#to explain exactly WHY he was so good at going undercover in drag for this particular con

[lovelyrots]

Forced Matrimony

Chapter 12 - We’re All Lonely For Something

FM Masterlist

🏷️- @fax-for

Content Warnings - cop routine (bad cop, good cop), Stockholm is a Syndrome, angst (self angst?), do NOT trust Izuku

Two bags are tossed onto the steel table in front of Shinso as the agent from before walks in with another, though younger, agent. “This is just some of the evidence turned in against you, but it’s the most damning. You know what this is?”

The unknown agent slaps his hand against some journal and pushes it closer. “I refuse to comment any further until my lawyer is present.” Shinso replies coolly and stares disinterested at the two men. “Mr Hitoshi, we found several items that would implicate you in numerous terrorist plots. Just tell us why, and what all you’ve done and we can help you.” Agent Koname leans closer to the cuffed hero, with a sympathetic face painted on as his partner scoffs and crosses his arms.

Shinso, in turn, leans toward the two agents and without blinking repeats what he’s been saying since he was ‘picked up’. Though forcibly moved sounds better on paper.

“I refuse to comment any further until my lawyer is present. End of discussion.”

The other agent stands and clutches onto the collar of Shinso’s shirt as he pulls him to stand eye-to-eye. “We don’t give a shit. You’re fucked whether or not your lawyer is here, so just admit it.” “Tanaka. Leave him alone, even if he won’t confess to anything, we’ve got more than enough evidence to convict him.” Koname explains calmly as Shinso is let go, looking as unbothered as ever.

“I’ll be honest with you, since nothing else matters: we have solid evidence that you were involved with members of Shigaraki’s group, we have evidence that you called just minutes before the raid on their base in some attempt to help them, and we have evidence that you murdered one of their members as some initiation.” Shinso’s brows furrowed as Koname finished, confusion and skepticism dancing around his mind as he shifted in his seat.

“I know there’s at least one camera and mic in here so I’ll recind my previous statement for now. I have no idea what you’re talking about; anytime I was near that location or any members that were there, I was working undercover and reported every interaction as I’ve always been instructed to. I never murdered anyone, I don’t exactly have the skill set for that.” He keeps his tone calm and level, never raising it or letting his internal panic be known.

“So you admit you did call just before the raid happened? Letting your boss know to get out?” The younger one, Tanaka, leans forward as Koname turns away. “I was letting a civilian that I knew was staying there know so she wouldn’t get caught up in it. I never spoke to Shigaraki. Now that I’ve said my piece, I refuse to say anything further until I have my attorney present.”

With that, Shinso leans away from the two and lets his head fall back to look up at the dark gray ceiling, essentially ignoring the agents in front of him.

“You lying bastard, I ought to teach you some respe-“ “That’s enough. Let’s leave him to sit while he waits.” Koname interrupts the younger man and almost has to drag him out of the room, the slamming of the door behind them is the last thing Shinso hears before he’s left with the overwhelming silence.

‘He’s late, again.’ You sigh and lay back on the couch, staring boredly at the pristine white ceiling. The dull sounds of the show you had as background noise becomes nothing as your mind slips from the present to wonder about what he’s doing that’s been making him late so often.

‘Is he getting bored of me? Maybe he’s finally feeling guilty about…well everything. Could I use that to get him to let me leave?’

You were deep in thought, reflecting on the past week and a half and how Izuku, once a cuddle-fiend that refused to not touch you in some way, now barely gives you a glance before he’s out the door.

You were suspicious at first, thinking it was some ploy or ruse to trick you into doing something so he’d get to punish you. But he’d still lock up everything when he’d leave and double check the locks when he’d get home back, he just doesn’t…act the same towards you.

You refuse to admit that the lack of affection and attention from him makes the sense of loneliness that much more invasive, but a tiny voice deep within you cheers when he does deign to hold you just a little longer.

You despise that part of you, but when it’s just you stuck in this big house with just the bland noise of reality tv…you can’t help but want him to just hold you or talk to you a little more if it means you won’t feel the creeping solitude for a second more.

You often catch yourself looking down at your hand, at the starburst pattern you two share, and trace the lines with your eyes or when you let your mind wander, you may ignore your hand moving to gently hold or rub the marking.

Just something to keep your hand busy, that’s all.

Your head snaps towards the front door as you hear the locks moving and the humming from Izuku as he steps inside. “I’m home!” He calls out as you idly watch him lock the door behind him, smoothly moving to each lock with practiced ease.

“And I brought dinner! I’m off for a bit so I thought we’d celebrate with takeout.” You strain to look at the bag in his hand as he puts his work shoes away, unconsciously stopping at the starburst marking on his hand barely peeking out from his glove.

‘Why’s he still wearing his glove? He’s never worn either of them when he’s here, so why now? Or has he?’ Thoughts bounce into each other as your eyes follow him to the dining table, locked on his covered hand as it pulls different containers out. ‘Did he hurt his hand? Maybe someone put crazy glue in his glove and it’s stuck now.’

“Y/N? Are you okay?” That snaps you out of the weird trance you locked in, though your mouth and brain still aren’t on the same wavelength. “What did you call me?” The words leave your lips, something your brain regrets as that hated voice within takes over.

“Uh, Y/N, you know, your name? Are you okay?” He blinks at you and tilts his head, thick brows furrowed in apparent confusion. “You weren’t answering me or moving so I kept calling your name. You’re not running a fever, are you?” He steps towards you and presses the back of his hand to your forehead before you have a chance to move away.

“Hm, you don’t feel warm.” He mutters and continues to talk, but you stopped listening as you ask yourself something; when did he take his glove off?

You could have sworn he had it on when he came in and up until he called your name, but he used the same hand to touch your forehead and you felt the bare skin of his hand. It didn’t fall onto the floor and you didn’t see it hanging out of one of his pockets. So where did it go, or was it even there?

“Y/N? C’mon and eat, maybe that’ll help you.” He turns around without waiting for you to even move and something snaps.

Your arms reach and grab the back of his shirt before he moves away and you both freeze. You don’t know why you did this, you just know your body acted before you did so there has to be some reason, right?

Your mouth opens and shuts several times, searching for the words to explain why your hands are clenching the fabric of his tee like you don’t want him to move away from you, but you can’t find them. You can’t find any reason you’d want to be left behind, left alone.

You break and a harsh truth weakly crawls its way out. “Don’t leave me alone.” You can’t bear to look at him, both because of your fragile and minuscule pride and the fear that he’ll discard you like a child that’s grown bored with a toy.

He stays quiet but slowly turns around and gently takes your shaking hands into his own as he steps closer to you, bending down to slide his arms around you. “I’ll never leave you alone. Not even in my dreams.” He murmurs as he sits and pulls you to his lap, one hand pressing against your upper back and the other wrapped around your waist, keeping you pressed up against him. Enveloped by him.

You hate this. You hate that for the first time in almost two weeks you feel…peaceful. You feel warm and not alone and it’s like being able to see color and hear music after sitting in silent darkness. The longer the two of you sit there, bodies tangled together, the more the world comes back to you. You can smell the takeout he brought home, you can hear his heartbeat just over the noise of the tv, you can feel the softness of his cotton tee and the warmth from his body melting into yours.

You feel better, but you hate that it’s because of him. You hate it because you know you’re afraid that something in you is changing and you might not hate that change.

#Do NOT trust Izuku #x reader #tw yandere #tw cops #tw stockholm syndrome #tw angst #mha #bnha #izuku x reader #yandere izuku

[party-gilmore]

I'm just saying, Eliot "You never know when you'll have to fight an alien/a guy on ice" Spencer has 100% trained to fight in high heels.

Do with that what you will.

#there so many possibilities #you never know when you'll be in a 'die hard barefoot shattered mirror on the floor scene' scenario and those are the only shoes available #you never know when you'll have to make a quick get away from a gal's bed with the first set of clothes you could grab #you never know when a job might involve going under cover in drag (im thinking he'd pull off a Swayze in To Wong Foo-esque queen PERFECTLY) #you never know when maybe sometimes you just like them but still can't tell your team that #so you make up other plausible possibilities involving girls and action movies that a red blooded american male might use #to explain exactly WHY he was so good at going undercover in drag for this particular con #eliot spencer #leverage

[pillage-and-lute]

Prompt: fake realtionahip/marriage, whoever you like!

Ooohoho! This has been chilling as a draft for ages, now I have completed it. *mildly evil laughter*

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The funny thing about Geralt, Jaskier thought as he did up the buttons on his best doublet, was that he really didn’t lie. He said things that weren’t true, but they were usually things he believed, or thought he believed because he was tired or grumpy. Sometimes he told half truths. He didn’t lie though.

It wasn’t even as if he didn’t have a poker face, Geralt’s face was all poker face, he just hated lying. Normally it wasn’t an issue, but tonight, Jaskier reflected, it wouldn’t be ideal.

Jaskier had heard through some whispered words at a pub that a bunch of Nilfgaardian nobles were having a gala, and the temptation of finding out what political secrets they could was two strong for their odd little family. So Geralt and Jaskier were going undercover.

There had been quite a bit of debate about that. Jaskier was obviously going. He’d grown his hair longer and had a bit of scruff going, and to be frank, all a bard really needed to disguise themselves was a new name, people saw the clothing and heard the music, but rarely remembered the face. Yennefer would have been the ideal partner in crime except for a crucial thing.

When Yennefer had been changed by magic, her eyes had been left the same. Somehow, the transformation had solidified them, and no spell would change them. Her eyes were too distinctive, and so she would stay behind with Ciri. That left Geralt, and since the ball was only for the nobility, he would be the fiance of Julian Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove.

Damn.

See, Geralt didn’t lie, and that was bad enough. Jaskier wouldn’t be able to rely on Yennefer’s in-depth knowledge of the nobility and that was worse. Worst of all though, was the fact that Jaskier would have to spend a night full of wine and dancing pretending to be in love with, and engaged to, Geralt. Who he loved.

And who had, not three months ago, blamed Jaskier for every bad thing in life.

Since then Geralt had caught up with him half-way down the mountain and there had been some grumbled words about how Jaskier ‘wasn’t actually, exactly, a total curse’. Not a glowing review, but then Cintra had fallen, and they had Cirilla and they’d found a wounded Yennefer and it had all gotten so very busy.

Jaskier cast a last look in the mirror as the door to his room creaked open. He turned, expecting Geralt, but it was Yennefer.

“I suppose,” she said, eyeing him. “That this is as good as you get.” It could have been said cruelly. A year ago it would have been. Now, though, the words were fond. 

“I like the kohl, it goes well with the wrinkles at your eyes,” she winked. He smiled. There were no more wrinkles now than had been twenty years ago, and they both knew it.

“I wasn’t sure about the eyeliner,” Jaskier said, trying to sound haughty. “Overdramatic eye looks are your thing.”

Yennefer chuckled and sat on the end of the bed. “A tiny smudge of eyeliner is hardly overdramatic.” She studied him approvingly, then looked at him. Her expression was frighteningly soft.

“Have you told him that you love him?”

“Never,” Jaskier said, fiving his cravat in the mirror.

“Why ever not?”

“It would only be the mountain all over again,” Jaskier sighed. “I tried, you know. I spent years trying, and then on the mountain, I thought I was being clear...”

“What did you say?”

“I asked him to leave it all, just for a little while, with me. I thought we could go to the coast.”

“The coast,” Yennefer said from her spot on the bed. “As in Lettenhove? You wanted to show him where you grew up?”

“Partially. I could explain the immortality business easier if he met my sister, but mostly I just thought it would be peaceful.”

Yennefer snorted. “With Geralt? Peaceful? He’d spend the whole time fighting drowners and telling you not to write about mermaids because they’re vicious.”

Jaskier smiled wanly. “That’s pretty peaceful for him.”

“But he said no?”

“He didn’t say anything,” Jaskier said. “Then he, well, you know, he spent the night in your tent.”

“Ah,” Yennefer said. “For what it’s worth, I hate that it happened too.”

“He doesn’t though!” Jaskier cried, whirling around to face her. “He wants it to happen again! And you! You don’t want him but he wants you while I want him!” The frustration of the whole situation and nerves for what was to come were overwhelming. “And you’re here, trying to help me,” he said more quietly. “Why?”

“Because I like you,” Yennefer said, simply, standing from the bed. “And I like him. I also never, ever want to kiss him again. The djinn is sitting, somewhere in my chest, telling me I love him, but the feeling is...sick. It feels like love, as well as I can remember, but it’s poisoned and twisted and I want no part in it.”

Her purple eyes pinned Jaskier to the floor.

“And that poison pales in comparison to how much you love him. He deserves that.”

She swept out the door, tossing a “Sort it out,” over her shoulder.

Well.

The next knock at the door was Geralt, Ciri in tow. Jaskier hoped the witcher hadn’t heard any part of his and Yennefer’s conversation, but he suspected that no one overheard conversations that Yen didn’t want them too. 

“Dandelion!” Ciri said, leaping at him and using the name she’d first met him under. “You look nice! Like a prince in one of your stories!”

Jaskier blushed and thanked her quietly as he scooped her up and tossed her, laughing, onto the bed. 

He looked at Geralt for his opinion.

Oh he looked so good too. Yennefer had charmed him so that anyone else would see a different man in Geralt’s place, but to Jaskier he looked just the same. But he was wearing white. 

A white chemise, the collar and cuffs with fine red embroidery, with a cream colored cape, half length so it fell just to Geralt’s hips. It was embroidered too, green and pink and so many other colors, despite being overall still mostly cream. The pants were the same creamy fabric with a stripe down each side. Dark boots and a wide, decorative, dark belt completed the look.

“Wow,” Jaskier said.

“Rivian traditional clothing,” Geralt muttered. 

“I thought you’d hardly actually been to Rivia,” Jaskier said,.It was a better choice than the other thoughts in his head, which were half-formed screams about how absolutely skin tight those pants were.

“I haven’t been, but my...character is.”

“Right,” Jaskier said, dragging his eyes above Geralt’s shoulders. “My fiance, Ludomir of Rivia.”

Geralt said nothing.

Jaskier kicked himself for mentioning the fiance thing.

“We should go,” he said.

And they went.

The lord’s castle was small, as castles go, and the guards at the gate didn’t even bother to check their invitations. With all the other lords and ladies streaming past, no one would guess that the pair were out of place. Jaskier and Geralt enterred the ballroom and Jaskier felt his stomach drop straight through to his shoes.

The walls were positively lined with Nilfgaardian soldiers. Geralt’s shoulders stiffened too, but they steered themselves to a feast table as if nothing was wrong.

It took them almost a full circle of the tables to find the two little cards for ‘Viscount de Lettenhove’ and ‘Guest’. Getting onto the guest list had been laughably easy, and Jaskier just sent up a silent prayer of thanks that the stupid title was finally useful for something.

They sat in their places and guests populated the seats around them. There was a lady next to Jaskier who already smelled of the strongly alcoholic sherry that was being served. Her hair, probably a wig towered, and was strung all over with so many pearls and little tiny golden ornaments that when she stepped outside she must surely be attacked by magpies.

“My lady,” Jaskier said, as chivalrous as he could around a mouthful of her rose perfume. “I’m afraid we haven’t had a chance to be introduced.”

“Oooh,” she giggled, “You’re sweet, I’m Dame Au’Vigne, and I can see by your card that you are the Viscount de Lettenhove, I knew your father.”

Yes, Jaskier thought. I remember, he turned down your proposal. Jaskier had been a lad then, barely eight years old, but he remembered through a child’s eyes a mountain of lace and perfume who had offered to marry his father while actually at his mother’s funeral.

“It’s a pleasure,” he said. Heinous bitch, he thought. He remembered rumors too, which are always a bard’s stock and trade, that Dame Au’Vigne’s husbands were always wealthy, usually handsome, and all of them had shockingly short lifespans. 

Rumor also had it that she was backing Nilfgaard financially and had been playing the shipping stock with insider knowledge of their movements. A very good person to be seated next to tonight. 

“May I introduce my fiance, Ludomir of Rivia,” Jaskier said, gesturing to Geralt. Geralt nodded and hummed, somewhat politely.

“How handsome,” Dame Au’Vigne stage whispered. “Where ever did you find him?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Jaskier said.

The lord of the castle stood up and gave a droning speech. It was full of euphemisms about ‘upholding standards’ and ‘fostering strong relations’ that boiled down to ‘I’m an untrustworthy bastard who believes that allowing the deaths of my people en masse is fine so long as I make money.’ It was depressing, too, as Jaskier looked around the ballroom to see so many people nodding in agreement. 

Traitors and bastards, the lot of them.

Geralt’s face hadn’t changed even an inch.

“So,” Dame Au’Vigne said as the appetizer course was served. “You two aren’t exactly in a honeymoon phase, are you?”

And she was right, for a couple, newly engaged, Jaskier and Geralt hadn’t acted the part yet at all.

“I’m afraid,” Jaskier said, inventing wildly. “That we’re both just a touch nervous, the engagement is so new, you see, and this is our first event,” he took Geralt’s hand, above the table, so Dame Au’Vigne could see. “As a couple.”

“Oh how sweet,” she said airily. “You know, they’ll have dancing between the courses, it’ll be a great way for you to wet your social feet. Sir Erdin and the lady in the lavender dress,” she pointed across the ballroom. “They’re newly engaged as well.” She lowered her voice.

“Sir Erdin is very supportive of the cause, word has it he’s in with the very inner circle,” Dame Au’Vigne giggled, as if being in the inner circle of a murderous group of intruders was as delightful as a recent engagement.

“How interesting!” Jaskier said, affecting a jealous and impressed tone. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Geralt’s eyebrow twitch, the way it did when he was listening hard.

“Oh yes,” Dame Au’Vigne said. “And Lord Snapcase, in the corner, he...” and she went on, was the marvelous thing, she couldn’t seem to help herself but gossip about everyone. And she had all these details about how they were helping ‘the cause’. Destiny must have finally decided to throw Jaskier and Geralt a bone.

Then the appetizer course was finished and Jaskier felt much less lucky. Dame Au’Vigne was ushering him and Geralt out of their seats to dance. It wasn’t one of the quick, hopping around, switching partners dances either. No, the band seemed insistent on only slow, romantic music. 

Awkwardly, Geralt slid one large hand around Jaskier’s waist and they turned in slow circles on the dance floor. The witcher’s face looked like a thunderclap.

“Try and look like you’re having fun, darling,” Jaskier said. Please don’t look at me as though holding me is torture, his inner self begged.

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. Jaskier leaned in.

“Really dear heart,” he leaned in even closer, lips almost touching Geralt’s ear. “People are going to suspect something,” he said in the barest of whispers.

“Let them,” Geralt hissed back in the same fashion. “We’ve got the information, we can leave.” 

Jaskier, keeping up appearances, tossed his head back and let out a delighted shriek of laughter, as if Geralt had just told him a joke or, perhaps, made a wonderfully indecent proposal.

“Later, perhaps,” he said, stage-whispering for the sake of those around them. Leaning in again he whispered for real, “We can’t leave until the party’s over, no one else will, they’d send some of those soldiers after us for sure.”

The music changed, and Geralt and Jaskier’s slow circles changed speed with it. 

Geralt hissed in his ear again, “I don’t see why I had to be your,” this close Jaskier could see Geralt’s jaw working with distaste. “Lover.”

“Fiance,” Jaskier said, trying not to let his heart sink. It couldn’t possibly go any lower. “There’s a difference.”

They said no more to each other, and after the second dance, declined the third to sit back at their seats and await the arrival of the soup course.

The man sat beside Geralt was some old military man, mostly mustache and the rest of him was a rather musty and very old fashioned uniform. It had gold braid and a colonel’s insignia. The hat that sat next to his chair had a plume. 

He leaned over to Geralt and said, rather loudly, in a voice that implied tone deafness, to both volume and social situations, “Just marrying him for the money, eh?”

People to both sides of Jaskier and Geralt looked around. Dame Au’Vigne looked at them askance.

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. It was a negative answer to the colonel’s question, but the man didn’t take it as such.

“Often is the way,” the man nearly bellowed. “My missus hated me right up to the day she died.”

Jaskier curled in on himself. The role of Viscount wasn’t a big one, mostly administrative and, these days, completed by his sister Rowena, who was better at sitting behind a desk. Still, argued a battered part of his long ago but still proper upbringing. The name of Pankratz was being dragged through the mud. Lots of these people would know the name too, these sour, vindictive, unpleasant, murderous people. And they’d know the gossip, would have taken part in the gossip about ‘Young Julian running off to be a bard,’ (this generally said with the same tone as is usually leant to slave trader) and how ‘he’ll never find a good marriage now,’ how he was ‘a disgrace to the name.’ 

And here was their long awaited confirmation. Jaskier-Julian, couldn’t find a good marriage, was being wed only for his money. Of course, more than half the pairings here were only in it for the money, but to have it said, so loudly too, and before the wedding had even happened, it was social condemnation.

Jaskier looked down at the table cloth, his face hot. He’d faced social condemnation before, of course, he’d survive. What hurt was that Geralt wasn’t really protesting, Geralt couldn’t even pretend to like Jaskier, not for a single evening. Twenty years he’d done a good enough job of acting to convince even Jaskier, mostly, apart from the punches and the insults and...maybe Jaskier had been a little blind to the truth but still. 

It was ruining their cover though, so he protested quietly. “Not just for the money,” he said, patting Geralt’s hand where one fist wrapped around his goblet. “My fiance is just shy, that’s all.”

The damage was already done, but the old colonel hiccupped. “Well lad,” he said, giving Geralt a slap on the back. “This ale’s pretty good so drink up. Got me through three years of happy marriage, strong ale did.” The man took a slug of his own drink. “And fourty seven more unhappy years.” He guffawed hugely and unpleasantly, little drops of ale flinging from his mustache. 

Wherever the soul of the unpleasant man’s dead wife was, Jaskier felt sure she was happy to be away from this miserable old drunk.

Geralt, however, was looking at Jaskier. Their eyes met. Jaskier knew he probably looked as hunted as he felt, and his cheeks were probably still burning from the embarassment. Still, it seemed as though Geralt was about to say something. His golden eyes were full of emotion, but Jaskier couldn’t parse out what kind. 

Whatever kind it was, it caused Geralt to take the colonel’s advice and drink like there was no tomorrow. 

Great. Jaskier had driven his companion to drinking. 

He felt a little like doing so himself. 

The soup course was good, hot and savory, but underspiced. Geralt slurped it up gratefully. Jaskier knew that rich food was usually too much for his senses if it was spiced to Jaskier’s taste.

More dancing. Jaskier didn’t stand, at first, assuming that Geralt would rather sit and drink more. There were some snickers as people judged him. Geralt stood though, and he offered a hand and led Jaskier to the dance floor.

“You need to act drunk,” Jaskier whispered in his ear. “If you were a normal man you would be.”

“I am acting,” Geralt rumbled.

“You’re very steady for a drunk,” Jaskier sniffed.

“You said I was shy, now I’m less shy,” Geralt whispered. “And I’ve been drinking. So...drunk.” It was torture, being held like this, having that voice in Jaskier’s ear. That hand, so warm cupping his own. He wanted to cry.

A couple whirled past them. It was the Dame Au’Vigne, gossiping to some new dance partner. A snippet of her words caught them.

“-de Lettenhove. Entirely loveless of course. Unlovable, his father said once, of course as a bard-” then the tide of conversation and other dancers stole the rest of the words.

Jaskier sagged. His father hadn’t been a nice man, and unlovable wasn’t the worst of what he’d been called in his life, but now, with Geralt so close and so disgusted by the prospect...well, it hit a little close to home. 

“Laugh,” Geralt whispered in his ear.

“What?” Jaskier hissed.

“Like before, laugh like before, but...more so. Pretend I said a dirty joke.”

Jaskier did, heads turned as he pretended to laugh, half scandalized and half delighted at something Geralt said.

Geralt even chuckled along with him. Then his hand crept down Jaskier’s back to his hip. It wasn’t dirty. It was just so,so spine tinglingly close to dirty.

It was almost worse. If Geralt had gripped his ass that would have been bad, but this, Jaskier was left to speculate. He had a very active imagination. The couples next to them were giggling and tittering, scandalized, but not too much, at the pair.

They danced all three dances. During the second dance Geralt spun Jaskier out and then back in flashily, dipping him over one arm like a dainty maiden. Jaskier, who was no dainty maiden, knew the strength that elaborate dip must have taken and his head spun. The third dance was slow, and once again they simply held one another and turned in slow circles. Except Geralt pressed their cheeks together in a way that was so intimate that Jaskier finally gave in. Just tonight he had Geralt, all of him, his attention, his warmth. 

There was only so much a bard could take, and Jaskier gave in to the fantasy.

