#I am really not lying when I said it's making me ten times more feral now that I've already read it

[memorydragon]

Spoilers ahead. Confusing spoilers if you haven't started the novel, but if you're half-way through please scroll past.

So when I say this scene is what drove me mental years ago back when I first started reading Po Yun and Tun Hai, that reading it again even after so many years still made me feral. This was the Ride or Die moment that never left while translations were dropped and disappearing. Please understand when I say that reading again after reading the whole novel makes me 10x more feral than before. That is not an exaggeration. I am 100% not okay and these are crying in the club hours. F̴̻̹̊͑̉̿e̵̘̠͈͗ͅr̶̞̠͍̮̓̊͠ā̶͈̹̅̓͠ḻ̵͓̏͑͘.

Because Wu Yu's long, long panic attack, because when he's finally able to come up for air when the waves recede just the slightest, he's pushed back down again and again, because his 'safe' person has been taken away.

Because this 'elite' who had an easy life, just admitted he'd been dragged from the fire when he was nine years old after his parents were murdered in front of him. This person who wants to take him out of this hell and pull him back, who should be safe, is covering Wu Yu with his whole body, cradling his head and covering his eyes as a ruthless mob decends on them. Because this shouldn't be happening again - but death follows behind him mercilessly cutting everyone down but leaving him. Because dying is easy living is more difficult. Bu Chonghua's blood is on his face and this person should be safe but keeping their promise requires sacrifice. Please don't promise any more.

(Bu Chonghua was supposed to run. He was supposed to leave Wu Yu to deal with the mob. But if he'd done that, people would have died, and it probably wouldn't be Wu Yu, and he'd promised to pull Wu Yu back from this abyss. He wouldn't let the rage of the mob swallow Wu Yu like a wave, dragging him back under. As they beat him, he cradle's Wu Yu's head and covers his eyes, because he won't give Wu Yu up, not to the ocean or to fire, and I'm so fucking Normal about this.)

Liao Gang sees Wu Yu at the hospital and knows something is wrong. Something is off, this is not the meek and submissive Wu Yu they've met for these past few months. He correctly pulls Wu Yu aside and instead of admonishing him to go get checked over, he says 'hey, why don't you get checked out by the hospital because someone needs to look after Captain Bu tonight. If you let them patch you up, you'll be put with the captain.' And Wu Yu finally - finally relents and allows the hospital staff to look him over.

When the lights are off and he can't sleep because there's no light he tries to trace over the current Bu Chonghua with the memory of the child he'd saved in the past, and he can't sleep but he can finally breathe. Now he can agree that Bu Chonghua and Zhang Boming are different, that Bu Chonghua isn't just an elite who sends his subordinates to death for greater glory, but someone who wants to pull him back. (And I'm putting it more politely. I honestly love that Wu Yu is still sort of cursing Bu Chonghua out when he says this, because of course he is, and Bu Chonghua is immediately gonna chew him out for smoking. I love Them.)

But when he wakes up, Bu Chonghua is gone. The hospital bed is empty and cold, and there's a committee of directors who have come to question him. He asks where his safe person Bu Chonghua is, but they put him off, saying they just want to ask a few questions. Bu Chonghua has been isolated because there's been a death - death always follows him - and they're pushing the blame on him and Bu Chonghua. Why did Zhang Boming jump to his death? What did you say to him? Why did you survive? What right do you have to survive? He'll take all the blame on himself. He was the one who killed the suspect, Bu Chonghua didn't hurt any of the mob. It was him, it was all him, and what right do you have to speak about loyalty and sacrifice, when the hospital report on their injuries is right in front of you. They assume Wu Yu will see this is just a formality, but he doesn't have the frame of reference they knew he should It wasn't him with that frame of reference, he never had one and he lashes out. They're caging him, blaming him again, and what right do you have to talk about loyalty to someone who is on the front lines?

What right do you have to come back? What right do you have to survive?

After they sedate him and bring him back, leaving him in confinement (there's a bed, his wounds have been dressed, and there's even a tv and above average food left out for him. It's a plush confinement, only for one night. They think they're going easy on him and he should be grateful, because no one told them he's panicking and has been in danger undercover his whole life for twelve years and he hasn't been able to handle eating meat since he was a child. The lights are off when he wakes up, and he's alone. The lights are off and no one is responding when he asks them to turn on the lights. No one is there when he's progressively slipping back under the waves of panic. And when he lifts the lid on the food, all he can smell is meat.

He bites his own finger, trying to wash it out with the smell of the disinfectant from his wounds and blood, but he can still smell the meat that he spilt in his own revulsion and the lights are still off. (Wu Yu, little fish, I'm not blaming you, but please, please learn to talk about your triggers and let people know so they can accommodate you, because they would actually like to accommodate you and you're not weak because you have ptsd, you're breaking our hearts. Also, as an aside, Song Ping is actually quite hilarious in this fight. He's not to blame either, but he's making things so much worse and I love that Bu Chonghua has to yell at both of them to calm down because they're both set off on his sake)

And when someone finally comes, finally turns on the lights, they're blaming him. Look how you're acting! You're acting like a spoiled child when we've sacrifed been so nice to you! We've brought you back here, to this place you've worked for several months, your new home!

Except he never came back.

He was never brought back.

He was sacrificed for to catch the criminal. He died because his life was less important than catching someone on the wrong side of the law.

He was never asked if he wanted this sacrifice. He never wanted to be a cop. Who is Wu Yu? He's never had a name. Let him go, let him go - let him go!

He was never brought back. He never came back - Zhang Boming made the correct choice, but he never came back. The sacrifice was chosen, the promise was paid. Why did he survive? What right did Wu Yu have to survive when we he never came back.

"Wu Yu!"

He never came back.

"It's me. Okay, calm down." Someone restraining him, and he struggles automatically, but slowly stops. "It's me, Wu Yu. It's me. Just calm down."

Bu Chonghua came back. Held him above the water untll he could catch his breath. And finally, finally...

The boy left his own blood on Bu Chonghua's cheek, disappearing for twenty years, leaving only one command - Survive.

"I arrived late."

"I was just a little worried. It wasn't very late." It wasn't his whole life twelve years. It was only one nightmare. You pulled me back.

The boy who rushed off to save a child he didn't know finally appeared before Bu Chonghua again. He came back.

He came back.

[mythiccheroacademia]

The whole time traveling children has me feelin some type of way tbh. Imagine Mirio, Kaminari, and Tamaki walking into their respective rooms and there are just small children vibing. Mirio with his daughter, Kaminari with a daughter and Tamaki with a son. 😭

as i said, parent!bnha is SUPERIOR

A/N: So, instead of making these separate asks, I’m just going to make it one giant post. I thought it would be easier that way. Probably the only post that’ll have more than three characters lol

Warnings: none

Kaminari Denki:

when kaminari walked into his room, he didn't expect to see two children on his bed fighting like wild animals

the younger girl was totally beating the boy’s ass tho

kinda embarrassing bc she’s gotta be like, seven, at most

as if it’s not the weirdest thing he’s seen (bc it’s not) he rushes in to break them apart

he manages to separate them with his arms 

the boy with yellow hair snaps his jaws at his sister’s fingers

“hey! bad! no biting!” he scolds

the little girl blows a raspberry and taunts “yeah! papa says no biting!”

the older sibling just rolls his eyes “rat”

meanwhile, denki is literally malfunctioning

papa?

PAPA? HUH???

the only person’s pants (and heart) he’s been trying to get in to for the past three months was y/n’s and he sure as hell would remember if he did

he didn't have kids

especially one that was his age

“sorry! you two are cute, but i’m not your pops”

thus, they begin to tell denki about how they mayhaps followed him and their mother into a dangerous mission and got hit with a time travel quirk

denki just nods his head

tbh, he’s not that weirded out

weirder things have happened

but, he does have one question

“who’s the lucky woman?”

coincidentally, you bust into his dorm room, wet from a recent prank and head steaming with anger

“Kaminari Denki!”

his son juts a thumb over to you

“the woman that’s about to murder you”

“oh say less”

his life literally couldn't get any better

before you get the chance to throttle him, the little girl jumps in your arms and your anger is immediately quelled 

“hey mommy! i just wanna let you know that it was [son’s name]’s fault that we followed you when you told us not to”

“WHAT!?”

you’re to busy trying to get them from killing each other to comprehend anything that’s going on

kaminari is in a love-struck gaze bc hot damn, he won the jackpot, huh?

if he wasn't in love with you before, he’s in love with you now

you and your feral children

it was nice being God’s favorite

Kirishima Eijirou: 

funny thing was

kirishima woke up from his afternoon nap with his mini-me in his arms!

at first, he was really confused as to why there was an 8 yr old boy with spiky teeth and (your hair texture) black hair on his bed

he thought he was dreaming

then the little boy bit his nose and grinned like he had done the funniest thing in the world 

“WAKE UP DADDY! WE GOTTA GET SWOL TODAY”

did he get hit with some duplication quirk?

and what was that he said...daddy?

as in, father?

kirishima is wide awake now, but before he can ask the kid what’s going on, the boy is up and making use of his punching bag

he decides it wouldn't hurt to get a morning work out in, so he decides to humor the kid

after a mini workout, kirishima is in near tears as the boy tries to flex the little muscles he has 

eventually, he gets the kid to tell him what happened and finds out he was hit with a time travel quirk of some sort

instead of being weirded out, kirishima is ESCTATIC 

he has a family in the future 

he’s so excited and proud that he just has to show his son off to his friends!

the first thing he does is go and bother bakusquad in the common room

he’s bragging like shit to them and his ego swells as they all swoon over how cute and handsome the kid is 

you and bakugo come out of the kitchen to see what all the commotion is about and the little boy excitedly runs to you and jumps into your arms 

“momma! you’re here! you’re so pretty! why’d you marry daddy when he looks so unswol?”

it’s silent before bakugo fucking dies of laughter 

“y-you finally let shitty hair hit it? and got knocked up?? LMAO”

everyone’s dying and kirishima wants to die

he can’t believe this was how his long-term crush on you was getting outted

by an 8 yr old boy

so not manly

you look confused before you put the pieces together

the kid did look like you and kirishima

you want to console kirishima about the crush that you lowkey knew he had on you, but your son was one step ahead of you

with a gracious smile, he hits bakugo’s head

hard

“what the fuck kid!?”

