.”

“So he’s here,” Queen Bee repeated, finally breaking his gaze to scour the map again, but no pattern revealed itself.

“Somewhere. We just have to flush him out.” Koira paused, tracing more invisible lines. “It might take some…bonding time.”

Queen Bee made a face. “Bonding time? With…?”

Koira barked a laugh as he caught her meaning. “God, no. I meant you with our fearless leader and me with my dear cousin. There’s a pattern here; we just need more details. I’m betting the wonder twins have just been too enamoured with one another to see it. But you and I can probably find it, or some clues, to start to form a picture.”

“Oh. Right.” She was definitely not stung that he didn’t want to hang out with her. She was just embarrassed to have jumped to conclusions. That was it. “Well, I must warn you, the Lady’s not my biggest fan. She might be suspicious.”

Koira glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Trust me: play your cards right and she’ll give you just about anything. I, on the other hand, have no such trump card. The cat will have his back up.”

But Queen Bee bit her lip. “Maybe it would be better to just tell them.” Striking out on her own, not trusting Ladybug had been what had caused all her problems in the first place. 

“Answer me this,” Koira said, turning to face her. “Do you honestly think they’ll let us do this if we say anything?”

No. No, they wouldn’t. They’d be afraid of the consequences. Queen Bee was afraid of the consequences. But she was beginning to be more afraid of what she already had to lose. A sense of urgency rose up in her, nudging at her in a way she couldn’t quite grasp. She breathed through the panic, letting it guide her to a conclusion.

“Once we find him,” Queen Bee said at last, “We tell them, before we do anything.” 

“Deal,” Koira said, reaching for his map. “I would have anyway. I’ve seen first-hand the consequences of taking Hawk Moth on without everyone on board. But until then, this stays between us.”

Queen Bee stood, arms crossed. “As if I’ll even remember what house this is after we leave,” she scoffed.

But she would. She’d memorized the house across the way and the name of the street. She might not get it on the first try, but if she had to, she could probably find it again. She was done, she decided. She was done letting Hawk Moth jerk her around. She was done having her life ruined over and over again because she was afraid. And she was done being on defense. 

And she wanted it, she realized. More than anything, she wanted Hawk Moth’s head on a platter. It had been months since he’d last manipulated her, but the wounds were still fresh, and stung more than she remembered. 

Queen Bee wanted her life back.

And Hawk Moth was going to damn well give it to her, even if she had to chase him through all of Paris to get it.

[petri808]

Hauntober prompt Ghost (sort of lol)

Bakudeku requested by @nona-inc Angst w/happy ending, AU modern times. Longer than I’d planned to write but stories go where they wanna lol.

Got the idea here

A Second Chance

In his adulthood, Izuku Midoriya did quite well for himself career-wise. He had a nice home and lived comfortably even though it was alone. Relationships had never really crossed his mind, which he chalked up to the turmoil of his childhood. It wasn’t a terribly horrible one but coming from divorced parents is never easy on young child minds. Why get close to anyone if they’ll probably leave eventually? That was a lesson bolstered by the end of primary school when his best friend ditched him for the popular kids.

It was Halloween night, and Izuku’s simply followed his normal routine after work consisting of dinner while watching a bit of television. Trick or treaters were a rarity in his neighborhood, so there was no sense in celebrating the holiday. As he waits for the news, he lets the current show drone on in the background while he scrolled mindlessly through his social media. He didn’t pay a lot of attention to what acquaintances posted and mostly looked for interesting or funny posts instead.

“Deku...”

Izuku’s brow furrows slightly at that ancient nickname. He looks at the television characters on the screen, had one of them said it? But instead of the tv show, he finds a fuzzy, staticky screen. He grabs his remote assuming something had gone wrong with the channel or service when...

“Deku, I’m sorry...”

“What the?” Izuku starts clicking the buttons and getting no response. The screen stays stuck, yet that voice... it was a familiar voice from long ago...

“...I’ve watched you from afar for all these years, because I could never admit how much I loved you and now it’s too late. I’m so sorry Deku. You’ll always be my only true love.”

Silence. Dead silence for a flash of a second when the television loudly blares back to life and startles Izuku out of his seat into a standing position. “What the fuck is going on?!”

The show had ended, and the news is now on in its regular-timed slot.

‘Breaking news, a major four car accident on the I10 highway has left 3 people dead and one in a critical condition. The victim identified as 37-year old K. Bakugou had been transported to the hospital for treatment. Police have closed off the highway in both directions, so anyone traveling in that area should use alternative routes...’

As he watches the footage of the accident story, Izuku’s hand unconscious covers his mouth and tears gather in his eyes. “Oh my gosh....” That was the voice he’d just heard! Of course, Katsuki was the only one who ever called him Deku.

He quickly calls one of the nurses at his hospital and they confirm that the man had in fact been transported there 15 minutes ago.

“Oh! Dr. Midoriya! We were just about to call you! Yes, patient Bakugou was brought in unconscious, lacerations to his arms and chest, broken leg, possible punctured lung, internal bleeding, concussion, and brain swelling which is why I was just about to call you in.”

“I’ll be right there.”

The entire way there, Izuku struggles to rationalize the message. If Katsuki was unconscious, how could that have been his voice? Then again that’s if you believed his television had somehow sent the message in the first place! Oh, this was entirely crazy! Izuku didn’t even know why his logical mind was allowing him to believe it had happened if not for the coincidence of the news coverage.

But as a neurosurgeon, he had to put all those questions aside and focus on the task at hand. The description the nurse had given him already indicated major problems, but it wasn’t until his own physical examination that determined the true extent of the damage. Primary surgical nurse Uraraka already had set up the operating room by the time Izuku arrived.

“The patient was revived once by EMTs in the ambulance and a second time in the ER after his heart stopped. Right now, the patient is intubated and prepped for emergency surgery.”

“Thank you, nurse Uraraka.”

Along with a fellow doctor, Izuku switched into a hyper focused mode. He works to repair the damage to the patient’s brain while the other doctor simultaneously focuses on internal chest injuries. Time was of the essence to stem the blood loss and mitigate further damage if they had any hope of saving the man, because even if he made it through the surgery, only a miracle would bring him back at this point.

It was now a waiting game. They keep Katsuki in a medically induced coma for the first three weeks as his body worked hard to repair itself. Once he was brought out of the induced coma, he still didn’t wake up, was breathing with the assistance of a machine, but at least the man’s heart was functioning normally. Surprisingly, Katsuki’s parents remembered Izuku and were grateful their son was in familiar hands. They’d initially flew in after the accident, but the cost to stay for such a long length of time would be too steep. So, after they returned home, he kept them up to date.

Each day that passed by, Izuku would check in on Katsuki’s progress like a normal doctor would, but at night he’d go home and ponder the ghostly message that had come through the television. He’d told no one about it because who would believe something so crazy? It just didn’t sound like the man, or rather child he remembered. Never once was there any indication Katsuki had romantic feelings for him, especially considering it was him not Izuku that ended their friendship. They saw each other in passing though middle, then high school and still nothing. So why is he now being told this?

Some say that when you die, any regrets you have must be released or your soul cannot ascend to the next plane. Izuku wasn’t religious or spiritual and before that Halloween trick he would have said he didn’t believe in anything beyond what he couldn’t see, touch, feel, and analyze. Ugh! Maybe that’s why this was all driving him so crazy. He wanted answers but the one person who could give it to him was stuck in a coma.

“Everything okay doctor?” One of the LPN’s asks Izuku. “I just need to check on the patients vitals.”

“Do what you need to nurse, I’m just visiting before I go home for the night.”

“Yes, doctor.” The woman makes her chart notations and leaves them alone again.

Because of Izuku’s standing at the hospital, he’d gotten Katsuki a private room. The man was taken off the breathing machine a week earlier and this way he could monitor the man without being pestered. There were times he would spend a few hours just watching the man sleep, trying to study what had become of his childhood friend. Through research, Izuku learned Katsuki had moved here around the same time that he’d started his internship at the hospital. Before that the man lived in the same town as the medical school he attended. It appeared Katsuki really was keeping track of Izuku, never married, and just worked in the marketing field.

Izuku squeezes the man’s hand with his eyes closed in a silent conversation. The only sounds being the beeps and noises of the machines to break the stillness. Lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t know what to think, what to feel, just that this man was dredging up long buried emotions that part of him was afraid to open up. Hadn’t he built up a good life, albeit a lonely one, it was still by his own wit and merits whereas Katsuki always had it so easy. The man was a smart, handsome jock, popular, and had been on track to do great things. While he was the geeky kid with freckles and wild green hair who the popular kids teased.

They were so close as little kids, all through preschool and the first years of primary. Katsuki was the extroverted one pulling him along on make believe adventures to emulate a shared love of a comic book character. In fact, it was with Katsuki’s help that he’d weathered his parent’s divorce. He idolized the stronger boy and wished he was Katsuki, not a weak like little nerd... perhaps having his child’s heart broken, really was the reason he swore off ever caring about anyone else again.

Did he just?! Izuku’s eyes pop open when his hand squeeze is returned by a weak one. Katsuki’s eyes are still closed and nothing else seemed unchanged. Perhaps it was just a nervous tremor, they happen sometimes. But no there it is again! Izuku stares down as the weak squeeze slowly turns into a grasp of his hand.

“Katsuki?”

A third squeeze. That meant the man was alert enough to hear and understand! Friend or not, it was the kind of thing to get a neurologist excited! Izuku quickly moved into doctor mode again and starts checking all the stats as well as alerting the nurse on shift.

“Welcome back Mister Bakugou.”

The man squeezes his hand.

“I’m your doctor, Midoriya. You might remember me...”

The man squeezes again and tries to talk, but after being intubated for a long time the throat tends to be dry, sore, and the muscles weakened. All that comes through is so faint it’s barely audible.

“Mister Bakugou, you’ve been unconscious for almost two months now, please try not to talk just yet, everything will be fine.”

But that only makes the man angrier. Furious red eyes flashing, Katsuki grips harder to Izuku’s hand using what little strength he has to try and pull him closer. So, Izuku leans in. “Calm down, it’s gonna...”

“Ma—y...” angry growling noises. “Mar...”

Obviously, the man wasn’t going to stop until he gave in, so Izuku leans in even more until his ear is practically next to Katsuki’s mouth. “I’m sorry?”

“Marry me damnit!!”

Izuku shoots straight up. “What?!” Is the guy serious?! The first words out of his mouth is that?! Wow... Katsuki really hasn’t changed, feisty as ever even after almost dying.

“Pa-pa—per pen!”

“H-hold on, just try to calm down please! I don’t want you to strain your heart!”

Midoriya grabs the chart, flips the paper over to the blank backside, and puts a pen in Katsuki’s hand. He holds it steady as the man scribbled shakily. ‘No waste 2nd chance marry me Deku.’

“Mister Bakugou, this is...”

The man pounds his fist on the bed then scribbles more. ‘Stop call me that! nickname!’

Izuku sighs and squeezes his eyes closed for a second. He hadn’t used that name since primary just like he’d hadn’t heard Deku all these years. “Kacchan. Happy now? I-I can’t just say okay. You—y-you ditched me remember and now you suddenly pop up and expect me to marry you?! Kacchan you almost died, I get it, that’s a scary thing to deal with, but you just need time to process...”

Katsuki writes, ‘Nothin 2 think bout. No more regrets,’ Then he mouths out the rest in a whisper, “I love you Deku.”

Izuku sighs, “I’m not saying yes or no Kacchan. Just get well first okay, then we’ll talk about everything.”

“Fine.” The man closes his eyes again seemingly satisfied with the answer.

He squeezes Katsuki’s hand. “I’ll see you in the morning Kacchan.”