“I wonder how Yennefer is,” Geralt whispered. “And Ciri.”

It was like having cold water poured all over him. Jaskier’s fantasy shattered as soon as it had formed. Of course Geralt wasn’t enjoying this, of course his mind was elsewhere. He had a beautiful sorceress to think of, even if they weren’t sleeping together. Geralt and Yennefer and Ciri made the perfect, happy family. Where did Jaskier fit in to that?

He pulled back a little, already missing the warmth of Geralt’s cheek against his own. They finished the dance stiffly.

Back at the table, squished between Dame Au’Vigne and the colonel, the main course was awful. Jaskier couldn’t judge it on the food, which he barely tasted. Dame Au’Vigne and the colonel, however, had apparently come to the conclusion that Geralt or, Ludomir, rather, was marrying Jaskier for the money and the sex. They tittered, loudly and drunkely, to those around, and Geralt leaned in.

“Surely we can leave after this course,” he whispered.

Desperate to be rid of the charade, Jaskier thought. To not have to be engaged to me. “Can’t,” he whispered. “Have to stay for dessert and more dancing, else it looks suspect.”

“Hmmm.” It was a displeased hum.

“And, there will be small talk, with dessert. You need to say something, people will think you’re mute.”

“You two twitter into one another’s ears all the time,” Dame Au’Vigne said loudly. She was fully drunk off the sherry and very loud. “But not one kiss,” she lowered her voice, as if trying to be discreet. It didn’t work. “Is it truly as loveless as they say? I know you aren’t waiting until marriage.”

As who say? Jaskier thought. The only person quite that invested seems to be you.

“Not loveless,” Jaskier said. It seemed weak even to his ears.

“Surely you’ll join the dancing again, then,” Dame Au’Vigne said. 

“No,” Jaskier said, fiddling with his napkin. “I’m feeling quite too full to dance, ate too fast, I’m afraid.” He hoped she was too drunk to notice he’d picked at his plate. It seemed she was.

“Lovely little veranda, get some air there,” said a man who, according to Dame Au’Vigne, was shipping weapons to Nilfgaard behind the backs of multiple heads of state.

Jaskier nodded,stood, bowed, and made his escape. He sighed, but wasn’t surprised to find that Geralt had followed along behind. Of course he wanted to escape the party too, but Jaskier wanted to escape...him.

To his shame and surprise, he found tears in his eyes. The pressure of sitting in a room chock full of people who wanted to kill him, combined with the fact that every last one of them reminded him of being bullied in school, and add to that that he was supposed to be fake engaged to Geralt...it was too much. Fake engaged and even in their fake engagement Geralt didn’t like Jaskier. 

Jaskier’s rational brain knew that Geralt did like him, mostly. He just didn’t love him.

Jaskier leaned his elbows on the railing, overlooking some moonlit gardens, and felt the tears roll down his face.

“They think I don’t like you,” Geralt said quietly.

“Yes,” Jaskier said. He knew Geralt could smell the salt of his tears or whatever, but still turned his face away so the witcher couldn’t see.

“I danced with you though.”

Jaskier chuckled wetly. “Nobles dance with people they hate all the time.”

Geralt was quiet for a minute then, very gently, he took one of Jaskier’s hands. “I don’t hate you.”

It was too much, Jaskier started crying in earnest, sobbing.

“C’mon, Jaskier, I like you. A lot.” Geralt was, for him, panicking clearly. Jaskier almost smiled. He was so bad at dealing with other people’s emotion. And his own.

“You’re my friend,” Geralt said, a little stuntedly. “You know I’m not a good liar.”

Too much. Twenty-two years and he finally said the word ‘friends’ and Jaskier wanted more. He whipped around to face Geralt.

“Tell me the truth, then, Geralt. Tell me you love me, it doesn’t have to be the truth for forever, but can you love me just for a night? Can you make it the truth for tonight?” Jaskier’s tears were ugly and blobby and drying up fast but he continued.

“Because I’ve loved you so long I don’t know any other truth,” He leaned forward and planted his forhead on Geralt’s collarbone and sniffled through the last of his tears, curling one, shaking fist into Geralt’s lovely pale cape as he cried. “Just this one night, Geralt, love me back.”

He hadn’t meant to say any of it, was half expecting Geralt to toss him off the low balcony into the bushes below. 

Instead Jaskier was lifted by two strong arms and sat down on the railing. Warm, delightful lips pressed against his and suddenly he was being kissed within an inch of his life. 

“The truth, you want,” Geralt said, pulling back and panting. “Is the only one I can give. I can’t pretend to love you.” Here Geralt looked into Jaskier’s eyes, like being struck by lightning. “I only love you, no pretending, I swear it.”

“But-” Jaskier was cut off.

“They think I don’t like you,” Geralt said, furiously. “I think you think I don’t like you, Jaskier I like you, I love you so much I don’t know what to do and I’m...I’m not good with words. Or emotions.” Geralt’s shoulders dropped a little. “I just am, and the way I am is... The way I am is better with you.” 

Geralt’s face screwed up with anguish. “And I’m the reason you think I don’t like you, it’s my fault and that feels so...so bad. Yennefer’s been working with me on the feelings thing and always says ‘bad isn’t a feeling’ but I can’t tell you what all the feeling is.”

Jaskier was staring, mouth open, as frustrated, stilted, fumbling words left Geralt’s mouth. They sounded angry, but only at himself. Geralt was looking up at him as if seeking benediction.

“Tell me you love me again,” Jaskier said.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

Jaskier giggled as Geralt lifted him and spun him around before tucking him in close and kissing his forehead.

“I,” he said.

A kiss to Jaskier’s nose. “Love.”

A deep, breathtaking kiss to his lips. “You.”

There was nothing left for Jaskier to say except, “wow.”

Geralt smiled, that lovely warm little smile he saved for special times and offered his arm to Jaskier. “Shall we?”

They paraded back into the ballroom and danced the final dance of the set. Geralt whispered a suggestion of what he’d really like for dessert and this time Jaskier didn’t have to fake the scandalized giggle. “Back home, perhaps,” he said.

Dessert meant more conversation with Dame Au’Vigne, which was of course unbearable. There was plenty of Champagne though, which was pretty good, and the bubbles seemed to fill Jaskier all the way up. He took pleasure in picturing the downfall of all these horrible people when Nilfgaard was finally defeated for good.

He especially enjoyed sticking it to her gossip when he fed Geralt a strawberry with cream from his fingertips and recieved a kiss in thanks. Geralt was clearly enjoying himself too. He had a sweet tooth, and that certainly helped, but his hand that never left Jaskier’s under the table was a much better clue.

They walked back to the inn, flushed and warm in the cool night air, bidding farewell to the other drunken lords and ladies all filtering to finer inns or grand coaches. 

Then they were alone on their path back, Geralt’s witcher senses confirming their isolation. Then, Geralt, who never told lies, whispered sweet nothings into Jaskier’s ear the entire way home. Jaskier believed every single one.

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

It’s done, this one’s quite long and I loved writing it. Geralt is useless at playing pretend, but very good at loving Jaskier in his own way. I imagine his emotion lessons with Yennefer must have been rather intense. 

#the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fake dating #getting together #fluff #fluff and angst #tiny amount of horniness #read with caution

[that-was-anticlimactic]

Yes hi, I'd love to know more about your tourettes sokka hc if you're up for it 👀 I'm starving for tourettes hcs so 👀

Oh boy oh boy oh boy!! I can talk about this SO MUCH (I will warn now, there will be some Zukka in this) okay so I guess I’ll start at the beginning...

Sokka was six when he started showing symptoms

It started with just some motor tics but everyone kind of just attributed it to this kid has a lot of energy ahhh

It became more noticeable when he kept almost killing himself with weapons because of his tics and slight carelessness

That’s one reason why he loves boomerang so much, none of the other weapons felt right to him and they would always get in the way of his tics, but he could throw boomerang and it would come back to him so he could keep throwing it and it made him feel calm

Then, Sokka started saying stuff that he didn’t mean to say, but again, everyone was just like hyper kid because it’s not like he was doing anything wrong

But they realized something was up when Sokka started yelling “FIRE NATION” without intending to and sending the whole tribe in a panic

So, Hakoda took Sokka to a nearby trustworthy Earth Kingdom village and that’s where Sokka got diagnosed with Tourette’s (and ADHD)

One of the things with Sokka is touch, like, he feels like touch is constricting and restraining sometimes. The problem is, he LOVES touch, he is a touchy person, but when someone touches him without telling him first or asking him, he doesn’t like it.

Sometimes he mentally shuts down when it happens, sometimes he tics more, the reaction depends on his anxiety levels and who touched him and when and where

The only people he gave a pass to was Kya and Katara. He didn’t even like it when Hakoda put a hand on his shoulder.

It was weird, he could feel the difference when Katara and Kya touched him compared to anyone else and he felt bad because he wanted his dad to hug him, but it felt so wrong

So, Sokka loves touch, but he likes to initiate it

So, moving forward, Sokka and Katara meet Aang, he’s the Avatar, they join and you know, there’s Aang the Avatar, Katara the Waterbender, and Sokka the guy with Tourette’s on the team

At least, that’s how they are known amongst the Fire Nation

Going undercover is so fun for Sokka, but he also has to be really conscious of what he’s doing and what he says and trying to suppress

It takes a lot out of him, but he knows he literally has to do it or he could get caught or expose them and Aang or Katara could get caught

On occasion, he has tic attacks (and for those who don’t know, they’re essentially a really bad TS day or moment where your tics are more consistent and seem to hurt more or you just have like an unending moment of tics where you just can’t stop for a little while. They are usually caused by anxiety or overstimulation or something like that, but they differ for everyone with TS)

The first time it happened in front of Aang, the sweet child panicked because he didn’t really understand what was happening and why Sokka was doing that and really what TS was

Katara is an angel, seriously. She is so sweet to Sokka when this happens and she knows exactly how to ground him and help him get through it

(Seriously, Sokka appreciates her so much. She is genuinely the one exception and anytime she wants a hug or any kind of touch she is allowed to do it)

the first time it happens in front of Toph when she joins is in Bitter Work when Sokka was in the hole

Just looking at Sokka in the whole sends my anxiety up because he literally can’t move! So like, imagine being in a hole for like five hours+ and needing to move like physically and you can feel the sensation in your body and it hurts and burns and tingles but you can’t. Sokka is not having a good time

So, Toph drags him out of the hole and is freaked out because she can’t see what’s happening and it’s scary because Sokka is making noises and hyperventilating and his heart rate is through the roof and Aang ran to get Katara and she can’t touch him because when she pulled him out of the hole he shrieked

She’s cool with it after that, she doesn’t think of him any less or anything, but it terrified her the first time because no one told her he had TS because they forgot to mention it and she couldn’t see what was happening

We all know that Sokka loves Suki and the Kyoshi Warriors with his whole entire heart and once they kicked his butt and helped him learn that sexism is bad, they were so fun to work with?? They taught him their style, obviously, but they also helped him incorporate his TS into it and how to use it to his advantage, something he had been struggling with his whole life

One of the things Sokka loved most about Yue is that she never even mentioned his sounds or movements she just let him do it without questioning him and that doesn’t happen a lot

I feel like Sokka having TS would make his time with Piandao even kore meaningful because he really struggles to keep his hands still so sword fighting does not come naturally to him

Piandao loves it though because it just makes Sokka even more clever and resourceful and he takes his time with Sokka, helping him as much as he can and never getting angry or anything when he can’t stand still

He also added more to what Sokka learned from the Kyoshi Warriors about incorporating his TS into his fighting and using it to his advantage

Not only was his sword an extension of his arm, but his TS was an extension as well

Did Toph and Aang help Sokka incorporate his tics into their scams? Yes, yes they did

Zuko joining the team was weird for Sokka because they kind of just clicked and he realized that they both have a weird thing with touch

On the balloon to Boiling Rock, Sokka is just comfortable around Zuko and his tics are like “cool yeah, have a break” and so he doesn’t tic and Zuko just “why aren’t you ticcing?”

and Sokka is ??? “Huh?”

and Zuko “You usually tic but you aren’t now. Why?”

and Sokka essentially explains that TS is weird and random and sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn’t, but he’s really comfortable and calm so his body is like “ye, let’s chill for now”

and Zuko is like “oh. that’s good. I kinda miss it though”

and Sokka d i e s because what?? Someone likes his tics enough to miss them? Like, they don’t annoy Zuko and he doesn’t tune them out?

and the bender goes on to explain that he likes the noises, they remind him that he is doing the right thing and that he’s here and he didn’t hurt team Avatar and they’re just comfortable / pleasing to the ear

and Sokka DIES

but then Zuko is like mmm maybe you should stay in the balloon and I’ll go to Boiling Rock and Sokka got pissed because he thinks Zuko said it because he’s a nonbender and he starts panicking and ticcing and Zuko panics and kind of just grabs his hand and Sokka... Sokka doesn’t hate it? Like, it feels nice and doesn’t agitate him?

but Zuko was like no I mean because everyone in the Fire Nation guard knows about the guy on team Avatar with TS and I don’t want you to get hurt

At one point in the prison courtyard, Sokka verbally tics really loudly about the moon and some guards hear and head to where they are so Zuko covers for him by screaming about how much he loves the moon

One of the worst moments in Sokka’s life was when Toph was falling and he grabbed her, but he wanted to tic and he knew that if he did, Toph would fall and die and he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t

(he still has nightmares about it happening)

when Sokka becomes an ambassador, some people are pissed because well 1) Watertribe 2) he’s a child 3) they suck 4) they think he’s distracting with his tics and Zuko is not here for it so he will destroy them

Like one time (after they started dating) Zuko overheard some councilors mocking Sokka’s tics and he got PISSED like so pissed and he went off and the found Sokka and hugged him because he is allowed to

oh! Sokka and Zuko’s thing is like hand-holding okay? They both kind of hate it because weird touch stuff, but it’s okay when they do it to each other?? Like, it feels right and like they’re completed and whole and it’s nice

before they start dating, they kind of do it a lot. Like, night before Zuko’s coronation, Sokka finds Zuko and he’s freaking out because what if he ends up like his dad and Sokka kind of just... grabs his hand and they sit there

Sokka is panicking because chronic pain and the cold of home makes it worse and Zuko finds him crying in the library and just... holds his hand

Zuko keeps little things on him all the time like paperclips and paper and writing utensils and things that click and buttons and stuff so if Sokka looks stressed during a meeting he can slip something under the table to him so he can play with it

Sokka also draws a lot during meetings, like, he doesn’t look at anyone throughout the whole meeting, even when he talks. He is able to focus more and pay more attention when he is doing something with his hands so he draws and doodles and sometimes takes notes

Sometimes he just writes the same word or sentence over and over again throughout the whole meeting

Sokka has sensory issues and a lot of noise stresses him out

It’s kind of the opposite of Zuko’s sensory issues? Like, Zuko doesn’t like loud noises and Sokka doesn’t like kind of static-y noises, like... when things sound muffled or muted or people are talking kind of quietly over each other

(Zuko definitely gives Sokka massages when his tics hurt a lot)

Random, but after awhile “yip yip” became a verbal tic of Sokka’s. Sometimes, he would say “you need to yip yip” and then he’d apologize to Appa and tell him that he’s yipping just fine

Toph is kind of like Zuko in how she likes Sokka’s verbal tics

She can’t see-see, but hearing his tics is nice sometimes, especially when she worries

She likes falling asleep to some of his tics

Even though Katara and Zuko are allowed to touch him whenever they want, more often than not they ask first because friendship is magic

Suki is lovely, okay? Like, just her presence is enough to make him feel better and she approaches helping him in a different way, she just talks to him and asks him questions to help him take his mind off of it

Sokka really doesn’t hate his TS, like, yeah, sometimes it pisses him off more than he can even explain, but it’s a part of him and as much as he cherishes when he can sit still, it’s wrong, it’s not him? He sits weirdly in chairs and changes his position every two minutes, he rocks his legs in his sleep, he sometimes even finds his own tics grounding...

Over time and with help from his friends, he learned to not be ashamed and that having TS didn’t make him ant less of a warrior

also, he, Toph, and Zuko are the disabled club✌🏻(and it makes them feel better sometimes in their own little way)

I have a lot more I could say but this is already pretty long, so I’ll end this sweet with Katara is amazing and Sokka’s relationship with her is wonderful and she knows how to help him with his tics in the way that Zuko does and can help center him like no one else and Sokka just loves her so much

Okay! Ah! That was kind of a lot but I hope you like them! Anyone can feel free to add more to this or lemme know if you have any ideas!

Thank you for the ask! I enjoyed writing these:)

#avatar the last airbender #Sokka #sokka avatar #zukka #Zuko #Katara #zukka but tourettes and a healthy dose of angst #but what if... sokka has tourettes #Tourette’s syndrome #Sokka with Tourette’s #self projection? who is she🤭 #atla headcanons #atla #atla sokka #corey rambles:) #corey tics:)

[shyvioletcat]

I have no idea if you’ve seen NCIS: LA, but they have an episode just like your fic Treacherous of two agents posing as a married couple in the suburbs!! It’s season 3 episode 22 for reference!

Prompt based on that: A comes home and sees blood, panics and follows the trail thinking B has been hurt/killed. Carefully pushes the door open and finds A has simply cut their foot and didn’t hear B

I have watched some and I did go looking for this episode but came up bust in my search. It could have provided some good inspiration I’m sure. We all love a good fake relationship.

*EDIT: TAGLIST DONE. Sorry if you’ve already seen it and are getting the notification.*

Treacherous Masterlist

~~~~~

Grabbing the shopping bags out of the boot of the car Rowan swept his foot under it to activate the automatic close, all the while suppressing a yawn. He was dead tired. Aelin had gotten her revenge after the pen incident, setting an alarm clock in his room to wake him up at exactly 3:47. The damned thing hadn’t been within reach so he had to get out of bed to turn it off. And from copious missions together Aelin knew once he was up, he was up so he’d hadn’t bothered to try and get back to sleep. Knowing her she might have set others up in the room anyway, even if he had tried to sleep again paranoia would have kept him awake. All the while she slept blissfully across the hall.

Being just the two of them in the house they hadn’t bothered to keep up the bed sharing part of the charade. They slept in separate rooms and thank the gods for that. If he didn’t have that space to himself he might have never been able to get away from her and have some quiet. Aelin seemed to fill every room she was in and it was suffocating for him… most of the time. She had a way with people he had admired at times, it was what made her such a good agent, especially when undercover. Not that he would ever tell her any of that. No need to inflate her already insufferable ego.

When he had grumpily asked her over his third cup of coffee why she’d chosen 3:47 exactly she’d smiled at him, bright and cheery as ever after sleeping in until 8 o’clock, and alluded to some lockeroom talk she’d heard about certain measurements—in millimetres. When he had rolled his eyes she had gone on to clarify she was talking about 30 and not just 3 he’d promptly left the room, well and truly done with her immaturity. Her laughter had chased him out.

Shifting the shopping bags so he could open the back door, Rowan entered the kitchen expecting to find Aelin in there preparing the food for the ridiculous party tomorrow while listening to some obnoxious music very loudly just to piss him off. But she wasn’t, in fact the house was silent.

“Aelin,” he called, stepping around the length of the counter.

That was when he saw the blood.

Rowan dropped the bags, things crushing on impact. The blood pooled in one spot, then splatters made a path across the tiles. He didn’t have a gun on him, but there were enough stashed around the house and he found one in a low kitchen drawer. It was pointed and ready in moments and Rowan made sure he didn’t disturb the blood on the linoleum floor.

“Aelin,” he called again. “Agent Galathynius.”

Still silence. He followed the trail of blood towards the small bathroom that was on the bottom level, his heart pounding in his ears. There wasn’t enough that the situation looked dire, but the assailant may have dragged her off to another location, hidden away from windows. Why hadn’t the team been alerted to anything? Where was the back-up? Panic started to fill him, but his training kept it under control. If something had happened to Aelin…

He shook his head to shake out the thought. She was a perfectly capable agent, one of the best. Rowan was overreacting and he needed to calm down. A deep breath in and he nudged the door, when there was no reaction he kicked it open, gun ready. Eyes darting around the room, his gun dropped to the side when he took in the scene before him.

Aelin was seated on the floor, holding wads of toilet paper on a wound on her foot, wincing from what he gathered to be pain. She hadn’t noticed his entrance and was still focused on her foot.

“Aelin,” Rowan said, but got no response, so he tried a little louder. “Aelin.”

She jumped looking up at him. “Why do you have a gun?”

“Did you not hear me calling out?” Rowan asked, putting the safety back on the gun.

Aelin took small earbuds out of her ears. “What?”

Rowan rubbed a hand over his face, panic turned to exasperation. “I called out to you and you didn’t answer.”

“Podcast,” she held up her earbuds in explanation. “But the gun?” Aelin then asked him, her attention going back to her foot.

“The blood trail…” he said but didn’t elaborate.

Aelin straightened where she sat and looked up at him, then laughed. “Did you think I’d been murdered in the bathtub?”

Rowan didn’t answer her question. “Would you mind telling me what happened exactly?”

Aelin sighed. “I was trying to cook and I knocked a knife off the counter and my hands were full so I couldn’t catch it. It nicked my foot and now here we are.”

“Okay,” Rowan said, the adrenaline finally settling and he knelt down to assess the injury.

“What are you doing?” Aelin brows were furrowed in confusion.

“Inspecting the cut, you can’t get at it from the right angle,” Rowan said, turning her foot and earning a hiss.

“I can do it myself,” Aelin said and tried to pull her foot away but Rowan held firm. She relented with an over dramatic sigh and leaned her back on the bathtub.

Aelin had already got down what he needed, so he cleaned the cut up and foot, putting a large bandaid on it to stop the bleeding. “There,” Rowan said succinctly, brushing a thumb unconsciously along Aelin’s arch before letting go, making her suppress a laugh. She was ticklish.

“Hmm,” Aelin said, looking at him curiously.

“What?” Rowan asked, standing and washing his hands. When he turned around to dry his hands on a towel she was still looking at him.

“Careful Whitethorn, someone might think you were concerned for my well-being if they found out about this.”

“Not likely,” Rowan scoffed. “It was the paperwork I was concerned about.”

Aelin snorted and walked past him, Rowan taking a moment before he followed. There had been a moment when… He shook his head. Concern for a partner was only natural, no matter the feelings of enmity between them. The two of them couldn’t stand each other, but that didn’t mean he wanted her hurt or dead. Rowan left the bathroom, headed for the kitchen to put away the groceries when he heard a frustrated exclamation.

“Are you serious, Rowan?”

Any concern he had felt evaporated at Aelin’s tone. Entering the kitchen he found her holding a carton of eggs, leaking yellow and clear goop. They must have cracked when he dropped the bags in his panic at the blood.

“You need to go get more,” she told him, dropping the ruined eggs in the trash.

“No, I am not,” Rowan groaned. He was tired, he didn’t want to take another trip to the grocery store across town.

“Oh, you are. I needed those eggs for the barbecue tomorrow, so because of your overreaction over a little bit of blood I am now eggless,” Aelin explained. There was no answer from him as Aelin unrolled some paper towel to clean up both egg and blood. “Off you go.”

Too tired to fight anymore Rowan just grabbed his keys and left to get more precious eggs.

~~~~~

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[bechloeislegit]

My Spy - Chapter 1

Prompt from Tumblr User perfectlyimperfectpitch: The request was for a BeChloe AU with Spy!Chloe.

A/N: The full prompt will be noted at the end of the final chapter of the story; the total number of chapters is undetermined as of this writing (July 1, 2021).

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

Beca stirred awake when the bed was jostled, indicating Chloe was getting up. However, she didn't move to sit up until she heard the sounds of Chloe moving about the room. She looked at the clock and then over her shoulder at her girlfriend, who was quietly getting dressed.

"Babe, it's three in the morning," Beca said, her voice groggy from having just woken up. "Where are you going?"

"I'm sorry, baby," Chloe said, looking over at Beca. "It's my mom. She texted and said she needed me to come over."

"At three in the morning?" Beca said, turning over and sitting up. "It couldn't wait until later?"

"I'm afraid not," Chloe said. "You know how it is when my mom says she needs me. I have to go."

"I know," Beca said, sighing and running a hand through her hair.

And, Beca did know. Chloe's mom was a widow and relied on Chloe to help her with several things her husband used to handle.

Mrs. Beale would call or text at all times of the day or night, sending Chloe in a panic and rushing off, sometimes in the middle of their date. And oftentimes leaving Beca to find her own way back to campus.

From the start, Beca had just accepted it and never said anything to Chloe about how it made her feel.

"You know I hate you going out alone so early," Beca said.