“don’t make fun of daddy, uncle bakugo! at least daddy didn’t faint at his wedding″

Bakugo’s contemplating murder and everyone’s rolling on the floor

“WE BEEN KNEW YOU WERE THE BIGGEST SIMP”

even ten years later, bakugo still holds a grudge against your son

Togata Mirio:

i’m about to kill y’all w this one

since year one, mirio has been feigning over you 

but 1) you were too dumb to notice 2) you both were really busy with, y’know, school and 3) he lowkey gave up bc he thought you deserved better

so imagine his surprise when he sees this four year old girl on his bed

and she looks like you with his features

mirio might not be the brightest crayon in the crayon box

but he’s got eyes

and it wasn't like he’s memorized your features to the T

the tiny girl is swinging her legs absent-mindedly before exploding with happiness when he sees him

she runs to mirio and he catches her with open arms 

“daddy! daddy! i got hit with the coolest quirk at school today!”

proceeds to tell him about her best friend discovered her quirk and it was a teleportation quirk 

mirio can’t help but giggle along with her even tho he knew it was a scary situation for the parents

speaking of which...

he innocently asks her who’s the mom

“mommy is the prettiest mommy in the world! she has e/c eyes, hair like me, and the most beautiful s/c skin! her name is togata y/n!”

if he wasn't geeking before, he’s geeking now

not only did he manage to marry you, but you let him be your baby daddy?

him?

big bet

mirio doesn't even care at this point

he’s parading around UA with the fattest smile as he introduces his daughter to damn near everyone 

everyone’s freaking out bc wtf when did mirio get someone pregnant??

maybe he should've explained himself, but he sees you at your locker and makes a b-line for you

“good morning, y/n!”

he doesn't notice that you slam your locker close and hide the confession letter you wrote to him behind your back

you’re a stuttering mess and he’s too busy basking in the fact that he’s holding y’alls child 

y’all look like a mess

but he’s ready to lay it on thick when the little girl kisses your nose and cheers,

“mommy, i missed you”

he explains the situation 

you cant help but smile, “you know this could potentially ruin the timeline?”

and you feel like melting as he gives you the softest smile 

“there’s no way I’m letting that happen. not when i end up with the woman i’m in love with. we’ll just have to twist fate together”

and twist it you did

Tamaki Amajiki:

tamaki wasn't the bravest person ever 

and he knew his crippling anxiety got in the way of a lot

but he had never been more proud of himself for managing to invite you to his room

it was supposed to be a study date

despite how bold you normally were, he took comfort in how nervous you seemed 

now, you two were leaning in, about to kiss

and then a voice from behind interrupts 

“uh, am i interrupting something?”

you two let out the ugliest squeal and jump 50 feet away from each other 

you’re all over the place, trying to explain the situation

tamaki’s heart is barely beating at this point

it takes the kid, who looks about 16, about thirty minutes to calm you down and revive tamaki

explains that he’s from the future and a descendant of tamaki’s family

decides to leave out that you two are his parents so he doesn't risk possibly erasing himself from the space continuum 

that would be bad

despite how surprised you two were, you two take it rather well 

you three spend the day together bc you and tamaki feel this weird sense of responsibility for the guy even though he’s only two years younger

the boy is trying his hardest not to expose himself, but it’s so hard

you two are asking him everything from his favorite food to if he has any siblings

he’s good at pretending that he’s cool, calm, and collected, but he wants nothing more than to jump into his parents’ arms and cry about how scared he is of messing up

but he won’t 

bc he’s a strong boy

but he slips up

“how far are you down the future?” tamaki asks

“uh, about like 100 years or so--”

“you’re lying”

the kid nearly chokes on his food as his father blinks at him

you try and scold tamaki but he continues

“i don’t mean to be mean, but your nose twitches when you lie. y/n does the same thing”

that’s when the jazz record stops and everyone is staring at one another

“....wait”

this time, you nearly pass out

y’all had a kid together???

THE HELL??

the boy, coincidentally, starts fading and he thinks he fucked up

now he’s full out sobbing into the both of your chests, scared that he’s disappearing

despite the news, you and tamaki calm down, look at each other, and hold your son

“don’t you worry, baby” you coo, kissing his fading hair

“i have a feeling we’ll see you quite soon” tamaki comforts, closing his eyes

Bakugo Katsuki:

bakugo finally understood when his mom said

“the meaner you are to your parents, the nastier your kids will be to you”

he regretted being such a demon bc his kid was literally the spawn of satan

katsuki didn’t need an explanation to know that that...thing was his kid

he looked damn near identical to him with features that he couldn't quite place

but anyways, that wasn't the focus rn

rn, he was trying to figure out a way to keep that animal caged

as soon as katsuki took his eyes off him, the six yr old ran out the door as fast as his little legs could carry him

“catch me if you can, you old bastard!”

yup, it was his kid

“GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE FUCKER”

his son is blasting his way through the halls, skillfully evading Katsuki’s grabbing hands 

he’s wildly laughing as he flips and turns through the doors, watching with glee as his father falls on his face

multiple times

the small boy latches on to a cupboard and smirks

“no wonder mom always beats your ass! you weak!”

katsuki nearly looks like the devil, eyes white, and face red with fury

his pride suffering by the second

he’s about to cuss the kids to hell when you come out of the kitchen, confused

you were about to ask why katsuki looked like a rat with rabies before you caught sight of a basket of fruit teetering on the edge of the cabinet, above the little boy’s head

“look out--”

the basket falls on the kid’s head and he’s on the floor, reeling from the hit

katsuki would've normally laughed his ass off, but he felt kind of...concerned?

he watches you run towards the child who’s trying his hardest not to cry

the boy holds his head, fat tears in his eyes as you pick him up and coddle over him 

“i’m sorry, baby. I'm sorry i didnt get there in time” 

cue the waterworks 

the boy is full-on sobbing into your chest about how his head hurts

you bounce him and kiss his forehead as katsuki checks over the red bump 

“you’ll be okay, brat” he comforts, voice softer than usual

in that moment, katsuki can’t help but notice how much a family y’all look like rn

then the dots start connecting and he goes 

oh shit 

so, maybe, he’s had a tiny crush on you

and it didn’t help that you two were friends with benefits bc yall were horny teenagers

but who knew he’d get the balls to ask you out on a proper date one day

he was such a simp for you gosh it was ugly

“you have to be more careful from now on,”  you say to the boy 

the brat suddenly looks innocent and katsuki wants to throw him

“sorry, mommy. i’ll be gooder”

the look on your face is priceless 

bakugo uses it as a chance to kiss you 

“huh?”

“i guess now’s a good time to tell you that i want to be your dick on demand but with feelings and shit, dumbass”

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hiya I don't actually know if you still do this but have you got any steter where stiles looks after Peter in the hospital bc it always makes me really sad that Peter didn't have anyone during that time 😔

Thank you :)

I sure do!

If Our Eyes Saw Souls by Triangulum

(1/1 I 3,012 I Not Rated)

"Weren't you listening? I said it's not your time. I'm not here for you," Stiles says, waving his hand. "I'm off-duty."

"Off duty," Peter says slowly.

"Yeah. The twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days a year thing gets tiring after a few thousand years," Stiles says. "We unionized after the bubonic plague, because fuck, that was a nightmare."

"Grim reapers unionized..." Peter says.

"Yep," Stiles says, smirking. "Am I breaking your brain, dude?"

Or

Stiles is a reaper, and Peter's soul shouldn't be floating around the hospital.

paint it black (please don't, rainbows are so much nicer) by WindyRein

(1/1 I 5,322 I Mature)

He's ten when his soulmate slips into a coma. He's eleven when he sees his soulmate for the first time. He's sixteen when he actually meets his soulmate.

Keep You (Safe) Within my Shadow by lavenderlotion

(5/5 I 13,101 I Explicit)

Stiles has never been scared of the dark. The shadows are his friends.

follow the red string by finnickyfox

(5/7 I 16,135 I Teen)

“I have a confession."

Humoring Stiles, Peter lowers his voice in a whisper of mock-seriousness. “Care to share?”

“My red string stopped knitting healing triskelions three weeks ago. I’ve been lying.”

Peter laughs. “Sweet one, I know. I can hear your heartbeat stutter and your guilt is heavy in the bond.”

“You don’t mind?”

“I’m far more selfish than you think, dear heart. I need you to want me,” Peter says, “with or without your strings.”

/~\

This is a story about a half-feral magic boy healing a half-feral comatose werewolf. This is a story about magic and revenge and learning how to be taken care of. This is a love story.

Once Upon a Dream by Ragga

(1/1 I 19,676 I Mature)

It was like the door was on fire.

Stiles stood there, staring. As the realization sunk in, he slowly reached for the doorknob. He grabbed it. It burned, as if blazing hot and freezing cold at the same time. He was stuck, fascinated, and then the door clicked-

-and he was blasted with rage and grief so powerful the next thing he saw was the ceiling of his room.

Who was that?

A Burning Bright Future by TailorNorata

(8/8 I 21,976 I Explicit)

Stiles found him, crawling towards the door, burning almost everywhere but not giving up. He might actually have made it without Stiles but in this universe he didn’t have to. He grabbed the guy under his arms and pulled. The man was heavier than he looked and barely responsive but weakly helped Stiles to carry him out. When Stiles crossed the door’s threshold a beam behind them collapsed. It almost felt like it had just waited for Stiles to pass underneath it. And considering the way Stiles’ world was changing right now he felt not beyond believing that might be what happened.

[stetervault]

Hi, first off thank you for running this blog! It is the first place I check for TW fic recs :) <3 Would you be able to help me find any fics where Stiles has sex with/bonds/mates with Peter while he's in a coma? Doesn't matter if its sweet or messed up. Even of its just where Stiles helps heal Peter while in coma. Or takes advantage whatever you can think to recommend. Just some part of story revolving around Stiles seeing Peter in coma. I'm just not sure how to tag this in a AO3 search! Thanks

Lol I'm glad it's been helpful to you! Hmm for this trope I'd usually search for something like "coma" or "comatose peter hale" (or "comatose peter" -- this one includes all fics with this tag AND the one with his full name) or even "catatonic peter hale" under the steter tag, so you can give those a try and see if you find anything you like. Here's a few recs to start you off, some (most?) are pretty old so you might've already read them, but I think they're really good, even for a reread:

Sympathy for the Devil by KouriArashi

Stiles gets a job as a hospital orderly and finds himself becoming strangely attached to the catatonic man on the long-term care ward, and finds out that there's a lot more to Peter Hale than there seems...

paint it black (please don't, rainbows are so much nicer) by WindyRein

He's ten when his soulmate slips into a coma. He's eleven when he sees his soulmate for the first time. He's sixteen when he actually meets his soulmate.

If Our Eyes Saw Souls by Triangulum

"Weren't you listening? I said it's not your time. I'm not here for you," Stiles says, waving his hand. "I'm off-duty."

"Off duty," Peter says slowly.

"Yeah. The twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days a year thing gets tiring after a few thousand years," Stiles says. "We unionized after the bubonic plague, because fuck, that was a nightmare."

"Grim reapers unionized..." Peter says.

"Yep," Stiles says, smirking. "Am I breaking your brain, dude?"

Or

Stiles is a reaper, and Peter's soul shouldn't be floating around the hospital.

Once Upon a Dream by Ragga

It was like the door was on fire.

Stiles stood there, staring. As the realization sunk in, he slowly reached for the doorknob. He grabbed it. It burned, as if blazing hot and freezing cold at the same time. He was stuck, fascinated, and then the door clicked-

-and he was blasted with rage and grief so powerful the next thing he saw was the ceiling of his room.

Who was that?

Keep You (Safe) Within my Shadow by lavenderlotion

Stiles has never been scared of the dark. The shadows are his friends.

follow the red string by finnickyfox

“I have a confession."

Humoring Stiles, Peter lowers his voice in a whisper of mock-seriousness. “Care to share?”

“My red string stopped knitting healing triskelions three weeks ago. I’ve been lying.”

Peter laughs. “Sweet one, I know. I can hear your heartbeat stutter and your guilt is heavy in the bond.”

“You don’t mind?”

“I’m far more selfish than you think, dear heart. I need you to want me,” Peter says, “with or without your strings.”

/~\

This is a story about a half-feral magic boy healing a half-feral comatose werewolf. This is a story about magic and revenge and learning how to be taken care of. This is a love story.

Everything's Okay (I'm here; I'll find you) by finnickyfox

Peter's minding his own business, trapped in murderous grief, when a voice kicks down the door into his head, declaring everything will be alright. But what the hell does this voice know?

Apparently, a lot.

One werewolf, one telepathic bond, two comas—a classic recipe for love.