When Izuku leaves that evening, he couldn’t help but walk out with a flutter in his chest and a pang in his heart. There really was a lot he still needed to get off his chest, but... he felt the honesty from Katsuki. If his dying regrets had been strong enough to reach him via spiritual mail, and the first thing he wanted to talk about was love, then... ‘take the second chance Izuku.’ Not everyone gets one.

[ofieugogyshz]

Fic; Yearning for Adventure

Word Count: 2600

no tws / super fluffy, lovey-dovey content / self-ship content

Summary: Sometimes it’s hard being away from someone who feels like home. Someone who’s so busy, who puts so much on their plate, and not being able to help them with it. All you can do is wait, wait, and wait, hoping that maybe, one day, they’ll make the decision for themselves... 

inspired by that one fucking uquiz and two lovedrunk fools crashing hands against their keyboards, cranking out things to fluster the other based off those uquiz results. 

I mean, uh. I really love my husband and I want him to come home damnit.

As always, I love to hear comments and what you thought of it! :D rbs encouraged!

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We agreed to meet up somewhere when he was done with the current job he was on. The current Pokemon G-Man mission he was on had kept him away for awhile, a bit longer than the jobs he had been taking in recent years. He called me every so often, usually at the end of his day when he could, and if he didn't think it was too late. (It was never too late for me.) Some days we joked about how we still managed to have such a great marriage in spite of his work; a job that he had been considering asking for less of, so he could spend more time focusing on other factors in his life: the league, the clan, his mentee... his relationship with me. He said that he thought it wasn't fair to continue to ask so much of me, for how often we were kept apart sometimes. But I always told him that I knew what I signed up for, and that any complaints I gave him were always promptly taken care of; it wasn't of concern to me.

At least, that's what I told him. I always told him that, but I'm sure he knew that that wasn't the case. How often I had asked him to take time off from everything and go with me to visit Alola; a few times just half-joking when everything was stressful, that maybe we should just pack up and move there, even though neither of us had ever been. (He didn't like the joke too much, being such a responsible person, but he understood that I never meant seriously.) Even when we went to Galar for his match against its Champion, we could only stay a week; and I found myself longing to extend our stay, despite having put aside the notion of adventure, of having finally taking a break to just stay put and find a new, everyday routine. I'm sure it was the same for him; he looked as though he wanted to stay longer, and reconnect with the Gym Leader of the local Dragon-type Gym. But, work beckoned. A week off was all that the league could afford him, and he was already set up for a new mission when we got back.

I had really wondered if he was okay with living like this still. So when I heard him say this one night, over the phone, that he was considering limiting his time with them, I felt my heart jump in my chest. He never said anything that he wasn't serious about, and I... I really wanted to believe him. But for all the love and joy that he's brought into my life, I've been far too used to being denied things, especially in my younger years. I've trained myself not to expect too much of it, even though, when he said something... I always wanted to believe. I usually did. This though... This just felt too good to be true. So I was cautiously optimistic, cautiously hopeful, that maybe his words would ring true. But he was only considering it. Considering... It didn't guarantee an answer, but it had been on his mind for awhile.

That was a relief to know.

Even though the match was considered official league business, they did allow us a free week stay at a hotel. The vacation was much needed. This short little vacation where he was pardoned from all other work, all other responsibilities taken care of for a time. We weren't the same kids as we were when we met, two kids, two teens, on their own separate journeys; we had a lot more responsibilities expected of us as adults. I remember the thought flickering through my mind about how tired he looked, trying to split himself up so many ways; and how, here, during that week off, did I see him get the rest that he needed. The rest that needed, he deserved, from having too much on his plate. ...I wanted to believe that, maybe, one day, it could be like that everyday. I did my best to enjoy it while it last.

My Dragonite shifted her head, listening. Pika stopped her playing as well, ears twitching, a curious expression on her little face as she looked in the same direction as Augusta. I stuck my head out of the mountainside cave, the little cliff that jettisoned over part of Route 45. I pushed my glasses up, squinting, trying to see anything. Augusta snorted, a puff of air coming out of her nostrils, as she crossed her arms. Guess it was nothing. I gave my Dragonite a suspicious look, and she closed her eyes, pretending not to see. Meanwhile, my Pikachu continued to look around.

“Pikapi!!” exclaimed Pika, pointing above. I turned my head up, pouting when I saw the silhouette.

“Aw, man. I was going to try and surprise you.”

“Must be why she,” I said, nodding in the direction of my Dragonite, “suddenly went quiet.” I could just imagine him gesturing for her to be quiet as his Dragonite flew in, hovering above the cave entrance; my Pikachu, on the other hand, was not so great at unspoken signals. Especially when she was nearly as excited as I was to see my husband.

“I didn't think Pika was going to be around.”

“Oh, really? My partner Pokemon from when I was nine?”

“You know what I meant.”

“I do! Now get off that Dragonite and greet your wife properly!” I said, pouting at him again.

He laughed, jumping down as his Pokemon lowered close to the cave's entrance. Even though I usually found it cool when he jumped off, watching his cape fluttering behind him as he somehow always managed to stick his landing, I didn't waste a single second of this reunion, and found myself running to hug him, squeezing him tight. He returned my embrace, kissing me gently on the head. We held each other like that, quietly enjoying each other's presence. Time was on our side for the moment, as we breathed in the other's scent. Relishing that moment's peace.

“I missed you too,” he said slowly, hesitantly, as though breaking the silence first would cause the moment to be over, and time would once again resume, our adult lives parting us once more as responsibilities came to claim us.

“I missed you,” I said, looking up at his face. He looked like he was tired, but the sight of me had given him some relief from whatever stressors his mission had given him. I wanted to kiss that exhaustion away, and leaned in to do so...

Only to be tapped lightly in the face with a letter.

Well, that was unromantic.

I pursed my lips, pouting at him again, as I pulled the letter he held away from my face. “What's this?” I asked, a little grumbly. It had better been good to interrupt that, I thought. And he knew it too.

“Well....” he began, starting to look a little bashful. I raised an eyebrow, curious. He was usually the better of the two of us when it came to confidently and clearly speaking. “Those nights when I thought it was too late to call you--”

“You know I'm nocturnal, it wouldn't've been too late.”

He cleared his throat, and I took it as a cue to let him talk without interrupting. Not an easy feat for me, but for him? I could try. I crossed my arms and waited, letting him take the podium once more.

“It's a letter for you. I wrote you one.”

My face flushed instantly. I grabbed the envelope, looking it over and trying not to make my fluster obvious. (As though I could ever hide it from him.)

“Lance! Are you frickin' serious? I can't believe you would-- Honey, please.” I threw down my hands, letter still in hand, reluctantly accepting my flustered fate with resignation. I sighed, giving up, and held the letter close to me once more, looking at it again. “You didn't have to do that.”

“I know, I know. But... I haven't written you one in awhile, and, well, there were some things that I thought might be better said on paper. Especially with your memory,” he teased. I smacked his arm with the letter. “Ow!”

“Pff. You and I both know that didn't hurt.”

“It hurt my ego,” he said, giving me a sad face. He was using one of my own tactics against me.

“Oh stop that.” I rolled my eyes. My fingers traced over the back of the envelope, where the letter had been sealed inside. I waited. He didn't say anything, but watched me instead. “What?”

“I... Actually I wanted to see you read it. It's not long, I promise.”

My face, which had been cooling off from its earlier fluster, heated up once more. “E-eh? Uh... Um...” I fumbled around for my words, not even sure of what I was trying to think. It was embarrassing, for one, to think about him watching me read the words he carefully chose and picked out for me. And I was already so easy to fluster in person...

“What's wrong?”

“U-um... Nothing. Nothing, really.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm my shuddering nerves. “I'm just not used to this... I mean, it's been awhile since we've exchanged letters, and, well, usually we weren't face to face if we ever read them around the other.... I think.” I tried to think of a time when something like this happened before, but nothing came to mind. Memories of us as teens, meeting up, sharing our letters with one another; whatever we had meant to send out on our way to a meetup spot were shared during those moments, sitting next to each other, leaning into each other. Arms wrapped around the recipient, chins on shoulders as we watched with bated breath our datemate read, pressing our faces against the other's back... okay maybe that last one was mostly me. Memories of reading by candlelight during a storm in this particular spot came to mind. I briefly wondered if those initials I carved when I was sixteen were still somewhere, or if time or a Pokemon wore away at the wall that I inscribed them on. Maybe I was still too busy processing the unexpected turn of events to think of any other time except those.

I heaved another sigh, quickly accepting my fate, and opened the letter. I didn't read it aloud, at any rate, so I at least was spared that embarrassment. Though... to say his words were embarrassing would have been an insult that he did not deserve. He never shied away from telling me that he loved me, and there was not a soul that had spent any time around him that could doubt it. He treasured me greatly, and often went to great lengths to remind me of it. Even right now. I found myself skimming far quicker than my brain could process, various words standing out to me all at once, and I felt a quivering in my lips at the thought that went into them. I peeked my eyes out from behind the letter to glance at him. He usually enjoyed watching me do anything, but this was the one time I think he had managed to keep his glance askew, distracted with greeting my two Pokemon. I took a deep breath and tried again to swim through the words, letting them flow back into the sentences they once formed, and read it again, and again, all the way through, until it was done in one go.

I finally threw the letter down again, running to hug him again.

“You... You know you don't have to write me letters, right?”

“Sometimes, you need something a little more memorable. It at least kept me busy some nights without you.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You're silly sometimes, you know that?”

“I know.”

He kissed the top of my head again. He pulled back a little, cupping my face; starting at my jawline, gently tracing the sides of my face with his thumbs, his hands gliding until they rested just under my ears, tucking his hands in to the loose hair that had gathered there. I felt myself pulled in for a kiss, softly, as though he were taking gentle care of something that he revered. I draped my arms over his shoulders, hands linking at the back of his neck.

I loved our kisses. The ones when we had been apart for awhile, they never ceased to be amazing, some sort of magical moment that still managed to make my heart skip a beat. It was a release for all that tension that came from being apart, a relief that we were together again. Passion still beat beneath that, restrained, as though we were desperate to let the other know that we were missed, but we kept it back, used it to keep our kiss going, lips locked, never wanting to be apart once more. Never to be left longing again. There was a bittersweet feeling in the air as our lips pulled away slightly, heads pressed together.

“Having you to come back to... It's what makes the job worthwhile.”

I nuzzled him, kissing his cheek. “You're just saying that.”

“I mean it, Sarah. You're what keeps me going; I look forward to coming home to you.”

My face flushed once more, and I buried it in the crook of his neck. His hands came to rest on my back, and he held me tight. I whined against his chest, embarrassed. As always, I lacked the words to pinpoint the feelings it gave me whenever he said that; I always used to assume he just said those things to be romantic, when we were younger. But I quickly realized that whatever he said, he meant; and every single thing he had ever said since always made my heart jump. Even the cheesy ones.

He pulled me away a little to kiss me once more. I wrapped my arms around his waist, leaning in to his kiss. A smile played its way onto our lips. We laughed, giggling, trying to kiss each other only for our lips to part. My mind played back what he said, as we kissed, the mirthful laughter still intermittent. Before we could get lost in our reunion, I pulled away, looking at his eyes.

“Does this mean that you're still going to be working the same hours with the G-Men?”

“Hm. I haven't been able to discuss it with them yet, but I did start filling out a request form to change my availability with them. It's been a long time coming, and I'm sure my colleagues there will be relieved to hear that I'm finally giving myself a break. Though, I will miss a lot of the adventures that job brings...”

My eyes widened as I listened to him. I had questions that I wanted to ask him about it, about what he meant specifically, what hours he had in mind, how come he never took this time before if others at this job were downright concerned for his well-being, but none of the right words would come to mind.

