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tamakiamajikistentacles · 3 years

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Disappearance 2: The Sighting {Katsuki Bakugo}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Thank you all so much for your support with this story so far, I hope you continue to enjoy it!

Disappearance Masterlist

He dreamt of Chiasa often.

On bad nights his mind created terrible scenarios about who she was with and where she was and what was happening to her. Other better nights let him fantasize about finding her and bringing her back to his agency with a smug grin as he reunited with the love of his life.

Most nights, though, his dreams were memories. Soft around the edges and sometimes fuzzy in detail, but as real as he could remember.

That night he had a dream about finding their first apartment for just themselves. It was going to be a far cry from sharing a townhome with Kaminari and Jiro, mostly because it wasn’t going to be as cluttered and full of ridiculous pranks but also because it would finally be theirs.

He could vividly remember coming home from one of the early meetings with the Hero Public Safety Commission about starting his own agency and seeing her in the sitting room practically vibrating with excitement. She’d pulled him down beside her and all but shoved her tablet into his face to look at what she’d found, declaring that their search was over.

And it had been. The building had twenty-four security and desk staff, keycard resident entry, and was in a safer neighborhood with a low crime rate. He could see it was a short walk to the nearest train station and if he got the approval for his agency and secured the building he wanted, it wouldn’t be a long commute at all. Two bedrooms was well within their budget and would allow her to have a dedicated office space for her work from home position instead of her current setup at the foot of their bed.

He didn’t realize he’d been grinning until she poked his cheek and asked an impatient, “Well?”

“Let’s apply.”

She let out a happy squeal as she threw her arms around his shoulders, kissing his face repeatedly as he tried to keep a hold on her tablet. Her grip only seemed to grow tighter the more he weakly fought her embrace.

“Katsuki, this is going to be amazing!” she laughed, kissing his temple one final time as she pulled back slightly to cuddle against him. This time he didn’t fight the embrace, instead wrapping an arm around her to keep her close.

He’d scoffed. “’Course it’ll be amazing. It’s you and me.”

“You and me,” she agreed with a smile.

He could hear her saying those words as clear as day in his memories. It had started as a joke about the first time they’d gone out alone without friends; he’d asked her if she wanted to go to a new mochi shop and she immediately went to text the rest of their friends before he stopped her, grunting, “You and me.”

After some time it just became theirs. Three words with just as much weight as I love you. It was a simple way to say more important things—“I’m here for you” and “We’re in this together” and “The two of us cannot be broken.”

It was a part of how their bond became as strong as it did, and he missed hearing it in person.

Cool, early September air was left behind as the door to his agency closed behind him. He wasn’t thrilled with the weather beginning to take a turn towards lower temperatures, knowing his quirk took longer to build up its power. As much as he hated being called a “slow starter” in the winter it wasn’t entirely untrue.

Hikari greeted him with a curt good morning as he passed her desk and slid a few papers his way without looking up. He grabbed them and in their place set down a travel mug of peppermint tea and a small blue bento, his own low mornin’ barely audible.

Making his way to his office he looked over the patrol routes for the day and the notations about the current goings-on of the areas. It was fairly run-of-the-mill with little suspected villain activity, a perfect time to allow some of the newer sidekicks and interns to tag along with his people for the day.

Surprisingly this was one of the things he enjoyed about running his own agency. Planning and strategizing were some of his strong suits despite how much he did enjoy blasting headfirst into battle when he could. But as the man in charge he liked being control of where his people were posted a lot too.

He had already decided who would be taking which patrol by the time everyone was gathered in the large conference room in their hero costumes, some more bleary-eyed than others. Mugs of coffee and tea billowed steam above the table and Kirishima’s branded shaker bottle stood taller than all of them.

Kaminari yawned lazily and Sero elbowed him in the ribs at the stern glare of their boss.