Wind Chimes by wynnebat

"Why are you here?" Peter asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I can understand curiosity, but Stiles, you have visited me nearly every day for years. It can't be that simple."

Stiles shrugs. It's both simple and not. For him, who grew up with the wind, who is inseparable from it in the best of ways, it is absurdly simple. For Peter, who doesn't trust the wind as Stiles does, it may not be. "The wind says you're mine. That's all I need."

Blue by wynnebat (kind of, aftermath of it)

Derek brings both Scott and Stiles to the hospital to prove a point about hunters, but Stiles isn’t sure the point he’s getting is the point Derek’s trying to make. Especially when his black and white world explodes into color the moment he looks into Peter Hale’s eyes.

From Ashes Rebuilt by ambersagen (tail-end of it, fic starts with Peter already awake, though not fully functional)

“You shouldn’t be alive,” Stiles finally admitted. He sounded sorry, smelled like anxiety and hunched in on himself as he fell back from Peter to land in the dented chair. “I heard the doctors telling your niece. She wasn’t quiet about it, and no one cares if I’m around anyway so I heard the whole thing, about your burns. I snuck in to see you.”

“Like a sideshow freak,” Peter sneered, starting to understand.

“Like a miracle,” Stiles corrected.

And then some embarrassingly shameless self-promotion:

This chapter of my Soulmate Shorts

The one where soulmates can heal each other’s injuries.

My star!Stiles where he finds Peter in a coma and wakes him

Stiles falls. It is not as great a tragedy as he thought it would be.

And my latest apoc fic if you're okay with catatonic!Peter that isn't the canon coma

It still surprises Stiles sometimes, how easily he’s adapted. Seven months in a world filled with train tracks and soul-sucking fae, and it feels like he’s never known anything else.

~~

Or, the one where diverting the Ghost Riders from Beacon Hills to prey on a different town only succeeded in setting them free.

[feralnumberfive]

The Rewatch Academy: Episode 4 of Season 1

“Man on the Moon”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it’s funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

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1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 |

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

☂ So at that point Luther had already been alone for about five years (due to his siblings leaving when they were 18 or even 17 according to Diego), and by alone I mean he did’t have his siblings with him. I’m not counting Reginald, Grace, or Pogo because I’d imagine they weren’t the best company. There was a two year gap between Luther getting the serum and then being sent to the moon. He had already been “alone” for five years before he was sent away to be completely alone for four years. He hasn’t had really any social/outside interaction besides going on missions for almost ten years, which means Luther is an awkward dude and he hasn’t been a true leader because he hasn’t had anyone to lead. I don’t think people really realize this and I think that’s where some of the hate towards him comes from 

☂ We see that Luther looks into Allison’s and Klaus’s bedrooms as he makes his way down the hall, and I’m willing to bet he did that for all of his siblings. Makes me wonder how many times the siblings went to Five’s room to visit it or to even check with hope that he had come back  

☂ I wish I could ride my bike around my house and chug a gallon of milk :[

☂ I can’t believe that Reginald still made him wear that leather battle suit 💀

☂ Why are there posters of animal anatomy in the infirmary?

☂ Apparently it takes between two to four months to grow a full beard, so that’s  about how long Luther had been lying there

☂ *suffers through the Allison and Luther scene*

☂ “HoPe I wAsN’t BeInG tOo LoUd”

☂ Vanya and Leonard were really sweet in the beginning. Screw you Leonard

☂ It’s really sad that not one his siblings notice that Klaus is gone. Not. One. 

☂ Are you telling me that Klaus and Five are certified freaks? At least I’m sure that’s who Cha Cha is referring to, or maybe it’s Luther

☂ I tried looking up tortures in Trinidad to see if Cha Cha was referring to any specific event, but I think it’s just a random thing in the show

☂ It’s only when Diego mutters “The boy” that it reminds him either of Five’s superhero name “The Boy” or his new appearance as a teen again so it finally clicks in his head that that’s who the mystery kid is

☂ Diego admitting that he doesn’t really know how to process his feelings!

☂ He’s very protective of his family and that’s something that I love about Diego. He doesn’t know who Hazel and Cha Cha are but all he knows is that they are searching for Five for some reason and that his siblings almost got killed last night

☂ Five doesn't realize the suffering that he’s putting his family through at this point since he’s only focused on finding who’s responsible for the end of the world. It’s ironic that he’s doing all of this to keep them alive and safe and yet him not being with them almost got them killed. Five buddy, you should have included all of your siblings from the start no matter how much they annoy you

☂ Also where has Five been this entire time? He left the van at night and now it’s the next morning. He’s been following the guy but why did it take him so long to corner him?

☂ Ope, and there’s a continuation error! When Luther takes his arm out of Five’s dresser, he takes part of the wood panel with him. When it cuts back to Diego talking there’s just a fist size hole

☂ “We barely got out with our lives.” Okay but where were you, Pogo?

☂ It’s funny how quickly they revert to child-like shame when Pogo scolds them. At least they still respect him I guess

☂ Is Hazel eating potato chips with ketchup? 

☂ I think one reason why nobody notices that Klaus is gone is because none of them saw him that night during the attack. They possibly assumed he already had left the Academy??

☂ Looooove the “Shingaling” scene. They are straight up vibing

☂ I don’t know why Luther was frustrated with the van door being locked. It’s not like he could rip the door off or anything.......

☂ I have a two questions here:

Why did Diego know where to find Five based off of the book? Sure he saw that it came from the library, but that doesn’t mean that he’ll be there

Wouldn’t Luther and Diego have seen the smoke coming from the Meritech building? Unless they left immediately and weren’t able to see the smoke even though they probably were still in the vicinity when it began to burn

☂ Five is holding the man’s arm to make sure that he doesn’t get away (hard to tell in the pic below though). He needs that sense of security that this lead isn’t going to escape his grasp, but I’m sure that if he were to run he wouldn’t get far when you can just teleport after him

☂ I got a nice pic of Five (also the dude on the bike that was riding behind Five as he runs up in this shot just does not care that this building is on fire) 

☂ When it shows Five on the ground, it at first starts off with light and slightly comedic music before it quickly switches over to something dramatic. I always thought it was funny that they play the light stuff as we see Five just laying there 💀

☂ You can see just how quickly Five’s face changes from shock to disbelief and disappointment as his only lead is literally blown away from him look, you can pinpoint the exact moment his heart breaks. Also Five definitely would have had hearing issues since we can see that the windows on the building behind him were shattered. He’s staring into your soul....

☂ There’s nothing really significant about this at all, but Whippets are racing dogs and in the comics Five goes to watch a dog race at one point

☂ “I hate sprinkles.” Hey, me too!

☂ I love that Griddy’s is still open despite the damage that was done to it

☂ Diego left home at 17 (which is illegal so I wonder if he was emancipated or maybe Diego ran away and Reginald didn’t care to look for him) so I wonder if the others left when they were 17 too or if they waited until they were 18 

☂ Luther I don’t really think you’re one to talk about being “grown up” my guy. In fairness none of the Umbrellas know how to be fully functioning adults, not even Five who’s about twice the age of his siblings and is almost a senior citizen

☂ “I stayed because the world needed me.” Hey that was basically Five’s reason too, but more so for getting to see his family again. Anyways, like brother, like, uh, brother! 

☂ "And things are never gonna go back to the way they used to be.” You sir just predicted the next week(s) (and technically years in the 60s) of your life and the lives of your siblings! This also applies for what happens after those weeks/years, but we haven’t gotten there yet but it’s certainly not the way things used to be!  

☂ How was Luther upset enough that he wanted Diego to stop talking after he said something genuine and a bit sad?

☂ This whole relationship talk isn’t exactly relatable......

☂ He’s just chillin’

☂ Reginald can ✨perish✨ Oh wait, he already did 

☂ Here I am taking any little scrap and running with it, but when Five says he’s going through puberty twice does that mean that he didn’t get his aging altered by The Commission? In the comics, Temps Aeternalis/Commission stopped Five’s aging but here it sounds like that didn’t happen. Since we haven’t heard anything about Five’s DNA in the tv show we don’t really know much about his aging alteration either. I think that they really do have to leave that part out due to Aidan himself, who is a growing teen, and for the fact that they would need to come up with an excuse for Five’s aging (Aidan already looks different in S2 and he’s taller too). I wish they would bring this stuff up in the show!

☂ Five deflects answering the question of what he’s the best at most likely just because he’s just distracted but also possibly because he doesn’t want his brothers to know at this point

☂ First the feral chimp smile and now this

☂ Five actually sounded serious when he was talking about how many people he has killed and how he’s the ”Four frickin’ Horsemen” which is more so an exaggeration but it still shows us that he views himself as dangerous and powerful. He revealed this to them while he was drunk, even though they don’t really understand, but I wonder if Five ever actually planned on telling his siblings what he did and how much blood he has on his hands. I feel like he would have told them after he had saved the world from the apocalypse, but yet again I could also see him brushing off questions in relation to what he just said to Luther and Diego to hide his past from his family

☂ ✨”Little Psycho”✨

☂ As eerie as all of those ghosts are, it’s a really neat scene

☂ It’s not really meant to be funny, but Klaus denying the duct tape just reminds me of a little kid refusing to go into timeout 

☂ I guess Cha Cha got out through the door next to the bathroom when Klaus was banging his head on the table?

☂ It’s a shame that Patch died right away, I really liked her

☂ Klaus, where you’re going really isn’t any better 

☂ It’s sweet that Diego puts Delores down gently and doesn’t just toss her somewhere. Even though she’s a mannequin, Diego knows that she means something to Five

☂ Well Luther I think it’s pretty self-explanatory what he meant. You just need more context 

☂ Diego: *signaling that someone, possibly a threat, is approaching and to be alert*

Luther: 🕴👁`👄’👁

☂ Even if they did think that Klaus had left the Academy before Hazel and Cha Cha attacked it, it’s sad that it took them this long to think about him

☂ Luther patting Delores is so cute

☂ Say it with me kids, “Patch deserved so much better!”

☂ My heart breaks to see Diego so heartbroken and upset, especially when he says “I gotta go, okay? I can’t be here when they come, okay?” Ugh, that gets me

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

[jinkicake]

You Call Him Daddy?!

You accidentally call him daddy in front of the team.