“Wow. What are you ever going to do with all that free time?” I asked, half teasing.

“I'm not sure. I'm hoping maybe spend more time with you.” He kissed me on the cheek, and I buried my face again, laughing into his chest.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I hope you do too.”

[writerofshit]

Secret Santa:X

(This is half headcanon, half fic, all fun times and emotions)

(Shoutout to the Penthouse discord server for help on some of the gifts, would have been lost without you)

The last Christmas they have in the penthouse, Ryan brings up Secret Santa again. It’s partly a joke, partly a nod to the nostalgia that’s been eating at all of them the last few months. He brings it up when they’re all gathered in the living room, watching Gavin try and prove his stealth abilities in Hitman.

(“Just because you can be stealthy in a video game doesn’t mean I’m letting you come with me.” Jack had said at the beginning of it all.

“If I get silent assassin you have to take me!”

“This is your fourth run through!”)

Anyhow, Ryan brings it up, all nonchalant. “Remember that year we did Secret Santa?”

“No?” Jeremy says honestly.

“Before your time.” Michael says with a smile, patting him on the head.

“It was fun. We should do it again.”

(”Goddamnit!” On screen, Gavin dies again.)

The next day they have a meeting of all the ‘movers and shakers’, as Geoff has taken to calling them. He announces that Secret Santa is yet again a thing, and no, Matt, you can’t get out of it. There’s no budget, because they all have access to more money than they know what to do with.

They throw eleven names in a hat and go from there. Geoff calls first pick because he’s an asshole like that, and his choice picks next, so on and so forth.

 “Just get your shit done by Christmas, and we’ll do it then.”

--

Geoff pulls Gavin, and only panics a little.

The kid has everything he could ever want, what’s he really supposed to do? He considers what he might need, ends up crossing ‘bulletproof vest and a helmet’ off the list because it feels a little impersonal. He could do liquor of some sort, but he suspects there will be enough of that floating around on Christmas day.

He considers a camera, knows Gavin is into that kind of shit, but he’s lost a lot of knowledge in that department over the years. The only person who knows enough is Gavin himself, and that kind of defeats the point.

He ends up going for a new pair of gold shades, because the old ones are pretty worn out after six-plus years, and he’s almost positive Gavin has lost them. (Probably in Ryan’s room, but that’s neither here nor there) He gets a pair that have diamonds along the arms, and even though they’re ridiculously expensive he thinks it’s worth it.

Gavin adores them, has them on within 30 seconds of unwrapping them. He pokes himself in the eye, and that feels like a bonus to Geoff.

--

Gavin pulls Trevor, and while he plays it off at first “Oh, this will be easy, I got this person for sure!” he absolutely has no idea what to do.

 There’s a weird bit of time where he tries to get to know Trevor better. He learns absolutely nothing new, despite following the guy for almost a week.

There’s a night he lays in bed with Ryan, bitching about this whole thing. “What the hell do I do? This was terrible for me last time, why would you suggest this?”

He ends up calling Barbara from the Roosters to try and figure out something, who promptly makes fun of him for not knowing anything about the guy he’s worked with for years. She does give one bit of new information, so he goes with it.

He gives Trevor tickets to the next Motocross event, because it’s apparently something he’s into. He throws in a NASA t-shirt as a joke, a nod to the world Trevor left behind.

Both items go over well, Trevor immediately pulling the shirt on over what he’s already wearing. He won’t shut up about Motocross for the rest of the day, either.

--

Trevor pulls Ryan, which he’s immediately terrified of.

 He knows Ryan well enough to know that there won’t be any serious repercussions if he fucks it up, he won’t get gutted over a poor gift choice. But he also knows he’ll get that weird stare Ryan does when he’s pretending to consider whether or not to hurt someone. Plus he won’t live it down from the rest of the crew.

At first he goes to Gavin for help, because apparently nobody is taking the ‘secret’ part seriously. Gavin absolutely refuses to help him, mostly for the laughs. He knows Gavin’s getting a kick out of watching him squirm over this, which is so unfair. Then he asks Jack for help, who just shrugs. 

“You’re a smart guy, Trevor, you’ll figure something out.”

He does, sort of. He gives Ryan a 24 pack of diet coke (because what else?) and an actually beautiful rainbow knife. It seems pretty heavy duty, and he knows its right up his alley. He also throws in some earplugs as a joke.

 “So you can tune out Gav’s idiocy whenever you need.”

“Come on, Trevor. I’ve had years of practice at that. The knife is gorgeous though.”

--

Ryan pulls Alfredo, and he’s not too worried about it.

Alfredo’s their go-to sniper these days, and a new sniper rifle seems pretty obvious. Maybe a gift card to Ammunation or something? It does feel a little lackluster, even to him, so he brings it up to Gavin one night, while Gav is still debating t-shirts from Amazon.

“That’s a bit boring, isn’t it?”

“You’re buying a NASA shirt for an ex-aerospace engineer. I’m gonna need you to rethink your stance on this one.”

“Nah. You gotta do something better for Fredo, he deserves it.”

Which. alright, then what the fuck is he supposed to do? He gets his answer the next week when he sees Alfredo on a motorcycle for the first time.

“I’m going to teach you how to actually ride that thing.” Which is good, a chance to catch up and hang out. Bad, because Ryan’s method of teaching is ‘learn by doing’ and does in fact result in shouting.

Ryan still gives him the sniper rifle, which he is far more excited about.

--

Alfredo pulls Fiona, and it’s the first time he marginally regrets joining the crew.

He’s got no fucking idea what she’d like, what gift she’d appreciate and not hit him over. He tries to be casual about asking around, hoping someone might have better insight. The rest of the crew catches on immediately, and they flood him with false information.

“She loves chocolate. Favorite Halloween candy, in fact!” Michael tells him, but the grin he has says otherwise.

“She mentioned something about wanting to learn a new language.” Jack says seriously.

“Get her an English to French dictionary, she’ll love it.” Gavin tacks on.

“French, yep. She definitely wants to learn that one.”

Lindsay is the only one who actually helps him. “She’s been known to enjoy a drink or two.”

By sheer luck he happens to walk into one of the thousand arguments Fiona has with Michael over the whole ‘Halloween candy’ debacle, and he knows immediately that's a bad route to go down.

He ends up making a gift basket full of liquor mini’s and various candies. He makes sure not to include any chocolates, and throws some extra blowpops in, just to be safe.

Thankfully, she does appreciate the thought he put in, and she says she’ll only share with Alfredo since everyone else is an asshole.

--

Fiona pulls Lindsay, and it’s not hard to figure out what she’ll like.

 She considers something chaotic, the two of them wreaking havoc on the city together. It makes sense. She also thinks about organizing a ‘girls day’, getting all the ladies of the crew together to go out and fuck some shit up. There’s a lot of logistics involved in that one, including convincing some of them to be out in the field like that.

It crosses her mind to bring Lindsay to a shelter to play with cats, because if there’s one thing Lindsay likes more than chaos, it’s cats. That’s also a bit of a logistical nightmare, not to mention the strength it would take to pry her away.

In the end she goes with cat merch. It’s a basket full of goodies, including a mug with a cat holding a bi-pride flag, a dress with various cartoon cats on it, and a cat necklace that has her birthstone as the body.

It’s beautiful, and Lindsay just about cries. She too, immediately changes into her new clothing, and she drinks everything out of the mug for at least a month.

--

Lindsay pulls Matt, and at first she panics.

She knows him fairly well, but like... He’s a real weirdo, what’s she supposed to do with that? She wonders what games he could use, if there’s anything he hasn’t bought himself.

Her confusion lasts until she mentions it to Michael. (Only after he let it slip who he’d picked.)

“Are you fucking kidding me? Matt’s the easiest goddamn one!”

“Bullshit! Name one thing you know about M.att B.ragg!”

“He eats like shit! Give him a box of donuts and he’ll lose his fuckin mind.”

Her response of  “Oh my god.” is barely heard.

She spends a week trying out different recipes, much to Ryan’s delight. He’s happy to play taste-tester while she finds the perfect flavor combination.

She winds up going with a double chocolate espresso concoction. Matt is, of course, super stoked about his cupcakes, and damn near has to fight Ryan off to protect them.

--

Matt pulls Jeremy, which is pretty much a slam dunk.

Whiskey is the obvious choice, one he’ll absolutely go with, thank you very much. Who said taking the easy way out never got you anywhere?

And it would have, if it weren’t for Geoff.

There’s a debate that happens about a week before Christmas, something about the necessity of going to the liquor store. Michael and Jeremy are firmly pro-trip, and Geoff just wants them to “stay home and do some goddamn work. Besides, it’s not like half of you guys aren’t buying each other liquor anyway. In a week I’m sure we’ll be fully stocked.”

Which, alright. Fuck Matt then, huh? He’d genuinely thought it was a good idea, a mix of thoughtful and practical.

He decides to pair the whiskey with- well, it’s kind of a joke gift, but at least he won’t be accused of only buying liquor.

He commissions a customized cowboy hat. Half purple half orange, split right down the middle. There’s a neon yellow buckle on it, and it’s the ugliest thing Matt has ever seen in his life.

Jeremy loves it though, thinks it’s goddamn perfect. He wears it for the rest of the day, and for the next heist.

(Michael is less enthused.)

--

Jeremy pulls Michael, and that-

That’s harder than it should be.

He and Michael have been doing this... Whatever the fuck it is for over six months now, and they haven’t goddamn talked about. Not really. They’ve had moments,sure, here and there when they’re both drunk and thinking far too much about it. Reminding each other that they’re happy, that this is a good time, wouldn’t change it for the world-

But there’s still nights they sleep alone and they don’t talk about why. They still don’t really mention it to anyone else, even if they all know. Jeremy still doesn’t know how to answer when someone asks what the deal is with him and Michael.

So it’s hard, right, to come up with a relationship- appropriate gift. Too jokey and he’ll feel bad. Too serious isn’t their style at all. Plus like… how’s he supposed to do that in front of everybody? Just because they know there’s something there doesn’t mean they need to put on a show.

He settles on the obvious, nice bottle of tequila and a couple of shot glasses. It’s not exactly personal, but it’s good enough to show the room.

Later, in a quiet moment they can steal away, Jeremy offers to take him out the next night.

“We’ll do the bar thing, just you and me. My treat.”

“Oh yeah? You’re buying my drinks all night?” Michael asks him with a sly grin.

“I uh- I’ll get your drinks for as long as you’ll have me.” and it doesn’t come out exactly right, but they both know what he means by it.

Earns him a smile and a sweet kiss, and that alone is worth it.

--

Michael pulls Jack, and he runs through a few options.

He considers buying her furniture, because he knows she'll need it when they all finally do move out. But Jack has a good head on her shoulders and probably already has that shit on lock.

He looks into custom shelving, for all the knick knacks she's collected over the years. He could get it designed in colors she'd like and shell out extra for lighting and all that shit. But she doesn't have a new place yet, as far as he knows, so that's kind of a bust.

He could give her what amounts to a gift certificate, an offer to pay for whatever she wants made, but that seems kind of… Empty?

There's the age old alcohol gift, but that's been done before, and is probably being done by almost everyone else.

He mentions to Lindsay how weirdly difficult it is to buy something for Jack, get’s zero advice but somehow helps her figure out the whole Matt mystery.

In the end he decides to help her out and piss her off, a little bit of a win-win kinda thing. He buys her a couple of new shirts, bold and flowery and almost as bad as Jeremy’s Rimmy Tim shtick. He hates them but he knows she loves them, so it’s worth it.

He tells her it’s because her old shirts gotta be falling out of fashion, an opinion she is not happy about.

But it’s fine, because he also gets her tickets to fucking Disney World, of all places. He even offers to go with her, which she absolutely takes him up on.