"Aw, you really do care about me," Chloe said, smiling as she walked over to the bed. She leaned down to kiss Beca. "I promise to come back as soon as I'm able, okay?"

"Okay," Beca said, looking forlorn as she flopped back on the bed. "I'll just be lying here, all alone, missing you."

Chloe climbed onto the bed and straddled Beca's hips, settling back on Beca's thighs.

"I love you, you know?" Chloe said, looking down at Beca.

"I know," Beca said, looking up into Chloe's eyes. "I love you, too."

Chloe grabbed Beca's shirt in her hands and pulled her up into a deep, passionate kiss.

"I'd better go," Chloe whispered against Beca's lips as she pulled back from the kiss.

"Be careful," Beca whispered before kissing Chloe one last time.

~~ My Spy ~~

It was about eight when Beca was startled out of her sleep by Stacie yelling for her.

"Beca! Chloe!" Stacie yelled as she ran into their room. "Wake up!"

"What the Hell, Stacie?!"

"Get up," Stacie said excitedly.

Seeing Beca alone in the bed, Stacie looked around. "Where's Chloe?"

"She had to go to her mom's earlier," Beca said, stretching before sitting up. "What's going on?"

"Something's happening on campus," Stacie said. "We have to check it out!"

"What's happening?"

"We don't know exactly," Stacie said. "But, a bunch of students and some professors are being arrested."

"Arrested?!" Beca yelled. "Why?"

"I don't know," Stacie said. "But rumors are going around that they are part of a big drug ring operating here."

"Here?" Beca asked. "Here, as in Barden?"

"Yes!" Stacie said. "Now throw something on that you wouldn't mind being seen wearing outside the house; we have to meet the girls on the quad."

Beca jumped up and pulled on a clean shirt and jeans. Next, she had to search under her bed for some shoes to put on.

Once Beca was fully dressed, she followed Stacie out of her room, down the stairs, and out the front door of the Bellas house. She continued to follow behind Stacie until they found the rest of the Bellas on the quad.

"What's happening?" Beca asked Jessica as she stopped next to her.

Jessica just pointed to where the Bellas were looking. They all stood in shock as they watched several of Barden University's professors and students being led out of the English Building; some were wearing handcuffs and were being placed in police cars. Several had their arms free and were being put into the back of a police van.

Beca's eyes widened in shock when one of the students broke free, and Chloe suddenly came out of nowhere to chase him down. She caught up to him and tackled him, taking them both to the ground. The guy came up swinging and throwing wild punches.

Chloe fought back, throwing and blocking punches with a variety of karate moves. She finally got the upper hand with a perfectly executed roundhouse kick to the side of the guy's head, knocking him to the ground. Chloe jumped on him and put her knee in his back; she grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm behind his back.

"What is Chloe doing here?" Beca thought. "And where did she learn how to fight like that?"

"Here you go, Chloe," a man said, tossing handcuffs at the redhead.

"Thanks, Jason," Chloe said as she caught the handcuffs one-handed and snapped them on the man's wrist. She and Jason got the man on his feet.

"Good job, Chloe," Jason said as he dragged the shackled man over to a police van.

Beca stood there, teary-eyed and mouth agape. Chloe finally noticed the Bellas watching every move she was making. Her heart fell into her stomach when she saw Beca staring at her with tears in her eyes.

"Becs, I-"

"Beale, get over here!" a voice yelled out.

"Coming, sir," Chloe called back. She walked over to Beca, saying, "Beca, I'll explain everything later, I swear, okay?"

Unable to form words, Beca swallowed and nodded at Chloe. She was surprised to feel a tear roll down her cheek.

Chloe nodded as well, hesitating slightly before turning and rushing off towards the man who had called out to her.

"What the hell was that?" Stacie asked.

"And why was Chloe in the middle of it?" Jessica asked.

"It appears our Co-captain has been lying to us about who or what she really is," Fat Amy said. "Beca, what do you know about that?"

"I don't know anything about that," Beca said, wiping her eyes. "I'm as shocked as you are. I had no idea she was anything more than just a student."

Beca's shoulders dropped, and she looked down at the ground, not wanting to see the pity she was sure in everyone's eyes.

"Are you okay, Beca?" CR asked.

"I, um," Beca stammered, looking up at CR. "I, uh, I don't know. I'm so confused right now."

Beca's eyes dropped back down to the ground, her mind racing with thoughts of Chloe.

The first time they met.

How she fumbled through asking Chloe out.

Their first date.

Their first time having sex together. She blushed as she thought about the many nights they've shared. Then her head suddenly shot up as another thought came to her.

"Was Chloe really going to see her mom all those times she was rushing off in the middle of the night? Or was she working on this? Whatever this is."

Beca couldn't turn her thoughts off. She recalled how they had only recently shared "I love yous." Beca had no reason to believe Chloe's I love you wasn't sincere; at least she didn't know until now.

Still thinking of Chloe, Beca stared across the quad, her eyes immediately picking out Chloe with an ease born of familiarity. Chloe must have sensed Beca looking at her because her eyes were suddenly staring back at Beca.

Chloe's attention was pulled away; Beca furrowed her brows as she continued to stare at Chloe.

"Did Chloe really love her, or did she only say it back because Beca said I love you to her first? Was any of it real for Chloe? "

"Beca?" Ashley said, pulling Beca out of her thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Isn't that your dad?" Ashley asked, pointing at a lone man being led out of the building in handcuffs.

Beca's mouth dropped open in surprise again.

"Oh, my God," Beca exclaimed. "Does this mean my dad was involved in the drug ring, too?"

"Innocent until proven guilty, Beca," Stacie said. "Maybe he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and there's a reasonable explanation."

"They must have something on him if they arrested him," Beca said. "And I still can't wrap my head around Chloe being somehow involved in all this? Whatever this is."

"Let's not jump to any conclusions yet, Beca," Aubrey said. "Why don't you wait until you and Chloe talk? And see what Chloe has to say about all this."

"Aubrey, you've known Chloe longer than we have," CR said to Aubrey. "We thought you two were best friends. So why didn't you know she wasn't who she appeared to be?"

"Despite what you all believe, we aren't really that close," Aubrey said defensively. "I think everyone thought we were best friends because we've been in the Bellas together for the entire time I've known her. But, as Beca said before, I'm as shocked about this as you all are. I also thought she was just another student."

"We should still hold our judgment until Beca and Chloe talk," CR said.

"What could Chloe possibly say that would make any of this okay?" Ashley asked.

"She's obviously some kind of undercover cop or agent," Jessica said. "Even if she didn't want to tell us who she really is, she should have told Beca."

"It seems as if Chloe was only with Beca because of her dad's involvement in all this," Fat Amy said. "Seems like a pretty shitty thing to do, don't you think?"

Beca frowned as she glared at Fat Amy. "That's a pretty shitty thing to say, Amy. Don't you think?"

Fat Amy threw up her hands, saying, "Sorry, Beca. But when a cop, or whoever, is undercover, they use any means necessary to get the criminals. That includes using people close to anyone they suspect may be involved, like your father."

"Fat Amy's right," Lily said loud enough for them all to hear. "Plus, if Chloe had been undercover, she wouldn't have been allowed to tell Beca anything for fear of her cover being blown."

Beca looked up to find Chloe looking at her again. Tears came to Beca's eyes as she wrapped her arms around herself. She felt like she was going to be sick. Beca quickly looked away from Chloe.

"That's enough for now," Stacie said, seeing how uncomfortable Beca was becoming. "CR is right. We should wait and see what Chloe has to say. And don't worry, Beca, we're here for you; we have your back."

"Okay," Beca said, looking around at the girls. "Do you think I should find out where they've taken my dad and go talk to him? See what he has to say about all this."

"That might not be a bad idea," Aubrey said.

"I still think you should talk to Chloe first," Stacie said.

"Why?" Beca asked.

"Your dad may not be very forthcoming if you confront him," Stacie explained. "And you shouldn't talk to him without knowing why he was a suspect, to begin with. Ask Chloe; I think she'll be honest with you."

"She hasn't been for the past year," Beca scoffed. "Why would she be now?"

"Because," Stacie said. "She doesn't have a reason to withhold the truth anymore."

"What Stacie said makes sense, Beca," Aubrey said. "Talk to Chloe first."

Beca was still unsure of what Chloe would tell her. And even more unsure if she could or would believe anything Chloe told her.

~~ My Spy ~~

Later that night, Beca was sitting at the desk in her room. She kept checking her phone, but there was still no word from Chloe.

"Beca?" Jessica called from the door. "The girls are going to the diner for dinner. Do you want to come with us?"

"I'm not very hungry," Beca said. "Thanks, though."

"I think you should come with us, Beca," Jessica said. "You have to eat. Plus, Stacie said she was going to send Amy up here if I came down without you."

Beca smiled, but it fell as suddenly as it appeared.

Okay, I'll go. But, I'm not going anywhere else after."

"Fair enough," Jessica said. "Let's go. Everyone's waiting for us."

Beca sighed as she stood to grab her phone and wallet.

"Lead on," Beca said, waving toward the door.

Jessica smiled and led Beca downstairs to join the other girls. They were all standing at the bottom of the stairs when Beca and Jessica rounded the corner at the top.

"There she is," Stacie said. "I knew threatening to send Amy up would do the trick."

"I'm glad you decided to join us, Beca," Aubrey said, smiling up at Beca.

The girls quickly left and made their way to the diner.

"Beca!" A voice called out just as they reached the diner.

Beca stopped and looked around. Jesse Swanson was rushing over to her. He stopped when he reached her, and Beca just looked at him.

"Are you okay?" Jesse asked. "I mean, it had to be rough seeing your father being arrested. Did you know Chloe was some kind of cop?"

"Leave her alone, Jesse," Aubrey said, waiting at the diner's door for Beca. "Come on, Beca."

Beca looked at Jesse and then to Aubrey. She didn't say anything to Jesse; she just turned and walked toward Aubrey. Jesse made a move to follow Beca into the diner, and Aubrey glared at him.

"Go away, Treble-boy," Aubrey said, blocking the door. "Beca doesn't need you sniffing around her."

"I just want to make sure she's okay," Jesse said.

"That's not your job," Stacie said, stepping outside to stand next to Aubrey. "She's a Bella, and we take care of our own."

"I'm her friend, too," Jesse said.

"Friend?" Stacie snorted. "Friends don't try to get their gay friend to break up with her girlfriend thinking they have a shot with her."

Stacie took a step forward and got in Jesse's face. Jesse looked scared and took half a step back.

"I'm only going to tell you this once," Stacie said, as she poked a finger into Jesse's chest with each word. "Leave. Beca. Alone."

"Come on, Stace," Aubrey said, grabbing Stacie's arm. "The girls are waiting."

The two left Jesse standing alone, rubbing his chest where Stacie had poked him.

~~ My Spy ~~

Dinner was unusually quiet, considering Aubrey and all the Bellas (minus Chloe) were there. Beca spent most of the time pushing her food around her plate or checking her phone.

"I take it you haven't heard from Chloe," Stacid said from her seat across from Beca.

Beca didn't speak; she just shook her head.

"Have you tried reaching out to her?" Denise asked.

"No," Beca replied. "I was hoping she'd call or text me so we could talk."

"Maybe you should try and text or call her," Aubrey said. "I'm sure she has to file reports or something."

"She's probably being debriefed," Jessica said. "I mean, she's been here at Barden for four years. That's a lot of time to work on a case."

"I don't think she was working on the case for the whole four years," Aubrey said. "Our first two years, we spent most of our time with the Bellas. After that, there wasn't much time for anything else. If anything, I'd say it started during our Junior Year."

"I heard one of the cops say they'd been working on closing down this drug ring for almost two years," Lily said.

"That makes sense," Jessica said. "And it coincides with what Aubry said, and when Chloe met and started dating Beca."

"Are you saying that you believe Chloe was using Beca?" Ashley asked. "Maybe to get to her father?"

"It does seem suspicious," Jessica said. A few of the girls nodded their heads in agreement.

Beca saw this and threw her fork down on her plate, causing the girls to look at her. Then, she pushed back from the table and stood.

"I'm going to try and call Chloe," Beca said and quickly walked away from the table.

Stacie stood to follow Beca; Aubrey grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Let her go," Aubrey said, watching as Beca left the diner. "I think she needs to do this for her own peace of mind."

Once Beca was outside the diner, she pulled out her phone. She walked over to a nearby bench and sat, staring at the phone in her hand. Part of her wanted to talk to Chloe to find out what the Hell was going on. And part of her didn't want to know because she was afraid Chloe would tell her she had been using Beca to get to her father. That what they had was not real, at least not real to Chloe.

Beca wiped a tear that had fallen down her cheek. She took a deep breath and pulled up Chloe's number. She pressed the call button and waited.

Beca suddenly let out a growl of frustration, throwing her phone against the tree in front of her breaking it into pieces. She bowed her head and let the tears fall unabated.

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

A/N: I am planning to post updates for this fic every week on Thursdays. The only exception to the posting schedule will be during BeChloe Week 2021 (July 26-August 1, 2021); I will be posting daily during that week and putting this story on a short hold. Thanks for reading.

#bechloe fanfiction #bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale

[bluerose5]

First Impressions (Part 1)

Word Count: 1,726

Rated T (Warnings for Swearing, Canon-Typical Violence)

Summary: What if, after receiving that call from Garrus while he was pinned down on Omega, Castis tries to track him down?

"Are you sure it was him?"

"I'm sure." Alec's smile turned mocking, the vitriol directed more towards himself. "I'm no Shadow Broker, but I still have my list of contacts here on the Citadel, even if it's dwindling by the seconds."

"Alec—"

"I don't need your pity, Castis." His smile fell, a subtle frown curling at the edges of his lips. "Besides, I'm doing this as a favor for a friend. Father to father. You know how it is."

"Yeah," Castis Vakarian sighed, "so I do."

It had been quite some time since the elder Vakarian graced the Citadel with his presence, but ever since he received that call...

"You finish up what you have to do there, and then you come on home to Palaven. We have a lot to sort out."

Even now, the echoes of gunfire rang in his ears, but not as much as the resignation in Garrus’s voice.

"Target practice," Garrus had called it.

As if an experienced C-Sec officer with common sense couldn't tell the difference between target practice and an all-out gunfight.

Even now, Castis's chest tightened.

The thought of losing Garrus now, especially when his mother's condition wasn't showing any signs of improvement—

Castis couldn't stand the thought. He couldn't lose both his wife and his son all at once.

When Garrus never reported back, he had to do something. After he spoke with some old friends on the Citadel, Alec Ryder put out some feelers of his own at his friend's request. For a while, there was nothing.

Then, they got a hit.

The Normandy SR-2, arriving to the Citadel from Omega. A ship flagged by Citadel Control's security algorithms for having alleged ties to the pro-human extremist group known only as Cerberus.

It was under the command of no other than Commander Shepard.

Why was Castis not surprised?

Between his and Alec's contacts, they had been able to discern that there were indeed aliens listed as part of the ship’s crew. A surprising move, given the organization's history, but Castis was far from calling them friends. Just because they expanded recruitment beyond their own species did not make them allies.

Add in a Spectre miraculously back from the dead, and the whole situation reeked of trouble.

Alec agreed, so they approached the matter with caution.

Thankfully, Solana understood when Castis had to drop everything and go. All that she asked was that he return home with the knowledge that Garrus was safe. That's it.

Of course, that wasn't enough to satisfy him.

Castis knew that Garrus was alive now, but that wasn't enough.

The next time he and Alec were pinged, they received intel stating that Garrus was spotted poking around the shipping sector of Zakera Ward with Commander Shepard, seeking out a notorious forger. For what? Spirits only knew.

The only other info that they had was that there was a drell and a quarian accompanying them as well.

While they awaited positive IDs on those two, they continued following Garrus’s trail, questioning the loose-lipped volus who was more than happy to give up Fade's position after his lousy bodyguards wandered off for a break.

Eventually, they were led to Harkin's position. It wasn't exactly hard to figure out that Garrus had already been there, what with the trail of bodies and mechs they left in their wake.

Seeing Harkin curled up on the floor, the bastard took one look up at them, then swore under his breath.

"Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me," he spat. "First your son, and now you? Haven't you Vakarians done enough?"

"Heh," Alec chuckled. "We're just getting started, tough guy."

Tapping at his omni-tool, Castis sent out an alert. While he dealt with Harkin, Alec approached the open console nearby, downloading all of its content, including the most recent call to a client.

"Have fun explaining yourself to C-Sec, Harkin, or is it Fade now?" Castis paused, crossing his arms over his chest as he peered down at him. "You can't resist making a fool of yourself for even a second, can you?"

"Hot take, coming from you." Harkin sneered. "You can't even keep that hot-headed son of yours on a leash. Bet C-Sec was glad to finally have his insubordinate ass off the force."

Castis saw red.

He took a step forward, but Alec's hand came down onto his shoulder, stopping him in his path.

"He's not worth it," Alec reminded him gently. As C-Sec swarmed the area, Alec jerked his chin in the direction of the door. "Come on. Let’s go find him before it's too late."

They strolled out together, heads ducked close and voices kept low.

"Did you find anything?" Castis asked.

"More than enough," Alec assured him. "Garrus is looking for a turian by the name of Lantar Sidonis."

"Can't say I've heard of him."

"Hmm..." Alec hummed thoughtfully to himself. "There was a location sent to set up a meeting. Orbital Lounge."

"Good work," Castis said, but Alec shrugged off the praise. "Let's go."

They stopped to make a quick change in a clothing store along the way. They got dressed in casual attire, posing as a couple of friends enjoying the sights.

By the time they made it to the lounge, Castis was already getting antsy. He struggled to maintain his cover, his eyes darting this way and that.

Alec elbowed him in the side.

"Calm down," he warned. He turned towards a random window display to glance over the selection of model ships. "Maintenance walkway above. Over your shoulder and to the right."

Castis snuck a peek as soon as he had the chance to.

He felt all of the blood drain from his face.

Turning quickly back towards the display, he hissed under his breath, "He has a rifle."

Alec shushed him before they could attract too much attention.

"I know, but do we really want to announce that little fact to the entire plaza?!" he whispered frantically.

Right.

Taking a deep breath, Castis composed himself. Usually, he wasn't this bad at remaining undercover, but the stakes were too high —too personal— to ignore.

It was hard to remain calm when your son was about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

Killing in a public place...

What happened to make him fall so far?

"I spotted someone up there with him," Alec said, breaking Castis of his reverie. "Shepard, maybe?"

Looking around at the crowd, Castis shook his head a moment later.

"No, not Shepard. Look. To your left."

Alec followed his line of sight, then ducked his head back down.

"Her, the quarian, and I'm assuming that's Sidonis," Alec said, counting them off one by one. "Which means that might be the drell up top with Garrus. A lookout, perhaps?"

"Hmph."

That was when Castis noticed the spotting laser.

His pupils narrowed into thin slits.

"No."

Alec stopped him again, stepping out in front of him with his hands spread wide.

"Wait, wait, wait," he ordered. "Let's see how this plays out first."

Castis turned on him with a glare.

"My son is about to commit a murder in plain sight, and you want me to wait?" he snapped.

"I want you to think clearly," Alec corrected. "Take another look at who the spotting laser is trained on."

Staring him down, Castis huffed impatiently, but quickly complied. They couldn’t afford to be stuck at an impasse at such a crucial moment.

One look was enough to clear up the image that had been blurred by emotion.

What in the—

"No." Castis shook his head in disbelief, but that didn't change what he was witnessing. "No, Garrus is too fond of the Commander. He wouldn't hurt her."

The conviction with which he spoke surprised even himself, but Garrus's attachment to Shepard was undeniable, as much as he was loath to admit it.

Even then, he couldn’t deny what was right there in front of him. The spotting laser was focused on the back of Commander Shepard’s skull, clear as day.

However, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

When Sidonis moved, Garrus followed him, but the Commander was instantly there to block his opening.

There were a few tense moments where words were exchanged, far too quiet to hear from where Alec and Castis were positioned. They went back and forth for a bit, and Castis admittedly feared for the worst when both Shepard and Sidonis started to leave.

The second Garrus had a clear shot at Sidonis, Castis held his breath.

But the shot never came.

"Well," Alec muttered, "that was anticlimactic."

Castis glared and punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow!"

"That's my son, Ryder."

With a grumble, Castis dragged Alec along. Their hunt wasn't over yet.

"You should meet mine. I feel like if Scott would've let him go, then he would have somehow managed to pull the trigger by accident. A real stroke of bad luck, that one."

"Spirits."

Strolling through the crowds, they laid low for as long as they could.

By the time they found Garrus again, he was talking with the others by a skycar terminal, presumably waiting on a cab.

A whole flood of emotions came crashing down on Castis at once, and there was no holding back. Not anymore.

Ignoring Alec's warnings not to do anything rash, Castis stormed off in their direction.

Insane how, after so many years of being friends, the N7 was only choosing now to try to be the voice of reason when Castis wanted to be anything but.

Out of everyone, the drell noticed him first, regarding him with suspicion.

Before he could warn him, Castis called out, "Garrus!"

The other three instantly froze, right before they turned to face him.

Garrus’s eyes widened, his mandibles falling slack as he gaped.

"Dad?"

"'Dad?!'" Shepard and the quarian echoed, shocked by such an unexpected turn of events.

The drell, on the other hand, didn't seem the least bit perturbed.

"Ah, his father," he hummed, nodding in understanding. "Your presence in the lounge makes sense now."

Alec's brow furrowed.

"Hold up, you knew we were there?" he asked skeptically.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call you two 'subtle.'"

"That doesn't matter!" Castis snapped.

Clenching his jaw, his mandibles were clamped down tight.

Time to get this meeting back on track.

"Garrus, we need to talk."

#mass effect trilogy #mass effect 2 #mass effect legendary edition #castis vakarian #alec ryder #garrus vakarian #commander shepard #femshep #thane krios #tali zora vas normandy #shakarios #polyamorous aliens #my writing #my fanfic

[artistconk]

The one who stayed AU

-Wilbur and Techno are twins, with Techno being 2 minutes older. Wilbur is Phil’s favourite. Wilbur and Phil often leave for long periods of time, leaving Techno to raise Tommy. 

-This leaves Tommy with very anarchist views. He’s also able to work for himself instead of stealing, and good with swords. He’s also terrible at being alone.

-One day, Philza and Wilbur leave to create a nation, they call it L’manberg. In this nation, is Wilbur, Philza, Tubbo, Niki, Jack Manifold, Eret, and a boy that Wilbur adopted named Fundy. The country is a Communist Dictatorship, Wilbur being the President, and Philza being the Vice-President. [This idea is credited to @beeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaans ]

-They fight for the independence of this nation, and get taken to a small room, where Eret says she has things to help. At this time, everyone other than Phil has 3 lives. Phil is at one.

-Eret betrays them, all losing a cannon life, other than Phil, who is ushered out by Wilbur so he can live.

-Upon seeing this Massacre, Phil grows tired. He duels Dream one on one for independence. They use bows, the first to kill the other wins. Phil wins this duel, taking Dream down to two cannon lives. L’manberg gains independence.

-They live happily for a while, but after a few years, Wilbur confides in Phil  saying he feels that no one listens to him anymore. Phil suggests that it’s because he was not democratically elected, and suggests they hold an election. Wilbur agrees with this idea, and they start a party called POG2020. This stands for the Politicians of Gaming.

-Upon hearing that Phil and Wilbur plan on rigging the election by being the only running party, Quackity runs for president, with his running mate, Georgenotfound. They create a party called SWAG2020. George figures Philza and Wilbur will win, as they’re beloved by the nation, and sleeps through any and all important events. This includes when Endorsements occur, and both Schlatt2020 and Coconut2020 become parties. 

-Quackity, desperate for power, and seeing that Phil and Wilbur are most likely to win, forms a coalition party with Schlatt2020. This Coalition government wins the election by 1%. Phil and Wilbur are exiled from L’manberg. They form a commune called Pogtopia. Worried about Schlatt and Quackity’s government, they call Techno and Tommy for help. 

-While being exhiled, Wilbur loses a second cannon life. He and Phil both only have two.

-While Techno and Tommy aren’t the biggest fans of the two, they give them a chance. I mean, they want to destroy the government, right? What could possibly go wrong?

-They grind, Techno and Tommy provide the revolt with supplies.

-This is where Tommy meets Tubbo! Tubbo is an undercover spy for Pogtopia. After Wilbur and Phil were exhiled, Schlatt welcomed Tubbo into his cabinet, hoping to influence his young mind into being like him. 