Tanaka Ryuunosuke x Reader

Tbh Anon, sigh.... I don’t really like how this turned out... I don’t know why it is so hard for me to write Tanaka :/// I still hope it is okay!! I know you waited a while for this one TT It might be a tiny occ..... I can’t decide if I want to make him as the softie he is or the harsh fucker I know that he is,,,,, that is my dilema （/｡＼)

SMUT

WC- 1,040

~~~

I’ve thought about this one for a while,,,,

Tanaka would go uncharacteristically silent then probably become a blushy mess and try to deny it that it is true 

But then ten minutes later you find him telling Nishinoya that it is true,,,  Tanaka bathes in the ‘damn you lucky!’ comments from his friend

Currently, you are walking around the sendai city gym while waiting for Karasuno to play their next match. You’re not along though, you met up with your childhood friend Hana who manages for Johzenji~

“Ah, did you see that tweet last night?” You ask here while aimlessly scrolling through your phone

“(Y/N), you send me like fifteen tweets a night. You might have to be a little more specific.” She laughs and gently knocks your shoulder with her own

“Ugh hold on.” You take a moment to find the tweet while continuing to mumble more about it “I’m telling you, these people lie for likes and retweets and people believe it!” Hana simply laughs at your feign anger and tells you that you’re only mad because your tweets don’t blow up

“Okay listen to this, ‘last night I was eating dinner with my parents and girlfriend and I asked ‘daddy how was your day today’ and my gf responded and said she had a good day. I had never seen my parents look so disappointed and my gf still doesn’t know what she did wrong.’ Like how fake is that!” You roll your eyes and Hana tries to hide back her laughter

“I’ve seen that fake daddy shit on like twenty different text posts the last five years and honestly, (Y/N), it is still funny every time.” She wheezes and you refrain from slapping her shoulder “Who even calls their dad ‘daddy’ anymore”

“Wait, people actually talk to their parents?” You ask her and she snorts at your bullshit question

“Let’s say that happened to you, the whole dinner with the parents thing. Would Tanaka respond if you said ‘daddy’?” Hana peers at you curiously and you have to pinch your eyebrows together in thought.

Too many memories of Tanaka choking you while pounding into you with your legs over his shoulders swarm into your mind and you have to hide the way your breath hitches

“N-No!” You try to play it off and Hana shrugs innocently before perking up at the familiar boy behind you

“Yo, Tanaka!” She waves over your shoulder and your boyfriend sees you two through the crowd of people, your heart warms at the way his eyes light up when he spots you

“(Y/N),” He greets and kisses the side of your head before giving Hana a high five “Misaki,”

“We were just talking about you!” Your friend’s eyes shine playfully and you mentally prepare for whatever is about to happen

“Good things, right?” Tanaka stares down at you with a soft expression on his face, just making sure your conversations had good intentions

“Of course, of course!” Hana laughs but then turns quiet, “Tanaka. Imagine this you’re at dinner with (Y/N) and her parents okay? Then (Y/N) asks ‘daddy can you pass me the salt’, what do you do?” She speaks quickly and Tanaka nods furiously, hanging on to her every word

“Hand (Y/N) the salt.” He answers confidently and you grimace at the loud laugh that leaves Hana’s lips, she laughs so hard that she has to clutch her sides and in return, you start laughing along with her “Oi is that not the right answer?!” Tanaka asks with wide eyes

“So you do call him daddy!” Hana gasps like gossip and you try to push her forehead away

“Um, yeah. Have you see him?” You tell her mockingly, not realizing how loud your voices were, while pointing at your boyfriend. Oh, shit. It’s almost like the entire hallway went silent

Behind you, Sugawara is shaking his head disappointedly while Nishinoya stands beside him, hands on his hips, with his chest puffed out proudly at the news. The libero sends Tanaka a nod of approval before getting dragged away by Ennoshita 

“You’re into that? Nice,” Terushima compliments with a wink as he walks by, glancing at you for a moment too long, and your boyfriend literally goes feral

Tanaka has you lying on the bed with your bottom high in the air. He has been switching between slapping your ass and stuffing you full of his fingers for the last twenty minutes. 

Tanaka lands another blow on your ass and it causes you to squeak while jutting your hips into the air.

“You wanted to share daddy’s little secret, humiliate him in front of your friend?” He asks into your ear and you wiggle your hips at his voice, Tanaka slaps your ass again just to hear the familiar whimper leave your throat. “Answer me, princess.”

“Yes, daddy.” You respond innocently and Tanaka rewards you by sticking three of his wide fingers knuckle deep inside of you. As a result, you push your hips back and try to grind on his fingers while moans leave your lips one after another.

“You’re such a dirty girl, you know that?” Tanaka curls his fingers and tears prick at the corner of your eyes as a result. He is going to ruin you. “So filthy.” He mumbles and drags his fingers out slowly, stretching your walls to hear you mewl at the pain. Tanaka rubs his fingers against your lower lips before moving them up to ghost over your clit. After a few seconds of nothing, he begins to twist his fingers and rub harsh circles against your sensitive pearl. Your hips move wildly as you try to keep up with his fingers and there is drool practically pooling out of your mouth, you are an utter mess. “Keep moving, just like that for daddy.”

Tanaka leans his leans down and spits onto the globes of your ass and you cry out at the coolness against your sensitive skin.

“Daddy, please fuck me.” You beg and Tanaka looks down at you, his eyes hard, he wants to give in so badly.

“You want it?” He asks, just to hear you beg even more. You continue to moan out nonsense, begging him to make an even bigger mess of you. “Well, how can I ignore my princess when you are asking so nicely?”

~

Taglist.

@yams046 @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy @xhanjisungiex @xxashshs @chaosamu @angelkogane

[planetary-runaway]

Son

“W-will?” came a quiet, disbelieving voice, echoing from behind the newly revived ex-president, making him spin on his heel, already pasting a bright smile onto his face, as had become his custom interacting with anyone since he gained the white streak belying how truly old he was. “Oh! Fundy!” he positively beamed, though his eyes were too sharp, his teeth too white to have given anyone a sense of ease, especially as he held his arms out in front of him as if presenting the fox hybrid to his companion. “Look, Tommy! It’s Fundy.” He certainly wasn’t being genuine, all three of those present could hear the mocking remnants of a much friendlier ghost lingering in the higher pitches, and, judging by the snide curl of his lip as he continued, Will knew exactly what he was doing. “What can I do for you? Just a house call?”

Hackles raising as Wilbur stepped forward, Fundy stumbled back a little, and shoved a piece of paper into his pocket, eyeing Tommy warily, seeing as though he was hunched, staring at the grass of his lawn, with his hands in his pockets, just letting this happen. “N-No, it’s fine, I just... I was just going to ask Tommy something, but- but I'll come back later. Yeah, I'm sure it can wait.” he stammered out an excuse, trying to back off, back onto the prime path, where he could turn tail, but Wilbur merely waved it aside dismissively. “Don’t worry about it! I’m sure Toms would be happy to help.” he smiled, pinning the hybrid with a strangely, unfamiliar clear gaze, as he comfortably threw an arm around Tommy’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. He didn’t seem to notice as the teen stumbled numbly, not once looking up from the small purple flower blooming from his lawn, letting Will move him about as if he was naught but a ragdoll, though Fundy bristled at the comfortable, familial gesture, grinding his teeth.

“Yeah... sure.” Tommy spoke hollowly, the movement having made a militarily cropped piece of his hair catch the light, white as bone, standing out starkly against the spun gold of the rest of his rumpled hair. Even from the other end of the lawn, Fundy could see how weary he was, how the dark circles had multiplied as if branding themselves onto his skin permanently, like they were weighing his shoulders down. He looked so small next to the still-beaming Wilbur, so different from the larger-than-life character Fundy had known from his childhood. It was disconcerting, but still, he forced his feet to move forward, toward the duo, feeling as his too-big boots slid on the cropped grass, and set his jaw. Completely blanking the taller, Fundy quickly addressed Tommy, not wanting to spend any longer in Will’s presence than he had to, let alone within arm’s reach. “I- Do you have any spare iron? Niki needs to rebuild her beacon.”

It wasn’t the politest or most successful of conversations, but, as Tommy raised a cracked, bruised hand, and pointed back into the house, Fundy could have sworn he saw a flicker of surprise come over Wilbur’s face. A gentle head bow, and murmured thanks later, Fundy was passing through into the small dirt house- if it could even be called that- and rummaging through the assorted junk in Tommy’s chests, not organised in the slightest sense. They look like they had been ransacked recently, not a single piece of stone seeming to have lodged in a corner somewhere, forgotten. But, before he could think to question it, sure Tommy would have had at least some, Fundy’s hands brushed the smooth coolness of a few blocks of iron, sandwiched between two completely unrelated things, and his mind was sent on a completely different line of thought.

Yanking it out, he was surprised to see there was more than he thought, even if he did send a few dented buckets and an old, ragged leash flying in the movement. Still, he did have some level of decency, sure that if Tommy had this much iron, he must have had a need for it. So, as much as he wanted to take the whole stack, Fundy had some decency, slipping half into his pack for later, and carefully stowing the rest back into the chest in a much less dangerous pile, for... whatever the teen would need it for. It was a joke around the area that, often, very little in these chests was Tommy’s so, while he was sure somebody would currently be hunting, very confused, for their materials, there was also an unspoken knowledge between everyone that Tommy never took anything that would leave people really wanting, and, maybe...7 times out of 10, he would give it back after a while anyway.

Chuckling to himself as he latched the chest closed again, and prepared to stand back up from the cool, dirt floor, Fundy almost missed the tell-tale rumble of Wilbur starting to raise his voice from outside, where he had stayed with Tommy, basking in the sun as if it seemed to spotlight him alone. Gasping in a breath to hold, a faded memory coming back to him of long nights spent sleeplessly in the tall grass of a walled community, of hearing raised voices and incensed footsteps from inside his father’s office, Fundy forced himself to his feet, ignoring how his knees protested and wobbled, padding as silently as he was able over to the door to peek outside.

It wasn’t a fun sight to behold, either, Wilbur having taken Tommy by the shoulder as he spoke, a manic look in his eyes as he gestured wildly with his free arm, to the neighbourhood around them, to the sky, and the ground, and even to the house, though neither saw Fundy, him having ducked out of sight just in time. He wasn’t sure why he had done it, both of them knowing he was there, but, in the split second he had to react, it had felt like the right thing to do. He didn’t want to look back out there, so, instead, he leant his heaving back against the soft dirt wall, feeling the chill soak through his jacket and thin shirt, a small relief to his skin, and listened instead.

“Listen Tommy! This? This will be our legacy! If we can do this...” he broke off into laughter, so hauntingly familiar that it made Fundy’s heart ache to hear, almost being able to imagine a million different Wilburs, arms spread wide, face tilted to the sky. “When we do this, we’ll be saints! Nobody will be able to touch us again! We'll be gods, Tommy!” he spoke quickly, as if he was afraid that, if he didn’t get all his words out right that second, he would never get a chance to say them again, but like he didn’t care what it was that he said. “We will be... Tommy, we’ll be unstoppable!” It sounded more like a monologue to Fundy, who, straining his ears, only just heard Tommy’s mumbled reply, apathetic and weary as he sighed. “Yeah... gods.” He echoed, sounding decades older to the young fox, so used to the blonde spitfire throwing curses and rebuttals about like water, or at least swallowing back the more offensive things when warned. But right now, he just sounded defeated, like he had nothing left. And really, he didn’t, he didn’t even get to die in peace, so why should he be enthusiastic, knowing he would just be kept going indefinitely. It was a common source of outrage about the entire nation, that whatever had happened after Doomsday had broken their dear Tommy, though nobody knew much more than that he had lost a life, the news not having become popular, understandably.