It’s more fun than he expects, and it’s a really good chance to actually spend some time with her. He hadn’t realized it had been so long.

--

Jack pulls Geoff, which.

It’s no secret that Geoff is a sentimental bastard when it comes to the crew. It’s exactly why he’d spent months talking to her about the possibility of selling the penthouse, trying to figure out exactly how everyone would react, trying to figure out how he would react to not having them all so close anymore. She spent countless nights listening to him wonder what it meant that he wanted his own space.

Objectively, he was probably a bad person but his love and fierce loyalty to the crew made up for that, in some ways, right? So how can he kick them out, how can he do this to them, he’s being selfish-

And she had just explained to him that he had to do what was right for him. That it was understandable. That he was right, they could all use the opportunity to be a little more independent. She was looking forward to having her own space, and in time the rest of them would too.

So when she pulls Geoff’s name, she knows she’s gotta lean into that a bit. She could get him some books, some puzzles maybe. He’d mentioned off-hand that he missed having the space for them, because the kitchen table was always covered in some sort of crew shenanigans.

She does get him those, because she knows they’ll get some use.

But the big thing is the collage.

She’s had pictures of the crew on her phone for years, dating all the way back to her and Geoff in a shitty apartment. She’s got some of Ray, curled up on the couch with a DS in his hand. Gavin and Michael wrestling one drunken night. Ryan, nodded off on the couch after a heist, face paint still on and a complete mess. Jeremy trying to teach Matt something resembling self-defense. Lindsay cuddling a stray cat she had taken in. Trevor and Alfredo in matching clothes, playing up the ‘twin’ joke that had been going around. Fiona in that bright yellow suit, modeling for her Instagram.

There’s one she gets at the last minute, gets somebody from the support team to take right before their latest heist. It’s all eleven of them, full heist get-up, masks and obnoxious fashion choices and guns tucked here and there. They’re in the boardroom, running through it one more time before they take off, and in retrospect, it’s probably the last time they’ll do that in that room.

She sets that one in the middle, surrounded by all of these moments from the last 12 years.

“For your new place, when you find it.” Jack says.

It’s beautiful, and it makes Geoff cry. It brings some sniffles from a lot of them, even if they all deny it.

Leaving the penthouse isn’t the easiest thing for any of them, but it’s the right move. After all, they’re still a family.

[benisasoftboi]

Unorganised thoughts on Trails in the Sky: Second Chapter:

Unorganised thoughts on the first game are here

No longer spoiler-free, sorry

So tl;dr I loved this game and I love these characters and this world and I’m so excited to play through the whole rest of the series. What an underrated gem

I liked that everyone’s status portraits were updated, FC’s were a little rough. Except Olivier’s - his original art is miles better, good lord. The updated one is so generic :(

Speaking of updates, here’s some on how I feel about the major characters:

Estelle: Estelle deserves the world. I love her and her development, she’s just so great. What I especially love is that I cannot think of any other JRPG hero I’ve seen who reacts to the villain’s grand monologue like she does. Most of the time it’s like, huge declarations of justice, and how evil will never win, but Estelle’s reaction to Weissmann ranting about the inherent evil of man was just, like, ‘nah, actually that’s stupid, I love my friends and we’re all nice people. You just suck dude’. And that works so well, and it was really refreshing, honestly. I just...  love her. I really love her.

Joshua: This poor traumatised boy who also deserves the world, my god. His backstory was so much darker than I was expecting (if I understood right, there were some implications that sexual assaults occurred in the Hamel massacre!? And that it nearly happened to his sister!? Which made me have to sit back for a moment because I did not think this game was gonna go there and it threw me for a loop). I like how his whole arc is about learning to not define himself by his trauma, I haven’t really seen that in a game before. I also love him.

I think Estelle and Joshua cute together and I support their romance, but if the game could stop reminding me post-get together that they used to be pseudo-siblings that would be great thank you

Agate: I did the Agate route mostly because I prefer using him in combat, and goddamn if I thought I liked him before. I think his arc is one of the best in the game, and I love him, and are you seeing a pattern? His friendship with Tita is also so sweet. I want to be friends with Agate

Schera: Might have had more to say if I’d done her route. I appreciated getting her backstory, and I thought her relationship with Luciola was well done, if not incredibly fascinating. As it stands, I like her just fine, even if I’m not as passionate about her as I am some of the others

Olivier: I still love this guy. I had his twist spoiled, but let’s face, it wasn’t the hardest to guess anyway. His rivalry with Bleublanc was funny, as are most of his interactions with other characters. He’s good comic relief in general, and I love using him in combat - on that note, though, I’m very angry with him for leaving in chapter 8, because he was the character I had invested the most into arts-wise, so I had to go fix up Schera just for that chapter (and then swapped to Zin as we lost ZFGs, for obvious reasons). I will say that he seems to have become a little more... creepy feels like a strong word, but I don’t think he was so forwardly suggestive in FC. It felt to me like he sort of went from Yusuke Kitagawa to Yosuke Hanamura, in a sense. But all the same, I still like him

He should have stayed in his prince look at the end though, it suits him better

Side note, I really love Mueller, and I love his and Olivier’s interactions, and I want more Mueller, why does he have to be a minor character :(

Kloe: So I wasn’t super into Kloe in FC, but I actually really loved her this time around - I thought her arc about deciding whether or not to accept the crown was well done, and the little conversation she and Estelle can have on the stage at the academy is one of my favourite scenes in both games. Also GOOD LORD do I love her outfit change at the end, she’s so pretty I want to cry

Tita: Most of what I like about Tita is her friendship with Agate, and also how smart she is. I’d probably have more to say about her if I ever used her beyond when the plot forces me to (I don’t like using glass cannon characters in games), as the unfortunate nature of SC is that you don’t get much dialogue if you’re benched. But yeah, I still like her as a character

Zin: I don’t dislike Zin, but I still find him kind of dull compared to the others. He’s fine, he’s there, he’s got a backstory with Walter and Kilika and that’s neat. Honestly the main thing I remember about all that is Zin revealing that their master had terminal cancer because I kind of just... didn’t think cancer existed in this universe, I guess. It threw me

Kevin: Firstly, I find it really, really funny that such an important and mysterious character who looks the way he does is named ‘Kevin’. But yeah, I like Kevin, I’m excited to learn more about him in 3rd. I liked his relationship with Estelle (It’s nice to see a guy who’s capable of backing off without being an ass about it. Shame there’s such a low bar). I am, though, honestly very creeped out by the mere concept of the Gralsritters, ngl  

Bleublanc and Campanella were easily my favourite Enforcers. Bleublanc especially gets points for keeping himself relevant for the entire game

Renne is a character who I think I’m probably meant to feel more  sympathy for than I actually do, to be honest. You can’t make me like someone just by making them a cute little girl, Falcom, I’m sorry. Maybe I’ll feel differently after playing 3rd, I know she’s in it

I thought Loewe was well handled and I love that scene where he and Joshua hug at the end

I love the Ravens. I love that they got actual art. They’re amazing. I would play an entire spin-off game about the Ravens

And the Capuas! Can they all team up? Please?

Especially Josette, I came to really like her

A thing I’ve kind of realised about this game and its characters is that it’s a really good example of how tropes and cliches are not inherently bad - everyone in this game is based on some kind of mostly-unsubverted cliche, but they are incredibly well-executed cliches. You can have the most original characters in the world, but if they’re not written well, then what’s the point? I think a lot of writers conflate ‘unique’ and ‘surprising’ and (ugh) ‘subverting expectations’ with ‘good’. This game doesn’t make that mistake, and I appreciate that

Don’t get me wrong, unique and surprising and expectation subverting is also not inherently bad - just that it’s all in the execution

I like that Richard came back! And reformed! To be honest, though, (maybe this is controversial? idk), I thought he was a better antagonist than anyone in Ouroboros. His motivations made a lot more sense than those of most of the Enforcers 

Honestly (excluding Renne and Campanella because those haven’t been fully revealed to me yet) Bleublanc was really the only one with a motivation I liked - I can respect a villain who does crimes just for the sake of being an asshole

Oh yeah, there’s also Anelace and her team - they’re all great. I would like to know more about Grant, he doesn’t get to do much

The side quest in chapter 8 at the academy where we get Kurt and Anelace is one of the best quests in the game

Oh, and that reminds me, Gilbert! I love Gilbert, he’s so lame. Fighting him is hilarious

I was very happy to see minor NPC Clive on the Arseille at the end. It’s what he deserves

I love that this game got me invested in the lives of the random NPCs 

Screw that Abyss Worm bounty hunt, and also that fight with Renne on Ambryl Tower

I don’t know whose idea it was to fill this game, in this setting, with GIANT ROBOTS but it grew on me and I kind of love it now

I’ve decided Ruan is my favourite region, but Rolent is my favourite city

The Liber Ark is such a cool setting, I’m sad we only saw a tiny part of it for one chapter

I knew they weren’t going to kill off Joshua and Estelle, but I still cannot describe the rush of relief I felt when the dragon saved them at the end. I care about these kids, damnit!

There’s that one section in Grancel where everyone’s talking about Crossbell and then it never comes up again - set up the next arc of games a little less subtly, why don’t you?

(And then Cassius being like ‘the adventures will continue! But with other people!”) 

I read all of The Doll Knight and I genuinely enjoyed it

This game has maybe the best end credits I’ve ever seen

...think that’s all my thoughts expunged! Now to play 3rd :D

[finecole]

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader - ’’Stark can’t fix doorbell’’

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader Word count: 2076 Note: In honour of our favourite bean returning to the MCU, I decided to finally finish this. Hope you like! 

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

‘’I swear to god if you stupid machine blow up again I am going to throw you off of the empire state building,’’ you mumbled under your breath as you took a step back from the desk, observing the little bionic arm. You held your breath as you took the tablet from the table behind you and pressed the start program button for the fourth time on that lovely Friday evening – the previous three times had ended up in spasms and sparks.

The arm started the simple procedure, raising its hand at first and then counting down from five fingers. The pinky went down, the index finger followed and even the middle finger cooperated. The ring finger, however, decided against its programming.

Frustrated, you ran a hand through your hair, throwing the tablet down on the desk. Pathetic, you thought, (y/n) Stark can’t even get a bionic arm to function. ‘’Well, at least it didn’t fucking blow up this ti-’

Too soon, sparks came from the first phalanx, followed by a small bang and the fourth small fire of the night. Unshaken by the mishap, you asked Jarvis to put out the fire, after which a small functioning arm appeared from the table top and put out the fire.

‘’Miss Stark, might I remind you of Flash’s party at 9?’’ Crap. A quick glance at the clock told you that you had approximately 20 minutes left to get ready. So, closing up the lab behind you, you took a quick shower and made work of your face and hair and put together a semi-decent outfit, not really in the mood to play dress-up tonight.

One kitchen-pitstop later, you entered the lift taking you down from the top of Stark Tower, a leftover sandwich in hand. Pepper and dad were out of town for some business at MIT, so you had had the paradise to yourself. Now, any sane teenager would have thrown a party, but those sane teenagers didn’t have a Jarvis lurking around.

In typical New York fashion, the streets were clogged by cars, so you decided you’d walk to Flash’s house, not to keen on taking the subway. It was an unusually cold autumn night; people, unprepared for the cold, hid their faces in their thin scarves and stuffed their hands into the pockets of their way-too-thin-coats. You followed suit, and to avoid as much of the cold weather as possible, you decided to cut through some alleyways, only to find a surprise waiting for you.

You turned a corner, accidentally bumping into someone as you entered the – quite shady looking -alleyway. Thrash and containers lined the walls, but aside from some rats and stray cats the alley was void of life. Despite that, it felt as if someone was watching you, so you turned around, only to be met by the sight of the opposing street.