-When Tubbo and Tommy meet, it’s great! I mean, a friend their age? Fuck yeah! Technoblade is the only one who notices their friendship. Wilbur is busy going insane and Philza really couldn’t care less about Tommy. [Talk abt a shit parent amirite] [Idea from @strawberrylemonz ]

-Tubbo, instead of picking up Schlatt’s ideologies, picks up Tommy’s! He feels bad about having to help reinstate the previous government, however. Tommy and Tubbo are really close!

-Tommy teaches Tubbo about his spy towers! They’re well built, hidden towers, that are hard to recognise unless you know exactly where you’re looking, So far, only Technoblade can recognise them, however Tubbo slowly begins to recognise them too. 

-Wilbur is slowly losing his sanity, threatening to blow up lmanburg as more and more people join pogtopia. It gets to the point where the only people on Schlatt’s side are everyone on his side in cannon.

-The day comes, and Techno and Tommy bring the group to a vault. There is enougn supplies for everyone to be fully stacked. 

-They go to war, Schlatt fuckin dies of a heart attack, you know how it goes.

-Phil goes to make a speech of how he’s proud of everyone, but especially Wilbur. He doesn’t even mention Tommy and Techno. This makes them slightly angry, but it’s nothing they aren’t used to by now.

-Wilbur comes up on stage, and he hands the presidency to the son whom he is so proud of, Fundy. Wait, another presidency? What the fuck? Didn’t they just overthrow the president? Are they fucking dumb? They just saw what power does to people.

-Fundy makes Niki his vice, renaming POG2020 to Coconut2020.

-Wilbur leaves, and Fundy gets on stage to make a speech. Tubbo silently mutters apologies to Tommy, and promises he will be on their side no matter what, and that he isn’t happy about the government either. 

-Phil notices Wilbur’s departure, and follows him. He finds him in the button room, about to press the button. Phil attempts to convince him not to. Think of all they’ve built together. Wilbur laughs, and asks Phil if he ever notices his other children. 

-Techno and Tommy rage. How dare they build a government in front of us? Everything they just fought against? Did they not see how much effort the two had put into helping their revolution. Had their own family just used them as tools? Lackeys to do the dirty work? What the hell? They begin to build a wither. Fundy and Niki attempt to convince them not to.

-Wilbur presses the button, blowing up L’manberg. 

-This makes Tommy and Techno overjoyed, once again proving that power corrupts. They release the withers, forcefully take the items they grinded for, and leave. Tommy offers to take Tubbo with him. Tubbo declines, saying he knows they’ll rebuild, and it’s best to have a spy on the inside, just in case. Tommy agrees, and they part ways.

-Wilbur begs Phil to kill him. It’s what everyone wants, right? He just blew up their home. Phil, in tears, obliges, taking his final life.

-Tommy and Techno retire to the antartic, creating the antartic commune. They decide that until necessary, they’ll retire. They build a cabin together, and Tommy builds another spy tower in the hill. Techno builds his wither skull vault, in case of emergencies. 

-In rebuilt L’manburg, there are wanted posters of Techno and Tommy. No one seems to have noticed Tommy and Tubbo’s friendship.

-Dream starts to put input into L’manburg. Hey Fundy, why is Phil still here? He killed Wilbur. Exhile him, or I build this wall higher and higher.

-Phil gets exhiled. He realises that Dream had him exhiled because he just never seems to die, and he’s pretty strong, isn’t he? Phil uses this time to debate on him killing Wilbur. He sees that he should have killed him anyways, and that he could not be helped. Phil works on mindless tasks, and Dream visits him daily, secretly blocking other visitors. 

-Phil collects supplies to fight back to Dream. Ghostbur joins him, providing some angsty moments ;]

-Quackity, Fundy, Ranboo and Niki form the Butcher Army. They can’t have Tommy and Techno interfering with their country. They just had it blown up. 

-The Butcher Army track Dream’s footprints as he travels to give the Antarctic Commune a map to a woodland mansion. They get 2 totems each.

-Tommy and Techno now owe Dream a favour.

-The Butcher Army attack the Antarctic Commune, using Carl and a moth called Clemintine? Huh? How’d he get a moth? As leverage to get them to cooperate. [THE DISCS DO NOT EXIST IN THIS AU.] The two come peacefully. Tommy takes note of how Ranboo seems to not want to help the Butcher army.

-The Butcher Army give Carl and Clemintine to Tubbo, he seems as if he would be good with animals. Dream, who is one of the only people to recognise Tommy and Tubbo’s friendship, asks Tubbo to help him get Techno and Tommy out of L’manburg safely. Tubbo agrees, on the grounds that he is not caught, and his identity remains a secret. Dream agrees to these terms, and when questioned later, Tubbo tells the Butcher Army that Dream threatened him when taking the pets.

-The Butcher army attempt to execute Techno first, as they see him as the stronger one. He uses a totem, and Dream helps the two escape. Quackity gets angry, and the Antarctic Duo fight him, taking a cannon life. They leave for the Antarctic Commune, bitter about the loss of tools and armour, swearing to get it back. They are full of rage about being dragged out of retirement. 

-Tubbo talks to Ranboo, and confirms that he did not wish to be in the Butcher Army. They both visit the Antarctic duo, and Techno gives them both back their armour. The Antarctic duo offer to allow Ranboo and Tubbo to stay. Tubbo agrees, joining the Antarctic Commune. Ranboo does not stay, leaving to go back to L’manberg, and apologising for helping the Butcher Army. 

-Dream finds Phil’s secret supplies, and destroys it all. He says that as a punishment, he will be visiting less. Phil takes this as his time to escape Logstedshire.

-Phil turns up on the Antarctic Trio’s doorstep, apologising for being a horrible father. He asks for their help and for their forgiveness. The siblings agree to help them.

-Phil helps Tommy and Techno get their things back. Eventually, Ranboo tells them about a festival. 

-Dream blames Phil for blowing up the community house. He attempts to defend himself, and explains that Dream was watching him because he knew he held power. He says that L’manburg is his home, and that he built it with his son. He would not leave, even if his son was dead. Techno explains that in re-joining L’manburg, he will be betraying his two living sons. Tommy states that Ghostbur told him that he confronted Phil about his blatant favouritism in his final moments, and that if even Wilbur, in his final moments, while insane, can understand that Phil is a poor parent, then he should know this too.

-Phil is adamant on joining his Grandson in L’manburg. Fundy is happy, Tommy and Techno are NOT. They rage, explaining that if he would not understand that he was abandoning his children for this, then he will not get his home. Queue Techno screaming “I’M A PERSON” at Phil. Dream asks the Antarctic Trio if they would like to destroy L’manberg with him. The trio agree. 

-Doomsday comes, and L’manburg is destroyed. Niki an Eret join this destruction. [I’m not involving Fundy in this, as his character motivation is getting people to pay attention to him. Phil is paying attention to him] Fundy feels devastated about the betrayal. 

-Ranboo is invited to join the Antartic Commune once again. He accepts.

-Tommy and Techno relax, knowing that L’manburg is not coming back any time soon. They settle back into retirement.

-Fundy creates a town named Snowchester with Phil. They are a commune, and wish to declare independence.

-Tubbo starts making nuclear weapons, to provide the antartic commune with even more power. Ranboo seems worried, and his memory is deteriorating.

-Dream threatens Fundy and Phil, saying that he will hurt everyone they care about if they don’t fight him. They start grinding.

-Dream wins the fight, showing he isn’t even trying. He shows that hes always had the upper hand

-Dream takes all of their supplies. Phil reassures Fundy that they’ll be okay, and that he won’t let any harm come to him.

-Dream shows them the Vault. He explains that Phil brought L’manburg, and that L’manburg brought attachments, whether those be between people or items. He explains how he was going to use

-Phil explains that Dream has made a fatal mistake in trusting a mercenary. Punz comes through the portal, with the server. They take Dream’s belongings and Sam takes him to the prison.

-Wilbur tells Fundy how proud of him that he is, and that Phil is still a horrible father, and emphasises how much he has hurt them. This makes Phil realise his actions, finally. He tells Fundy that his siblings are planning on resurrecting him, using how Wilbur also brought attachments to the server to convince Dream to resurrect him. He tells Fundy to join the Antarctic Commune, and that they will forgive him. 

-Ghostbur dissapears, as making Fundy happy and standing up to his father was his unfinished buisness. 

#the one who stayed AU #rightrambles #tommyinnit #technoblade #philza minecraft #wilbur soot #sbi #sleepy bois inc #dreamsmp #dsmp #fundy #tubbo #philza #tubbo_ #ranboo #ranboolive

[pupandangelscoffee]

SWEET LIKE SUGAR, DANGEROUS LIKE SNAKES

Eddie Diaz x Evan Buckley x Reader

Genre: Action, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: alcohol, mentions of drugs, mentions of being shot, mentions of being attacked, jumping out of window (no death), mentions of deaths in the past, inappropriate language

Synopsis: When Buck and Eddie agreed to do an undercover job for Athena, they didnt expect to meet someone like you

Wordcount: 2387

Taglist: @enterprise-medical

When Athena had come to Bobby with the request to allow two of his firefighters go undercover to a rather inclusive underground dance club, he had been against the idea. For one, he didn’t want to put Eddie or Buck in danger, but most importantly, he knew how reckless those two could be and he didn’t want them to risk being caught up in anything more dangerous than their everyday work. But after some persuading from both his wife and the two men in question, he had given in.

That is exactly why they are now standing in the door of your dance studio, eyes following your every move as you lead the group choreo, believing that you had yet to take notice of them and Athena. However, when you send them a smile through the mirror, Buck feels his breath get stuck in his throat. Eddie chuckles between his friend, feeling how the other stopped breathing for a moment while Athena shoots the young male a quick glare. “Remember, Buck, this mission is extremely important. Do not compromise it by sticking your slong where it does not belong,” she hisses as you finish up the dance and make your way over to them. “So, these two are the ones I am supposed to take with me?” You ask with a rather hushed voice, looking them over before raising a brow at Athena. “Listen, Athena, I respect you but with those clothes, they will stick out like a pink elephant in a black room.” You state blankly, earning an offended scoff from the two men and a small chuckle from Athena. Before any of the three could even reply, another girl walks up behind you and wraps her arm around your waist. “Hey babe, who are these two flamingos?” She asked, studying the men from head to toe before chuckling at their appearance. “Did you pick them up at the circus?” She added, making you giggle and shake your head before retorting “nah, I found them outside the clown school. Apparently, they got kicked out for looking too much like a giraffe that drank too much paint.” While the two men look incredibly offended at your comments, Athena tried to bite back her laughter. “Do we have to work with them? They are mean.” Buck whines softly, looking at Athena like a puppy that was just kicked.

Shaking your head a bit, you turn to look at your friend. “Okay, Marie, you will help these two gentlemen find some new clothes, okay? Afterwards Marcel and I will see how well they can dance and help them learn some moves, so they won’t stick out like a wedding dress at a funeral at the party tonight.” You instruct her, earning a small nod before she rushes off, dragging the two dumbfounded men along. “You will take good care of them, right? Otherwise I may lose my husband, they are like sons to him.” Athena explains causing you to nod with a soft smile playing on your lips. “Don’t worry, Athena. I will watch over them like my life depends on them. I just hope that Travis won’t figure out what we are trying to do. I would prefer not getting shot again.” You state before sending her off with a wave.

An hour later, Marie returns with Eddie and Buck, both looking more like they would belong to your scene than being model citizens. At this point, you had discarded your shirt and Buck had to do everything in his willpower not to stare at your chest. “We are back, and they finally don’t look like tropical birds in a crowd of crows.” Marie informs you, smiling at you through the mirror before grabbing her bag and waving goodbye to you, rushing out of the practice room. Turning to the men, you introduce them to Marcel before instructing them to show you some of their dance moves. To your surprise, Eddie was rather good at an assortment of dance styles, whether it was just basic salsa or some sort of break dancing, he was doing well enough that you didn’t have to fear for him to stick out unnecessarily. Buck, however, well he was a completely different story. You wouldn’t say he couldn’t dance, he could, but The Sprinkler and The Carlton would not be received well in any club, especially not one as exclusive as the one you were planning to take them tonight. While you managed not to burst out laughing, Marcel was on the ground, crying from the laughter that was ripping through his body. “Please, please do not do that when we are out tonight.” You beg gently, trying to not let the laughter get out that you were trying to keep down, eyes flicking over to Eddie, who is very amused by his friend’s interesting dance style.

You end up taking some mercy on the poor man, stepping closer to him, and placing his hands on your waist. “Just follow my lead, darling.” You say softly right as the music starts before starting to lead him, giving him a gentle smile as he stumbles a few times. After a few hours of showing him random dance moves that would be acceptable in the club, you hum in succeed. “Great, imma go shower and then we can head out.” You state before grabbing your bag before heading to the shower.

The smell of sweat and alcohol are the first things that hit Eddie and Buck when they finally get to enter the club. You had introduced Eddie as your boyfriend and Buck as your friend from a few states over to get them access to the club and Buck would be lying if he said he didn’t feel his heart sting when you introduced Eddie as your boyfriend instead of him. Weaseling your way through all the bodies, you lead the two boys over to the table where your friends are sitting and to sell the illusion of dating Eddie, you sit down on his lap. Buck quickly averts his eyes as he feels jealousy raise in him, though it dies down as soon as the waitress brings over a tray of shots. Quickly, all of you grab one and down it before your friends stand up as your group’s name gets called out by another group of people. Frowning a bit, you get up as well, whispering a threatening “stay here or I will make sure neither of you have sex ever again” to the two men before following your group to the middle of the dance floor. Of course, the one night you bring in firefighters to a club that has seen more deaths than necessary, is the night your group gets challenged to a dance battle. You figure that they must be new around the club, because your group had a reputation build up about how you didn’t come to play. “Basic rules, whoever gets the loudest cheers gets to stay, the losers leave.” You state, smiling at what you assume the leader to be as you reach your hand out for a handshake. Your opponent nods and takes your hand, shaking it before both of you resume to your positions in your groups.

Meanwhile, Buck and Eddie both stood up, trying to see exactly what was happening. Buck is the first of the duo to end up climbing onto the table to get a better view, becoming completely entranced as he watches your group – especially you – start to dance. Holding his breath, he watches as the crowd goes wild for your group after the battle is over, only releasing the breath once you are back safely at your table and on Eddie’s lap. Eddie quickly wraps his arm around your waist, smiling and pressing a gentle kiss to your sweaty shoulder, clearly enjoying the fact that he got to play your boyfriend for the night.

Both of the men nearly forgot why they were with you and your group of friends in the first place, having a wonderful time and probably a bit more alcohol as they initially planned, though making sure that they were sober in case anything happened. And sure enough, after dancing, drinking, and talking for nearly two hours, three rather big men came up to you three. “Travis wishes to see you.” One of them states, motioning for you three to follow them, which you do. Once you enter the room where Travis is waiting, the bodyguards leave as Travis waves them off. “I see you brought some new friends, Y/N and you didn’t even bother introducing them to me. That is rather rude, ya know?” Travis states as he pulls out a clear bag of some white pills. “Why don’t we show them what real fun is?” he adds, mistaking your smirk for an agreement though quickly frowning as you take a picture of him holding out the pills. “You see, Travis, I don’t think the police would be very happy if I allowed their men to take some of your shit.” You state with a hum as you walk over to him and pat his cheek while Eddie takes out the handcuffs that he had hidden in his pocket. However, before he could get close enough to arrest Travis, the man dropped the bag and ran off. Sighing a bit, you take your heels off before chasing after him, knowing the club like the back of your hand.

A small scream, courtesy of Buck, could be heard when you jump out of the second story window, as he fears. Though when Eddie starts laughing while looking out of the window, he slowly walks closer and the scene in front of him was rather amusing. Not only were you absolutely fine, but you had also managed to catch a very bewildered looking Travis, who did not understand how you were able to cut him off and pin him against the metal fence, since he had been so far ahead. “Oh, this is Julie,” you whisper before slamming his head against the fence again before looking up at the boys. “Are you gonna come arrest him or do you want to continue playing pretty creepy dolls?” You yell up to them, causing the two to spring into action.

Soon enough, Athena shows up and takes Travis off your hands, not even questioning why he has a cut on his face. “He deserved it.” You state with a shrug before turning to Eddie and Buck to thank them and wish them a goodnight. “So, you think we are pretty, huh?” Buck teases before you can even say a word, causing you to giggle. “I said pretty creepy if I remember correctly, but whatever helps you sleep at night, Evan.” You reply before giving him and Eddie each a soft hug and a kiss on the cheek before grabbing your heels and walking off into the night.

It has been a few weeks since the boys last saw you and even if they didn’t want to admit it, they actually missed you. So much actually, that they drove past the place that you took them to, only to find it completely abandoned. Through a stranger, they found out that after Travis was arrested, the whole place fell apart and people just stopped showing up.

So, the surprise was real, when they hear your voice after coming back from a call. Racing up the stairs, they find you and Chris dancing with one another. “Well, what is going on here?” Eddie asks, immediately regretting that his voice came out a little more on the hostile side, but it was his father instinct kicking in as soon as he saw Chris standing without his crutches and only holding onto you. “Well hello to you too, Edmundo.” You state, quickly handing Chris his crutches before grinning and leaning down to his eyelevel. “You wanna show your dad what you learned?” You ask softly, getting an eager nod in return. So you step back and turn on the song that Chris had requested, watching Chris take the “stage” and showing off the dance moves that you had managed to teach him while the 118 was at the call. Meanwhile, the whole team joined you, all of them watching the young boy enjoy himself. “You have a very cute and sweet son.” You whisper to Eddie before walking over to the kitchen to grab two bottles of water, one for you and one for the young boy. “Dad, what do you think of my moves?” Chris asks innocently as he sips from the water bottle that you hand to him opened already, allowing you to pick him up and set him on the couch besides his father. “They were really good.” Eddie smiles, looking at you in amazement before ruffling Chris’s hair. “What are you even doing here?” Buck asks you, the smile on your face faltering. “Athena said it would be the safest if I change back to being a paramedic instead of a dance instructor, especially since I was attacked twice last week.” You add the last part in a whisper, not wanting the kid to hear.

Though you couldn’t help but giggle at the shocked faces of everyone except Bobby, who had been informed by Athena that you would be joining his team, because somehow none of them expected you to be a paramedic. “I finished the training 3 years ago, right after High School. However, I preferred dancing and it paid very well, so I never actually went to the firehouse.” You explain quickly before Bobby added “they will be joining us starting next week”. Huge smiles break out on Buck’s and Eddie’s face as they realize that this means they get to spend more time with you, almost like their wishful thinking has actually worked. A definite bonus was that Chris also seemed to really like you, so perhaps they could make things work.

But with your past? Would it come haunt them as well? Would it bring any of them into danger? Would it put Chris in the line of danger? Could they actually win your heart though? Only the future can tell, but the two men hope that their future is with you by their side.

#eddie diaz x reader #evan buckley x eddie diaz #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley #eddie diaz imagine #911 fanfiction #9 1 1 fanfic

[lunaserenade]

Cloak and Dagger

Masterlist

Author’s Note: The fic that no one asked for and took me a month to write 😂 Thank you to @reddead-trash, @toomanystoriessolittletime, @icanbeyourjedi, and @sugarontherims​ for enduring my ramblings and reading through my MANY drafts. Also I threw straight up shade to my Florida senator Rick Scott in this. *chef’s kiss*

Paring: James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x F!Reader

Words:  2.2k

Warnings: None

Summary: To stop a corrupt politician you and Bucky must go undercover at a campaign fundraiser.

***

It was a warm and humid summer afternoon in Delacroix, Louisiana as Sam Wilson and James 'Bucky' Barnes worked idly on giving the ‘Paul and Darlene’ a fresh paint job. Bucky had come down to visit for the weekend, helping out wherever he could while he and Sam worked on finding new leads about a disturbing rumor they had been hearing. There were whispers of a scientist who was attempting to recreate the super soldier serum, although there had been attempts over the decades it was looking like this one was credible. The shrill ring of Sam's phone cut into the tranquil silence by the water, Bucky watched Sam Wilson with mild interest as he spoke quickly on the phone.

“Well I haven’t heard from you in a while. ” Sam said, an impish smile on his lips as he looked at Bucky. “That’s great news. I think I have the perfect person for you. We’ll be there tomorrow night.”

“... what did you just sign me up for?” Bucky said with a sigh as Sam hung up. 

“We’re going to DC to help a friend out. You’re going to need a suit.” Sam replied, entirely too amused for Bucky’s liking. 

***

True to his word the next evening Sam was knocking on your apartment door, greeting you with a huge hug and introducing you to his tall, dark, and very handsome friend.

“This is Bucky, he’s the one I mentioned. He’ll be fantastic back up.” Sam said, clearly getting great joy out of the situation.

“What exactly are we doing anyway?” Bucky said with a raised eyebrow.

“Sam told me to keep an ear to the ground about any rumors of someone trying to recreate the super soldier serum, while I was gathering intelligence on a possible corrupt senator from Florida I found out he’s funding it. Tomorrow night is a fundraiser for his reelection campaign, I need to sneak into his office and get the name of the scientist he’s funding so we can squash his reelection and this new attempt at the serum.” You explained as you took a seat in your living room with them.

“Too many people can recognize me on The Hill, I’ll be spotted easily. That’s why she needs you, someone who can go a little more unnoticed when needed.” Sam affirmed.

“And you’re positive this senator is the one masterminding the whole thing?” Bucky queried.

“Absolutely, he bounced the money through several dummy accounts, but we managed to track it back to him. I need you to meet me here tomorrow night, we’ll be going into the event as Mr and Mrs. Sandoval. I had a contact intercept their invitation so we could get in.” You said matter-of-factly. As you studied Bucky you found yourself suddenly looking forward to the event tomorrow night, having a gorgeous man in a suit by your side was definitely a perk. Especially one who you knew could keep up in a fight if needed, from what Sam had told you about him. You had heard of The Winter Soldier, hell who hadn’t, but you were never one to judge someone by their past. If Sam said he was solid, he was solid. 

“Sounds like you have this pretty planned out, what if something goes sideways?” Bucky asked

“I think both of us can handle thinking on our feet.” You said with an arched eyebrow. “Unless you’re having cold feet.”

“... I’ll be here at seven.” Bucky said with a small huff, slightly offended by your implication, much to your amusement. Sometimes a kick in the pride was all you need to get a man motivated.

***

You were attempting to zip up your dress when you heard the sharp raps on your apartment door, holding it closed with one hand you opened the door for Bucky with the other. It would be a blatant lie to say that the sight of him in the well-fitted suit didn’t make your mouth water and as you took in the full view of him with greedy eyes you saw he was smiling as he walked into the living room.

“Does the suit pass your inspection?” Bucky mused.

“You clean up well, sir.”  You replied with a coy smile. “Can you help me with this zipper, I can’t get it for the life of me.” 

“I-... of course.” Bucky stammered, slightly flustered as you turned around, your dress unzipped until right above the swell of your ass. Ever so careful he reached out and slowly dragged the zipper of your dress up, his fingers lightly grazing your back, giving you goosebumps. 

“Thank you.” You said, a faint blush creeping across your cheeks, as you turned to face him.

“What’s your plan for tonight?” Bucky asked as he attempted to adjust his tie.

“We need to get into his office, my contact said there is a folder with all the information I need in his desk.” You smirked and arching an eyebrow at Bucky.

“Sounds fairly straightforward. What’s the catch?” He queried.

“He is starting to suspect someone has been poking into his new ‘business venture’ so there is increased security on the office floors.” You gave him a sly grin “We need to get in and out without being seen. Although I’m not opposed to light violence if it comes to that.”

“Duly noted,” Bucky said with a laugh and he offered you his arm. “Are you ready for this?”

“Let’s take this bastard down.” You said, slipping your arm in his and headed out of the apartment.

***

The building had a beautiful conference center was absolutely gorgeous, you had to admit. High vaulted ceilings with the soft glowing light of chandeliers hung overhead as you and Bucky walked arm in arm, the click clack of your stilettos' on the tile echoing in the lobby with each step. A well dressed young man stood just in front of the entrance, taking invitations from the various guests as they entered. Bucky reached into his suit pocket and presented the gold leaf embellished invitation to him.

“Mr and Mrs Sandoval?” He asked as he checked his list.

“Indeed.” You replied and wrapped an arm around Bucky’s waist, tucking yourself into his side. You had to be convincing, or at least that was the excuse you were going to use.

“Senator Scott thanks you for attending, enjoy your evening.” The young man stated as he gestured toward the room and stood to the side.

Bucky led you around the conference room, his hand resting on your lower back, as you both surveyed the room. You gave his side a light squeeze and nodded towards an ‘Employees Only’ door.

“There is supposed to be a stairwell through there. The senator’s office is on the seventh floor.” You said softly and Bucky nodded.

“Security looks light down here, mostly around the Senator, we should be able to slip through easily enough.”