“And you, Toms!” Will continued, as if he hadn’t heard anything, followed by a loud rustling and stumbling steps. “You will be my right-hand man, all over again! This time we will win, my boy and I!” The iron suddenly felt ten times heavier, in Fundy’s pack, and in his stomach, a sick, sinking feeling washing over him. He couldn’t have just said that, right? He didn’t mean it, surely. But still, no amount of lying to himself could stop as he spun, flinging the door open angrily. “And what am I, Wilbur?” he snapped, teeth bared as he stood, haloed with darkness from the dim house, in the doorway, regarding the pair with poorly veiled disdain. “What role do I play? Gunna leave me alone again? Leave me behind?” Jealousy was rising, hot and thick, in his throat as he spoke, raging like a monster and driving him to step forward, stalking toward Will, who had the audacity to still hold an arrogant smirk on his face. “Ah, Fundy. So nice to see you’re still here.” he spoke smoothly, clasping his hands before himself like a housewife as he saw the sharp claws starting to peek out from around the fingerless gloves the hybrid always wore.

“Answer the question. What am I to you, Wilbur.” he spoke lowly, almost a growl, slowly shifting into a fighting stance at the infuriatingly serene position Will held, faintly noticing he had shed his heavy coat at some point in his ravings, leaving him in just his achingly familiar linen shirt and pants. “Well... you’re Fundy.” One hand went out in a mockery of a placating gesture, nestling in Fundy’s hair and ruffling it up, before being quickly snatched back as Fundy snapped angrily at it, missing by less than a centimetre. “Well done, you know my name.” he snarled back, eyes lightening, blink by blink, from their usual dormant brown to a much angrier, more feral gold as he hunched fully into a fighting stance, the rage reaching a peak. “How about family? I’m your son.” the words lashed out like a whip, ripping his throat up as they spilled out, and stupidly making his voice crack. “I’m your son” he repeated, quieter this time, slashing out blindly as Wilbur’s hand came close again. “Don’t you dare touch me. You haven’t earnt the right.”

This time, he broke skin, he felt as the minor resistance buckled, and blood tickled the tips of his fingers, looking up to see a clear slash mark on the sleeve of the shirt, now being quickly dyed with the type of morbid crimson that only blood could be. Wilbur looked surprised, quickly pulling the entire sleeve off to bandage it, before holding his arm to himself, an action performed in entire, three-way silence. Fundy had watched, tight lipped, at the familiar sight of blood, not able to find it in himself to feel any kind of remorse for his actions, simply waiting for it to be over with.

“I see you found your spine. Your mother was always feisty too.” Wilbur commented slyly, seeing as Fundy’s heaving breath caught in his chest for a moment, not even flinching as a loud growl reverberated about the street afterward. “You have no right to talk about her like that. You made us soldiers, you made us fight your bloody wars in your name, and where were you when we needed you by our sides?” Fundy snarled, gesturing to the hunched figure of Tommy, right where he had been left when Will had stepped away, staring unseeingly at the floor, arms wrapped tight about his midsection. “You were off on your chaise longue, eating grapes and seducing Dream so you could blow us all up again, conveniently looking the other way when we called for you to be there.” he spat the words like they were acid, trying desperately to find at least one thing that scratched the perfect veneer Wilbur was putting up, even with his arm clamped to his chest like it was shattered. “But we were children. Will, I was a child.”

He couldn’t help the memories coming back, of chainmail that dragged on the floor when he walked, of the elusive smells of pastries being eclipsed by gunpowder, of babbling brooks turned into deathly still lakes by the craters left over, of playful laughter echoing through the air from around the foreboding office Fundy had barely seen the inside of, before they were all shushed and sheparded off to train for a war they shouldn’t have had to fight. “I was a kid that just wanted a dad. You were supposed to be there for me.” Tears started pricking at his eyes at this, and, determined not to give Wilbur the satisfaction of seeing it, he roughly shouldered past, clutching his pack and his jacket close. “You were supposed to be a father.” he couldn’t help but mumble as they diverged, Wilbur not bothering to put out an arm to stop him as he stepped from the cropped lawn back onto the smooth, familiar wood of the path.

“And you know what?” Fundy barked, turning back one last time, hating how the sun made a halo about Wilbur’s form, painting him as an angelic being, especially how it dappled through the folded wings just poking out from over his shoulders now he wasn’t wearing his heavy coat anymore. “I wish you stayed dead.” It didn’t even cause a quirked brow, Wilbur watching with some detached sort of amusement, as if it was naught but a show he was the sole audience for. Upending his pack, Fundy turned to Tommy, unsure if he was even able to hear him, but spoke again, quieter, softer. “Keep the iron, I'll find it somewhere else.” and, in time with the heavy clang of iron upon the path, a door, left open for far too long, finally locked in Fundy’s mind.

[artzychic27]

Evillustrator Part Deux

These people have some nerve. Barging into the art classroom, his safe space, the only place in school where he can be himself without people looking at him weirdly. He can be loud and goofy and show his art without fear of being judged. But they just had to ruin it. By 'they' he means his classmates. Not the smart ones like Marinette, Alix, Rose, and Juleka. Yes, that sounded a little rude, but it was the truth! Ever since Lie-la came along with a big mouth full of lies, it's like the rest of the class had lost a good chunk of brain cells. He knows they're trying to be nice and accommodate for the 'disabled student', but they can't tell a con-artist when they see one!

Lila's been nothing but a thorn in the art club's side since she arrived, and all because they knew she was nothing but a lying, manipulative creature. So far, she's lied about Marinette doing a bunch of stuff she'd never do to her and almost got her expelled, Alix spray painting half of her wardrobe so Mylene, Sabrina, and Alya had to buy her more clothes with their money, Juleka cornering her in the bathroom and telling her to kill herself so the goth girl got detention she didn't deserve, and Rose stealing her lunch money which is how she afforded those cute new ballet flats and the other students had to buy Lila's lunch for her. Now it was Nathaniel's turn.

What has Lila said about him? She didn't really lie, but more like got on his bad side by suggesting he should find a new writer since Marc's work was "amateur", making little jabs at his art by saying loudly for the class to hear that her work has gotten many comic book artists' attention which then led to the class telling Lila that she should introduce them to Nathaniel. He said no, of course, since the artists were either dead or not real and they did not react well. They said he was rude, Lila was trying to help, and that's how he became one of the bullies of the classroom.

But then one morning, Lila told everyone that he stole her artwork. They were hesitant to believe her even despite believing Nathaniel was a bully since they knew he HATED art thieves with a passion, probably more than Marinette hated Hawkmoth. But when she showed them the hideously bright orange sketchbook with a crudely drawn cursive L on the cover in black sharpie and flipped through the pages slowly so the class could admire what Nathaniel realized was other artists' work he saw on Instagram that she was claiming as her own.

After seven long minutes, Lila finally stopped on a page that had the class immediately go off on Nathaniel when they recognized that it looked exactly like the art, the original art, on the school website. Alix and Marinette tried to defend him the best that they could, but the sausage-haired brat was a step ahead, saying that she sometimes brings her sketchbook to school and keeps it in her locker because she was always so nervous about what people would say about her art, and Nathaniel must've broken in, took a picture of the page, traced the art, and passed it off as his own. The class was torn, but they were leaning more towards Lila’s side because 'Why would Lila lie?'

Throughout the entire day, Nathaniel was forced to listen to the class asking if he was jealous of Lie-la's art being 'far better than his' (Her words), interrogating him to see if he stole anyone else's art, and they even had the gall to tell Mme. Bustier what Lila had told them. He missed his lunch and was instead tortured by Mme. Bustier lecturing HIM on why art theft is wrong, and that he needed to be the bigger person and apologize for stealing Lila's art. No matter how many times he explained to the woman that Lila lied, she just wouldn't listen! He had so much more respect for Marinette than he already did. She would go on and on about Mme. Bustier telling her to be an example and apologize when she was the one who was wronged. He was going to learn how to bake and make that girl some macarons. When she finally let him go, lunch was already over! Thank God Marc, the best boyfriend in the world saved him half of his sandwich and an apple. He did not apologize, and he had no intention of doing so.

The rest of the day was spent with his actual friends coming to his defense every five minutes when one of them would try and get him to apologize for stealing Lila's art. And when they weren't doing that, they were tracking down the people whose art was stolen by Lila when Mylene found the art Lila had traced on Instagram and Twitter. It's like they're her personal guard dogs. He wanted to knock some sense into them and go- what Lila inappropriately calls- 'feral-mode' on them; a nod to his bipolar disorder. Going against his instincts, he went to Mme. Bustier about what Lila had said about him being Bipolar, but she told him, 'Oh, but Lila doesn't understand your condition. It's your job to explain it to her.' ... He just wants Hawkmoth to come in here and have an Akuma pummel this woman.

Finally, the day was over, they were all gone, and he could now spend time with his friends and a real teacher without being yelled at or accused of being an art thief... For about seven minutes.

"Just apologize," Alya urged.

With a glare, Nathaniel yelled, "For the last. Damn. Time! I didn't steal any art!" Where was M. Haberkorn when you needed him?

"Then explain why Lila's art is in your sketchbook!" Kim demanded.

Lila sniffed, "Nath, if you're jealous of me, I could have-"

"Why the hell would I be jealous of you of all people?"

"Don't be so rude!"

"Why are you saying this stuff?"

"Lila didn't do anything to you!"

"Guys," Alix snapped her fingers to grab their attention and quiet them down, "Nathaniel loathes art thieves. Why would he steal someone else's art? And what would he have to gain from it? He's already the illustrator for one of the best damn comics in Paris, and he's won contests with some of his work." She shot the redhead a proud look before turning back to her classmates, "So do tell us. Why would Nathaniel steal another person's art?"

None of them could come up with an excuse. None of them except Lila just when the art club thought they had won, "Well, maybe he was just insecure," she ignored Nathaniel's offended look and continued, "I didn't want to say anything, but some students were looking at his art on the school website and said it seemed... Amateur compared to mine."

Marinette whispered to Juleka, "Oh, she did not just say the A-word."

Alix coughed into her fist, "Bullshit!"

Alya glared at the pinkette, "Stop ganging up on her!" She turns to Nathaniel, "And Nath, you need to stop being jealous of Lila just because some people prefer her art-"

"Will you shut up already?!" Nathaniel screamed, stunning his classmates at his outburst. "I am not jealous of Lila! I never will be jealous of her because there's nothing to be jealous over!”

Nathaniel let out a sigh. He didn't mean to yell, but they were all just so frustrating. He was telling the truth and they couldn't see it. They're choosing to believe a liar they've known only for a few months over someone they've known for years. They all knew Nathaniel was the resident class artist and not once has he stolen another person's art; it was a level he would never stoop to, not even if you paid or threatened him to.

"Dude, you need to chill," Nino calmly said.

"No, he doesn’t." Everyone turned to the source of the new voice and saw Marc standing at the doorway with his red pencil case. The art club students became relieved when they saw the writer. Marc was a reasonable, level-headed person who could find red flags easily. He'd talk some sense into them all and maybe their Lila nightmare would be over. During lunch, the art club explained to him why Nathaniel was missing, infuriating the green-eyed boy. Because of Rossi, his boyfriend was forced to miss lunch and endure a lecture by a teacher who should really consider pursuing a different career. "Nathaniel is not an art thief." He brushed past them and made his way over to his boyfriend before kissing his cheek.