You turned back around, a sudden voice startling you. ‘’Hey (y/n)!’’

You let out a scream and composed yourself, ready to fight – just like Nat had taught you - as a figure dropped down in front of you.

He put his hand up and took a step back. ‘’Hey hey sorry it’s me!’’

‘’Damnit Parker you scared the living hell out of me!’’

He pulled the mask of off his face, revealing his sweaty face and messed up hair. ‘’Well that was kind of the point,’’ a laugh escaped his lips.

‘’You do that again I’ll make sure to program a nightmare into that suit of yours next time my dad updates it,’’ you sighed, relaxing your body and forcing a faint smile onto your face. That fake smile didn’t go unnoticed by Peter; the two of you had been best friends for years now and he didn’t need his Spidey senses to tell him something was off.

He extended his arm and put his hand on your shoulder, eyes meeting. ‘’What’s wrong? I’m sorry for scaring you if-‘’

‘’No,no that’s fine – I’m fine, just,’’ apparently you couldn’t even form a proper sentence today. You looked down at the ground sighing, ‘’it’s just not my day.’’

Peter nodded slowly, deciding to drop the subject when he saw you look away. He’d ask later, he thought as he turned around and pushed one of the dumpsters aside, revealing a backpack webbed stuck to the wall.

‘’My party outfit,’’ he smirked, looking back at you before pulling the backpack off.

‘’So, did you plan for me to take a shortcut and ambush me or was it just destiny huh?’’ you inquired, rolling your eyes playfully as you walked up to him, looking at the clothes in his backpack.

He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, drawing a circle with his finger telling you to turn around.

‘’Oh well sorry of course - it would be a sin to see an exposed chest before marriage,’’ you laughed, not forcing it this time. Peter had always managed to make you feel better, simply by just being there. His presence alone felt like a warm, fluffy comforting blanket.

He got dressed and soon the both of you were en route to the so called ‘party of the year’. You walked in silence – well, that was until Peter’s stomach started making whale-mating-calls.

‘’Did you eat anything today?’’

‘’Oh no, I was out being a ‘’friendly neighbourhood spider-man’ all day after school, told May I would pick something up from Delmar’s but I just got side-tracked.’’

An opportunity. ‘’Well we can still get some food if you want?’’

‘’No, it’s fine I’m sure Flash will have something.’’

‘’No really Peter we should go get some food,’’ you rambled. ‘’No alcohol on an empty stomach, right? And what if Flash doesn’t have-‘’

Peter stopped in his track, taking your hand into his own and using the other to lift your chin so that you would look him in the eyes. ‘’(Y/n) stop. Please tell me what’s wrong.’’

You just looked at him, mouth opened, waiting for something to come out – but there was nothing. Tears suddenly building up in your eyes told him enough.

‘’Okay you know what? Screw the party. Let’s go to Delmar’s, stock up on a whole load of unhealthy snacks and go watch a movie at my place. Pretty sure May even had some cake left over – I can’t guarantee you that it tastes good though.’’

You nodded, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill as relief washed over you. That, sounded much better than Flash’s party at the moment.

---

Two bags filled with snacks and sandwiches in hand, you reached Peter and May’s apartment. Peter fumbled with his keys, trying to find the right one when May suddenly opened up.

‘’Hey there!’’

‘’Oh hi May.’’ The both of you said at the same time.

May stepped aside, letting you in. ‘’I thought you were going to a party?’’

‘’Meh, not in the mood.’’ Peter said as he put the two bags down on the kitchen table and took of his jacket.

‘’We thought we would watch a movie instead.’’ You said.

‘’Oh, that’s fine! I’m heading off to a friend of mine, okay Peter?’’ Peter nodded, already stuffing the chocolate chip cookies into his mouth. ‘’I’ll be back in a few hours.’’

She took her purse that was sitting on the kitchen counter and said her goodbyes, leaving the two of you alone.

You quite liked the Parker residence. It was small, sure, but that was part of its charm. You were used to living in a large penthouse, and since it was just Tony, Pepper and you, sometimes it would feel like you were home alone for days. The small apartment was cosy, and May’s obsession with blankets and pillows probably helped as well.

Peter closed the blinds and threw a few bags of chips on the couch before he plopped down on it himself, inviting you over next to him and offering up the other side of the far too large blanket.

You got cosy, and without even saying a word the two of you decided to watch one of the Star Wars movies, but half an hour into the movie and you still couldn’t get into it. There was too much clouding your mind: why were you not able to get that stupid arm to work? You had made far more complicated things together with dad.

Dad. That was it. You just couldn’t get anything done without his help. Where you that stupid? How where you going to get into MIT like that, or any college of your choice for that matter. You couldn’t go through life holding your dad’s hand now could y-

‘’(Y/n)?’’ A hand on your shoulder shook you from your thoughts.

You looked over and were met by a concerned pair of eyes. Peter reached out and wiped away a tear that you didn’t know had fallen. ‘’Please talk?’’

You bit your lip, what were you supposed to tell him? You didn’t want to sound pathetic – but then again, this was Peter, your best friend. He wouldn’t care.

‘’You know that robotics project we are supposed to hand in on Wednesday?’’

He nodded, now completely turning on the couch to face you.

‘’Well, I tried – like four times, but I just can’t do it. And now, I realise, I’ve never done anything by myself. I’m always putting things together with dad, and what if I can’t do it - ever, by myself. What kind of Stark would I be? That would actually be the most pathetic thing, can you imagine the tabloids? ‘’(Y/n) Stark can’t fix doorbell, is Stark industries safe in her hands?’’ I really want this, Pete; really want to be able to do the things my dad can – imagine what I could do? I could actually help people, like dad. But now it all feels like some very, very far away dream. What if I just can’t do it?’’

You laid your head on your knees, looking away from Peter. The minute of silence felt like eternity.

‘(Y/n)… you are one of the smartest people I know, and I’m not just saying that to calm you down. Remember when I burst into your room in the middle of the night, suit torn and face beaten up? You fixed up everything, all by yourself because Tony would have killed me if he knew that I went after those criminals – who were definitely way too dangerous to take on by myself in hindsight but hey, you were the one that fixed up my suit. A million-dollar suit, made by your dad, and you – once again, you, (y/n) Stark fixed it. So what that stupid bionic arm thing isn’t working out today. You’ll try again and it’ll work. I promise.’’

You looked back at him and he gave a comforting smile.

‘’And the (y/n) Stark I know wouldn’t shed a tear about this, ya know?’’ he added, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

You threw the nearest pillow at his face, laughing, ‘’Hey!’’

Peter dodged it, of course, but you had a started an all-pillow fight, almost smashing aunt May’s favourite vase. Laughter and screams filled the room, and the movie was already halfway done when Peter’s spideysenses abandoned him for a second and he tripped, falling on to you as you both came crashing down on the couch.

You both said nothing for a moment as you realised what position you were in and the laughter slowly died.

Peter licked his lips, ‘’we’ll call it a draw then.’’

‘’Hey no - I obviously won that!’’

Peter imitated a shocked look, making the both of you dissolve into laughter again.

He was so close, his brown curls falling over his forehead framing his face like a crown. His chocolate-browns stared into yours, and as you drowned in each other’s eyes everything around you seemed to fade.

‘’Thankyou… for today.’’ You managed to produce as you seemed to sink further and further.

Peter nodded, lips parted as he hummed something, lowering his face slowly – sinking as well, until your lips met.

A thud split the two of you up, and Peter was on his feet in no time - only to notice that it was just aunt May’s purse which she had set down on the table.

A borderline evil smile crept up on her face as she looked at your rapidly reddening faces. ‘’So, tell me, how was the movie you guys?’’

[chrysalispen]

xx. a head hangs, weighed with snow;

AO3 Link here

She was not summoned the next day, or the next, or even the sennight after that.

Watching the growing anger and uneasiness of the townsfolk as rations continued to dwindle, Aurelia was reminded of that final, fatal summer drought just before her uncle had taken her wardship. Precious little of Gyr Abania was arable; it was a land with brutal and punishing summers, and dry, cold winters. That had ever been the state of things as far as she was aware, and her father said there had been little in the way of proper industry of any sort before the occupation. 

However, she recalled the drought and its fallout all too well. 

It had all started the year of her thirteenth nameday, when the imperial air dreadnought Agrius had set off on her maiden voyage into Mor Dhona’s skies. Legatus van Baelsar’s gamble had not seemed to be one at the time. After all, Eorzea was known to be a wild frontier with no real means to counter imperial might- but none had expected resistance to come in the form of Dravanian tooth and claw. 

Victory against the dragons had come at the cost of the Agrius itself and crippled the war machine so thoroughly that the survivors were forced to retreat back beyond Gyr Abania’s borders. It was not merely a defeat but a shocking rout, the consequences of which had a nigh-immediate ripple effect throughout the whole of the Empire. 

To offset his disastrous incursion into Eorzea and shore up the subsequent border wall construction, the viceroy had levied a hefty per annum tax upon the inhabitants of not only Ala Mhigo but every household in the province. Anyone who owned property had to pay the increased rate, even pureblooded settlers and wealthy landowning nobles like Julian rem Laskaris - who had, of course, grumbled incessantly about the drain on his family’s coffers. But as ever the lion’s share of the burden fell upon the aan, and few if any allowances were made for the lack of food and water even under drought conditions.

The Ala Mhigan people, never wont to labor willingly beneath the imperial yoke, had grown angry and restless in a manner very like unto this one. Riots in the aan districts. Stones and worse thrown at city patrolmen. A memorable - albeit failed - assassination attempt.

She doubted the unrest would be nearly so dire or so long-lived in Gridania as it had been there, for the Elder Seedseer was a much-loved figure and people here believed in the will of the elementals with a fervor that in some cases bordered upon open worship. So long as they felt the outsiders’ presence was accepted by the forest itself, Kan-E-Senna herself was in no danger. 

But she was not fool enough to believe that the better natures of man would serve as any sort of protection. Spring couldn’t come soon enough.

As Aurelia waited upon E-Sumi-Yan’s word, she resolved herself - in between her work in the field kitchens and in the training yards - to make preparations where she might. Today she had chosen to complete the rest of the entry pages in her botany journal - it was an herbal, really, at this juncture, containing all the information she had added to her notes over the past months. 

...And it had really been months now, since Carteneau, she realized. She had once owned a wrist-chronometer, a graduation gift from her uncle (one that, so far as Aurelia herself was aware, had been lost in the barracks of the castrum where she’d been stationed). The Empire ran itself strictly on kept minutes and hours so such contrivances had been vitally important in the context of day-to-day life in the capitol. 

It felt strange, realizing she’d not missed that strictly scheduled and segmented existence. Time had passed all but unnoticed in the relative calm of a pastoral routine.

Aurelia swayed in her desk chair, musing over the notion. Copying her own shorthand into the empty pages of the book was soothing but tedious work and the relative warmth of the room and the quiet were making her drowsy. 

She paused, blinked furiously to dispel the doze that had come over her, and set the quill in its shallow inkpot so she could rub her eyes. Her hand was beginning to cramp unpleasantly as well, fingers protesting against the work to which she’d set them. Hells, what she wouldn’t give for a proper fountain pen about now, she thought, pressing the heels of her palms against her aching cheekbones. 

Maybe she should pause her work and give herself a break. Just for a moment.

She had only rested her eyes for what seemed like a few heartbeats when she heard a rap upon her door. Aurelia ignored it at first, hoping that her visitor might realize they had come at an inconvenient time- but the knock came again, and in a few moments, repeated a third time. Resigned to the interruption, she pushed back her chair and made her way to the door only for it to be shoved open almost as soon as her hand touched the latch. 