“Famous last words.” You grinned and made your way towards the door, waiting for a moment outside before quietly slipping through. The two of you made your way quickly down the hall and into the stairwell. You quickly regretted your choice in footwear as you climbed the seven flights with Bucky, but managed to keep pace with him. Just as you were about to open the door to the seventh floor corridor Bucky reached out to stop you.

“Someone’s coming.” His voice barely above a whisper, he pulled you close and stepped behind the door. “I can knock him out but it won’t give us much time in the senator’s office before someone finds him”

"You know this is a stupid idea, right?" You said as you peered around him.

"I do." Bucky affirmed

"And that it could fail spectacularly, probably ending in injury?" You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration.

"More likely his than mine, but yes." Bucky gave you a grin that could only lead to trouble.

"... alright let’s do this." You said, squaring your shoulders as you heard security approach the door. The poor security guard never stood a chance. As soon as the door shut behind him Bucky had him in a choke hold, a hand over his mouth to stop any cries for help. You were impressed, the ease and speed with which Bucky took him down was almost elegant. He lowered the now unconscious guard to the ground, just behind the door, and reached for your hand.

“Ready?” He grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

“Always.” His goofy confidence and glee rubbing off on you as you hurried down the hall hand in hand with him.

“This is his office, cover me.” You said quickly, hiking your dress up to reveal a thigh gun holster and a lock pick set tucked behind the gun against your leg. Bucky’s eyes raked over your body and he felt an expected surge of lust run through him as he turned to block you from view and keep a lookout. Within a minute you had the lock picked and held the door open for him.

“Age before beauty.” You grinned at him and gave a wink, earning an eye roll in return. 

The office was large, a wall of books sitting behind the senator’s desk,

“How long do you think we have?” You muttered as you began to pick the lock of the desk.

“Three or four minutes, tops.” He replied, listening closely at the door for any sounds of movement outside the office.

“Good, I only need two.” The lock turned with a click and you quickly riffled through the drawer. “Ah ha! I’ve got it. Let’s get the hell out of here before we get caught.”

The pair of you quickly exited the office, Bucky’s hand lingering on your lower back as you walked out together. You weren’t sure if it was the cool metal of his hand on your lower back giving you goosebumps or being so close to him, but there was no time to sort through that as you heard voices coming from down the hall.

“Have you seen Brady? I didn’t see him on the rounds on the sixth floor.” A male voice said and you felt your heart race. There was no way to sneak out without being seen and you needed to think quickly. You backed up against the wall and tugged Bucky close, his chest bumping lightly against yours as he steadied himself.

“What are you doing?” He whispered as you pulled him tightly against your body.

“Trust me, this is the only way we’re getting out without fighting our way out.” You said quickly and reached for his face, crushing your lips to his. You could feel him stiffen in shock at first but as he wrapped his arms around you he eagerly responded, parting your lips with his tongue to deepen the kiss. For a moment the world around you faded away as you tugged him closer, fingers threading through his hair until you heard security shout.

“HEY! YOU TWO! This is a restricted floor!” The guard shouted, as he stomped his way down the hall towards both of you. You pulled away from Bucky reluctantly, staring up into his blue eyes.

“I’mmmm sorry, We got a bit lost, didn't we baby?” You slurred your words dramatically, slipping into the role of a drunken couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

“Mmm, yes we did.” Bucky pulled you close, pressing a sloppy kiss to your hair. “Let’s go get another drink, honey.”

“I think you both have had more than enough.” The guard rolled his eyes, clearly fooled, and gestured to the elevator. “Come on, I think it’s time for the pair of you to leave.”

“Alriggggght alright, damn man. No need to get in a huff.” Bucky slurred, holding his hands up in ‘defeat’. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders he guided you to the elevator.

“Buzzkill.” You muttered at the guard as the door slid shut. The moment you were alone you rested your head on Bucky’s chest, his heart beating wildly and it wasn’t because of the guard. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

***

“Do you do this a lot?” Bucky murmured as you exited the building, a full moon hanging overhead in the evening sky.

“Break into government officials' offices for dirt or kiss gorgeous men to get out of a sticky situation?” You replied with an impish grin and shivering in the night air.

“Both.” He laughed as he tugged off his suit jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

“I do what I need to to get the job done. As for the second part? You could always give me a call and find out.” You bit your lip, feeling bold.

“Maybe I will.” Bucky grinned and slipped a vibranium arm around your waist.

Bucky called the next night.

***

tagged: @diva-1992, @yespolkadotkitty , @sarahjkl82-blog, @seasonschange-butpeopledont, @mrsparknuts , @disgruntledspacedad, @mrschiltoncat, @giselatropicana , @sugarontherims , @cynic-spirit , @supernaturalgirl, @farfromjustordinary, @buckstaposition , @evelynseventyr,  @emesispo, @theamuz , @keeper0fthestars

#Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #tfatws #sam wilson #captain america #Bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Sebastian Stan #reader insert #marvel #mcu #the winter soldier #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #undercover

[val-aquenta]

I’m on fire posting these fics. They have mostly been languishing in my drafts, so I really just have to spruce them up a tad to post them ahahah. 

Here on ao3

 Qui-Gon is the first to call him Ben. Obi-Wan is a name that is too long for him to yell, so he is nicknamed Ben. At least, that’s what he said. Obi-Wan thinks otherwise, obviously. 

“Why Ben? What’s wrong with Obi-Wan?” He wonders, not noticing he’s said it out loud until he hears Qui-Gon chuckle. “What?” He flushes, affronted by the cheeky grin on his Master’s face. It is a look that screams trouble.

“A little long, Obi-Wan, huh?” Qui-Gon pauses for a moment from where he is preparing for flight. “Not exactly perfect for yelling when I need your attention.”

Obi-Wan puffs up a bit, not dissimilar to a loth cat Qui-Gon notes with amusement. “Obi-Wan is a good name.” The boy defiantly tries not to pout while saying this. “It’s not like I call you… John.” He mutters softly, voice sounding put off.

“John?” The older man’s wrinkles crease around his eyes as he smiles. He shrugs. “Ben is a good name regardless.” He defends.

“Obi-Wan’s better.” He opposes tetchily, eyebrows furrowing. “What’s so special about Ben anyways?” He asks with curiosity, always eager for new information.

“Well, Ben technically means son of my right hand, a phrase from my homeworld’s main religion.” Qui-Gon murmurs, willing to try and satisfy Obi-Wan’s need for answers. “The religion is… complex. I don’t even understand it completely, but I do understand the meaning of the phrase.” He pauses.

“Well… what’s the meaning of the phrase?” Obi-Wan fiddles with his hands, eyes alight with interest. He flushes self-consciously when Qui-Gon lifts his eyebrows as though proving a point. He ducks his head, a hint of red on his cheeks. 

“Well, in the religion, there is an entity called God. And the phrase to be at the right hand refers to being in a space of special honour, the right hand, of God.” He explains, enjoying the way Obi-Wan seems to brighten with the new information. “Being the son of the right hand should mean that you will grow into this space of importance. Rather fitting, don’t you think?”

“Oh…” Obi-Wan flushes, freckles disappearing into the deep red colour. Qui-Gon swears the tips of the boy’s ears are red. “That is kind of you to say, Master.”

“It is the truth, my Padawan.” Qui-Gon smiles, clapping a large hand on his shoulder and tugging the boy in for a hug. Obi-Wan startles, tensing for a couple of seconds until he relaxes, shorter arms just barely managing to reach around Qui-Gon. 

::::

Satine was the next to call him Ben. You see, Bant never truly latched onto the name that Qui-Gon christened him with, preferring to stick to her shortened form, Obi. Therefore, Satine is the next. She hears it once when they’re getting shot at and Qui-Gon has a plan that has an 80% chance of ending up with all three of them dead, but it’s better than their current odds. Qui-Gon yells it at him to get the boy to pay attention. 

At first, Satine is startled, thinking a new ally has joined them but is surprised that it’s just a nickname for Obi-Wan. Granted, she doesn’t call him Ben for that long because she, like Bant, prefers to call him Obi.

She does call him Ben when they’re parting ways, and Obi-Wan’s chest aches something fierce. Qui-Gon watches, eyes somewhat sympathetic as they follow Obi-Wan. He pretends not to notice as they share one small, sweet, innocent kiss. It’s everything Obi-Wan wants, but he hesitates and glances back at his Master, and then pulls away from the embrace, head bowed. It is almost everything he wants, and that makes all the difference. If he stayed, he would abandon his Master and his family in the Temple. More than that, he would abandon his path as a Jedi. Even Satine, for all he cares about her, is not enough to sway him from his path. The Force whispers in his mind, sorrow and apologetic, thankful for his sacrifice. The choice cements and he lets go of Satine.

“Ben…” Satine whispers, the word almost lost in the wind. “I… good luck.” Her blonde hair, carefully arranged on her head, moves as she bows. “Thank you, Master Jedi, for your protection.” Obi-Wan bows back, though his head remains tilted down, not willing to look at the woman.

“It was our pleasure,” Qui-Gon responds, sending a little pang of comfort down the growing bond with his Padawan.

“Do be careful.” She says, deviating from her formal script. “Farewell, Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi.” The names fall easily onto her tongue as though she hadn’t spent almost a year calling them something else with much more familiarity. 

“May the force be with you, Duchess Kryze,” Obi-Wan murmurs, and he walks away from Satine, from the comfort of that life, and into the Jedi transport, his Master, a steady and strong pillar in the Force, ahead of him.

“… Ben?”

“Yes, Master.” Qui-Gon looks as though he wants to say something, wants to spill some secret, but he thinks better of it, instead closing his mouth and opening his arms, catching Obi-Wan as he falls into them. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs into the pale ear, his hand stroking circles into Obi-Wan’s shoulders. The boy, because that’s what he is, does not respond, only tightening his grip and inhaling the comforting scent of his Master.

::::

Mace is the third Jedi off the transport ship. He is also the third to call Obi-Wan Ben, though that happened a while back on a joint undercover mission with Qui-Gon. He reverted to calling him Obi-Wan, but then he reverts once more. He’s older and wiser, and, has been a friend ever since Obi-Wan was a small young child of the creche. 

“Obi-Wa… Ben.” Obi-Wan’s heart cracks just a bit more. Never again will he hear that familiar voice whispering that name to him. The deep baritone voice rumbling it. It hurts worse than leaving Satine, Cerasi, or Siri, or losing Reeft had. “Sit down with me and let’s talk.”

“Yes, Master Windu.” The response is immediate, drilled into him with years of training.

“Tell me how you feel, Ben.” Mace rumbles, voice not as deep as Qui-Gon’s, but very close. Obi-Wan is certain that if he were to press his ear to the bald Jedi’s chest, he would feel the voice vibrating.

“Fine…” That response is nailed into him out of fear. Fear of not being good enough. 

“Really?” Mace murmurs disbelievingly, leaning forwards and taking in the red-tinged eyes. A hand reaches out and takes one of Obi-Wan’s hands, feeling the slight chill that seems to emanate from him. “You don’t look fine to me.” He says in a frank manner that only he can pull off without sounding overly rude. 

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Obi-Wan responds, more exasperated than he thought it was going to sound. 

“Ben… you’re not wrong to be sad. It isn’t wrong to feel loss or to grieve.” Mace says, voice closer to whispering than to speaking. The man scoots closer to Obi-Wan who, in the eyes of the Republic is also a man but, in reality, still feels like the thirteen-year-old being sent to Bandomeer, or the sixteen-year-old who left Satine, or the- “You’ve just lost a man who has been by your side for twelve years. It will hurt.” Obi-Wan laughs, but it is more cracked and painful than any laugh Mace has heard. He desperately scrubbing at his eyes as though he wishes to scour them away.

“I know it hurts, Master. Force, my chest feels as though I was the one who was run through with a lightsaber, not Qu-” His voice breaks around the name, and he devolves into small sobs. Mace observes the boy being thrust into Knighthood with something close to helplessness. He had lost Cyslin in a less brutal manner and yet it had hurt all the same. All Mace can do is offer some comfort to the man. “There’s a hole where he was and I can’t-” Obi-Wan's voice cuts off as he cradles his head in his hands. 

“Ben,” Mace says it curtly, as though fully taking advantage of how short it is. Qui-Gon dragged it out a bit, seemingly relishing the way the name made his mouth shape. Satine’s lips always made the name sound sweet. Short and filled with emotions. “Observe and release your emotions.”

“I can’t,” Obi-Wan admits. He tries to look at his emotions. He can understand, but he can’t release and make them go away. There’s just too much. He says as much to Mace. 

“Let me help, Ben.” And it is as though Obi-Wan is a youngling once more, trailing behind Padawan Windu in cream coloured corridors. As though they’ve been transported to a time when Mace’s forehead did not have the stressed wrinkles it does now. As though Obi-Wan hasn’t just had a piece of his heart carved out with a sith lightsaber. Together they sink into meditation, aware of each other, and acknowledging one another. With a little flick from Mace, Obi-Wan begins to reveal his mind warped by guilt and self-loathing and anger and pain and… it’s too much, Mace admits to himself. So, he starts small. A small statement, I was too slow, is given to him, and they watch it together, understand it together, and accept it together. Then, he moves to another, unwanted. And to the dozens that remain. Mace does not judge, and his heart aches at the knowledge of the burdens Obi-Wan is thrusting upon himself, but he says nothing about it, only reaching for the boy… man after their meditation and bringing him into a hug that lasts a full minute.  

::::

Cody is a really good researcher. Sure, he’s great with a blaster, and hand to hand combat, and anything to do with the military really. He was trained under Jango Fett and the Kaminoans. But, one of his greatest strengths is his efficient diving into the Holonet. He can splice information from different databases, even the Jedi Temple’s database. Technically, he could just go to the Archives and find the information, but he could be seen there, so he doesn’t. Instead, he sits at the main console of his barracks and begins to get information regarding his new General. The Jedi, Kenobi, seems nice enough, but looks can be deceiving. In this case, however, it seems that they’re not. The little ginger seems to have a kind streak about the size of Ryloth. 

“What in the world…” He mutters as browsers pop up. Multiple mission reports that he skims through to reveal another thing. Apparently, the General has a penchant for injuries. A really bad one if the reports are not a joke. He digs through one that was co-written by one Qui-Gon Jinn, and he spots some errors. At least, he’s sure they are errors because he’s pretty sure the General’s called Obi-Wan… not Ben. However, he doubts that the General would let that slide.

“Ben.” He forms the name under breath, making some multi-syllable word from it. “Ben.” He says it curtly. It is more efficient than to say General Kenobi or, Force forbid, Obi-Wan. The Jedi have the oddest names.

“Commander…” He jumps, turning to look at the man in question as he walks into the barracks completely unannounced. “I was, ah, wondering if you would like-” He squints at the console’s screen. Cody flushes deeper than before, the crimson stain spreading around his neck and up to his ears. Caught researching his General by the General in question. Rex will never let it go. 

“General Kenobi, sir.” He plants his feet and straightens his back. Obi-Wan looks at the report and then at Cody and then back to the report. 

“Did you… hack into the Temple?” He questions curiously. 

“Well… I do have the access codes…” He trails off. 

“Is this… the mission to Joonta?” The General strokes his beard, leaning forwards to read his report. “Force, my diction was horrible back then. So was Qui-Gon’s.” He scrolls down.

“Sir…”

“Yes, Cody.” He seems oddly enthralled by the report, scrolling rather quickly through the pages. 

“Is your name Ben?”

“Sometimes.” Obi-Wan… Ben? Hums. Reading through the report absently. Noticing the silent prompting from Cody, the General shakes himself a bit. “Oh. It’s a nickname given by my Master. Almost no one uses it.” 

“Ah.”

“Cody… you can call me Ben if you’d like. I don’t mind.” He stops the frantic scrolling to look at Cody.

“The vod will better understand if I call you General Kenobi, sir,” Cody says while ticking the name onto the General’s name. General Obi-Wan ‘Ben’ Kenobi. Jedi and their names. 

“If that is your wish.” Obi-Wan smiles. “Now, I came here to offer you tea in my quarters. Would you like to come?” 

::::

Ahsoka’s always heard of the famous Master Kenobi or Padawan Kenobi or Knight Kenobi in pairs. Padawan Kenobi was always paired with Master Jinn, Knight Kenobi was paired with Padawan Skywalker, and Master Kenobi is paired with Knight Skywalker. Knight Skywalker is now obviously paired with Padawan Tano, so they're all connected. Contrary to what Anakin would think, Padawan Kenobi is the term she’s much more familiar with, and therefore is more familiar with the pairing of Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi. Even though she knows so much about Anakin and Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon are within all the stories that the Crechemasters say. She knows of the most interesting missions that the duo took and is somewhat embarrassed to admit the amount of hero-worship she has for the two.

“Master Obi-Wan, is it true that you had to drink pirates under the table to rescue Master Jinn?” She asks out of the blue one day, noticing the way Anakin’s hand tightens ever-so-slightly, blue eyes dashing to Obi-Wan’s pinched expression. She’s new to her apprenticeship and she still feels overwhelmed if she thinks too hard about the fact that she’s the Padawan of The Anakin Skywalker, and is part of the famous lineage. 

“… Yes. Where did you hear that, Ahsoka?” He frowns while stroking his beard, a habit he can’t seem to break. He doesn’t look too annoyed by the question. Instead, he looks amused and rather curious.

“Ages ago, Master, in the creche.” Obi-Wan shrugs and continues, waving off Anakin’s worried words. The smile on his face is nice to see. Ahsoka thinks it looks bad when the Frown is in place, and that is all that has been in place since the invasion of Ryloth began. She’s happy that she could coax a smile out of the typically austere looking man.

A few months later while they’re travelling through hyperspace on Obi-Wan’s ship, Ahsoka blurts another question. Obi-Wan had offered to teach Ahsoka some jar’kai during the hyperspace travel, and Anakin had assented, remaining on his ship while Ahsoka trained with her other Master. “Master Obi-Wan, is it true that you once were eaten by a large squid and then spat out?” She asks at the mess hall. Cody, who was rather peacefully eating his meal thank you very much, chokes on the ration’s he was chowing on. Stitches, the medic, appears to have swallowed water down the wrong pipe and is sending a concerned look at Obi-Wan. The man in question deflates, shrugs, and answers quietly. 

“Yes, Ahsoka. On Fuleya. Master Jinn thought I was dead for two minutes. Nearly screamed his throat raw trying to cut me from the beast's stomach.” He shrugs and then proceeds to tap on his datapad as though the clones in the immediate vicinity aren’t looking as though they’re having heart attacks. They’re very… protective of their General sometimes. Ahsoka shrugs as well, turning back to her meal. “Was this also heard in the creche?” He asks with the very amused glint in his eyes. The smile also seems to brighten his face. 

Ahsoka feels a warmth in her stomach at having brought another smile to the man’s face, especially considering the stress he seems to be under with the war. “Yes. I heard lots about you.” He shakes his head fondly. She thinks that the smile on his face is worth the possibility that the clones might wrap him in blankets and lock him on the ship. Not that that would be a bad idea thinking about it… 

“Master Obi-Wan,” She starts, her head tilted in wonder. This time, they’re alone. They are at the Temple, in Obi-Wan’s living room, sharing some tea. Anakin, ever the disliker of tea, had opted out, likely going off to see Padmè. “Is it true that your second name is Ben?” At this, Obi-Wan chokes on his tea, spraying the liquid around the room as he coughs.

Ahsoka startles, putting her own cup down and scooting closer to offer some assistance. “What?” He asks weakly, bringing a hand to his chest. This has been the most intense reaction so far. She rubs her hand softly on his back. Humans are ever so slightly warmer than togruta, and she delights in feeling the warmth through his Jedi robes.

“Barriss told me that Master Unduli told her that Master Windu told her that your second name is Ben.” Ahsoka chatters, looking curiously at the man who lies on the couch.

“Technically, Ben is not my second name. I don’t have one.” Obi-Wan runs a weary hand down his face. “Ben is a nickname given to me by my Master.” 

Ahsoka perks up. “Oh, really? Like I’m ‘Snips’ to Anakin?” She questions, excited to learn more of the rather mysterious Master. 

“Well, I suppose? Ben probably has more thought put into it than Snips.” He smirks playfully. 

“How so?” At this Obi-Wan flinches. Ahsoka casts him another worried look but he waves it off.

“It’s a name meaning that I‘ll be special, essentially. It’s native to Qui-Gon’s homeworld.” He smiles softly at Ahsoka. “Much better than ‘Don’t get snippy with me.’” She laughs, happy to once more bring another smile to his face.

“Maybe.” She concedes. “I like Snips though.” Obi-Wan lifts an amused brow.

“I like Ben too.” They smile at each other.

::::

Luke never knows Obi-Wan as Obi-Wan. The thing is, Obi-Wan is dead before Luke is even born. In his place, Ben Kenobi is there. He knows the rough and weathered hand of Ben, not the smooth hand of Obi-Wan. He listens to the voice of Ben, not Obi-Wan. Because of that, there is no need for Luke to call Ben anything but Ben. 

“Ben… why are you called Ben?” He asks one day. Owen is feeling in a more forgiving mood and Beru probably took pity on the sad old man, and they have allowed Ben to visit for a bit.

“The same reason you’re called Luke. I was named Ben.” He responds with a slight smile. 

“Your Mom named you Ben?” Luke asks head tilted in curiosity much like another youngling tilted her head while asking about the name Ben. He wonders where the young togruta is, or even whether she’s still alive.

“No. My… father named me Ben." He swears that there is the gentle hum of laughter in the deep rumbling voice of his Master floating through the air. He looks around, but just the typical homestead surrounds him.

“Oh. That’s cool.” And that’s that. The boy runs away to the deeper parts of the house, a smile on his face. In his hands, a soft blue blanket flies in the wind.

::::

Vader knows who Obi-Wan Kenobi is. He is the man who took everything from him. He took his unborn child, his wife, his limbs, and his potential. Vader is sure that most of his problems stem from this Obi-Wan. Vader, however, does not know who Ben Kenobi is. You see, Anakin never knew Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan together long enough to know of the nickname. He wasn’t there as Qui-Gon whispered the name softly before his death. He never listened to Master Windu sigh his name as the two were chatting as they walked the halls. He never listened to the now-dead Duchess whispering nicknames into the ear of his former Master. He never listened to Cody jokingly calling the ginger, Ben. He never noticed how Ahsoka would whisper to Master Ben sometimes. Because of this, he misses the Jedi Master in his hiding spot. 

“Darth Vader. Have you found your former Master as I asked?” Sidious sits on his throne of lies and steeples his fingers, wretched features obscured by his long, dark robe.

“No, my Lord.” The man bows stiffly at the waist, metal limbs not allowing anything truly graceful. “Kenobi is elusive, but he is old. Soon, he will be dead.” 

Unknown to the two, Ben Kenobi, not Obi-Wan because that man died alongside the thousands of Jedi in the Purge, watches as a boy, the son of his fallen brother, plays in the sand, a toy spaceship in hand. Ben sits on the tip of a dune, smiling at the happiness the boy unknowingly projects as he wooshes the ship around above him. Ben’s hands are busy, carving a new ship for the child. He plans to make a Nubian for the boy. 

“Ben!” The boy shouts across the desert, waving his hand. “Hello!” Ben smiles, and waves his hand in a silent greeting before he stands, joints creaking as he does, and turns back to his hut. Another day and the boy is safe. Cocooned in the silence of Tatooine, Ben takes comfort in the setting suns.

“Ben.” He hears the wind whisper, joining the deep baritone of Qui-Gon, the dulcet tones of Satine, the curt voice of Mace, the kind voice of Cody, and the young voice of Ahsoka. Luke’s toddler voice adds itself to the litany of voices, and Ben grins, watching the ever-changing dunes. Today was a good day. Seeing Luke usually makes his day, and this is one of those instances. A visit from his Master would do him good, he thinks. Soon, he will be too old for the lessons that the man has planned, but he plans to enjoy them while they last. Ben walks into the dunes, towards his hut. He might only have the ghost of one of the people who called him Ben, but he carries the other four close to his heart, carefully adding one more to that collection. The newest addition has a clear voice that is destined to deepen as he ages.  

“How was your day, Padawan?” Qui-Gon is standing in front of the hut, serene as he was in life. Perhaps even more so. 

Obi-Wan smiles wryly, feeling at peace for one of the first times in a while, “Quite nice, Master.”

Qui-Gon smiles indulgently, pleased that Obi-Wan still finds some joy in his life, “That is comforting to hear, Ben.”