"Marc, don't defend him just because he's your boyfriend," Mylene said. And in response, Marc rolled his eyes.

"Even if we weren't dating, I'd still defend him." He points to Nathaniel's sketchbook as if asking for permission to hold it. With a nod, Nathaniel hands Marc his sketchbook, and the writer flips through the pages until he stops on the page with the sketch that started this mess. On the page is a full-body sketch of Ladybug, running with her hair out of its pigtails and flowing through the breeze. It took all of Marinette's will-power to not blush when Nathaniel showed her and the others before posting it on the school's website. What she loved most was that she was not wearing a skin-tight bodysuit, but instead, she was wearing battle armor and actually had on shoes. Maybe she could ask Tikki for an upgrade on her current suit.

"Nathaniel always uses the same art style," Marc pointed out. "During lunch, I caught a look at some of the pages in Lila's sketchbook and noticed that she had about ten different art styles. The sketch she claims Nathaniel stole looks very similar to his usual style." Before Lila can defend herself, Marc continued, "And I also noticed that your line art is very dark."

Marinette realizes what her cousin is insinuating and adds, "He's right. Most line art is light so that when an artist makes a mistake, they can easily erase it." She smirks, "So, care to explain why your line art is so much darker compared to Nathaniel's?"

Lila stammered for a response, "I... We-well my wrist-" Before she could say anything else, Alya rested a hand on her shoulder and said, "You don't need to explain anything to them. We know your innocent." After nodding in agreement with Alya, the students headed out of the classroom. Alya pulled Lila out and didn't notice her smirking viciously at the art kids or Alix giving her double middle fingers.

With a sigh of exhaustion, Nathaniel sat down and rested his head on the table. "What is wrong with them?" he groaned. Rose patted his shoulder sympathetically, "It's okay, Nath."

Marinette shook her head, "I try to remind myself that it's not their fault; Lila's manipulating them, but it takes a lot to convince myself that."

Marc took the empty seat next to Nathaniel and brushed his bangs to the side so Nathaniel could see him. "Are you okay?" Nathaniel nodded and mumbled, "Thanks, Rainbow." With a smile, Marc kissed his forehead, slid Nathaniel's sketchbook toward him, and pulled out his journal, "Let's just enjoy the quiet while we still have it."

Juleka nodded as she grabbed her bass, "Yeah, maybe I'll just fake being sick tomorrow."

"Nope!" Alix exclaimed. "There's strength in numbers, Jules. If we all have to suffer, then so do you." Juleka responded by strumming a few cords on her bass.

The rest of the class, sans Chloe and Adrien, decided to spend the rest of their day, cool off from earlier, and cheer Lila up by getting some of André's ice cream. Poor Lila didn't have any money on her because she donated almost all of her cash to her favorite charity, one that helped children from lower-income families. Ivan, being a nice guy, paid for her cone and Lila promised she'd pay him back... Yeah, like that would ever happen. Five euros and all she got was plain vanilla because André couldn't see her being in a relationship with anyone.

"Girl, maybe he just messed up," Alya told her. "André is getting old."

Nino reluctantly nodded, "Yeah. Maybe that's it." He's been getting ice cream from André since he was five, and the man was never wrong. He predicted his first love by giving him cotton candy, peach, and blueberry ice cream, and his future love with tangerine, lemon, and raspberry. If André gives you vanilla, that's it. No love for you. 'But why would Lila end up without love?' he wondered. She's nice, charitable, always meeting exciting people. It confused him.

If Nino could hear what was going on through Lila's head, he'd take it all back. 'Stupid Marinette. Stupid Alix. Stupid Rose. Stupid Juleka. Stupid Marc. AND STUPID NATHANIEL! That idiot has some nerve going against me! Just wait, Kurtzberg. I'll ruin your reputation so bad that not even your freak boyfriend will look at you! With that spineless coward of a Principal on my side, I'll make sure no school will take you!' "Guys, this was sweet of you, but I just wanna go home," she said in a tone that contrasted her inner voice.

Alya smiled and pulled her in for a hug, not noticing the scowl on the Italian's face, "We understand. Maybe you can draw something to make you feel better."

'Yeah, I'll find a sucker on Instagram, make a few tweaks, and have you all eating out of the palm of my hand.' "Yeah," she sighed. "That always cheers me up. I'll see you all tomorrow!" She waved then headed off in the direction of her home. Then once she was out of view, she ran towards the school and threw her ice cream on the ground, not caring about the pigeon she just hit. She was not going to let that stupid redhead get away so easily. She already had a ton of sinister ideas going on in her head about what'd she'd do to Nathaniel the second she caught him alone and those art club brats aren't there to help him.

Once in the school, Lila waited around a corner for him. So that no one would suspect anything, she pretended to be texting on her phone. It took five minutes until finally, Nathaniel walked out of the classroom with his sketchbook in his hand. Lila's original plan was to jump him and drag him into an empty classroom so she could threaten him to comply with her or she’d drag his reputation through the mud, but Marc was with him. She couldn’t have witnesses, or this would never work. But then everything worked out in her favor. The idiot was too distracted by his boyfriend to notice her or that he dropped his sketchbook on the floor when trying to put it in his messenger bag.

She quickly picked up the sketchbook once they were gone, and darted for the locker room. She looked around to make sure no one was there and opened Nathaniel’s prized possession. She scowled at all of the drawings of Marinette with hearts around her. “Obviously has no taste,” she muttered scornfully then continued flipping through the pages full of drawings of Ladybug, and her frown worsened the more she looked. He should be drawing a REAL hero like Volpina. Then she found a few pages with drawings of that boyfriend of his.

“Disgusting,” she sneered, then immediately tore out the page with a drawing of the two boyfriends hugging. She aggressively threw the book to the floor and stomped on it with the dirt sole of her boot, tearing and crumpling a few pages and damaging the spine. She picked it back up and proceeded to tear out more pages before getting a cruel idea. She went into the girls’ bathroom, turned on the faucet, and dropped the sketchbook into the sink. A twisted smirk spread on her face as she watched the water turn an array of colors. Satisfied, she pulled it back out and turned off the water before leaving.

She wasn’t done just yet. She looked for Nathaniel’s locker, which was easy. All she had to do was open every locker until she found the one with photos of Marc taped inside. Lila gathered up the pages she tore out, crumpled them up, and threw them into the lockers along with Nathaniel’s ruined sketchbook. By the time he opened his locker tomorrow, the pages will be dry and everything he’s drawn will be unrecognizable. Slamming the locker door shut, Lila walked out of the locker room feeling proud of herself, but not before she added a little insult to injury and taped a sticky note with an insulting message onto Nathaniel’s locker door. Tomorrow morning, Nathaniel will learn what happens when you cross Lila Diabla Rossi.

Nathaniel was not having a great morning. He accidentally set his alarm clock for the wrong time last night and woke up and three in the morning. He couldn't go back to sleep so he decided to do some late-night sketching until he felt tired. The only problem was that he couldn't find his sketchbook. He wanted to tear his room apart and look for it, but he didn't want to risk waking up his mom and having her come in, wondering why he was up so early. So he waited until it was 7:00 am when his mom was up and getting ready for the day.

He looked all around his room but couldn't find his sketchbook anywhere. 'It could be worse,' he thought to himself. He lost his personal sketchbook and not the one he used for his and Marc's comic. Now that would be awful. But losing his personal sketchbook was just as bad and embarrassing. It still had some of the sketches he did of Marinette back when he had a crush on her and some fanart from animes he wasn't comfortable showing anyone except for Alix and Marc, who showed him some fanfiction that only he was allowed to read.

"Maybe I left it at school," Nathaniel told himself once it was pretty clear that his sketchbook was nowhere in his room. Taking a few breaths to calm down and assure himself that maybe someone found his sketchbook and took it to lost and found, he got ready for the day.

After getting showered and dressed, Nathaniel made his way downstairs to have breakfast with his mom. Hearing him walk into the kitchen, Aya looked away from the stove and greeted her son with a smile, “Morning, sweetie.” Despite Nathaniel smiling, she knew something was wrong. She could tell by the way he was clutching his messenger bag and darting his eyes around the room like he was looking for something. “Is everything alright?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she asked, “Did something happen at school? Was it that Rossi girl?” Ever since Lila first lied about her son, Aya would always take some time out of her schedule to listen to him vent about the dreaded girl. And in Aya’s opinion, she sounded like a real nightmare in need of a spanking.

“Yeah, but she’s not what I’m upset about,” he answered. “I can’t find my sketchbook. The black one?”

Aya immediately turned off the stove and went to hug him. Nathaniel loved that sketchbook. His father got it for him when he was seven and used up all of his other sketchbooks. It was one of the things he had to remember him by. “Well, maybe it’s at school. I’m sure you’ll find it, sweetie.” Seeing him smile, Aya kissed his forehead and went back to making breakfast, “Now go sit down sweetie; the hash browns are almost done.”

With a nod, Nathaniel sat at the table and thought to himself over and over, ‘You’ll find it, you’ll find it, you’ll find it.’

When he arrived at school, Nathaniel only had fifteen minutes to look for his sketchbook until class starts. He rushed into the library where the lost and found box was stored and asked the librarian for access to it. He took Nathaniel into the break room where a large bin sat in the corner of the room between two shelves filled with items too large to go in the bin. Quickly, he sifted through or tossed aside anything that wasn't his sketchbook. Textbooks, jewelry, one shoe, pants, a purse, but no sketchbook. With a frustrated groan, he put the items he tossed back in the bin so the librarian wouldn't get on his case for messing up the break room. "Where is it?!" Once out of the library, he kicked a wall in frustration and continued to look around for his sketchbook.

He remembered walking out of the art classroom with it, so it wasn't in there. If it fell out of his bag, someone must’ve found it. But why didn’t they take it to the lost and found? Maybe they put it back in his locker. None of the lockers have locks, so if a student finds something that another student lost, they put it in that student’s locker. Maybe someone did that. He still had seven minutes left, so he ran down the stairs, moved through crowds of students in the courtyard, and went into the locker room.

Once at his locker, Nathaniel furrowed his brown in confusion when he saw the orange sticky note stuck to his locker door. He took it down and read it, “‘You deserve this.’”

Still confused and a little anxious by what the note meant, Nathaniel slowly opened his locker, expecting a bucket of paint to fall on top of him or a spring-loaded boxing glove to knock a couple of his teeth out… This was way worse. There at the bottom of his locker was a dingy black book with crispy pages like someone had poured water on it and left it to dry in his locker. He found a few crumpled pieces of paper and unfurled them. He felt like he needed to throw up. These were sketches of Marc, Marinette, and some rough sketches for comics. He realized that they were from his sketchbook and a look of dread spread across his face when he realized that the dried-up book in his locker was actually his sketchbook.

“No, no, no, no!” He quickly took it out and tried flipping through the pages to see if anything had been salvaged, but he could barely turn them without a piece breaking off due to the dry paper. He flipped to the back of his ruined sketchbook and immediately started crying. There was smudged writing that he could barely read, but he could make out what was written at the bottom, ‘Make something amazing, kid. -Dad’ He clutched the book close to his chest and slowly slid down his locker and sat on the floor where he silently cried to himself.

The butterflies fluttered around as the window opened and illuminated on Hawkmoth. He smirked cunningly when he felt a powerful wave of emotions coming from Francoise Dupont. The Akuma hotspot.