“Three sectors, little activity save for the corner tea shop on route 2B,” he started as everyone turned their eyes towards him. “Cellophane and Pinky, you two are taking the sidekicks to sector 1. Route A to Cellophane, B to Pinky. Choose your sidekicks and report it before you leave.”

The two heroes fist bumped and shot grins and thumbs up towards the sidekicks across the table from them. They were the best to get collaboration on the brain when it came to the newer recruits.

“Sector 2 goes to Red Riot and Chargebolt. Red, you’re on route A with the two interns and Chargebolt you’re taking route B so make sure that shitty shop isn’t getting worse.”

He knew that Kirishima was the perfect option for guiding the wide-eyed interns through some of their first tastes of the hero life. Plus, he was the best defense if trouble arose and backup would take time.

“I’m taking sector 3 myself. Questions?” When no one responded, he concluded, “Alright, get out there.”

Kaminari shot a smile to everyone he came across on his patrol. Chargebolt was a well-liked figure and regarded very highly as a personable hero when spotted in public. He was proud to have cultivated that good will with the people and was oftentimes the one who handled the media for the Dynamight agency alongside Kirishima, Red Riot’s popularity one of the only heroes higher than himself.

Quieter times to stop and chat with his fans were always his favorite but days like this that required more vigilance he did what he could with smiles and waves to those he saw. Even if there was only suspected villain activity at the tiny tea shop across from the mall he had to keep a close eye on it.

He tried to spend as much time as he could with the shop in view while still patrolling the rest of the route. Nothing of note caught his attention all morning and well into the afternoon.

Then the afterschool crowd and post workday crowds filled the area. He began to see a few suspicious characters that he reported back to the agency when he had a chance, but none of them gave any other indication of wrongdoing. He preferred to be thorough, though, just like Bakugo liked.

Half a dozen notes later, as the sun was low in the sky, he started to plan his evening once he got home. Jiro had the day off which meant she would spend most of it in the studio and bring home their favorite takeout. She was always in a great mood after a day in the studio too, and he loved seeing her so happy.

The tinkling bell of the tea shop’s door opening brought him from his thoughts and his gaze fell on a scraggly-haired brunette stepping into the evening air. From where he was down the street, he could see her pull the hand of a small boy to come stand by her on the sidewalk. Dark, matted hair sat atop his head and he scratched at the arm the woman held.

The closer he got the more he noticed about them—the woman’s ill-fitting dress and oversized sweater in much warmer contrast to the boy’s too short jeans and short sleeved tshirt. The boy shook from the cold and he quickened his pace, everything in him ready to shrug off his jacket and wrap the child in it while giving a few choice words to the mother.

As he approached he saw the woman’s eyes darting furiously as she hurriedly crossed towards one of the mall’s department store entrances, the boy shuffling along beside her as he went from scratching his arm to scratching his neck. Her grip on his arm looked tighter than it should be, and she walked quickly with no regard for if he could keep up with her longer strides.

Kaminari took in as many details as possibly as he began crossing too before stopping dead in his tracks in the crosswalk when the woman turned and said something to the boy. Her profile fit all of his observations in place and he tried to make himself move forward to confirm what he thought he was seeing.

By the time his body started to cooperate the duo had disappeared into the crowded department store and he was left at the door with only startled suspicions and half-formed what if scenarios in his mind. He had to tell someone, someone other than Bakugo who would surely fly off the handle on him for losing sight of the woman.

As he went to radio Kirishima, his comm came on with an incoming message from the redhead instead—“Charge, rendezvous in twenty at our starting point to head back to the agency?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed breathlessly. “Yeah, I’ll see you there.”

Kirishima nudged him in the side, concerned for his usually loud blonde friend who had barely said a word on their journey back to the agency. “Are you okay, man? You’re never this quiet.”

Kaminari chewed the inside of his cheek as he pulled on his street clothes. With a sigh he ruffled his hair with his hand before rubbing his face.

“I saw something weird on my route at the tea shop.”

“Oh damn, what happened? Did you let Bakugo know yet? You know he needs those villain updates as soon as possible.”