Keveh’to shouldered his way into the room without preamble, his tail lashing fitfully. What was he doing? He knew full well he was supposed to knock before entering her bedchamber-

Her angry protest died on her lips at the sight of his face: a taut mask of anxiety. “Grab that ruddy bag of yours and aught else you can carry,” he ordered abruptly, the words sharp as shards of broken ice. “We’ve got to get you out of here. Get your shoes on.”

“What? What’s going on? What about the Guildmaster?” Bewildered she fumbled for the book, shoving it in her pack before seeing to her pattens. “What’s happening?”

“There’s no time to explain! We’ve got a unit out there holding them back but four men won’t be any bloody use against a mob that size. Hurry!”

As if his words had prompted them, muffled and angry shouts drifted into her ears from the other side of the window glass. She could make out a heavy throng of people clustered about the half-reconstructed entrance of the inn, and felt a moment’s misgiving-- there were surely not that many people in Gridania-- and then there was no time left to ponder it. Keveh’to was grabbing her arm, dragging her out the door before she could do more than grab her staff--

They both froze in place at the bright, scintillating sound of breaking glass. The mob had breached the Canopy’s main hall.

"Go!" Keveh’to shouted. 

He shoved her towards the stairwell leading to Miounne’s larder moments before the crowd-animal surged into the common room, roaring and baying as one. Stones and bottles sailed across the room and crashed into the back of the bar with a truly appalling accuracy, and when she tried to look for her minder again she could no longer catch sight of him or his yellow surcoat within the surging tidal wave of the riot.

Wincing against the stitch in her side, she ran for the exit as she was bid, dodging stones as her feet crunched over broken glass and spilled trenchers. The stairs were strangely dark, the well descending deeper than she had ever remembered it. As she continued downwards the light behind her grew dim, and with each step she began to feel her belly clench with apprehension. 

Surely she should have arrived at the exit by now-

Black anxiety speared down her spine, sudden and instinctive, third eye’s proprioception yammering a primitive and frantic warning. Someone - or something - was in her space. 

She wheeled about to meet her attacker, only to lose her footing on the edge of a stair step, and would have tumbled down the endless stairs and into oblivion if the figure had not grabbed her. A gloved hand clamped with brutal force over her mouth before dragging her back into the shadows, and up against her attacker’s larger, cowled frame. 

Something heavy and solid slammed into the back of her head before she could make a sound---

 ==

----and with a violent spasm of her arms Aurelia wrenched herself back into wakefulness, hastily snatching up her papers as the overturned inkpot made a small and rapidly surging flood across the desk.

“Bugger,” she cursed, “seven swiving hells below-”

There was a rap at the door, then another when she didn’t answer.

“Damnit,” she grabbed a handful of discarded draft parchments and crushing them onto the desk’s surface in an attempt to staunch the ink before it could drip onto the carpet. A third knock. “Yes, yes, a moment, pray!”

“Aurelia?” Keveh’to’s voice, its note of concern obvious. “Is aught amiss?”

She was unable to stop herself from casting a furtive glance out the window, overcome with a strong sense that perhaps she still might not be fully awake. But there was no mob crowding the entrance to the Carline Canopy. The street was as empty as it had been most of the winter, dusted white and grey with half-thawed patches of ice. 

Relief blossomed in her chest and she allowed herself a soft sigh. 

“All is well, come in.”

With an effort she concealed her trembling hands; her heart still raced with adrenaline and half-remembered fear. Keveh’to blinked at her.

“The Guildmaster is on linkpearl asking after you- Twelve, what happened in here? Did that book of yours finally try to eat you?”

“Very funny. Can I have the linkpearl, please?”

With a shrug, he deposited it into her hand. “You know how to-”

“I think I can figure it out.”It took a moment of maneuvering - the small device was fashioned for a Miqo’te’s ear - but she was able to hold the linkpearl to her ear with one shoulder and press the button quickly before returning her attention to the pile of soiled papers. “Hello?” she ventured. “Guildmaster?”

E-Sumi-Yan’s smooth voice. “Aurelia. I take it the Sergeant is there with you? Did you-”

“Keveh’to hasn’t debriefed me yet, I’m afraid,” Aurelia said, gathering handfuls of paper and shoving them in the small crate she’d appropriated as a wastebin. “Guildmaster, I appreciate the abundance of caution, all considered, but why not a summons?”

There was no response, but that was not so very unusual. E-Sumi-Yan was not a man to waste his words, a quality she knew her uncle would have appreciated. He would speak in time- once he had gathered his thoughts to his liking, as he always did. In the meantime she scrubbed at the ink on the desk, realizing as she did so that her efforts were largely futile.

Miounne will have my head, she thought ruefully.

Finally there came a long humming sound on the other end of the connection and once again Aurelia remembered that lucid dream, this time with a sharp pang of unease. 

“At the moment,” E-Sumi-Yan began, “I fear it would be very unwise to summon you to the Fane even with your minder present. I am told this line is not entirely secure, but Commander Heuloix assures me there is little concern for eavesdroppers.”

“Go on,” Aurelia said slowly.

“There’s to be a town meeting at the plaza site tonight. I shan’t bore you with the details, but the people of the city are demanding the Elder Seedseer remove all foreigners - adventurers as well, just so you know - for the duration of the winter. If not permanently.”

“What? Surely they must know Kan-E-Senna would never agree to such terms.”

“She would not, no. Council or no, she ultimately abides by the word of the elementals as do all of our order. Unless they tell her the city can hold no more souls, she will take them in.”

“...I hear a ‘but’ in that statement.” 

The guildmaster sighed. “This morning, while you were about your rounds in the refugee encampment, one of your former comrades, was injured on a work site. Someone in the street threw a stone and struck him in the head.”

“Oh, hells.” The ruined desk was all but forgotten. Aurelia threw the last handful of soiled parchment into the crate and adjusted the device at her ear. “Is he badly hurt?”

“No, the wound was mostly superficial. The Wailer on site called a conjurer to see to the prisoner after dispersing the crowd. He’s shaken, of course - very frightened to leave the Fane without an escort, but he has otherwise recovered. Which brings me to my business with you.”

She already knew what he was about to say. “I am to leave the Fane.” 

“Yes. I saw fit to reach out to Hearer Ewald in light of the news. The young man whom you are to replace shan’t leave his post for another few moons, but he confided to me that with the influx of refugees into other settlements the two of them are in need of additional hands. Sergeant Epocan will be escorting you to Willow’s Bend and will remain there with you until you are called back to the Fane. It’s a few malms out from Quarrymill, well off the main roads.”

 “I see.” 

“Under different circumstances, I would have bid you wait until the last snows have passed before attempting the journey, but after today’s incident I think perhaps the sooner the better.” A pause. “Can you make ready to leave at first light tomorrow?”

He’s worried about me, she realized suddenly. 

“I... yes. That shan’t be a problem. Aside from my medicines and my gear I’ve very little in the way of personal possessions.”

“Thank you, Aurelia. May I please speak to Sergeant Epocan?”

“Of course. One moment.” Keveh’to’s expression was quizzical as she passed the linkpearl back to him. “Your turn.”

“What,” he began, then hastily interrupted his query, “Ah, Guildmaster, I-... what? Tomorrow? But... yes. Yes, but the Commander will need to-... oh, he’s already... oh.”

Aurelia wasn’t privy to the other half of the conversation, of course. But it was hardly necessary. Even were she not staring at his face, she could watch Keveh’to’s mood by his flattened ears and the irregular lashing of his tail. It was souring by the second.

“The White Wolf postern gate. Yes, Guildmaster. Understood. Thank you.” The small pearl hanging from Keveh’to’s ear blinked blue to black as he cut the aetheric link.

“You don’t look well pleased,” she said wryly. 

He didn’t smile. An awkward silence descended as he stared at her, then the door, then back at her before he finally spoke. “You know I’m a Keeper of the Moon.”

“Yes...?” 

“Aye, well. Problem is, to a Garlean lass like you that don’t mean a godsdamned thing. I’m just another savage at the end of the day.” At her attempted protest he raised a hand, palm outwards. “Not picking a fight, mind, just... Well, that’s how far too many Shroud folk see us. Savages. Poachers who threaten the whole wood by just taking what we want when we want it.”

“Wait, but that’s not... I mean, I don’t-”

“I’m not done. See, the thing is... the Gridanians have their way of life. And that’d be fine, ‘cept they expect every bloody one else to abide by it too, and woe betide any who refuse. Lots of Keepers still, well, keep the old ways. They hunt and gather, take what they need, and the elementals don’t bother them. You can’t convince these people, though. They see me and think they know what I am.” 

“But you wear the colors of the Twin Adder.”

“That doesn’t mean as much as you might think. A goodly number of us are adventurers. And when a Gridanian notices it’s a Keeper wearing the yellow, you can see it in their eyes- the second they decide you aren’t worth what small respect they might have for the Grand Company. It’s like watching a door slam shut in your face.”

Aurelia hesitated, then reached out an ink-stained hand and squeezed his shoulder. “I understand more than you might think,” she said. “But not all of it. I’m sorry.”

“Villagers in my experience are insular fools. They’ll see you as an interloper and me as a craven thief. But I have my orders.” He shrugged, then smiled at her, a smile that did not meet his eyes. “I’m guessing you do as well.”

“So it seems. We’ll have each other for company, won’t we?”

“...That isn’t reassuring, Garlean.” At her saucy grin, he continued accusingly, “And don’t you smile at me like that, lass. The last time it was just the two of us, you threatened to singe off my tail hairs.”

“Aye, because you walked in on me while I was using the bloody chamber pot.” 

He laughed, finally, some of his irritation dissipating. “Well,” he said, “suppose I’d best go inform Mother Miounne we’ll be taking our leave of Gridania for a time on Guild orders- assuming she doesn't already know. If you haven’t already started packing your things, now would be a good time.” 

Without waiting on a response he turned on his heel and exited the room, the door-latch clicking softly shut behind him. Aurelia squared her shoulders and looked down at her hands, smudged with ink. 

She reached for her black bag, loosed its clasps, and took one last cursory glance of her stock. Most of the daily-use items at this point were long gone. The synthetic analgesics and anticoagulants, local anesthetics and antipyretics that were commonly used in the imperial army’s medical pavilions required reagents that one could not obtain in Eorzea. Short of raiding a castrum, of course- which she doubted anyone was willing to do. 

Carefully she put away the phials and refastened the clasps, then paused in thought before reaching for her travel pack and digging through its contents to produce a spare strip of linen. The imperial insignia with its scarlet-and-ivory tripartite links was clearly visible upon the strapping, and while she didn’t think anyone in a remote village would find it to be of any significance, it was best to be safe. 

Wrapping the fabric somewhat hastily about the strap, she knotted it in place, then set the bag next to her staff and began to tuck her few articles of clothing into the travel pack in tight rolls to make extra space. The journal was next, and she realized with some dismay that two of her draft pages had been ruined by the spilled inkpot before she could copy them to the leather-bound book. Naught to be done for it today.

She placed both bags next to the door, her training wand on top of the side table.

“There,” she murmured. She was as ready as one reasonably could be; might as well join Keveh’to in the main hall and take tea and an early supper. 

Hand on the door latch, Aurelia glanced over her shoulder and out the window one more time. Once more there was nothing to see.

Resolute, she turned her back on the desk and quit the room.

~*~

Grey shimmered at the window between the branches of the trees when the knock came on the door. She had already roused herself, donning her traveling clothes and tucking the wand into her sash before opening the latch- but it was not Keveh’to whom she saw when she opened the door. It was Miounne. The Elezen had a small cloth-wrapped bundle in her hands, and she was smiling ruefully.

“Are you ready?”

“As ready as one truly can be, I suppose.”