“Such feelings of rage, and even more of sorrow.” He beckons for a pure white butterfly to land in his open palm. “This poor, disturbed boy.” He covers the butterfly with his other hand and fills it with dark magic using the Miraculous. Hawkmoth uncovers the butterfly, now an Akuma, and it flutters out of the window. “Fly away my beautiful Akuma, and evilize that boy!”

The Akuma flew over the city and towards the school where its target was. It phased through the walls so no students or teachers would see it, and went into the locker room where Nathaniel was still crying. He lifted his head up at the sound of its wings flapping and with a yelp, he got up and ran around the room to avoid the Akuma. Soon, he was backed into a corner with no way out. He turned his head away from the Akuma and shut his eyes tight as the evil butterfly merged with his sketchbook and turned it pitch black. The glowing, purple Akuma symbol appeared over his face. Nathaniel gripped his hair as Hawkmoth spoke to him, “Welcome back, Evillustrator.”

“Stop it,” he cried. “Not now.”

Hawkmoth paid close attention to the emotions he was feeling right now. It was mainly anger from having his sketchbook destroyed, but he was also grieving. A feeling Hawkmoth knew all too well. He could see the Akumatized object in his head and saw the damage that had been done to it. As a fellow patron of the arts, he knew the importance of a sketchbook to an artist. But there was something special about this one. Perhaps someone he lost gifted it to him. He spoke, “But why not? I too understand the pain of losing a loved one. Let me help you.”

“You’re not going to help me.”

“But I will. That sketchbook must mean something to you. Don’t you wish to find the one responsible?”

"..." Nathaniel’s look of fear morphed into a scowl when he realized who could have done this, “Yes.”

Hawkmoth smiled, “I won’t stand in your way this time. As long as you bring me the Miraculous, you may use your powers however you please. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes, Hawkmoth.” Black mist bubbled up from his sketchbook and engulfed him. Seconds later, Evillustrator stood in place of Nathaniel with an upgraded outfit. His windswept hair is brighter and more vibrant, fading from orange to purple, to black. He had on a white v-neck tailcoat with four dark purple stripes and three circles colored red, yellow, and blue printed on, a black shirt that had darker cuffs with red, yellow, and blue buttons and a red swan neck collar, white gloves, purple pants, and red boots with a slight heel.

He lifted his right arm where his tablet was attached, tucked his repaired, dark purple sketchbook under his arm, and began drawing. Materializing out of thin air was a fake Nathaniel. With a smirk, Evillustrator handed the Akumatized object over to him and said, “You know what to do.” With a nod, fake Nathaniel opened the sketchbook to an empty page and pressed it to Evillustrator’s chest. Immediately, he disappeared in a flash of purple light. Nathaniel turned the book towards him and saw a sketch of Evillustrator motioning for him to leave. He closed the book and made his way to class.

Lila tried very hard to suppress a scowl when she saw the fake Nathaniel walking into the classroom with the sketchbook, she was so sure that she destroyed it. Was it all just a wonderful dream? No! She knew she destroyed that thing! But, wasn’t it black? She needed to destroy it so that redhead would learn his place. Before she could make her way to his and Marinette’s desk in the back, Mme. Bustier walked in, “Alright class, take your seats!”

‘Later,’ she thought to herself then went to her seat next to Alya.

Mme. Bustier began writing on the board, "Today, we'll- OW!" Out of nowhere, a baseball hit the side of her head, much to the shock of the class. She picked up the ball while rubbing the side of her head, "Where did this come from?"

Lila immediately shot her hand up and pointed to the back, "I bet it was Marinette!"

"I am way back here and it hit the side of her head!" She yelled, "If I had thrown that ball, it would have nailed her right in the back of the head!" The students on her side and the students on Lila's side got into a heated argument. Adrien tried to calmly tell Lila's side that Alix was right, but they just talked over him. Chloe, who didn't care, filed her nails. Mme. Bustier clapped her hands, trying to grab their attention, "Class, please!" They settled down, making her let out a breath of relief. "Now, Alix is right about the ball hitting me on the side," Alix shot Lila a victorious smirk. "We'll figure out who did this later, but let's just get to our lesson." She set the baseball down on her desk, eyeing it warily before turning back to the board.

Marinette rolled her eyes. It was way too early for Lila to be pulling this kind of crap. Also, where did that baseball come from? The windows aren't open, so it didn't come from outside. She turned to Nathaniel, intending to ask what he thought. None of the art club students really paid attention to Mme. Bustier's lessons since she rarely taught anything. And when she was teaching, Lila would steer the lesson over to an hour-long discussion about how she was related to some major historical figure. Marinette was pretty sure Vlad the Impaler and Catherine the Great weren't related.

Before she could say anything, she noticed him just staring at a page in his sketchbook. Just staring, not drawing. She couldn't see what he was looking at because he was holding the front cover of the book up. And what's even weirder was that he seemed to be nodding. When he saw her staring, he immediately closed his sketchbook and turned his attention to the front.

'Strange,' Marinette thought to herself then continued half-listening to the lesson.

Ten more minutes in, and Lila was telling a story about being the distant relative of some witch hunter from the Salem witch trials in the states. This allowed the art club kids to text each other on their group chat while everyone ate up whatever Lila said. But Marinette made a new group chat without Nathaniel.

Something's Up

Alix: Care 2 explain??

Rose: Is something wrong?

Juleka: You forgot Nathaniel.

Marinette: That's what this is about. There's something... Off about him today.

Alix: Oh, thank God! I thought I was the only one who noticed.

Rose: What's wrong with Nathaniel???

Alix: He's just all zoned out or something.

Marinette: I caught him nodding at his sketchbook.

Alix: I don't even recognize that one. All his sketchbooks usually have designs on them but that one is just solid purple. 🤔

Juleka: Now that you mention it... When everyone was arguing about the baseball, I noticed he didn't say or do anything. Just stared at his sketchbook.

Rose: That's odd.

Marinette: Maybe he's having an off day?

Alix: I did see him bump into the door frame when he walked into the classroom. So... Off day?

Juleka: Off day.

Rose: 👉🏻Off day👈🏻

Marinette: Off Day. Okay, Lila's wasted twenty minutes and we have two minutes left of class... Any weekend plans?

Rose: Family reunion! Can't wait!

Juleka: Luka and I are gonna watch a bunch of trashy high school movies from America. I'm interested in this one called The Outcasts.🍿🎥

Alix: Promised Jalil I'd do some nerd stuff with him.🤓

Marinette: Baking 🥐, sewing 🧵, typical day.

BRRRRIIIIIIING!

Marinette: And once again, we've learned nothing.

Alix: Ah, the glorious history of nothing.

Rose: My cousin majored in the Fundamentals of Nothing.

The students gathered their things and headed to their next class. As Nathaniel was packing, Mme. Bustier called out, "Nathaniel, can you stay for a minute?"

"Are you gonna be okay?" Marinette asked. At fake Nathaniel's nod, she left with the others, leaving him and Mme. Bustier alone.

The first thing she said was, "Nathaniel, I hope you apologized to Lila." When he didn't answer and just stared at her blankly, she sighed, "Nathaniel, I understand that you're upset."

"Upset doesn't even begin to describe how I feel, Caline!"

"But it's not Lila's fault," "Excuse me?!" "She just wants to make friends, and by antagonizing her," "You mean exposing an art thief?" "you'll be preventing her from doing so. Now, I expect you to apologize to Lila before the end of the day." "Or else, what, Caline?!"

The fake Nathaniel opened the sketchbook slightly, and immediately, a flaming arrow shot out of it and was dangerously close to hitting Mme. Bustier's foot. She looked at the redhead in shock before slowly backing away as he opened his sketchbook. "N-Nathaniel, wh-what are you- Aah!" The fake has pressed a blank page on her arm, and she disappeared with a scream. He turned the sketchbook towards him and there was Caline Bustier, now a pencil sketch hitting her fists against the paper and screaming to be let out. She was silenced by fake Nathaniel turning to the page with Evillustrator.

"Make sure there are none of those idiots left." With a nod, the fake shut the sketchbook and left just before the next class arrived.

Seventeen minutes in Mendelieve's class were spent learning about physics until the science teacher left once M. Damocles made an announcement over the PA system, telling the teachers to report to his office. That left Lila to take over and talk more and more about herself without the science teacher telling her to stay silent and pay attention. The art club was just minding their business in the group chat but listened closely when Lila started spewing lies about her famous artist uncle. They knew where this was going, and Alix got ready to fight tooth and nail for her friend. Finally, Lila brought up what happened yesterday, causing the students to give the fake Nathaniel wary looks or glares

"So," Kim said as he approached fake Nathaniel. "are you finally going to apologize for stealing Lila's art?"

Marinette huffed, "Guys, for the last time, Lila is lying! Nathaniel is not an art thief!"

"Well, let’s just see if that’s true," Alya said as she pulled out her phone to record and expose Nathaniel as an art thief. Before she could grab the sketchbook out of his hands, her phone was wiped away from existence. "MY PHONE! Where'd it go?!" Fake Nathaniel looked down at the sketchbook and smirked because he knew Evillustrator had something to do with that.

Alya continued to look for her phone, "It just disappeared out of thin air!" she exclaimed as she looked under the desk, believing she dropped it and didn't notice. "How does that just happen?!" As she and a few other students continued searching for her phone, Mme. Mendelieve walked back into class with a look of concern to replace her usually stoic face.

"Class, you wouldn't happen to know where Caline went, would you?" she asked. Everyone either shook their heads or said no. "Odd. No one can find her, When her next class went in, she was gone." She looks to the fake Nathaniel, "Nathaniel, you were the last to leave. Did she say she'd be going anywhere?" The fake looked like he was about to say something, but nothing came out. He instead shook his head. With a sigh, Mendelieve continued, "If she's not found or we don't hear from her in two hours, the school day will end early so the teachers can call the police to conduct an investigation." There were some scattered whispers. "I'm sure Caline is fine. Now, let's finish the lesson." The students who were helping Alya look for her phone comply and sit back down in their seats, but Alya kept searching for her phone, "Alya, sit down."

"But I can't find my phone," she said. "It just disappeared right out of my hand!"

"Miss Cesaire, you can try to look for it later," she said sternly. "But right now, we need to continue our lesson. Sit down." Alya reluctantly did so, and Mme. Mendleieve resumed what she was teaching the class before Damocles made his announcement. While she taught, Alix glanced over at the fake staring down at his sketchbook like Marinette said he was earlier. It was so weird. He was just staring and not doing anything. And how did Mme. Bustier just suddenly disappear without a trace?

Thirty minutes passed, and the students headed to lunch while Alya stayed behind to look for her phone with Nino helping her.

Fake Nathaniel managed to slip away from Marinette, Alix, Rose, and Juleka who were walking to the cafeteria as a group, something they did in case Lila tried anything, and he was now hiding in the locker room where Evillustrator was giving him instructions. “Kim often goes to the pool during lunch to practice,” he whispered. "Get him when he comes in." Right as he said this, the door was heard opening. The fake peered around the locker he was hiding behind and saw the athlete walking in and going to his locker. No witnesses were around. He opened the sketchbook to a blank page and sneaked over towards the athlete as he was pulling his gym bag out of his locker with some struggle.

When Kim finally managed to pull his bag out, it slipped out of his hands. The force he used flung the bag behind him, and it hit the sketchbook, making it disappear. Kim looked around to see where his bag went but only saw the fake, who shut the sketchbook before Kim could see what was on the pages. "O-oh. Hey, Nath." When he didn't answer, Kim sighed. "Silent treatment. Deserved that; I get it. Look, man I-I don't want to believe you stole Lila's art, but uh... I mean, why would Lila lie?"

"Because she's evil! Get him, now!"

"Still upset with me, huh?" He chuckled when the fake still didn't say anything.

"You have three seconds. Three."

"Again, I wanna believe you didn't do it."

"Two."

"But you and the girls have been kinda... Antagonizing her a bit?"

"One!"