He waved his hands to stop the questions. “No, I didn’t tell him yet but it wasn’t… I don’t know if it was villains.”

The redhead’s eyebrows knitted together. “Then what was so weird?”

“Right before you radioed me near the end of patrol I was finishing notes on some shady people around the shop when this lady and kid stepped out. They both looked, I don’t know, greasy? And she was dressed warm while the little boy she was with was shivering in just a tshirt.”

“That’s not exactly our kind of suspicious, dude, but we can—"

“But the fact that she looked like Chiasa is suspicious!”

Kirishima froze, whispering, “What?”

He nodded. “She looked like Chiasa with longer hair.”

“With… with a kid?”

“Yeah, little dark-haired kid that kept scratching at his arms and neck. I felt so bad for the little guy, he looked so cold—”

“Kaminari, focus!” Kirishima said harshly, cutting off his rambling. “We need to tell Bakugo. Even if it’s not her, he needs this lead. He has to see it through. On the off chance it is actually her… I don’t even know how he could react.”

“Plus she has a lot of explaining to do about where she’s been,” Kaminari sighed. “It’s been so long.”

Kirishima nodded sadly. “It has, but we need to let Bakugo lead on this. Whether or not it was really her and will get him closer to finding her, I don’t know. But he needs to do this. It’s the only way for him to move forward.”

Closing their lockers, they gathered their bags and made their way to their small shared office. The day being fairly quiet aside from the two brunettes being sighted allowed them to finish their patrol reports quickly and send them to Bakugo for his review.

They knew he waited until all reports were received to begin looking them over and they had never been more grateful for Mina’s inability to focus, knowing for a fact that she was always the last person to submit her reports. Passing her still in costume talking animatedly to the sidekicks about their day let them know that this time wasn’t going to be any different. It allowed them to speak with Bakugo before he had to read the information and hopefully let them do damage control too.

Hikari was just leaving his office as they came to the doorway, a tired smile on her lips as she shuffled the papers in her hands.

Kaminari knocked on the doorframe as she passed them to head back to her desk and without looking up was called in by their friend and boss.

“What?” he grunted, continuing to loosen his gauntlets to set them aside. Unlike the rest of them he preferred to write his reports before changing completely.

Kaminari cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling Kirishima’s hand on his shoulder for support. As long as he’d known Bakugo and been on the receiving end of his temper and explosions, this had to be one of the most nerve-wracking conversations he was going to start.

“I’ve got some news from my patrol today.”

Red eyes snapped up to meet his. “Villains at the tea shop? What happened? Was it in your report? You never called for backup and I know we didn’t have anyone detained in any of our sectors.”

He spoke quickly, his shoulders tensing with each word as he prepared himself to don his gauntlets once again to find whoever was stirring up trouble in his agency’s territory.

“No, no, it was just an observation but I wanted to tell you about it in person—”

“Then spit it out!”

“I think… I think it’s possible that I saw Chiasa come out of the tea shop with a little dark-haired boy. I’m not one-hundred percent sure if it was her but it sure as hell looked like her.”

Bakugo stood rigid behind his desk. Over four years of not a single clue as to where she was or if she was safe and now she reappeared right in his agency’s backyard. If it was her.

He would pull all the surveillance he could find in the area based on Kaminari’s report and go through it with a fine-toothed comb. He would know if it were her. There was no one he knew better.

If he decided it was her then their patrol routes were about to get a shakeup and he was about to get answers years in the making. But that was for him to know, at least for now.

“I’ll review your report. Send Hikari back on your way out and I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said evenly.

The two other heroes exchanged surprised looks, expecting a much bigger reaction than a few long moments of silence. They watched him sit down and start his computer, his body language tense but not to the level they had anticipated.

“You don’t want to—”

“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” he repeated, eyes flicking up to see their stunned faces. He watched them blankly until they seemed to take the hint ad turned to leave.