“Good. Grab your things and follow me. Try to keep quiet. Most of my patrons are still abed and I'd rather not have them stirring before I can start the hearth-fires. Too many inconvenient questions.”

Aurelia blinked at her curiously but didn’t press the issue. They slipped out the exit towards the reconstructed plaza. 

“Keveh’to will meet you at the aetheryte. There’s a chocobo waiting for the two of you at the White Wolf gate. I’ve closed down the Guild’s leves and enrollments for a day or two,” Miounne said, a hand on Aurelia’s back between her shoulder blades to hurry her pace along. “There was an open meeting yesterday evening.”

“The town meeting? E-Sumi-Yan mentioned it when we spoke.” 

“He would not have told you, but it didn’t go well. Things are very tense just now; the townsfolk have worked themselves into a right fury over the lack of wintering supplies. They’re looking for anyone to blame for their woes."

“I know. They see us as a drain on resources.” Aurelia shook her head. She wasn’t surprised; she’d seen the hostile glares shot in her direction, after all. “It’s easier to blame outsiders, I suppose.”

“Yes, it is, which puts all of my freelancers at risk. And...” Miounne shrugged. “Well. I’ll let Sergeant Epocan explain, shall I?”

The plaza was as silent and empty as the Canopy’s main hall. Keveh’to awaited them as promised. The Keeper was fidgeting in place, his expression tense and his body language betraying his nervousness. It did little to set Aurelia’s mind at ease.

“You weren’t followed, were you?” he asked the proprietress as if Aurelia weren’t standing right there alongside. Her brow furrowed in momentary irritation, and Miounne scoffed.

“You worry far too much, Sergeant. This is hardly some daring midnight escape under cover of darkness."

"I simply don't want any trouble to come to you. If-"

"Too late to worry about that. But if anyone asks after my whereabouts, I was simply fetching my own firewood for the hearth for want of any strapping adventurers about.” She held out the package she’d carried with her when she had met Aurelia at the door of her inn room. “This is for the two of you. Eel pies for the road.”

The pair exchanged shocked glances. Miounne was famous in town for her eel pies, but many of the ingredients would have been very difficult to source this time of year. It said more than any words she might have uttered.

“What- Mother Miounne, you didn’t have to go to that trouble,” Keveh’to began.

“No, but I did. Now you mind yourself on the road, Sergeant Epocan. The guildmaster will have my head if you two don’t reach your new posting in one piece. And you,” she turned to look at Aurelia, “all the luck in the world to you. Matron keep you safe, girl.”

“I... yes.”  Unaccountably, she found herself flushing. “Quite.”

“Didn’t think I’d ever in my life find myself wishing an imperial well.” Miounne’s expression softened into a maternal smile. “But stranger things have happened - and you’re worth that much. There’s hard times ahead for all of us and folk will be starved for compassion as much as any rations. So don’t you ever let yourself lose that kindness of yours. All right?”

Aurelia nodded. Unbidden she felt a pang of sadness. It was true enough that the Elezen woman had not wanted to house an imperial prisoner under her roof at first, but she had been mindful to treat the Garlean woman as she would any of her adventurers.

Miounne looked as if she wanted to say something else, but whatever it might have been Aurelia would never know. Once she saw that they had accepted her parting gift, she pivoted swiftly on one heel and made her way back in the direction she’d come, toward the Carline Canopy to begin the day’s routine. It was just her and her minder. 

Keveh’to cleared his throat.

“Right,” he said, “this way. We’ll want to be shut of the main thoroughfare as soon as possible.”

She followed him, shifting the weight of her two packs from shoulder to shoulder, free hand at the small training wand on her belt in case of trouble. No trouble came. The only soul that stirred other than the night watch winding down for the shift change was the odd woodland creature, and the sounds of birds stirring in the trees.

As Aurelia had been told, there was a chocobo awaiting at the north gate. The Duskwight man holding the reins of the massive destrier wore the colors of the Twin Adder just as Keveh’to did, and he acknowledged them with a slight tilt of his chin.

“Javier,” the Miqo’te said. “Thank you for waiting.”

The man’s expression did not change. “Pray send word to the Commander upon your arrival. The Wailer outpost has been notified of your arrival, as has the Hearer overseeing the care of the region.”

“Understood. Thank you.”

Keveh’to yanked Aurelia’s packs from her shoulders and slung them over the chocobo’s broad back, lashing them in place with the heavy leather straps that dangled from the double saddle.

“How am I supposed to-” she began but faltered when the Keeper all but hopped into the saddle and held out one gloved hand. She slipped a foot into the stirrup alongside his and reached for him in return, and found her weight guided upwards with surprising ease.

“Hold on,” he ordered curtly.

Aurelia wrapped her arms about his waist. Keveh’to barked a short command and dug his heels into the chocobo’s sides. They were off, crunching through the powder snow and fallen leaves, the cold wind whistling in her ears. It was beginning to snow again, and powder flakes and ice bit at their exposed cheeks as they ventured deeper into the wood.

After a good quarter bell of tense silence, she deemed it safe to lean forward and tap him on the shoulder.

“Well?” she prompted.

“Well, what?”

“Why all the secrecy and grim faces? I’m just leaving town for a guild posting.”

“It’s not the posting itself, it’s…” Keveh’to growled, the tip of his tail lashing against her leg where it had curled around her calf. “...I don’t know how it happened and nor does Commander Heuloix. The Grand Company is investigating the source of the leak but-”

“Leak?” Aurelia said, feeling slow and stupid. “Leak, what do you-”

“The Wood Wailers had security present at that township meeting - to make sure things didn’t get out of hand, you know people have been on edge as of late - and someone in the crowd asked Brother E-Sumi-Yan why the Hearers are sheltering a Garlean. Not an imperial, mind. A Garlean. Someone knows about you. Or knows of you.”

“....Oh.”

“For a mercy no one said more than that. It might even be a rumor that happened to be closer to the truth than they realized. But we’re taking no chances.” 

She felt her belly clench.  But I’ve been so careful. How could anyone have…?

“Cooler heads seem to have prevailed for the time being,” Keveh’to continued, “although Miounne will be facing a fair bit of spite, methinks, as will her adventurers. It’s just as well the guildmaster decided to have you shipped off to the Arbor early.”

“Wait, but what- what about the conscripts? I can well understand why the townspeople would be upset about  me, but surely they aren’t...”

“Aught to do with you lot is classified knowledge, and it’d be beyond the likes of me. I was asked to mind you abide by the terms of your sentence until it’s done and that’s what I mean to do.” His jaw was tight. “The villagers won’t like me any more than they do you, but no use whinging about it, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” she echoed. 

“Hey.” This time he glanced over his shoulder, spared her a quick smile. “It is what it is, aye? We’ll make do. Mother Miounne can handle that lot. You worry about yourself.”

Sazha would have said the same thing, that one phrase that could sum up the entire situation, everything that had happened to Aurelia since the fall of Dalamud. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t ideal- but that changed nothing. 

It was what it was. All they could do was make the most of it.

A curtain of white quickly blanketed the forest floor, concealing the immediate signs of their passage beneath the Shroud’s winter-bared boughs. Within a bell, there was no sign to the casual eye that there had been travelers on the roads at all. 

[totheendofthelinepal]

TRY ME (PART TEN)

Summary: You couldn’t stand Bucky Barnes, but as a part of the Avengers - You had no choice but to tolerate him. Until one day, mission gone ary - you realize that something else sparks between the two of you, in the most unexpected way.

Warnings: NSFW (18+), Swearing, Violence

Pairing: Reader (Y/N) x Bucky Barnes

You were now 15 minutes away from London, England. You sighed, looking out the window. Wondering just how long the two of you were going to be playing cat and mouse. You’d been traveling for a couple of days now, and it seemed like it was nonstop. You never stayed in one place too long, afraid that you might be trailed every second. You informed Steve of the change in location, and they were working on a extraction plan for the two of you. Bucky’s hand never left yours, keeping one hand on the wheel. Nervousness was now a constant emotion. Taking notice of your tense body, Bucky traced soft circles around your hand, squeezing softly.

“Ever been to London?” He looked to you, smiling softly.

“No actually, this will be a first.” You sighed, looking across the liveliness around you.

“I was here, years ago. On a mission, not as…me, The winter soldier.” Bucky’s jaw tensed.

“You don’t have to talk about it.” You gripped his arm now.

“I know I don’t, Doll.” He smiled to you again. 

“Any clue as to where we’re going to stay?” You peered out the window.

“No clue.” He laughed, gripping the wheel. 

You placed your hand to his thigh, caressing softly to him. You stayed for a moment, before Bucky shifted in his seat. A smile spread across your lips, knowing that he definitely enjoyed that. You decided that some fun was needed between the two of you. Your hand inched closer to below his belt, and he kept still. A smirk crept on his mouth, as you ran your fingers over the front of his jeans.

“What do you think you’re doing there, Doll?” His eyes flickered to you for only a moment, and returned to the road.

“Well….we’ve been on the run constantly, Thought i’d have some fun.” You bit your lip, moving closer to his frame. 

“Im trying to drive.” He laughed softly.

You smiled, and pressed your lips softly to his neck. Doing your best work, you nipped softly at the skin below his jaw. You could hear his metal arm tightening around the steering wheel. You laughed softly, taking his ear between your lips. You bit softly, your arm moving slowly to the radio. You turned the volume as loud as it could go, because if you knew one thing for sure, was that Bucky Barnes was a very vocal man. He sighed, laughing breathlessly as you moved your mouth across his neck. Your hand moved slowly down his abdomen, and he shifted upwards to your touch. You opened his shirt up as much as you could, biting softly to his collarbone. He was trying hard to stay focused on the road before him, and you could hear the low hum of his mechanical arm. You laughed softly as a familiar song rang throughout the radio. Using one hand, you unbuttoned his jeans. Keeping your lips pressed to his torso, you snaked your hands slowly into his briefs. You slowly wrapped you fingers around him, Bucky’s breathing became more ragged with each touch. His eyes began to flicker, his mouth held open.

“Keep your eyes open, Barnes. Or i’ll have to stop.” You whispered to his ear.

He said nothing, nodding quickly as you kissed his cheek. You smiled, now dipping your head below the steering wheel. Giving him no warning, you took him gently in your mouth. You paid more attention to his sensitive tip, your tongue slowly working on him.

“Oh god” He huffed out “Holy shit.”

He groaned, his hips shifting into you. He laughed breathlessly, his free hand resting softly in your hair. You moved the best you could up and down him, keeping your movements slow. Bucky couldn’t hold in his groans any longer, you could hear the metal hand bending the steering wheel. When you felt the familiar pulsing in your mouth, your hand reached below to grip softly to something that would push him over the edge. You began to feel his abdomen move heavily, struggling for controlled breath. His hand gripped tightly to you, and you felt his hips jerk upwards. Now thankful you turned the radio on, a low guttural moan slipped his mouth finishing inside you, you cleaned the mess. You met his eyes again, his breath finally catching up to him. You smiled deviously, pressing your lips softly to his jaw.

“You really know how to work that mouth of yours” He chuckled lightly, resting his hand to your thigh. 

“Only for you, babe.” You kissed his jaw again.

He laughed to you, leaning his cheek to your mouth.

You looked to the rearview mirror, your heart tightening once again. You saw the same car you did almost 8 hours ago. 

“Bucky.” You warned.

“What is it?” He looked to you, concern on his features.

“That vehicle has been following us.” You breathed out. 