#fanfic #star wars fanfic #duna writes #obi wan kenobi #mace windu #qui gon jinn #satine kryze #The slightest hint of obitine #obitine #Ahsoka Tano #commander cody #anakin skywalker

[trekscribbles]

Triple Threat: A Stones Triplet Fic

Fandoms: Leverage/Leverage Redemption, Librarians, and Almost Paradise Cross-Posted: Ao3 and FF Summary: So I shared some ideas about this fic here, not intending to actually write it. And then people asked for it and I have zero self control, so here you go!

A simple smuggling case. That was all this was supposed to be—just a smuggler looking to set up shop on the island, some place where he'd be able to store and ferry goods to the United States without attracting too much attention. Kai expected to wrap up the case in a couple of days, without Alex's help.

Of course it never works out that way.

She's used to Alex interfering with her cases, but she didn't even tell him about this one. So how did he end up with the smuggler she was supposed to be meeting, and why doesn't the seem to know her?

Or: Eliot and Jake are both in the Philippines for separate jobs that turn out to be related. Kai takes the existence of Alex's brothers as a personal attack on her mental health. Ernesto happily goes along for the ride.

Chapter One: Déjà Vu

A simple smuggling case. That was all this was supposed to be—just a smuggler looking to set up shop on the island, some place where he'd be able to store and ferry goods to the United States without attracting too much attention. Ocampo hadn't even asked Alex for help, even though they suspected drugs were involved. "We need more information," Ocampo told Kai. "Just meet with him and see what you can find out." No need to involve the most annoying man on the island.

Kai didn't tell Alex about any of it. It was only the third time Ocampo trusted her to go undercover, and though she wasn't above using Alex's help when it was necessary, this was something she could handle on her own. Ernesto would be monitoring the meeting from nearby, ready to come to her aid, but she was confident in her skills. It was a simple case. She could handle it.

She made contact with the smuggler, telling him she could get a cargo plane for his use and ensure the attention of the authorities was elsewhere when he was ready to load it. The meeting had gone well, well enough that he asked her to join him in his hotel room the following day to hash out the details. Ocampo had been thrilled, and she'd gotten the proud grin from Ernesto that always made her feel like she could take on the world. "Wrap this up, Detective," Ocampo said, already planning the press release for the end of the case. One more meeting, and it would all be over. A swift ending to a simple case.

The next morning she found the hotel fifteen minutes before their appointed time and knocked on door 211, letting herself in when a voice yelled, "We're on the balcony." The we made her nervous, but she told herself it didn't matter. Once she found out what the cargo was, she'd have enough to arrest him.

But then she walked onto the balcony and found her contact raising a toast to Alex Walker, and it took all of her self-control not to break character and strangle him right there.

The smuggler stood up with a grin. "Ah, Ms. Navarro," he said, motioning for her to be seated next to Alex. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No," she choked out. "Thank you."

He shrugged and swept his hand toward Alex. "This is my American contact, Marc Rosen. Mr. Rosen, my associate Nicole Navarro."

Alex gave her a polite smile, and his eyes seemed to laugh at her.

"Mr. Flores," she said tersely. "I thought we'd agreed to keep this meeting between us."

Robert Flores shrugged and again gestured to the chair beside Alex. "I assure you, Mr. Rosen is essential to this operation. He has already arranged a buyer in the United States. All we need from you, Ms. Navarro, is to follow through on your promise with the planes."

Kai sat, forcing her tensed shoulders to relax. "The flight is already secured," she said. "But I need to know what it is I'll be transporting."

Flores smiled. "All in good time."

"Time is the problem," Kai said. "We only have three days before the plane is scheduled to depart, with or without your cargo. I can't prepare properly until I know what we'll be loading."

"I will take care of that. Three days is plenty of time."

"Then... once you've made your payment, I will tell you where to bring your cargo." She managed this with only a single glance (not a glare) at Alex, who had returned his attention to Flores. A sand-colored fedora was pulled low over Alex's eyes, shading a face that seemed paler than usual. In an instant her irritation turned to worry. Did he know Flores from his time as a DEA agent? Had he arranged the meeting, or had Flores contacted him?

Why couldn't he just tell her before he did stupid things like this?

"I am glad to hear it," Flores said. He was still standing, and Kai bristled at the imbalance—he towered over them in a position of power while they literally sat in his shadow. "Mr. Rosen was just telling me that his buyer is anxious to get his hands on this shipment."

Alex huffed a nervous laugh. "Well, you know how it is when the guy in the big office wants something. Patience ain't exactly a virtue for my boss."

"Luckily for you, I have what he needs," Flores said, lifting his glass with a chuckle.

"Is that Alex?" Ernesto asked through her earbud. "What's he doing there?"

Kai chanced another glance at him, wishing she could reach over and wring the answer from his throat. His body language was all wrong. His shoulders were drawn in, the fingers of his left hand fidgeting against his palm. His voice had been different too—almost hesitant, self-depreciating. Usually Alex played a loud character, brash and confident, always pushing to keep his mark off-balance. This... this was just another pencil-pusher running an errand for his boss. Insignificant. Overlookable.

And it was working. A hard, greedy glint flashed in Flores's eye as he swallowed the rest of his drink, his gaze lingering on the trembling glass in Alex's hand. "Well," he grinned. "There is much to be done. Wait here. Your payment is in my adjoining room." He set his glass down on the balcony railing and strode into the hotel room. Kai watched him go, but as soon as the door closed she rounded on Alex.

"I'm going to give you ten seconds to explain yourself."

He blinked at her. "What?"

"Why are you here? Did Ocampo tell you about the case? Did Flores contact you?"

"Did—what? Why would—?"

"Or do you just like messing with my life? Because I swear, Alex, when this is over I'm—"

The hallway door opened before she could finish, and two men in black jackets entered the room. Neither of them was Flores. "Your payment," one said, holding out an envelope.

"Oh... thank you." She stood and entered the room, aware of Alex trailing behind her. He stepped to her left, covering her weak side as she reached out for the payment.

But the second her fingers brushed the envelope, Alex flashed past her to strike the back of the man's outstretched elbow. He screamed, staggering, and Alex pulled him away from Kai and hurled him toward the wall. The other man lunged into the room, but Alex met him with a neat punch to the jaw. He dodged a swing and caught the man's wrist, bashing his elbow into the side of his face. The first man had regained his balance by then, steadying himself against the wall before squaring himself to the fight.

That was when Kai reached him. His attention was on Alex, so it was easy for her to get close and grab his forearm. She drove her knee into the man's stomach, using the momentum of his fall to throw him to the ground. She turned as Alex ducked another jab and slammed his fist into his opponent's cheek. The man dropped, sprawling at Alex's feet and lying motionless.

"What the hell was that?" Kai demanded, stomping down on her man's back to keep him on the floor.

"Kai?" Ernesto said in her ear. "Everything okay?"

Alex knelt to pick up the envelope. "They were gonna kill us."

"He was handing over the payment!"

He tilted his hand so she could see inside the empty envelope. "Flores knew you were coming," he said, running his hands over his fallen opponent's waist and producing a long serrated knife. "He should have had the payment ready."

Damn it—she hated when he was right.

"He must have guessed you're a cop," Alex went on, taking off his hat and dragging a hand through his hair. "Probably one of your first undercover assignments? You know what you're doing, I'll give you that, but you pushed too hard for the cargo. You have to let the mark think he's in control."

"What are you...?" Kai started, but she trailed off when Alex put his hand down. Freed from the hat, his hair fell over his forehead and down around his ears, long enough to brush his shoulders. "Are you wearing a wig?"

"Am—am I—?" he sputtered. "Look, I don't know who you think I am, but—" He broke off, eyes widening. "Wait, you called me Alex before. Alex Stone?"

All at once, her vision seemed to shift. The man before her had Alex's face, but now that she looked closer, she could see a handful of inconsistencies. A scar over his eyebrow that hadn't been there before, a leanness about his jaw, a shadow she'd never seen in his eyes. Ernesto kept talking through the earbud, but she was only half-listening.

She stared into the face of her friend, and a stranger looked back.

The door burst open, breaking the tension that had paralyzed the room and tearing Not Alex's attention from her. Ernesto came in with his gun drawn, not quite pointing at the imposter, but not aimed at the men who'd attacked them either.

"Your partner?" asked Not Alex. His voice was calm, but so gruff she could barely understand it. She motioned for Ernesto to put his gun away. He swept a shrewd look over her, checking for injuries, and then knelt beside her man on the floor and pulled a pair of handcuffs off his belt.

The imposter cleared his throat. "Do you know Alex Stone?"

For a moment Kai considered lying, but the sharpness in Not Alex's eyes had softened. The look he gave her wasn't quite pleading, but it was clearly a request. She heard the please in his eyes as clearly as if he'd said it out loud.

So, in a voice that sounded more confident than she felt, she answered, "Alex Walker."

A snort of laughter blew through the imposter's nose. "Walker? He could have picked anything, and he went with Walker? At least I used a family name."

"No," Ernesto said to himself, shooting Kai with a look that somehow contained astonishment, delight, and trepidation all at once.

Kai echoed the denial in her head. This couldn't be happening.

"My name is Eliot," the other man said.

Don't say it. Don't—

"I'm Alex's brother."

No. No no no no no.

There were two of them.

#fanfic #leverage #leverage redemption #librarians #almost paradise #stone triplets #the terrible triplets #eliot jake and alex are triplets #and poor kai has to deal with them #thanks for enabling me by reading this

[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine: Chapter Three

The first mission doesn’t exactly go as planned. Also, Logan has a thing for glasses, apparently.

@lumosinlove Thank you for letting me run away with your characters! <3

Again, @donttouchmycarrots is my hero and the best proofreader ever! This fic wouldn’t be what it is without her.

Clandestine Masterlist

.

The bank was quiet, save for the soft murmurings of tellers and customers. Sunlight filtered through the windows of the storefront, light and hazy. The office plant by the front door was growing way too big for its pot. There were a few people waiting in line, absently scrolling through their phones. Others were sitting in the waiting area, mindlessly taking in their surroundings. It was calm, peaceful.

Or it was, until a redhead came sprinting out of the men’s restroom, screaming “Fire!” at the top of his lungs.

The bank then descended into madness.

A man watched from the driver’s seat of his car as people frantically streamed out of the building and onto the sidewalk. He sighed, taking a second to rest his forehead against the steering wheel. “Damnit, O’Hara. This wasn’t part of the plan.”

29 Hours Earlier

“Good morning, cubs!”

“Fuck you, Black.” Logan muttered into his cup of coffee. “It’s too early to be that excited.”

Leo smiled a little and set a paper bag on the table. Logan stared at it. Where had it come from? He hadn’t seen Leo carrying it into the briefing room, but it was too big to stuff into his pockets. He didn’t have a bag or anything – the only thing he was carrying with him was a notebook and a pen. How did he manage to smuggle it in?

Logan was so confused, and it was still too early.

“I brought muffins.” Leo explained, opening the bag and handing one to Finn. “They’re cinnamon swirl.”

“Nut, did you make these?” Finn asked, removing the wrapper and taking a big bite. Leo shrugged.

“I like to cook.”

Black looked up at him in awe. “These are amazing.” He cradled the muffin in his hand like it was something precious.

“I can give you the recipe, if you want.”

Logan grabbed a muffin, looking up quickly at Remus’ snort. “He can’t cook.”

“Neither can you.” Sirius shot back, a little more hostile than his usual teasing manner. Logan glanced back and forth between the pair, tearing off a piece of muffin and popping it into his mouth. Fuck, that was good.

His partners had clearly picked up on the tension, too, but neither of them brought it up. Leo twirled his pen around in his hand, eyes moving from the pair to Finn. He smiled as the redhead enthusiastically grabbed another muffin. Logan snapped his gaze back to Sirius. “Can we get started, please?” He asked pointedly. “If you make me get up this early, we’d better be doing something productive.”

Finn laughed at him, nose scrunching. “Are you always this grumpy in the morning?”

Green eyes rimmed with dark, dark lashes glared back at him. Logan didn’t say a word but took a long sip of coffee instead, refusing to break eye contact. Finn let himself stare a little longer than he probably should have. He wasn’t lying when he told Logan he was a sucker for green eyes.

Sirius finally broke the tension-filled staring competition between himself and Loops and looked down at his files. Remus started the projector without a word, only speaking up when he was ready to begin his presentation. “We’re starting you three off with the easiest flash drives to retrieve – the two in the banks.”

He moved to a picture of the layout of one of the banks, pointing at a small room tucked away in a corner of the building. “So the safe is back here in this room. You can’t get back there without permission or an escort, which makes it a little trickier. The security system is also very high-grade, so I don’t think trying to break in after hours is our best bet here. There’s too many little things we might miss.

“The plan is to go undercover. Leo and Finn, you’ll be infiltrating this bank. Logan, you’ll be lookout. Leo, you’re going to pretend to be a safe specialist. Tell them the make and model of the safe Riddle uses is faulty and the company sent you to see if this one needs to be replaced. I don’t really care what you say, just make it believable.”

“What kind of safe is it?” Leo asked.

Sirius looked down at his notes. “It’s a… Tigerking Digital Security safe. Does that mean anything to you?”

Leo grinned. “Makes my job a hell of a lot easier. They’ve got a weak spot.”

“What am I doing during all of this?” Finn asked through a mouthful of muffin, crumbs stuck to his mouth. He swiped at them with his tongue before speaking again, “Distraction?”

“Yeah. It’ll have to be big – big enough to get Leo alone with that safe. How long do you think it’ll take to crack, Knut?”

He shrugged. “Ten minutes, tops. It’s got this small hole at the back where bolts are fed through. I can get a stiff wire through that hole and hit the reset button. Then I can reset the code of the safe and open it without leaving a trace.”

Finn smiled, mischief in his eyes. “I think I can manage a ten-minute distraction.”

That… that didn’t sound good.

Finn took one look at Logan’s fearful face and laughed. “Relax, it’s nothing too dramatic. I’ll probably just ask for whoever takes Leo back to look at the safe and then throw a fit when they say he’s not available. And then I’ll drag out our conversation to give our dear Nut enough time. Simple.”

“That… actually works.”

Finn scoffed, giving Remus a look. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because you’re Finn O’Hara.”

Finn thought about it for a second, then shrugged. “That’s fair.”

“Nut, when you open the safe you need to replace the real flash drive with this decoy.” Sirius said, holding up a blue flash drive. “This op might take weeks or months – if Riddle comes to check on this drive, he needs to see one instead of an empty safe. Now, if he actually checks the information on the flash drives… well, we’re screwed. Hopefully it won’t come to that. He doesn’t usually check the flash drives unless absolutely necessary – it’s too much of a hassle.”

“And I’ll loop the security camera footage when you get there, so there won’t be any evidence of you tampering with the safe.” Remus said. “Get in, get out. Not too hard, right? And we’ll both be with you every step of the way. You’ll have microphones and earpieces so that we can all communicate.”

Finn couldn’t tell if the bouncing of Leo’s leg was his normal restlessness or nerves. His face was a mask of calm that revealed nothing. For someone who didn’t have any previous experience in espionage or conning people, he sure was good at hiding how he was feeling.

Finn handed him another muffin anyways.

The dimpled smile he got in return was nothing but genuine.

***

Remus sat down on his couch with his dinner, sighing to himself as he stretched out his back. It had been a long day, but he finally felt ready for tomorrow. Their plan was solid, the cubs were as ready as they were ever going to be, he had his video loop for the security camera in the safe room, the rest of his tech had been checked over and deemed ready to go. There wasn’t much else he could do besides get a good night’s sleep if he could.

That would be easier said than done, though.

Sirius chose that moment to throw open the door and close it loudly behind him. Remus glared at him. “Is that really necessary?” He asked, but didn’t add anything else on as Sirius slammed down a stack of hand-written pages onto Remus’ coffee table. 

“You want me to open up? Fine. There’s all you need to know about me.”

Remus looked down at the pages and instantly felt guilty. How long had he been working on this? “You didn’t have to-”

“You said you couldn’t trust me.” Sirius interrupted coolly. “I can’t get my brother to safety if you guys don’t trust me.”

It appeared that his brother was his sole motivation. For all of this. Remus could understand that. He’d stop at nothing if the safety of his own brother was put into question.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to do this.” Remus looked up at him, at the stiff set to his shoulders, the detached look in his eyes. He went too far the last time they’d talked about this, hadn’t he? “Look, we got along for over a week when you first got here. I think we can do that again, right?”

At Sirius’ skeptical face, he sighed. “This is on me just as much as you. I… I don’t trust easily.” He had to laugh at that massive understatement. “Perks of being a spy. But I feel like we can manage learning to trust each other the old-fashioned way.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“Getting totally, outrageously drunk and sharing all our secrets.”

Sirius’ straight face only lasted for about a second before he busted out laughing. “You go from wanting my entire life story to wanting to get drunk together?”

“It’s a failproof way to gain someone’s trust.” Remus said solemnly, cracking a smile when Sirius laughed again, incredulous. “But not tonight. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“This Friday, then?”

He couldn’t help but notice the hopeful look on Sirius’ face. Had he ever done this with someone before? Did he have any friends besides his brother previously? He put up this excitable, outgoing façade, but Remus honestly had no idea what lay underneath. He nodded decisively. “This Friday.”

Sirius hesitated, then spoke again. “Do you think they’re ready?”

“I think so. And we’ll be there if something goes wrong.” Remus met his eyes, trying to instill confidence into the ex-Snake. “No matter what happens, we’re going to do our best to get your brother out safely.”

“And what if that’s not enough?” Sirius asked, eyes haunted.

That was exactly why Remus hadn’t made any strict promises. There was no way to guarantee that they would get Regulus back. If Remus was in Sirius’ shoes, if this this was Jules instead of Regulus, what would Remus most want to hear?

“We’re going to do everything we can, I promise.” He said, soft but firm. “I know that’s not enough, but it’s the best we can do as of right now.”

Sirius stared back, then nodded. “Thank you.” He looked down at Remus’ food. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”

Remus laughed, shoving him away. “Get your own, you leech. This is mine.”

“Leech?” Sirius demanded, dramatizing his offence. “I can’t believe you called me a leech. You were the one who offered to house me, after all.”

That was true. Even if he hated to admit it, Remus was lonely. He lived in this apartment all by himself, worked mostly on his own, and his family lived miles and miles away. And being a spy didn’t exactly make it easy to find friends. He was distrusting and cautious by nature, especially after... well. After he left fieldwork and transitioned to a desk job.

He didn’t know why he’d offered to let Sirius stay, honestly. He just got this gut feeling that it was the right thing to do.

And Remus Lupin always trusted his gut.

“Worst decision I’ve ever made.” He quipped, laughing as Sirius threw a pillow at him. Sirius was a horrible roommate. He left dishes in the sink, beard trimmings on the bathroom counter, and his shoes haphazardly strewn about the living room.

But he always had hot water on the stovetop in the mornings when Remus woke up, always let him pick what they watched on tv at nights, and always replaced anything he had used up without being asked. And, if Remus was being completely honest with himself, soft gray eyes paired with an even softer smile weren’t exactly a terrible thing to wake up to.

So far, this whole roommate business wasn’t too bad.

***

Logan hated nothing more than being lookout.

He watched on as Finn and Leo geared up, testing their mics and earpieces and making adjustments accordingly. He was supposed to be watching the entrance to make sure no Snakes entered the building. They were doing the first bank heist while Logan was stuck here, in the car parked on the street, where he couldn’t see what was going on or if his partners were in trouble.

Their first mission, and he was stuck outside.

Ugh.

“You ready for this?” Finn asked Leo as he discreetly tucked a wire under his collar and out of sight. Leo had his eyes trained on the building across from them, wrapped in his coat and a thick scarf, fingers drumming out a staccato beat on his thigh. He didn’t seem to have heard Finn.

“Nut?”

Leo swiveled his head to look back at them. “Hmm?”

“You ok?” Logan asked, watching the blond’s face for signs of nervousness or stress. But his gaze was steady, determined. For someone on their first mission, he was remarkably calm. Either that or a much better actor than Logan had given him credit for. But then his expression flickered and a shadow of doubt crept in.

“I’m fine.” He said, and Logan couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince them or himself. He reached out and gave the blond’s shoulder a squeeze, letting his hand linger before trailing it down his arm and pulling away.

“You’re fine.” Logan reassured with a smile and watched the resolve build back up in Leo’s eyes, causing the knot in Logan’s chest to ease up a little.

That was better.

Finn looked at him for a second, then took his glasses off. “Here, put these on. I feel like your cover story requires glasses.” He gently eased them onto the other boy’s face. Leo blinked rapidly, then squinted and widened his eyes to adjust to the lenses.

“Jesus, what prescription is this?”

“It’s not that bad.” Finn said, ruffling Leo’s hair in retaliation. He took a step back to see the finished product and whistled lowly. “Damn, maybe we should take those off again. We’re supposed to be unmemorable when we’re undercover. No one will be able to take their eyes off you with those on.”

Logan had to agree there. Soft blue eyes blinked back at them from behind tortoiseshell frames, looking larger than they normally did. Leo buried his nose in his scarf in an attempt to hide the blush caused by Finn’s flirtatious words.

The sight did strange things to Logan’s stomach.

Remus’ voice reached them through their com link, startling all three of them. “You guys ready to go?”

Leo took a deep, steadying breath. “Let’s do this.” He looked back at Logan, eyes fierce – a stark contrast to the soft look of only a few seconds ago. Logan sucked in a breath of his own. This kid sure was something.

“See you in a bit.”

“See you in a bit.” Logan echoed, grabbing the car keys out of his pocket and letting his lips twitch up into a smile at Finn’s cheery salute. He leaned against the car door and watched the pair make their way around the corner and towards the bank without glancing back.

He got back into the car and moved it around the same corner before putting it in park. His eyes shifted between the street in front of him and his rearview mirror, a book in his lap to keep from raising suspicions, and settled in to worry and wait.

***

Leo shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting and made his way to the front desk. Ignoring his pounding heart as best he could, he locked eyes with the teller and smiled. “Hi there. Is your manager here?” He asked, dragging his accent out slow and sweet like molasses. “I’ve got a few questions about your safes.”

She smiled back. “Sure thing. I’ll go grab him.” Leo thanked her as she left, looking around while he waited and trying his hardest not to squint too much in Finn’s glasses. 

“Nut, between the accent and the glasses - plus your looks in general - I think that girl is half in love with you already.” Sirius’ voice teased, causing Leo to flinch slightly. He needed to get used to hearing the voices of people he couldn’t see during these missions.

“She is not.” He muttered back as he pretended to rub his nose, covering his mouth as he spoke so that no one else could see it. His hand absentmindedly played with the old, frayed bracelet on his wrist.

“You can do better, Nut.” Logan chimed in, voice a little gruff.

“How do you know?” Sirius asked. “You can’t even see her.”

“I’m using my imagination.”

Sirius barked out a laugh while Remus just sighed and requested that they all stay focused. Leo glanced around at the lobby again. Finn was standing in line behind him, looking at something on his phone. He forced himself not to look at his partner too long and kept scanning the rest of the lobby. It seemed to be a pretty quiet day - there weren’t too many people inside. A few people were seated in the waiting area and some were waiting in line behind Finn. Leo saw the teller and a short, balding man who must have been the bank manager making their way back towards him.

Leo stuck his hand out when they reached him, which the manager shook with a fake smile on his face.

“Hi, how are you doing?” Leo asked, withdrawing his hand. “I’m Fred Decker with Tigerking Digital Security. I have on record that you’re currently using one of our safes, is that correct?”

“Fred?” Sirius’ voice asked incredulously. “Of all the aliases you could use, you choose Fred? Nut, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

Remus hissed at him to shut up. Leo ignored it.

“Yes, that’s right.” The manager said, a bit stiff. “What’s this about?”

“There’s a recall on a few of our safes. I was wondering if I could take a look at yours and see if it needs to be replaced. Free of charge, of course. This is an error on our part, and we want to do all we can to fix it.”

The manager hesitated, then nodded. “This way.”

Leo followed the man through a set of doors into a hallway, spotting Finn out of the corner of his eye as he approached the front desk and sent Leo a quick wink. That, more than anything, calmed Leo’s nerves. If Finn was acting like this was just run-of-the-mill and not a big deal, then they must’ve been doing something right. The door closed behind Leo, blocking his vision of the lobby. He took a fortifying breath and followed the manager into the safe room, secluded from the rest of the bank.

“Here we are,” The manager said, then pointed to a safe wedged into the corner of the room. “And there’s your safe.”

“The camera in the safe room is already on a loop, Leo. You’re all set.” Remus’ voice said, steady and calm. Leo looked the safe over, stalling as he waited for Finn’s distraction.

“Fuck,” he heard through his earpiece. “Leo, you’re going to have to hang in there for a few more seconds. The planned distraction didn’t work.”