He sat alone typing his report after making his request to Hikari to go through the proper channels for the surveillance footage he wanted and warning her that he would likely need more after reviewing Kaminari’s report. She didn’t seem to mind, letting him know that she would tell him as soon as the requested film came in.

So until then he sat in his office allowing himself to grasp onto this small straw of hope, holding tight to the first real evidence he’d had in years that he might be able to use to bring her home.

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated!

Disappearance Masterlist

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

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Try It On, Take It Off - Orson Krennic x Reader (Rogue One)

100 Sentence Challenge Request

Orson Krennic + 95 - “Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween.” Requested by @mysticaltimemachinewench

Author’s Note: Roll with the idea of Halloween and October 31st being things in the Star Wars universe just for this fic, please! This boy is so whiny, I spent all week writing for him last week and he’s still like “write more!” so, I thought I’d post one. It’s because he’s all the bottom of my drafts now I’m sure of it. Boots & Boys - Kesha Okay, so I was looking for songs to do with dressing up. And I found a bunch of cute love songs about wearing your SOs clothing, but... This one is fun and I needed fun for the premise-!

Disclaimer: Rogue One Characters/SW Universe not mine. / Requested premise / lyrics & gifs not mine.

Premise: Every Halloween it’s the same thing, and Krennic is sick of people dressing like him. This year he’s determined to get to the bottom of things...

Words: 2010

Warnings: Swearing / Sexual connotations/Pre-Amble

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Think it's time that I mention I've got myself an obsession For the smell, for the touch I know I've got myself a habit But I gotta have it now I don't care where, work it out Let me break it down I try it on, I take it off So what you got? Something 'bout boots and boys They bring me so much joy I gotta say I wear 'em both so pretty as I walk in the city Give me boots and boys I'm keeping quite the collection Take nothing less than perfection My men drop beats like a bomb Wind me up, spin me round Oh, lookie what I found (ooh!) I'm crazy for you, crazy for you Hey hey, whatcha looking at? Hey hey, something you can't have They've got me looking rad You feeling that?

---

October 31st was always a date Krennic hated seeing in his calendar. The Death Star had not been a project spanning months by any stretch of the imagination. Orson was many, many years into this – and he was now accustomed to his workers Halloween traditions. He couldn’t say it wasn’t one of the reasons he was glad that it was nearing completion. That, and he might finally get the recognition he deserved. At least for now he had you. Given, you were relatively new to the project when he looked at the timeline as a whole, but you were certainly a necessary piece – and Krennic actually liked you. A lot of the other employees, if he were honest with himself, he actually could have done without. Which is probably why you’d grown close – and then maybe a little too close. But Orson wasn’t going back on that now. This was the day Krennic didn’t want to leave his office – inevitably, it was also the day that everyone would have him chasing all over the structure. Why? Oh, because they all knew how much he hated today too! So as soon as the email pinged in from the other side of the Death Star, Krennic tried everything he could to get them to come to him, or to send him documents, pictures, anything that meant he didn’t have to go on an annoyingly long walk. Orson used practically every persuasive trick in the book, to no avail. Eventually he had to concede rising from his desk, sighing angrily, and gathering his things to head to the problem. Almost immediately he was assaulted with the kind of visuals he’d become accustomed to. It seemed every other person on this damned vessel took today to dress up as him. Now, whilst dressing in the full white Intelligence Bureau tunic would have been against protocol and would have meant he could reprimand them, everyone decided to wear capes of various different colours instead. Some, like his, matched their uniforms – and if it wasn’t also for the fact they copied the way he walked and carried himself, with an unconvincing attempt at his accent and speech patterns, he’d find it quite tasteful. Krennic would almost be flattered, he supposed - perhaps even feel like a trend setter – had the crew not being doing it for any other reason than to mock him. God forbid any of them attempt Lexrulian; one day it was going to make his ears bleed. Others decided to wear their ‘capes’ in the gaudiest colours imaginable, and sometimes Orson felt like he was going to be physically ill just staring at them.