Bucky took notice, turning off on a vacant street. He looked behind you and in the back window of the car. He took a deep breath, looking to see if there was anywhere the two of you could make your escape. Thankfully, Bucky stopped at the beginning of your trip to a gunsman shop, buying what was necessary. You reached the back seat, fashioning a gun to your belt now. Bucky tapped you softly, pointing to an old warehouse. You nodded to him, confirming that you were ready. The both of you quickly emerged from the car, grabbing your weapons quietly. The car stayed parked, and you looked to Bucky. He ushered you in quietly, his hand stayed at the small of your back. As you walked into the vacant warehouse, there was various run down household items such as furniture and other random things. You walked quietly across the floor, debris laying across every where you stepped. 

“We should get ahold of the team.” Bucky sighed to you.

You nodded in agreement, wondering why the man in the vehicle hasn’t followed you in yet. Bucky motioned for you to follow him to the nearest room, the cracked walls peeking through it. The two of you walked in, catching a moment to yourselves. 

“How many we got?” You breathed in nervously, grabbing one gun from the pile.

“About 8. Can you handle 4?” Bucky sighed, beginning to latch the weaponry to his body where he could.

“Is that even a question?” You grinned to him teasingly.

Bucky smiled, turning your back to him. He fashioned the strap of the machine gun around you. And you felt him wrap a holder around your waist. Carefully pulling them out, he latched 2 combat knives to you. You took a deep breath, this was really happening. 

“Why hasn’t the man came in yet?” You mumbled quietly.

“I dont know, Doll. But we need to be prepared for everything.” Bucky’s hands fell to your waist, gripping lightly. 

Before you assure him you were fine, that he didn’t need to worry. A whipping bullet flew across the room. Bucky gripped your back, pushing it quickly to the ground. After the one bullet, it seemed like countless more flew into the room. Bucky’s eyes met yours, the both of you knew this was going to be one hell of a fight. 

‘Damnit” you huffed out, “They got my device. How are we going to reach the team?”

Bucky moved you carefully to lay down next to you, You quickly assembled your gun, as did Bucky. 

“I don’t have a signal.” Bucky breathed heavily across the room.

‘How the hell are we going to get out of here?” You began to panic.

“Don’t stress, Doll. Only make matters worst.” Bucky looked upwards, trying to find an escape route. 

The bullets still flew across the room, and you felt hopelessness wash over you. You rolled to your stomach, seeing clearly out of the opening of the room. Without thinking, your mouth gaped open. This wasn’t your normal, easy 15 men, take them out with ease. They covered the whole warehouse. All dressed in black, all armed and ready to kill.

“Buck.” You breathed out.

He gripped your arm, pulling you to your feet once again. The both of you reached a corner of the room where bullets hadn’t hit, catching your breath. You looked to Bucky’s eyes, as he looked out of the room. It was easily over 40 men on the outside. You quietly began loading bullets to your gun, your eyes every so often scanning Bucky’s. You knew what needed to be done, and so did he.

“We’re not going to have backup.” You merely whispered.

“No.” He sighed, “No we’re not, Doll.”

You both stood in silence, gripping to your weapons.

This time, you weren’t running. 

You were gonna fight like hell.

You stood in silence, quietly fashioning what needed to be. Part of you was terrified, but adrenaline quickly took over. You heard the various clicks of Bucky’s guns. He smiled to you softly, tightening your gun straps. You didn’t know if the two of you were going to make it out alive, but one thing you did know was that you were glad your best fighting partner was here. Although there was over 40 men out there, which you tried not to think about, you had a small hope burning right in front of you. Bucky sighed, finally finishing preparing the two of you.

“Hey Bucky.” You smiled softly, still hearing the whipping of bullets around you.

“Yeah, Doll?” He grinned, placing his hand in your hair.

“After all this is over. We’re taking a vacation. Just you and me.” You grinned again.

“That so? What’d you have in mind?” He chuckled lowly. 

“Oh I don’t know….somewhere tropical. Quaint, Fiji maybe? Where no one can reach us.” You sighed, biting your lip.

“Sounds great. Does it involve you naked?” He winked to you now.

You hit him softly, remembering something. You took the time the past couple of days to use your skills to learn a certain language you heard not so long ago, Romanian.

“Atâta timp cât ești cu mine” You smiled, looking to his lips.

He laughed out, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

“Sexy. Nice pronunciation too.” He bit his lip.

You leaned in slowly, ready to taste his lips before you went into the jaws of death, But he stopped you softly.

“Kiss me when its over, I’ll have something to look forward to.” He whispered softly.

You breathed deeply in, knowing it was time.

“Ready?” Your eyes flickered to him.

He nodded, bring his gun to his jawline. You both positioned yourself in front of the door, Just as you were about to kick open into the madness. Bucky looked to you a soft smile on his lips.

“Fiji?” He whispered.

“I love you, asshole.” You choked out.

“Back at you, Princess.” He smiled again, and you remembered the first time he called you that. 

At the same time, The both of you moved forward, your legs kicking the door down. As soon as you emerged, gun shots whipping through the air is all you could hear. Without thinking you shot out viciously, your arms moving quickly in every which direction. Keeping focus, you felt two large arms beneath you, and Bucky’s guns drew out in front of you. He shot forward, and you felt the force of the guns at your ribs. Returning the favor, you turned to face him, your arms now going to his waistline, shooting out. You heard another loud noise and it wasn’t a bullet, Bucky pulled you to the ground as the small missile flew past you, exploding just at your side. The ringing in your ears didn’t deter you, as you reloaded your gun. You felt the pull of the gun strap behind you, Bucky propping the weapon on your back. Pulling the trigger, you felt the force the shot into the air. You rose again, showing no mercy. You heard the clanking of metal when you realized Bucky protecting your back with his metal arm. In the process you heard a grunt of pain erupt from him. Anger rose in you, whipping to his side you shot with precision to the man that just hit Bucky. He recovered quickly, removing the knives from your holster. Throwing them out into the air. Your arms grew tired, but you never gave up. You cried out, feeling a sudden pain in your leg. You never stopped, and the fire within you began to burn. You turned around, switching places with Bucky. The shots you fired ceased, as you realized something. 

They were gone.

You held your guns to the air, to make sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you. 

But every man dressed in black, here to kill you just moments ago. 

The both you and Bucky took out every single, last one of them. 

Heavy breathing filled the room, as small fire and debris surrounded you. 

You dropped your guns to your side finally, Bucky now at your side. His chest rose and fell, looking around the room. Bucky’s hands released the guns, a heavy thud hitting the floor. You followed the action, and the two of you stayed quiet a moment.

“You alright, Doll?” He choked out.

“Well.” You sighed, “My wrist is still broken…My leg is shot, I smell like hell. Im tired.” 

Bucky smiled, his frame now turning to you. You followed, the both of you standing in the falling pieces of debris. You went to complain more, But before you could say anything, Bucky gripped the collar of you shirt, pulling you roughly to his lips. You didn’t fight it, jumping into his touch. You wrapped your legs around him, as his lips danced passionately to yours. He pulled away, a boyish grin on his face.

“So, Fiji?” His eyes scanned your features.

You laughed out, kissing him once more.

The Avengers Tower, One Week Later. (no particular POV, just narration.)

The team walked in slowly, fanning across the room sitting in the seats. 

Nat.

Clint.

Steve.

Sam.

Wanda.

They all quietly took their spots, looking across the room at each other. No one dared to say a word, as they all knew why they were there. Steve sighed, looking to Nat. She smirked lightly, looking to the doorway. Nick Fury now walked into the room. An angered expression on his face, he walked to the foot of the table, standing. His eyes scanned the room, pressing a button the screen lit up with two files.

Agent James Buchanan Barnes.

Agent Y/N Y/LN.

Fury walked to the screen, and clicked another button. All while saying nothing. The screen lit up in very large writing, MIA. He turned to the remaining Avengers, now sighing heavily.

“You all know why you are here, and you all know that we know you know where the hell these two are. I know you have all decided to say not a word, but that is a stupid ass decision.” He fumed. 

Nat looked down, then looked to Steve.

Wanda smirked across the room to Sam.

“Where the hell. Are these two agents. They have gone off the grid. They are assets to the country, and I want to know where the hell they are.” Fury nearly yelled this time.

The team stayed quiet. 

They definitely knew where they were, telling them only days ago. It was true, no agent can just decide to leave. But they sure as hell did. It was nearly impossible to figure out where they had gone, and all they had said was..

Vacation. 

When the team found Bucky and Y/N, they looked like hell. Blood covered parts of their faces, also covered in dirt and debris. They were lucky to be found alive. It was a miracle almost, and something that definitely needed to be put down in history. Now that they went MIA, the government started a riot. They had strike teams searching all over Europe for them, but no luck in their endeavor.

A soft knock to the door caught Fury’s attention, he walked to the door to see a delivery man timidly expression a package for Nick Fury. He grabbed it hesitantly, walking back into the briefing room. It was a medium box, and he read out the senders address. 

“Gone Rogue.” Nick mumbled, “What kind of idiot..”

He opened the box, instantly angered by what it contained. The team leaned forward to see what the fuss was about. Nick Fury, the big man of shield, held up a women’s flimsy fabric. It was a bra, connected with flimsy panties. He threw it across the room angrily, only to pull out a pair of black briefs. 

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Fury sighed heavily.

The room erupted in laughter.

He finally pulled out a card and it read one simple sentence.

“We’ll come when needed.” Fury boomed, “Where the hell are these two idiots.”

Royal Davui, Fiji.

Your head hit the pillow hard, your head spinning, your forehead drenched with sweat. It had to be a new record, your body had just experienced not one, not two, not even three, but four mind blowing orgasms. Your breathing matched the ocean, only quicker. Your whole body was on fire, damp with sweat. You could feel the strands of your hair sprawled across the pillowcase, and your eyes closed for a moment. Finally catching your breath, you wrapped the blankets over your naked body. 

“You finally did it, Doll.” Bucky’s voice now filled your ears.

“Whats that?” You smiled breathlessly.

“You finally wore me out.” He rasped out, a small chuckle leaving his lips. 

You giggled softly, now throwing your legs around his waist. 

He looked heavenly below you, the sunset cascading over his features. He was damp as well, the heat definitely playing a part in the mind blowing experience you just had. You bit your lip, your legs settling at his waist. You dipped your head down, kissing at his neck softly.

“Who said I was done there, champ?” You sighed out. laughing to his ear.

He laughed at your comment, looking past you to the outside. A devious grin played across his lips. He lifted from the bed, wrapping his arms around you. 

“Ever had sex in the ocean?” He pressed his lips to your collarbone, nibbling softly.

“Cant say that I had.” You smiled, knowing exactly where this was going. 

Thankfully, the two of you had a private island, otherwise the idea that was playing around in Bucky’s mind wouldn’t even be thought of. You yelped slightly as he threw you over his shoulder. 

You tried to contain your laugh, as Bucky carried you slowly to the ocean.

Steve’s POV

He walked slowly across the kitchen, grabbing a single cup of coffee. It had only been a couple hours since the incident with Fury, but He didnt feel bad or guilty about giving away the information where Bucky and Y/N were. Being Bucky’s best friend, and Y/N being somewhat of Steve’s responsibility, he had a front row to their relationship. They went through hell, and they deserved a break, he told himself. They had nothing of importance back at the tower, but he knew if they were truly needed, they would come. Nat now joined his company, a hard expression crossing her features. He looked to her in concern, as she held a file. She set it down softly, placing her hand to her mouth.

“Nat, what is it?” He looked to her again.

“Steve, we’re gonna need some backup for this.” She sighed.

He knitted his brow, opening the file to see something he wished he hadn’t. The face he knew, it was the face he saw on the ship not too long ago, when Y/N traded her life for Bucky’s. He read across the file, processing that this man was still alive, and he was more pissed off than ever. Revenge was eminent, and tightened in his chest. Looks like two of his closest friends, just two people who fell in love, were still being hunted. This man wasn’t going to stop.

It was time to interrupt their paradise.