Leo swallowed, looking back up at the manager. “So there’s these holes in the back, see?” He said, figuring a sure-fire way for him to stall was to talk about the safe. He could keep up a conversation like this for hours. “They’re used to bolt the safes into the wall. A few of our older models have larger holes.”

He grabbed the stiff coil of wire out of his pocket. “Some thieves have learned that you can get to the reset button in these older models if you use a tough wire like this and insert it through one of the holes. Basically all I want to do today is see if a thief could potentially do that with this safe. Is that all right with you?”

“Yes, of course! If there’s a problem, our client would want that fixed immediately.”

“I’m sure they would.” Leo said absentmindedly as he started fiddling with the wire for as long as he possibly could. He straightened it out from it’s coil, looked down it’s length, and then pretended to straighten some kinks out.

Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic-

Remus’ voice was a little more tense now. “Finn, where’s that distraction?”

Finn, who was in the men’s bathroom grabbing handful after handful of paper towels and shoving them into a trash can, grumbled, “I’m working on it, ok? Sirius was right - that teller definitely has a type, and it sure as hell isn’t me. I had to improvise.”

“What does that mean?” Logan asked warily. Finn could practically see him gripping the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip as he forced himself to stay put. “What are you doing?”

Finn grabbed the bottle of hand sanitizer on the bathroom sink and took the top off, dumping the contents into the trash can as well. He grabbed the lighter in his pocket (he liked to be prepared, thank you very much) and produced a small flame.

“Something stupid.”

He lowered the lighter to the trashcan and prepared to run.

Leo could hear the shouting from Finn’s distraction all the way back in the safe room. He looked up at the manager, pretending to be confused. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure.” The manager frowned, shifting from foot to foot nervously as he looked towards the commotion. “I’m going to check it out. I’ll be right back, ok?”

Leo waved him off with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right here.” He messed around with the safe until the door closed, then hissed, “Finn, what the hell is going on out there?” He moved Finn’s glasses to perch on top of his head and shoved the wire through one hole in the back of the safe. He grabbed his flashlight to look through the hole on the other side, searching for a small red button.

“I might’ve started a fire in the men’s restroom.”

“You what?” Leo demanded, finally finding the reset button and moving the wire steadily closer to it. “You do realize that does the exact opposite of give me more time, right?” Sure enough, the fire alarm sounded, loud and clear.

“Fuck me.” Leo muttered as he jabbed the reset button with the wire. Someone - Leo thought it might be Finn, but he wasn’t sure - muttered something too soft and muffled to be picked up by their mic. Leo didn’t have the time to question it. The safe door opened with a soft click. He quickly switched the flash drive with the replica and closed the door again. The wire got recoiled and shoved back into his pocket, Finn’s glasses returned to resting on his nose. He climbed to his feet and made his way towards the lobby at a quick pace. “I’ve got it.”

“Nice work, Nut.” He heard Logan say, and couldn’t repress the jittery feeling he always got after a successful job. He exited the bank, looking around for the manager. He seemed busy as he talked to his employees in an attempt to get the situation under control. He caught Leo’s eyes and stepped towards him. “Mr. Decker! I was looking for you.”

Leo only just remembered to over-exaggerate his accent. “I heard the alarm and high-tailed it out here. Was it a prank?”

“No,” He said after a beat of hesitation, “Someone actually started a fire in the men’s bathroom. The fire department is on its way. Hopefully it won’t take too long and you can get back to looking at that safe.”

“No need, I already finished. The holes were too small for the wire, so y’all should be fine. Anything thinner than the wire I used will be too flimsy to press that reset button.” Leo glanced down at his watch. “I do have six more banks to visit today, though, so I’m afraid this is where I leave you. Thank you for being so cooperative.” He held out his hand for the manager to shake again and gave one last smile before walking back down the street towards their designated rendezvous, trying to look casual and not like he was running away from the scene of a theft.

Sure enough, a non-descript gray car was waiting for him, right where it was supposed to be. Without a word, he climbed into the back and sprawled across all three seats, throwing an arm over his eyes as Logan put the car into drive.

The three of them were silent for a few seconds before Leo cracked a smile and laughed. “The one thing – the one thing that could get me kicked out of that safe room too fast, and that’s what you decided would make a perfect distraction?”

Finn looked back at the back seat with a grin, which softened when he laid eyes on the blond. His hair shone in the late-morning sunlight, highlighting a streak of gray at his temple. Those long legs of his took up most of the back row, and even then he still had to bend his knees to fit all the way. His eyes were blocked by his arm, but Finn could’ve seen those dimples via satellite image from space. 

“Hey, cut me some slack. I was making it up as I went.” This sent Leo into another fit of laughter, causing Finn’s smile to broaden.

“Besides,” Logan added, “You’re quick with your hands. You didn’t need all ten minutes, you barely needed three.”

Leo shrugged, which looked really strange in his current position on his back. “Got lucky. Found that reset button faster than I usually do.” He adjusted Finn’s glasses, which were still resting on his nose. “Maybe I need glasses, too.”

“Shut up. Those glasses are a statement piece, thank you very much.”

Logan snorted, watching Leo’s hand reach over the center console to return the glasses to their rightful owner. “Maybe that’s why you’re a terrible marksman, O’Hara. When’s the last time you got that prescription checked?”

Finn gasped in offense. Logan glanced over briefly and noticed the tips of his ears getting red. Cute.

“How dare you! I am not a terrible marksman!”

“That’s not what your file says.”

“What?”

“The evidence doesn’t lie.” Logan said, struggling to bite back his grin. Finn was just so fun to tease.

“Screw debriefing. When we get back to the office, we’re going to the shooting range.” Finn crossed his arms over his chest sulkily. “Terrible marksman. How dare they. Nutter Butter, back me up here.”

Leo blinked at the new nickname, but he couldn’t say he minded it too much. Especially when Finn said it like that, with such unfiltered affection. He watched the redhead turn around in his seat to look at him with big Bambi eyes, only then remembering that he was looking for an answer from Leo.

He put on a show of thinking about it, then shrugged. “I dunno, Finn. The evidence doesn’t lie.”

“Et tu, Brute?” Finn whined. “Betrayed by both of my partners. Unbelievable.”

Leo wished there was another word for partner. Maybe he should refer to them as just coworkers now. The term partner was giving him ideas. 

Ideas he couldn’t afford to be having for the first and quite possibly the biggest op of his life.

“Also, you’re one to talk!” Leo looked back up at Finn when he realized he was talking to him. “Have you ever shot a gun before, rookie?” He stopped suddenly, then grinned broadly. “Oh man, please tell me you’ve shot a gator when you were back in Louisiana. That’s so badass.”

Leo arched an eyebrow.

“Just because there’s horror stories about gators doesn’t mean they deserve to be shot.” Logan said, switching his turn signal on and waiting for the left turn light to change from red to green. “They’re a big part of the ecosystem.”

“And they kill people.”

“Oh come on, when’s the last time you heard of someone being killed by a gator?”

“Literally last week, down in Florida.”

“Well, that’s Florida. Crazy stuff like that happens in Florida all the time.”

“Did you hear about that guy from Florida who made a beer run while holding a gator?”

Logan chuckled, glancing over at his partner in disbelief. “What?”

“You heard me! Apparently he walked in, looked around and asked ‘Y’all ain’t out of beer, are you?’ But then the story gets weirder!”

Leo just sat in the backseat and laughed at Finn’s dramatic retelling of Florida news as building after building flashed by outside their windows, feeling lighter than air. His first mission was a success. He grabbed the small, innocuous flash drive out of his pocket, twirling it in his hand. One down, six more to go. If all missions were like this, taking down the Snakes wouldn’t be so bad.

He should’ve knocked on wood after having that thought.

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #coops #sirius black #remus lupin #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #clandestine

[that-other-him]

In the belly of the Leviathan

Warmind!Au Destiny story inspired by and tying in with @hdreaper 's own story just posted. Please enjoy!

Fear was something of an old hat to Winter. Memory skips left her anxious, quarantine duty made her anxious, being cut off from Rexy, her frames and the network made her anxious, the anxiety making the memory skips worse made her anxious...

But the fear she'd been living with for the last month blew all of that out of the water.

Ra-1, the fist of Rasputin, the Dragon Ascendant, had personally sent her a message to say that if she didn't start doing exactly what he told her, he'd activate the code-black killcodes built into her Rasputin Exo body, and blow her Exomind into electronic spaghetti. After all, she was wired into the Charlemagne network, and had a documented set of fears he could abuse. She'd gather confidential data for him, she'd send him warnings of Charlemagne's actions, and she'd allow his scientists to try and duplicate Rexy, and the fear of final death would keep her in line.

But.

But but but.

Rasputin's records of her had been accurate...once. Yes, she was still afraid, but her body was no longer a Rasputin model. It couldn't be; that whole area was considered an infohazard now, and her last body was never coming home. And without that final threat, she'd found the courage to do something...stupid.

So here she was, on Ra's flagship in deep space with Charlemagne's blessing. She'd met up with lance troops a few times for debriefs, but recently she'd been allowed to spend time on the flagship itself, ready for Ra to send her where he wanted her. But that same set of interface skills that had allowed her access to Charli's files had also granted access to just a few of Ra's.

Winter paced back and forth in the tiny cabin she’d been assigned. She wasn’t sure if it was some kind of power conservation action, but the light down here barely cut through the shadows. She could have headed up to one of the main decks where things were a bit less claustrophobic, but Ra’s soldiers were everywhere there, and being the only blue-lit Exo on the entire ship guaranteed her the kind of attention that, if things went wrong today, could get her killed. She checked the ship’s clock fruitlessly. Somewhere out there, right now, Ra himself was boots-down on Riis. The data scraps she’d found didn’t say why, or for how long, but there was no question that he was just a little vulnerable right now.

Just a little would have to be enough; her Guardian contacts, who she’d affectionately nicknamed Fireteam Fuzzy, had cut their way through all kinds of monsters since she’d met them, and she’d made damn sure they knew exactly how dangerous he would be. She’d helped Fuzzy find their targets and coordinated some bounties for them down in the Quarantine zone, and when she’d outlined her proposal, they’d agreed to pass it on without question. It could have been typical guardian bravado, but she knew they’d lost friends to Ghostbuster rounds in the attack on the farm a while back. Maybe they actually trusted her.

Maybe that trust was going to get them killed.

Pushing that thought away and herself to her feet, Winter shoved her way past the door and started striding away towards the lifts. One way or another, with the Ira Terra still out in the styx, any news of the strike would take time to arrive, if her information had even been good in the first place. If she was going to stew in uncertainty, she may as well do it somewhere that felt less like a prison cell. Ra may have been a terrifying, merciless, wannabe-tyrant, but the facilities he provided for his troops were actually first rate. She’d find a sim-station no-one was using and throw herself into some story until the guillotine had, one way or another, dropped.

She had made it to the first brightly lit corridor of the barracks floor when her whole body exploded into pain.

Protocols cut in, protecting her mind from the overwhelming agony, partitioning and quarantining it. The feeling of burning alive dipped, sank, then seemed to drain from her whole body into solely her left forearm. When she could see again, she was crumpled against the wall of the corridor, chest heaving, digital heart still pumping on overdrive. It felt unpleasantly like the worst of the memory blips-she was in pain, alone, with no idea why or what to defend against. She cast her eyes down and to her left, and just like with the blips, her circumstances slotted into place. Set into the casing of her arm, where her network interface and uplink were supposed to be, were a smoking ruin of burned and self-destructing circuits. Her only remaining Rasputin hardware, her connection to her frames, to Rexy, to the ship’s system.

Ra-1 had just tried to kill her.

Oh, if she had thought she’d been afraid before, it paled in comparison to the terror that swallowed her now. It felt like her heart was going to burst out through her chest. There was no way her guardians would have told him she was responsible, right? They knew she was undercover, and even in the heat of the fight, he could have sent the kill codes at any time. They’d keep her secret...

...until their dying breaths.

There was a crackling noise that initially failed to cut through the panic, until it resolved unto the familiar voice of the great warlord, and even as the announcement rang out the ship’s engines powered into life and rumbled the flagship into thunderous motion.

“Attention, warriors of the Broken Lance. A guardian strike team has just made an attempt on my life, using information given to them by a traitor within our ranks, Winter-1. The guardians have been dealt with, and I have already ensured she has been rewarded as a traitor deserves. However, an example must still be made. Have her remains gathered and waiting for me upon my return to the Terra. Her masters shall have her broken husk returned to them. A commendation to the squad who has her corpse in my office upon my arrival. Ra out.”

Oh.

Hmm.

Ah, ok.

Winter was pretty sure she’d just lost a minute or two by the time her awareness came back to her. She still felt like she was about to die (fully independent of the hundreds of trained and eager killers probably now closing in on her position) but the freeze instinct was graduating to flight. She had an exit strategy, at Charlemagne’s insistence. It wasn’t a good strategy, but the warmind had explicitly ordered her to try. She reached out with her interface to the subroutine she’d left running on the ship’s server, and-

Ah. Her eyes once again turned to the sparking, melted mess where her interface was supposed to sit. It felt like one of her senses had been scooped out; a huge, gaping wound where the network was supposed to be. Nevermind just the escape protocol, without the access codes built into it, ninety five percent of the systems in the ship would no longer recognise her as a person, including the ones required to log into any network access point on the ship. She knew where her escape protocol was located, and could theoretically trigger it if she could reach an unsecured terminal.

But right now she could already hear tramping boots approaching from the barracks and she had no choice but to run.

She lost count of how many times she blipped as she led a desperate game of cat and mouse through the guts of the ship. The Ira Terra was bigger than the Stultorum had been, back when she’d served upon it, but if the ship ran about the same, the cargo deck mid-flight would be on skeleton crew with nobody caring if an unsecured terminal was technically a security violation. So she kept heading down and back, focusing on that one thought to the exclusion of all else. When she blipped in this time, she was halfway down a corridor created by two shipping containers, moving towards the illuminated sign of a shift breakroom. She took the next step and immediately fell nearly to the floor, sprawling gracelessly and nearly braining herself on the container. Oh-she’d been shot. That explained why her right side and upper leg were one big mess of static and pins-and-needles. She supported herself on the side of the crate and limped forward, conscious of the shouts and stomping boots echoing from somewhere in the distance behind her. She made it to the door, shouldering it open, almost collapsing with relief when her flickering vision was met with the friendly glow of an open terminal. She immediately dragged herself to it, closing the chat and shipwide alert windows to immediately start digging for her protocol.

She must have been five seconds in when she heard the shatter of breaking crockery behind her.

Slowly turning to face the noise, Winter looked into the eyes of the exo washing the dishes in the kitchenette, set into the corner of the breakroom. For a moment, both were still, surprised, the other Exo’s hand still in the air where it had been holding the coffee mug a moment ago. Then his eyes flicked to the screen of the terminal, where a moment ago had been the bounty on the only blue-lit Exo on the ship.

She didn’t even question trying to engage him. She whirled back to the screen, fingers flying as she desperately raced to run the command. The man had no weapons, probably no combat training, but he crashed into her from behind and her leg went out from under her, skull bouncing off the frame of the screen as he tried to wrap his arms around hers, voice bellowing that he’d found her. She was so close it burned, even more intense than the pain. She gripped one of her hands with the other and shoved it over her shoulder as hard as she could, outstretched thumb punching into his optic and causing a very human scream that no amount of mechanical upgrades would prevent. His grip slackened, and she pulled herself out of his arms and high enough to see the screen.

There were shouts behind her, the sounds of guns being brought to attention, the exo at her feet was tightening his grip again, and her vision was fading into black on the edges.

She hit the last key on the screen.

Everything went white, then black, silent and cold.

It was maybe ten seconds before the first ship thundered across her line of sight in the perfect silence of vacuum, the many supporting ships of Ra's fleet rushing to keep up with the flagship as it finished positioning itself for the jump. Even its coasting speed had brought it far enough away from Winter to render it a tiny dot in the distance, before there was a flash of light and the ships were gone.

Her transmat had been a random distance in a random direction, untraceable, and searching for her would delay the ship's travel to pick up Ra. She'd be left behind in the void, passing beyond its signal jamming, allowing the beacon hidden in her circuits to finally begin transmitting. A waiting friendly vessel would be on route to pick her up, provided the fleet hadn't shot it out of the sky.

Which left Winter here, curled in a ball as the moisture on her clothes crystallised. In theory, Exos were built to be vacuum-resistant, but she had a feeling that resistance didn't account for there being two bleeding holes in her dermis.

The thought drifted through her brain as her senses shut down one by one:

Who would claim her first: the cold, the bleeding, or her rescue?

She found herself thinking that she didn't want to die again.

Slowly, the black faded back to white.

#destiny 2 writing #warmind au #Winter-1/2/3

[spencesglasses]

sweet creature (spencer reid x f! reader) pt 4

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long! power outages, school, and writers block is such a terrible combination for trying to write a fic. spence is back! and cat makes her first appearance hehe. it’s poorly edited because i wanted to get this out asap so ignore any errors, i’ll fix it in the morning. one more thing, despite spencer’s thing with germs, his love language is touch. i said what i said.

part one | part five

The restaurant had a cozy, warm atmosphere despite the teams intentions. Perhaps under different circumstances, the team would be here sitting at the bar, sipping on some alcohol they’ve never heard of, and chatting about any lad or lady they’d gladly go home with. But they were on a mission. Y/N tapped her foot against the leg of the chair, her heels clacking against the metal. She and JJ sat at the bar across the booth Spencer sat at, waiting for their target, Catherine Adams. She was a part of the group of hitmen that were targeting Penelope, and the team was determined to take them down. So there they were, using Spencer as bait to catch Miss. 45 with the rest of the team undercover.

Y/N felt a hand on her bouncing leg, looking down at it, and her eyes trailed up to meet JJ’s. “Y/N,” she says.

“Sorry,” she apologized, and crossed her leg over the other. Y/N looked back at Spencer at the table as he pulled a single rose out of his jacket pocket, placing it beside the plate the opposite of him. He met her eyes, giving her a tightlipped smile. She brought her attention to the woman making her way towards him and Spencer tore his eyes away from Y/N, looking up to Cat. Y/N cringed at the sight and twisted in her seat. “It’s gonna be a long night.” she mumbled to JJ before taking a swig of her drink.

“Spencer?” Cat smiled, waving slightly.

“Cat?” he stood up. “Hello!”

“Nice to finally meet you!” Cat went in for a hug, and Spencer blocked her.

“Oh, sorry, I have a germ thing,” he said. “I’m kind of weird with hugs.”

They stood there in silence, Cat rocking on her heels. Spencer fiddled with the ring on his finger and tried to avoid her gaze out of awkwardness. “Can I sit down?” she laughs slightly.

“Oh! Yes, please. Of course, sit down.”

Cat slides into her seat, taking her coat off in the process. Then it’s silent again and Y/N could practically feel the awkwardness radiating off the two from where she and JJ were sitting. “First time doing this, huh?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Yeah, I still get nervous too,” she admits. “Really, it wasn’t until an hour ago that I was like, wait, we’ve been trading emails back and forth, but I still have no idea what this guy looks like,”

“Hence the…” Spencer pointed to the rose in front of her.

“I know. And then I was like, wait, he’s going to bring a red rose, so we need to go to a nicer place, which is why I switched the restaurant last minute,”

Spencer interrupts her. “Not—Not a problem at all.”

“And now I need to change and put on something nice on for this place, ‘cause I was totally underdressed, and my whole wardrobe makes me look like a Kardashian,” she finished and saw Spencer’s eyebrows knit together. “You don’t know who that is, do you?”

“Oh, yeah, Robert Kardashian. He got O. J. Simpson off. You—You don’t look like his daughter.” he stutters

“Yeah, no, I was making a joke. A bad one.”

“No, it was good! It was a good joke.” Then there’s an awkward pause again. Spencer lets out a sharp exhale, trying to conjure up words to fill the looming silence.

“Can we start over? Hi. I’m Cat.” she said.

-

“Tell me about your wife,” Cat blurted, leaning her head against her palm.

Spencer stiffens in his seat and averts his eyes. “If you don’t mind, I’d, um, I’d rather not talk about her.”

“Might as well get it out in the open, right? That’s why we’re here.” said Cat. “How long have you been married?”

“4 years,” he lied.

“When is she due to give birth?”

Spencer clears his throat. “A couple months,” he straightens out his posture and leans forward across the table. “Should we talk about price now, or…”

Cat smirks, mirroring his actions. “Slow down, Tiger, what exactly are we negotiating here?”

“You know,” he ventured.

“I want to hear you say it.”

He ducked down lower and glanced over his surroundings. “To have her killed.”

“Let me see your ring,” she grinned.

Spencer extended his left hand, and Cat took his hand in hers. “You know what that is?” she asks, twisting the ring. “A noose. Only it doesn’t kill you all at once. It kills you slowly, day by day. You ever feel that way?”

“I feel that way all the time.” Spencer said.

“Take it off,” Cat urged.

“Why?”

“As a sign of your commitment,” she grinned, tapping her finger lightly against the table. “To me.”

Cat watched as Spencer slid the ring off his finger. She held out her hand, looking at him expectantly, and he dropped the ring in her palm. She inspects it carefully as if she’s looking for something.

“24-karat?”

“Mhm.”

“24k times 4 years means this ring should be dinged and nicked, but the sucker is brand new,” she tossed the ring at him. “You’re not married.”

From under the table, Spencer could hear Cat arm the gun that she hid.

“Why are we here, Spencer?” Cat interrogated.

“We’re here because you belong to a network of 4 hitmen who’ve been operating in the shadows of the internet. You’re known as Miss. 45. My team and I have been hunting you for months and I knew if I boxed you in, I could arrest you with as little resistance as possible.”

“Your team being the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. You guys are good. You’re the only ones that got close to use, but we got kind of close to you, too, didn’t we?” Cat countered, leaning closer to Spencer. “Hi, Penelope.”

“Do you know why I’m so good at my job?”

“Because you kill without compunction or remorse.” Spencer answered.

“That only gets a girl so far in life. No, it’s because I think through every potential outcome, and then I plan accordingly. You see, I didn’t walk into your trap,” Cat chided. “You walked into mine. Where’s your head, Spencer? What are you thinking about?” she moves herself closer to Spencer, keeping eye contact with him.

“I was thinking about entropy,”

“Mhm,” Cat slides her hand across his torso, into his coat.

“It’s the thermodynamic measure of the degradation of matter and energy in the universe. To put in another way-” Spencer jumped as she reached into his pocket.

“There’s your gun.”

“You think-”

“Good evening,” the server interrupts him.

“Hi, uh, you know what? We’ve been having so much getting to know one another, we’ll let you know when we’re ready, okay? Thank you.” Cat tells the man. “Now that we got that out of the way, will you do me a favor and tell pretty girl and blondie mcblonderson over there at the bar to disappear?’

“JJ, Y/N, stand down,” JJ and Y/N heard Hotch say through their earpiece.

The two women got up from their seats, and JJ extended her hand to her, Y/N taking her hand in hers. They started towards Spencer and Cat and Y/N kept eye contact with him as they walked past his booth.

“Thanks for playing, girls,” Cat snickered, waving goodbye to them mockingly.

JJ tightened her grip on Y/N‘s hand and she squeezed back. “If she learns how many agents we have outside, she’ll start shooting,” Hotch said. “Dave, get ready to take her out. Reid, do not let her get up from the table.”

-

“She was cute,” Cat said, her eyes trailing over Y/N’s figure. “Too bad I’m stuck with you. She seems like fun,”

She caught Spencer tighten his jaw and hardened his gaze on her. “What’s the matter, Spencie?”

Spencer feels his chest tighten, staying silent for a brief moment. He pushes down the feeling deep inside him and he regains his posture. “Tell me what you want and I’ll see if I can get it here for you.”

“Anything I want?” Cat drawled, smirking as she glanced at Y/N disappearing into the back of the restaurant. Spencer follows her gaze and quirks a brow.

“Off limits.” Spencer deadpanned.

“You’re no fun,” she pouted. “Fine. Is this just a plan to distract me from what is, I’m sure, an impressive law enforcement response just outside that door?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Ok, let’s talk, but let’s talk about something interesting, at least. Tell me about me.”

“You?” He asked her and she nods eagerly in response. “You’re a black widow hit woman. You specialize in seduction and you’re patient. You learn everything you can about the men you’re hired to kill, physically, psychologically, and emotionally because you want them in as compromised a position as possible so they don’t see it coming when you pull the trigger,”

“And when I do it really well, they pull the trigger themselves,” she said, making Spencer raise a brow. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“Because I know what I want now. I wanna play a game with you, do you like games?”

“I do.”

“Do you win?” she challenged.

“I always win.”