Still, technically all of this was against regulation – and although he probably couldn’t take on the entire staff and win, he took pleasure in chastising those he disliked most. “Isn’t that a little against your uniform regulation?” “Take that off now – before I have you reported.” “Next time I catch you in something like this, you’re off the project.” Annoyingly, he could never keep how irked he was out of his voice – and they took great joy out of that, and never bothered hiding it. When they did take these ridiculous attempts at mocking him off (Though it worked. He supposed.), Krennic knew they’d be pulled back on before he rounded the next corner – but for now at least, Orson could be smug in his little bit of power. The fact he could actually force the crew to remove them. He often pondered how this started. Tarkin, he had no doubt. Krennic wasn’t going to blame himself after all, he knew his uniform looked damn good. He just wasn’t fool enough to think this was respectful admiration. Eventually he reached the person who emailed him and, as predicted, it was an easy fix that Krennic could have done in less than five minutes on his tablet back in his office. The Director almost punished them on the spot for that, but by this time was already too pissed off with the situation to trust himself not to lose complete control. Not that that didn’t happen a lot, especially when everything was stalling – but today that was what everyone wanted. ‘If I see another bad attempt at ridiculing my uniform I’ll scream…’ Orson’s jaw was beginning to ache with the way he was tightening it. Half way back to his office, Krennic took a detour. By now he really was yelling at people – Orson was this close to drawing weapons and kicking them off the station, Project Stardust be damned. Desperately seeking respite, he wandered back to his quarters and as the corridors began to quieten, scuffled along in his boots, sulking. ‘What did I ever do to deserve this-!?’ Reaching the door to his room, Krennic gave a small smile – he would receive relief in here. Well at least she will be sweet... I can tell her my frustrations and she’ll sympathize… As Krennic keyed himself in and the door slid open, he realised just how wrong he could be. You were walking up and down the main room and studying yourself in about every reflective surface you could find. If this wasn’t you, Krennic would have blown it, and immediately all his irritations came flooding back. You were, of course – with access to his wardrobe - pacing around in his uniform. Full Intelligence white, rank bar included. Sure, the sleeves were rolled up – which pained him because it’d take an age to get those creases out - and the cape was a little long for you, but, you had the whole thing on, right down to the boots. Usually Krennic might smirk and call you out on wearing his clothes, after all you did look good in his tailored shirts. Any other day of the week he’d probably be pretty turned on right now. But NOT today. As the door slid closed behind him and beeped locked, you whirled around. The cape moved with you and your eyes fell to it; immediately distracted. Krennic’s uniform was gorgeous on him, but the feeling of power you got when wearing it for yourself was indescribable. You liked running your hands over it – the feeling of the fabric between your fingers very nearly bordering obsessive with your need to do it at every chance you could; it was so perfectly weighted that, in all honesty, the tailoring was a marvel to you. You always made a mental note to thank the designers and sewers for their impeccable work. (On Orson’s entire wardrobe, actually.) “Director.” You presented yourself and looked back to him, “What do you think?” Orson very nearly shivered, and if he wasn’t so pissed he’d probably have let himself. That was Lexrulian – and compared to everything else he’d heard today, was very nearly music to his ears. “What are you doing-!?” There was a snap in the undertone of his voice – agitated, to match the way his jaw tightened. You answered cheerily, nonetheless. “It’s Halloween. So, I’m you! I mean you could be me if you wanted, but I’m not sure the uniform would fit-!” You giggled slightly at the mental image of him in your tight black jacket – no, maybe it wouldn’t fit properly, but it might look really good. If only for a second. Although Krennic was glaring at you by now. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, is all this YOUR idea-!?” For a moment you looked innocent, “No! You mean the fact everyone else does it? I didn’t start it, but I felt I could damn well finish it. Besides, LOOK!, I can do it better than everyone else!” “No! No! Y/N-!” You scrambled up onto the table, and cleared your throat. It was clear to Krennic you’d been practicing, because you had his stance down and his mannerisms almost perfect. He was almost impressed. “The POWER we are dealing with here is immeasurable! Single reactor ignition would be just an inkling of it’s true destructive potential! And I will not fail!” He blinked slowly, thinking you were mixing up at least three of his previous conversations there. There was a long pause before Krennic stepped forward, pointing at you. “GET. DOWN! Do you have any idea how expensive that table was-!?” “Awwww, Orson, c’mon!!” “I’m NOT impressed, GET DOWN!” “Baaabe.” “Don’t whine..!” You backed up just out of his reach, even your best innocent eyes weren’t saving you today – he must have been furious. “But it took me so long, I’ve tried on all the variants, I tried on your dress uniform even-! And it isn’t complete without the cape, and the rain one doesn’t have a patch on the glory of this one!! I thought it wouldn’t drag if I put on my heeled boots, but that didn’t get the look right either! And it’s you – so, it had to be perfect…” Your eyes glittered gently as you tried to plead with him, “I thought if I did it properly, it might make you smile. That it might be more… respectful. I dunno I-” He cut you off, demanding, “OFF. THE. TABLE.” “Well, what are you gonna do-!?!” Krennic was quick on his feet, and even though you’d backed yourself up he still managed to grab your wrist and drag you down. You might have been in his uniform, but you were nowhere near his height; and you might have had his traits down, but you didn’t have his strength either. Meaning within seconds he had you shoved up against a wall – with a squeak – before his lips were on yours, wrists pinned by your sides. He might have been angry, but that only made this kiss hotter, and you practically melted into him. Orson was showing you absolutely no mercy – and you weren’t sure if you really deserved it, but you were at least a little glad of it. Eventually he pulled away from you; leaving you gasping and panting for breath. But you whined, wanting more from him. “Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween.” Krennic had, many a time. Which is one of the reasons you wanted to do this, because he might feel a little better if you were doing it right. Clearly you were in the wrong ballpark. You thought about nodding in admittance, but thought maybe continuing to be playful would get you what you wanted. “Don’t think you did – maybe you did. You should remind me.” “Oh, I think I will.” His smirk was back as you let him run his hands through the fastenings of the tunic and unzip your pants. Oh, yeah, he wanted this uniform off bad. You bit your lip, “It does look sexy on you though, is it surprising everyone wants to copy it? I mean I like trying it on and taking it off.” Orson nipped your neck, eliciting a gasp from you; “Evidently I might too.” Then he chuckled at your sigh, running his hands over your warm skin, “That doesn’t make me hate today any less. I mean it’s hardly tribute, is it?” You tipped your head, “I mean, I tried.” “Oh, don’t think I didn’t hear that mocking tone.” He grazed his lips to yours, and it was hardly rewarding, you pined for more but he held you away from him – still immobilized against the wall, “Still, I’ll admit so much… you do look very pretty in white.” You did very nearly blush, but knew that his mind wouldn’t be going to something as virtuous as weddings or dresses; probably a different kind of white lace altogether. “Can I keep the cape at least?” Maybe he’d enjoy you wearing that and very little else. That would be like a ‘sexy’ Halloween costume, would it not? Even if it was just for him. Maybe that’s what Krennic needed if he detested today so much. He growled, kissing you again before you let him slide the jacket from your shoulders and it fell to the floor; “If you’re good, we’ll see.”

--- Thank you very much for reading! It’s been a while since Krennic has been posted too, I’ll admit! 🙏❤

2/16 down!

#Mysticaltimemachinewench #Orson Krennic #Ben Mendelsohn #Director Krennic #Orson Krennic x Reader #Rogue One #Rogue One A Star Wars Story #Oh my god here we go again...#C'mon Orson don't act like you're not a /little/ proud of her!#Director Krennic x Reader #149 #Linzi Writes #linzi writes requests #Smol Bean Drabbles

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frangipanidownunder · 5 years

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Renaissance fair au

1She’s brushing Missy’s mane until it shines when he walks in. Missy whinnies and stamps a foot on the hay-covered floor of the stable yard. “I think she likes me,” he says and his grin spreads wide. Behind him, her other horse rears in his pen, blowing air through his nostrils and scattering tools and costume pieces in a clatter. She tuts. “It seems Billy doesn’t share the same attraction.” She runs a hand over Missy’s velvet snout and tends to the agitated colt.He shrugs and walks away, to the end of the yard. She thinks she knows who he is, by reputation on the circuit. Spooky Mulder. 2She dresses the horses and goes to the food stalls. It’s hot and she can feel her hair frizzing in the humidity. The costumes are always so heavy and ill-fitting, leaving her sticky and agitated. She waits in line and the smells of onions, meat frying and sugar rises. “Can I interest you in the Extraterrestrial Burger?” His voice is so close to the back of her neck that it sends a shiver down her spine. “It’s shaped like a flying saucer.” “I prefer something a little more earthly,” she says and looks up at his smug face. His good-looking face. His broad nose, his plump mouth, his curious eyes. “A cinnamon roll?” he says and adds a light chuckle. She rubs her hair, smoothing it down. She can practically feel her freckles popping out on her face. She takes a deep breath. “Sounds good,” she says, reaching for her wallet. “And why don’t you let me buy you something?” He quirks his head a little, like she’s surprised him. He steps away and when she hands him his food he laughs out loud. “Prize Jerk Chicken. Thanks Scully.”3Her father has run the Renaissance Fair circuit for years. She’s been jousting for the past five years and she competes in the archery. He tells her he’s come from the east coast for the climate and the girls and she has to laugh at his boldness. There’s a crack of thunder and the heavens open. They run for shelter in the stable block, but she’s soaked through. He gives her his jacket as she shivers in the darkness of the hay shed. They sit side by side on a bale, eating their soggy lunch. “Why are you here? Really? Who are you running from?” He wipes his mouth. “That’s pretty good, Scully.” He shakes his head and water sprays from his hair. “Samantha,” he says. “Your wife?” His face has crumpled and guilt spreads through her, making her limbs heavy. “My sister. She vanished. It destroyed the family. I couldn’t stay and watch it implode entirely, so I ran away.” The rain beats down as he tells her the whole story.4Alex Krycek is grinning at her as they ride out to the jousting run. His horse, Marita, is a beautiful silver-grey mare and Scully knows she’s going to have to be at her best to beat them. His renown for dirty tricks is ignored because he pulls in huge crowds with his charismatic showman routine, dancing his horse down the track and ramping up the excitement with his warm-up moves. This is her first time in the mixed tournament. The joust is brutal. Her bones shudder. Her skin prickles under her suit and the oppressive heat. The final clash sees her flipped from the saddle, thudding to the ground, rolling over and over. She vaguely hears the crowd ‘ooh’ as she tries to roll herself over when she feels strong hands scoop her up. “You okay, Scully?” Mulder asks, brushing hair from her face. She pulls back from him, brushing grass from her arms and padding her face and chin. She nods. She’s fine. She’s fine. “Bad luck,” Krycek says as he walks past. “Maybe you should stick to the women’s only joust? You’re not really strong enough for me, Dana.” Mulder pulls her away, arm around her. She hasn’t the heart to tell him her shoulder’s sore. “You’ll beat him in the archery, Scully. You’re the best shot.”“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your competition?” “I’m ready,” he says and she believes him. 5His falcon is a beautiful specimen, glossy brown-black feathers and a serenity she’s never seen before. She flies with such grace and he stands, gloved arm waiting for her to land. They make the best team. “Congratulations,” she says, walking by his side as he takes the bird back to the yard. “What’s her name?” “Sam,” he says and lets out an apologetic laugh. “Why falconry?” “The bird always comes back.”

#txf fanfic #my fanfiction #five headcanon au #renaissance fair au

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