“Okay, here's my game, you have 30 minutes to answer every question I ask and if you lie, I’ll know,” Cat explains, pulling up a timer on Spencer’s phone. “Because I spent the past 10 years of my life studying men and their lies before I kill them. Do you believe me?”

“I do.”

“That was true, you’re getting this. Now, here’s how we’ll know who wins at the end of 30 minutes. If you win, you’ll get to drag me out of here in handcuffs. But if I win, you will escort me out like a gentleman, to make sure I exit safely. What do you say, Spencer? Think you can win this one?”

Spencer quirked up a brow and gestured for her to come close. “Considering everything you put Garcia and so many people through, you’re going to have to shoot me in the face before you walk out of here.”

A sly smirk etched onto Cat’s face. “Game on.”

“What do you want to ask me?”

“How you found me, of course,” she presses start on the timer, starting the 30 minutes. “A professional learns from her mistakes.”

“We got our big break in the case at the end of last year. I didn’t learn how big until I came back from some time off,” he clarified.

“Why’d you take time off?”

“That’s not relevant,”

“That's not the game,” she nagged. “You answer every question I ask. Is it a secret?”

“No,”

“Is it dirty?”

Spencer grimaced at her question. “No,”

“Then tell me.” she frowned.

“It’s not important to your story.”

“Out of curiosity, is it me you don't want to tell or the people listening in?”

He tilted his head, remaining eye contact with her, and he glanced down at the ongoing timer. He could do something with this. Stall her, Spencer thought. “Is this really how you want to spend your 30 minutes?”

“Yes,” Cat answered eagerly. “No… Okay, so you showed up for work one morning and..”

“We learned that someone unexpected decided to talk.”

She hummed in response, lightly dragging her finger against the grains of the wood table. “So your job, all you guys do is make deductions based on information that is basically handed to you on a silver platter, no? Are you guys really profilers or are you just lucky? Because this is what I’m about to say is profiling, the reason you took time off from work was to deal with the same girl who broke your heart.” Spencer shook his head, letting Cat continue. “The death of a parent, then.”

“Nope,”

“Ah, hello! I’m getting close. It’s your mom or dad in the billiard room with the candlestick,”

Cat smirks at Spencer’s silence. “Oh, you’re making the same face you made when I mentioned our pretty girl over there… you’re mad at me, aren’t you?” Cat taunts.

“Yes, you are. I can tell.”

“Not even a little bit.”

Spencer leans closer to her, furrowing his brows. “No offense, but you're not really worth getting angry at.”

Cat squints her eyes. “So you figured out what the four of us did, and then what?”

“We profiled that you operated as spokes on a wheel. Somehow it had to be centralized, how you got jobs, who paid you. Somebody did all that for you.”

“You found the Snowman, didn’t you?”

“Mhm,”

“You took the Chemist and the Snowman out of commission, huh?” she scoffed.

“Did you know?”

“I knew something was off. They didn’t bid on some contracts, and this isn't the kind of job where you get to take time off to be with your…” she tilts her head, pursing her lips. “Mother? Is it your mom? It’s gotta be your mom.”

Spencer shrugged in response, and Cat continued. “Why’d you take time off from the FBI?”

“I’m not going to tell you,”

“Spencer, why did you take time off from the FBI?” she enunciated, drawing out each syllable.

“You can ask me as many times as you want, and you can continue to waste your time, but I’m still not going to tell you.”

“Then you’re cheating, and I don’t like cheaters.”

“You don’t get everything you want just because you’re pointing a gun at me under a table. You’re not the first killer to point a gun at me, you’re not even the first woman to point a gun at me. Sorry.” Spencer said sternly.

“You’re really going to take this all the way, aren't you?”

“Yeah,”

“So am I,” Cat challenges. In the corner of her eye she sees a man stand from his seat, her eyebrows knit together and she slides even closer to Spencer. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Before you say no, I want you to consider something,” she reaches to Spencer’s tie, uncovering a small microphone attached. Cat folds the sides and holds it tight in her hand, muffling it. “I’ll kill the fed walking toward me first. A stationary target’s easy to hit after that, it's a free-fire zone.”

“Fine, I’ll tell you,” he gives in.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I’ll tell you.” Spencer asserts, enclosing Cat’s wrist with his long fingers and setting her own hand in her lap. “Rossi, stand down,” he says and looks over his shoulder, seeing the other man standing over the two. “Please.”

With a nod, Rossi slowly retreats to the team’s designated area. Meanwhile, JJ and Y/N stood impatiently at the kitchen's doors, waiting for the go ahead to move out, but once they saw the familiar tufts of black and gray hair, they were quick to meet Rossi halfway.

“Welcome to the locker room.” JJ huffed.

“I hate the locker room.”

“Ditto.” Y/N added, crossing her arms. The trio stood side by side, trying to stay out of the staff's way as much as possible. After all, they are seating a whole team of FBI agents and one of the most dangerous women in the world. The least they could do is to be polite, right? Y/N peaked out the window of the kitchen door and scanned the tables until she caught eyes with Derek who sent a wink her way. She nodded and retreated back into the kitchen. “Lewis and Morgan are still out there,” she said, claiming her spot besides JJ. “If anything goes wrong, they’ll-”

“Shh…” Rossi hushed, placing his index finger over his lips.

Y/N opened her mouth to speak again, but quickly shuts it when she heard Spencer’s voice through her earpiece.

“My mother has schizophrenia, and the doctor has changed her medication, which seemed to agitate her, so I went to the treatment center to help her,” Spencer said. Y/N touched her earpiece as if it would make her hear him more clearly.

“That’s it?” The three of them heard Cat’s muffled voice.

“That's it.”

“That’s part of the truth, you’re holding something back.”

“It’s the truth.”

“To be clear, you have zero control here. None.” she remarked. “I outflanked you from the beginning.”

“Some of your moves were pretty obvious,”

“Such as?”

“Such as showing up armed, such as changing the venue at the last moment,”

“I needed a restaurant full of innocents in case this was a trap,.” Cat interjected.

“If you really suspected this was a trap, then why show up at all? Even when you first laid eyes on me, from the bar, from outside, from wherever you were, you should have seen through me and kept moving, but didn’t,” he interrogates. “You couldn’t because you can’t get to the man you really want to hurt, so you need to hurt any man who reminds you of him.”

“That’s kind of boilerplate psychology, isn't it?” Cat says, staring at him blankly with tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m just another girl with daddy issues,”

“You’d be surprised how many killers do what they do because of their parents. If it’s so boilerplate, why don’t we test that theory? How hard did you look for him?”

“Very hard.”

“And how disappointed were you when you realized you will never find him? You need some other outlet for your rage and for a while this worked, but it also tripped you up. Can I tell you a little secret? Everything eventually falls apart. The trick is accepting when it’s over.”

On the trio's end, it goes completely silent and the only thing they could hear was the sound of the surrounding kitchen, then suddenly they hear a stopwatch ring. The thirty minutes was up. It’s not going to be that easy, Y/N thought.

“Except it ain't over, is it?” They hear Cat ask.

“Do you really think I’m just going to let you walk out of here?”

Cat leans forward in her seat, staring Spencer down. “You profiled so much about me, except you forgot to ask the most important question. Why would I make you sit here for thirty minutes?”

“Because you’re stalling.” he answers quickly.

“Then you don’t know me at all. Do you think I’d show up here without an escape plan? Or is that just another girl with daddy issues would do? Maybe if you hadn’t fallen victim to your own gender bias — and yes, all men have a gender bias, even you, Dr. Reid — you would have recognized that your entire strategy was based on one faulty detail. Can you see it?”

“You’re not here alone,” Spencer attested, making Y/N and the other’s head perk up.

“And my partner? Less paranoid than you think.”

“You planted a bomb in the building.”

JJ, Y/N, and Rossi looked up at one another at the same moment and were quick to their feet. “We’re on the move.” JJ said.

-

“Wait,” Cat blurted. “Your mother—tell me.”

Spencer caught his lip between his teeth and averted his eyes. “Is—is this apart of the game?”

“No. The game’s over.”

He tightened his fist in the sleeve of his jacket, fiddling with the fabric, and refused to lock eyes with the woman in front of him. “When I looked at her medical chart, it… didn’t make any sense. The medication that they gave her should have been helping, but I couldn’t figure out what was making her so angry. So… I, uh,” he swallows the lump in his throat. “I went to see her. The moment I walked in her room, I saw it. For 3 seconds… she didn’t know who I was. I, um, I had her tested that morning, and I found out that night that she had early onset Dementia. Most likely Alzheimer's.” Spencer sniffled.

On Y/N’s end, the three of them were silent. They stood there in the brooding silence and winced when they heard Cat speak. “Did you get yourself tested?”

“Did you know about this?” JJ whispered to Y/N.

“Not entirely.” she murmured back.

“You were too scared,” Cat said, matter-of-factly.

“I thought I dodged a bullet when I turned 30 and didn’t have a schizophrenic break like her, but this is somehow bigger and scarier because I can actually see it happening. All the memories that we used to share are just dying. I can’t stop it. I can’t help her. All I can do is find people that I can help.” Spencer said, unclenching his fists, and finally meeting her gaze. He was angry, but he didn’t truly know who to be angry at — at Cat for making him spill his guts while his entire team listened in? Or at himself for not trying hard enough to avoid this confrontation? He knew, deep down, that no one was to blame, but in the moment, he’d rather put the blame on something than confront the hurting.

Just as Y/N was about to speak again, a beeping sound came from where they found the bomb and she moved quickly, grabbing Rossi’s and JJ’s wrist and swiftly pulling them along towards safety. “Hotch, she just armed the bomb!”

-

Besides a few disruptions, the team ended the case safely and successfully put both Cat and her partner behind bars. The team went their separate ways with the exception of Derek, Spencer, Y/N, and Penelope. Y/N walked between the two men as they made their way to Derek’s front porch to meet Penelope and Savannah. Y/N’s arms swung slightly as she walked, her hand brushing against Spencer’s a few times, and a frown crept up her face when Spencer defensively tugged his hand closer to him. She stopped for a moment, and they followed her lead.

“So…” Derek starts. “You two want to come in, decompress a bit?’

Y/N and Spencer glanced at each other for a brief moment, waiting for the other to speak first.

“I’m good.”

“I would love to.”

They said in unison.

“I’m probably just gonna go home,” Spencer said, clearing his throat and shuffling his feet across the pavement.

“You sure?” Y/N pouted.

“It was an intense case, kid.” Derek added.

“Yeah… it was. It’s over now, the network is down.”

“Spence,” Y/N says quietly, stepping closer to him. “That medical research I asked you about… was that..”

“Yeah.” he whispered, his eyebrows knitting together.

“You are going to get tested, aren’t you?” Derek asked him.

Spencer lets out a soft exhale and tries to look anywhere but their eyes. “One of the data points that her research told me about was age. I’m, uh, too young to display chromosomal signs, so I’m just gonna have to… learn to live without knowing.”

“Spence…”

“Oh, my god!” They heard Garcia squeal from the porch.

“Oh, hey, hey, hey, what is happening here?” Derek swoops to catch her stumbling down the front steps.

Spencer peeks in front of him, catching a glimpse of a very drunk Penelope Garcia. A wide smile flickers across his face, the dimples in his cheeks looking more prominent under the streetlights. And Y/N can’t help but stare at him in awe. She loves seeing Spencer so happy; he deserves it. He’s told her stories about his past traumas and Y/N wished she could take away all his pain, all of his hurting. Spencer took a quick glance at Y/N when he felt eyes on him, and she giggled at the light pink growing on the apples of his cheeks.

“You’re what’s going on! Right now is what’s—You are here! Do you know what’s happening right now?” Penelope exclaimed, placing her hands on Derek's biceps. “It is- It is done! The dirty dozen is done!”

Spencer let out a loud laugh, making Y/N quickly look at him, and this time, he started laughing harder when they met eyes. Y/N couldn’t contain the feeling in her heart, smiling harder than she’s had in a while, but she jumps when she feels a hand engulf hers. Her eyes trailed down her arm to her hand and looked up to Spencer with beaming eyes. She squeezed his hand, rubbing her thumb along his knuckles.

“—I love you,” Penelope says endearingly to Derek, then points to Spencer and Y/N behind him. “And you two! I love you guys so much!”

Penelope grabbed Y/N’s free hand, engulfing her in a hug. She hugged back with the same amount of force, and Penelope pulled away for a moment to bring in Savannah. “I should be jealous of you because you two are so hot, but I’m not. I’m not. I promise, I’m not! ‘Cause you know what? All I feel inhere is love. I am feeling full of love! So much love. I’m wearing too many clothes.” she spins on her heels, hurriedly making her way back inside. Y/N hid a giggle behind her palm and continued after her, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her steady.

“We got this.” Savannah told Derek and Spencer through giggles.

“Bye, Spence!” Y/N shouted from inside the house.

Spencer's smile widened and in the moment, all he could feel was love. No hurting, no anger, just love for the people he cares for most. Regardless of what happened today, he knew that everything was going to be okay. It had to be okay.

-

a/n: who’s gonna tell spence that this is only the beginning because...

as always, feedback is always appreciated <3

tag list: @eevee0722 @ceeellewrites

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fan fic #criminal minds fanfic #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader

[crispyjenkins]

JangObi soulmate mark au where all Mandalorians know/can sense when someone is marked with their Mandalor [with Jango leading Mandalore as Mandalor after Jasters abdication and no clan wars]

(this is late because it turned into A Thing. and i love the Thing, but it’s still late.

i combined these ‘cause i got them within a day of each other and i thought, what’s better than an undercover meet-cute? undercover meet-cute with soulmates (ノ*´◡`) also this is a meet-ugly. anyways.

just want to touch on that this ‘verse absolutely includes poly soulmates of many forms and numbers, jangobi just happen to have a mono relationship in this based on the prompts 😌)

 “Your sur'gaankar will not share your symbol, you cannot simply look for a match, kih’vod,” Arla teases, poking at Jango’s bare chest where the head of his roughly-drawn mynock leers at them from over his heart. “Marks are companions, not twins; no one soul should be more important than another, so the Ka’ra gave us two. Who knows what your sur'gaankar's is, it could be of something that hasn’t even happened to you yet.”

  Seven year-old Jango wrinkles his nose down at his soulmark like it’s personally offended him. And it has. “Why the kriff do you get a beskad from your sur'gaankar and I get a bloody mynock?”

  Arla bursts into laughter and hopes their parents aren’t listening.

-

  “I beg your pardon.”

  The woman’s grin only widens, leaning right into Obi-Wan’s space, and he hadn’t really counted on running into any supercommandos until Sundari. “‘Haven’t seen your crest before,” the woman repeats, knocking on the painted crest on his chestplate. He had let Master Nu pick it for this assignment, he didn’t want to accidentally end up with a known clan symbol and have to explain any familial relation; she had said it hadn’t been used since before the Coruscant Temple was built, so there shouldn’t be any confusion. 

  “And,” she had added, tapping two fingers on the side of his neck, “it matches you rather nicely, doesn’t it?”

  And he supposes it does, a crane wrapped around a spike of wheat, but he now wishes it were something perhaps a bit less memorable.

  “My clan hasn’t been back to Mandalore space in a few generations,” Obi-Wan lies with his best apologetic smile, easily charming the other Mando as he tucks his helmet under his arm and tries to turn back to the ration stall he’d been restocking from. The Keldabe marketplace bustles around them, and Obi-Wan thinks it’s a miracle the woman had even spotted his armour through the crowd, with how tightly species of all sorts press together and jostle them along their way.

  “I’m Kryze clan,” she announces, wriggling around an Esperion to plant herself next to Obi-Wan, giving the rations a passing glance before focusing back on her captive audience.

  He holds back a sigh, pulling up his mental clan map that he had studied on the jump to Mandalore. “I’ve only been planetside for an hour,” he admits with that same smile as he pays for his box of jerky and taps a little salute to the stall owner. “I thought the Kryzes were further up towards Sundari?”

  Kryze bounces along behind him, red hair catching the sunlight quite nicely; Obi-Wan can’t fathom why she’s still following him. “Most of the family is, yeah, I’m the only supercommando. Where’re you from, burc’ya? Your accent sounds funny.”

  He gives a bewildered laugh at that; had she never been to the Core? Both ducking into a dimly-lit tech shop, Kryze waves at the Mon Calamari behind the counter like old friends. 

  “‘Family’s split between Coruscant and Odos,” Obi-Wan decides on, which would explain both his Core accent and why his Mando’a is more slurred than what’s spoken on Mandalore. “You got a first name to go with that clan?”

  Kryze’s smile turns playful, not quite flirtatious, and Obi-Wan wonders if she’s already found her starmark. “Bo-Katan, but Haat’ade can call me Bo. And are you?”

  He raises a brow through a shelf of droid parts. “Am I what?”

  “Haat’ade,” Bo-Katan grins, staying closer to the door while Obi-Wan collects a few upgrades for his speeder. “You don’t seem like a Journeyman Protector, but you’re clearly a fighter. So. Haat Mando’ade?”

  “Can I be Haat’ade if I haven’t answered my Mand’alor’s call even once?” It’s an amusing thought, to be seen as Mando enough to qualify for the ruler of Mandalore’s supercommandos; he doubts Bo-Katan would be quite so kind if she knew he wears their armour in deception. “No, burc’ya, one cannot pick and choose from the Resol’nare. I’m as good as dar’manda out here.”

  Humming in thought, she skips to join him at the counter to watch him try to haggle a lower price on his goods. “To be fair, you said your clan hasn’t been around other Mando’ade in a while, ‘lek? Hells, do you even know who the current Mand’alor is?”

  Obi-Wan doesn’t answer until he knows he’s not being ripped off by the Mon Calamari, and slips his new goggles around his neck. “Only his crest,” he says, and it’s only slightly a lie: the Republic has little to no sway in Mandalore space, he doubts anyone further than Concordia knows the Mand’alor’s full name. “Tell me, are you part of the recruiting committee?”

  Bo-Katan throws her head back to laugh, and it’s a good laugh, bright and sincere, still a little childish at the edges. “No, but I liked the look about you,” she teases, leaning on the counter. “You seemed... warm.”

  He lifts a brow again, wondering if maybe she’s Force sensitive. “I’ve never been called that before.” Which also isn’t exactly a lie.

  “Mm, maybe I just liked finding another redhead.” She smiles and wrinkles her nose cutely. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you didn’t give your name, stranger. Secrecy will only get you so far here.”

  “And if I wasn’t planning on staying?” 

  “Then you should still tell me your name because I asked so nicely.” Batting her eyelashes, she sets her helmet on the counter to cross her arms, the Mon Calamari grumbling but not telling them to leave just yet. 

  “Vhett,” Obi-Wan laughs, securing his new parts and his credit pouch in his pack so he doesn’t lose them to the sticky fingers in the marketplace. “Benyamin Vhett.”

  When he looks back at his new companion, her smile has disappeared for a troubled sort of blankness, as she looks at him even more critically.

  Then her surprise and glee is a flash in the Force, so bright it’s blinding as she launches back to her feet, grin returning with such a fury that Obi-Wan doesn’t even stop her from getting right back into his space.

  She must find some sort of answer in his face, because she puts a hand on his cheek with her eyes positively shining. “Utreekov!” she exclaims gleefully, “How could you string me along like that?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “It figures you’d be just as difficult as him,” she says, spinning around to snatch up her helmet before grabbing his arm and yanking him back onto the street. “You should have told him when you got here, he— Corellian Hells, is this why he’s been disappearing off into Hutt Space?”

  Something in the Force tells Obi-Wan to hold his tongue, to let Bo-Katan guide him through the market as quickly as the crowds allow — some citizens even bounce out of their way once they get a good look at Bo-Katan. Obi-Wan’s been a Shadow too long to get lost even in a busy city like this, but he still has to concentrate to memorise the path she takes him, out of duracrete into clay and wood buildings that bake under the sun and whisper history far more alive than Obi-Wan is used to.

  She kicks open the door to an ancient-looking cantina that Obi-Wan doesn’t have time to read the name of before Bo-Katan is dragging him bodily inside and shouting over the din, “Mand’alor! I’ve got your sur’gaankar!”

  Something like terror lodges in Obi-Wan’s throat as every commando in the cantina freezes and stops talking all at once, staring at them in the sunlit doorway like the second coming of the Sith. Then all heads snap just as quickly towards a table near the back — all except one man lounging at the table who still stares at Obi-Wan with more than surprise, and this is where Obi-Wan’s entire mission falls apart. This is where every commando realises Obi-Wan isn’t whoever Bo-Katan seems to think he is, this is where they call his bluff and he blows his entire cover, and Quinlan is going to make dick jokes at his funeral.

  Bo-Katan smirks and marches right for the man, pulling a shell-shocked Obi-Wan through the cantina until she releases him to lean over the man’s table— the Mand’alor’s table. Obi-Wan wonders if he can somehow make it out one of the windows before anyone grabs him.

  “So, ori’vod,” Bo-Katan drawls, clearly far from meaning it affectionately, “when were you gonna tell the rest of the Haat’ade that you’d already found your soulmark, hm?”

  Ohh, and there goes Obi-Wan’s breathing. 

  This “ori’vod” blinks, first at Bo-Katan, and then at Obi-Wan, and he just had to be attractive, didn’t he. The Force couldn’t give Obi-Wan one break and make him someone, anyone, that didn’t shine quite like he does in the low-light?

  “I have never seen this man before in my life.”

  Obi-Wan lets out his breath, mentally preparing himself for the whole cantina to descend on him. 

  But Bo-Katan just stares back at the Mand’alor and, Obi-Wan looking around at other commandos, everyone seems to be in disbelief of him, and not— not Obi-Wan. Which is just a strange cherry to top his already frankly ridiculous day, especially when Bo-Katan leans closer to her Mand’alor to squint at him.

  “So he’s just some other ‘Vhett’, then?”

  Obi-Wan licks his lips. “Bo—”

  “No, no, I wanna hear what excuse he tries to come up with when we can all feel it.”

  Embarrassment prickles Obi-Wan’s neck, and feels even less in control than he had a moment ago; he doesn’t remember learning anything about commandos being able to feel things about their leader, but to be fair, he can’t remember much of any of his lessons right now.

  A Mando in gold armour across the table from Jango takes off their helmet, revealing a Rattataki that stares him down with a meaning far deeper than Obi-Wan is privy to just then. 

  “Mand’alor,” they say, tapping their first knuckle over the left side of their chest, and Obi-Wan’s neck prickles again. 

  And then every commando in the cantina does the same, tapping the chest of their beskar’gam and nodding towards Jango, as if one entity, as if they had rehearsed it; the prickle turns to a burn, Obi-Wan darting a hand up to his throat as something shifts in the Force.

  Bo-Katan finally seems to be catching on that they truly don’t know each other, but instead of angry, she perks up and yanks Obi-Wan closer to the table. “He’s from Odos, he has no idea what’s going on,” she says as Obi-Wan stumbles over his own feet. “Congrats, Mand’alor, I found your sur’gaankar for you.”

  Obi-Wan winces before he allows himself to finally meet Jango’s gaze, and doesn’t know what to make of what he finds: a curious sort of trust, disbelief but acceptance, and it’s only when Jango gets to his feet that Obi-Wan realises no one had said his name. That the wheat fronds over his collarbones and around his neck have never bothered him before. 

  That he’s probably going to have to call Quinlan to finish the job in Sundari. 

Mando’a: sur’gaankar — “soulmate”, lit. “picture heart” from sur’gaan “picture” and kar’ta “heart” kih’vod —”little sibling” (’vod’ most often used in fandom as “brother”; ‘kih’ intentionally used instead of ‘ika’) Ka’ra — an ancient Mandalorian story, ruling council of fallen kings, “stars” beskad — traditional Mandalorian curved saber made of beskar. burc’ya — friend (also used ironically or sarcastically) Haat’ade — lit. “true child of Mandalore”, True Mandalorians (slang shortened to Haat'ad/e)  Mand’alor — “Sole ruler”, contended ruler of Mandalore. Resol’nare — “Six Actions”, the six tenets guiding Mando life ‘lek — “yeah”, short for elek, or “yes” utreekov — “idiot,” “fool,” lit. “empty head” ori’vod — “big brother”, either older sibling or a special friend (used here ironically) beskar’gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy

#bo katan was the thing #i don't even like bo katan?? #i don't know what she's doing here? #crispy writes #soulmate au #soulmark au #mando'a #jangobi #jango fett/obi-wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi #jango fett #prompt fill #ask #anon #fanfiction #prequel trilogy #au #mandalorian courting customs #mand'alor jango #jaster's off livin' it up on his farm and drinking tihaal #laughing about how useless his kid is #bo katan kryze #mij was supposed to be there somewhere and i whiffed it #sur'gaankar au