The fake immediately clutched his left hand like he was in pain, getting Kim concerned. "Nath, what's wrong?!" He uncovered the fake's hand and was repulsed to find that his fingers were starting to vanish. "Oh my God!" Before he could say or do more, the fake mouthed, 'I'm sorry'. Then he opened the sketchbook and pressed the blank page to Kim's face. He disappeared with a scream. Fake Nathaniel dropped the sketchbook in favor of clutching his fingerless hand. The akumatized object was opened to the page with Evillustrator's angry glare, "Hesitate next time, and I'll erase your arm!”

The fake nodded frantically before letting out a sigh as Evillustrator drew on his tablet, making his fingers reappear. As he headed to the door, he heard a slight shuffling sound and turned around to see Myléne standing right outside the girls’ bathroom with her mouth agape.

”N-Nathaniel?” Myléne stammered as she began to slowly back away.

Fake Nathaniel approached her with the sketchbook opened to a blank page. Another silent ‘Sorry’, and Myléne was gone and trapped in the sketchbook. He flipped the pages back to Evillustrator, “Better. Now don’t stop until you have Rossi and those assholes!” The fake didn't want to do this, but he had to; it was how he was drawn. He was made to be a pawn in his creator's revenge plot, but he didn't want to do that. Evillustrator gave him the same personality he had pre-Akumatization, so this just felt wrong to him, but he couldn't go against his commands.

When fake Nathaniel nodded, Evillustrator arched an eyebrow and asked, "Can you speak?" He opened his mouth and tried to say something, but nothing came out. He shook his head. Evillustrator started drawing on his tablet, "Hold still." Fake Nathaniel's throat glowed a bright purple before dimming. "Say something."

"S... So... Some... Ting. S-something?"

"So glad I caught that. Now go!" Immediately, the fake put the sketchbook back into his messenger bag and left.

“Hey, Nath,” Marc greeted the fake as he sat down at their lunch table.

Fake Nathaniel smiled. He had his real counterpart's personality and all of his memories, so he knew exactly how to act and what to say (Now that he had a voice). “Hey, Rainbow.” He kisses Marc’s cheek and ignores the stinging sensation he’s feeling in his hand as one of his fingers is being erased. Evillustrator made him and can easily destroy him if he does something he doesn’t like. Apparently, kissing Marc is one of them.

”So, where were you?” Alix asked as she popped a grape in her mouth.

“Oh, I-I remembered that I left my locker open, and went to close it,” he fibbed.

“No point in that, Nath,” she shrugged. “Anyone can just go in and take whatever’s in a locker."

Marinette nodded in agreement, remembering her expulsion, then asked, “So, what do you guys think happened to Mme. Bustier? She couldn’t have suddenly disappeared; we all just saw her.”

Alix leaned back in her seat, uncaring, “Does it really matter? I think we could all use a break from her.” Juleka nodded, “Maybe Mendeleiev will be our substitute and actually put Lila in her place.”

”One can dream,” Rose sighed as she leaned on Juleka, making the goth girl wrap her arm around the blonde.

Juleka looked around the room. She furrowed her brow then asked, “That’s weird. Kim and Mylène aren’t here.”

”Well, Kim probably went to the pool,” Alix said as she looked for the activist. “But where’s Myléne?”

”Maybe she-“ Before Marc could finish what he was about to say, the doors slammed against the wall as Alya stormed in with Nino trailing close behind.

”Nino, a phone doesn’t just disappear like that!” she exclaimed. “There’s probably an Akuma around here!” Immediately, the cafeteria broke out into whispers about if Alya was right about the Akuma. “And Mme. Bustier suddenly disappearing? Explain that. She wouldn’t just ditch her job like that.”

”Tell it to the person doing most of her work,” Marinette muttered, making the students at the table laugh. Mme. Bustier would always force Marinette to do her work for her and say that they’re the duties of the class representative when really, the woman is just lazy to do the work herself. And when Marinette refuses, Bustier will use the ‘I’m disappointed in you’ voice until Marinette complied.

”You think this is funny?!” Lila whined. “Mme. Bustier and Myléne are missing, and it’s probably because there’s probably an Akuma loose in the school!”

Alix groaned, “Mind your own business, Rossi!” A couple of the students that were on Marinette’s side snickered. “And it’s called making light of a situation. Less negativity, fewer Akumas. You're welcome.”

”Why are you guys always so rude to me?” Alya asked before pointing to Marinette, “First you let your jealousy cloud your judgment,” then to Juleka, “you’re always telling Lila to kill herself,” Alix, “you ruined her clothes,” Rose, “you stole her money,” then Nathaniel, “and you plagiarized her art because you’re jealous of her, too! Why do you guys hate her so much?”

”Because she’s a liar,” Marc murmured. "Simple as that."

“I’m not!” Lila yelled with fake tears in her eyes that masked the glare she was sending the boy. “Why does no one believe me?!” Sabrina went to console her.

”We believe you, girl,” Alya reassured. “And we’re gonna prove you’re innocent...” Her eyes trailed to Nathaniel’s messenger bag, “Starting by proving Nathaniel did steal your art!”

Before the fake artist could react, Alya already had his messenger bag in her hands and now the akumatized sketchbook. “Lila, get your sketchbook, we’re gonna...” Her voice trailed off when she saw the moving sketches of Mme. Bustier, Kim, and Mylène, begging to be freed. The other students gathered around Alya and looked in horror at students and teacher trapped in the sketchbook.

Max pointed at the fake, “You-you’re the Akuma!”

With a sneer, he snatched the sketchbook out of Alya’s hands and pressed a blank page to Max’s face. He disappeared and was now trapped inside the sketchbook, alarming the students.

“Th-the sketchbook’s g-gotta be an Amok,” Nino stammered as he pulled Alya away from the fake. “H-he doesn’t even look like an Akuma!”

“There’s no Amok, and I’m not the Akuma.” He flips to the page with Evillustrator. “He is.” As the students stood in shock, the fake tore out the page, and it glowed a bright purple before morphing into Evillustrator, glaring menacingly at the Akuma Class.

”N-Nath?” Marc stammered as he cautiously approached his Akumatized boyfriend.

“Then who’s he?!” Alix grabbed the fake's wrist to prevent him from running and glared at him.

Evillustrator scoffed. ”He's not important.” Then, much to the fake's horror, he put the eraser to his tablet.

”No! Wait!” The fake cried as he was erased from existence, horrifying the students, Marc especially. The sketchbook dropped to the floor with a thud.

“H-how did-“

”Ask her!” He points a shaky finger at the Italian girl. “You,” he draws a lock on his tablet, “will not get away with what you did!” A couple of students, Marinette being one of them, managed to escape the cafeteria right before Multiple locks appeared on the doors, making it impossible for the others to get out unless they were crazy enough to jump out of the window.

”I-I didn’t do anything!” She lied while rubbing her eyes to look like she’s crying again. “Why are you trying to hurt me, Nathaniel?!”

”It’s Evillustrator, now!” He drew a missile on his tablet, and that same missile appeared next to him. The students ran for the doors and tried to pull the locks off, but they were too strong. “NO ONE LEAVES UNTIL SHE’S GONE!” He points his pen towards Lila, and the missile goes after her as she runs around the cafeteria screaming for help. Seeing that they weren't going to get out of this, the remaining students ducked under tables and chairs.

Ismael and Ivan ran towards Evillustrator to try and grab the pen, remembering how that was the Akumatized object last time Nathaniel was Akumatized. Quickly, he jumped out of the way, causing the two boys to collide and fall to the floor, groaning in pain. Evillustrator grabs the sketchbook off the floor and pressed a blank page on them, making the two boys disappear into the sketchbook.

Seeing that the missile was getting closer to her, Sabrina quickly got up from under a table and tackled Lila to the floor before the missile could hit her. It instead crashed into a wall, creating a massive hole that allowed the students to escape. The art club students stayed behind, though, hoping that they could calm their akumatized friend down. Evillustrator was about to run after them, but Akux grabbed his wrist.

”Nath, wait!” she pleaded while trying to not look like she’s afraid of the enraged Akuma that used to be her best friend. “Let’s just talk about this, okay? What did Lila do to you?”

Evillustrator’s glare softened as he looked into Alix's eyes. He needed to get his revenge on Lila but she was keeping him from doing that... “Forgive me, Alix.”

”What?”

Before Alix knew it, she was trapped in the sketchbook, shocking the remaining members of the art club. Marc was about to approach him, but Evillustrator held his sketchbook close to his face, making the writer back away. “Don’t make me do something I will regret, Rainbow,” he warned then ran out of the cafeteria.

Many of the students took refuge in the locker room, their main place to hide during Akuma attacks in the school. They begged Damocles for months to actually build some sort of Akuma safety shelter in the school, but it was always the same thing, 'There's not enough money in the budget.' Well, there certainly was enough for him to create a secret compartment hidden behind the wall for his Owl stuff. Thinking about how much of the money they made during fundraisers being spent by him to create those toy weapons often gave the students horrible headaches.

The students flinched when they heard Evillustrator's booming voice from the second floor of the school, “WHERE ARE YOU LILA?!” A few brave students looked out the window and saw Evillustrator erasing the walls to every classroom he passed by. “YOU’RE WEAK, YOU KNOW THAT?!” He erases the door to a storage closet, revealing two very scared students cowering at the sight of him. The students not targeted by him couldn't help but feel sorry for the Akuma. Whatever Lila did must have been awful to make Nathaniel this upset.

With a frustrated yell, Evillustrator got the two students with his sketchbook. Once they were gone, he jumped down from the second floor and into the courtyard, making the students get away from the window, hoping he didn't see them. Jean Duparc looked around to make sure everyone was safe or not doing anything to attract the Akuma. A few were nervously biting their nails or twirling their hair, others were texting their parents, and next to him, Aurore and Mireille were updating their blog, 'BugOut & CatChat'. Instead of recording Akuma battles like Alya with the Ladybug, they analyzed the akumas and gave descriptions of their powers, let the public know of the Akuma's location so they could avoid it and so Ladybug and Chat Noir couldn't find it. And just for laughs, they critiqued Hawkmoth's fashion choices for Akumas. So far, there was nothing about Evillustrator's new outfit that needed critiquing. He bumped Trouble Maker down to 2nd place on the 'Best Dressed Akuma' list.

“Come out now, or so help me, I will-!” He stepped to the side when Ladybug’s YoYo flew right past him and retracted back to the spotted heroine standing at the top of the stairs. “You’ll have to be quicker than that, you pest!”

Chat Noir dropped in next to Ladybug, “Well, what’s got him so steamed up?”

“Lila,” she groaned, making Chat roll his eyes in annoyance at the mention of the liar. He's given that girl enough chances, as Chat and as Adrien. He was done. ”Let’s get this over with.”

The two heroes ran towards Evillustrator and were already dodging giant boxing gloves, buzz saws, and pitchforks drawn by him. Ladybug threw her yoyo, which he ducked under then drew something on his tablet. A hole that Ladybug would’ve fallen into if Chat Noir hadn’t grabbed her hand in time appeared under her feet.

Evillustrator drew two more buzz saws and sent them at the heroes. Chat Noir quickly got in front of Ladybug and spun his staff, making it act like a shield that deflected the saws. One sliced through the middle of a bench, revealing Lila. He smirked, "FOUND YOU!" He threw his sketchbook at Lila, but she ran out of the way and it hit one half of the bench before coming back to him like a boomerang. Evillustrator continues throwing his sketchbook at the liar while also drawing projectiles whenever the sketchbook was out of his hands. The first round of projectiles was easily deflected by Ladybug and Chat Noir, but there were just too many on their second round. One of them gets one of Ladybug's pigtails, cutting off a few inches and making her hair look weird. Another one nicked Chat on the ankle. He whispered a curse and clutched his ankle.

With Chat Noir subdued, Ladybug had to protect both of them and deflect the rest of the projectiles while Evillustrator went after Lila. As he chased her up the stairs, Evillustrator drew a couple of darts that pinned Lila to a wall by embedding them through her clothes. As she struggled to get free, Evillustrator calmly approached her while drawing on his tablet. "Don't look so afraid Lila. You had this coming after what you did."

"I didn't do anything!" she screamed. "It's not my fault that people like my art better than your-" She's silenced by a cleaver appearing in Evillustrator's hands.

He chuckled darkly, "I am going to enjoy this." After aiming for her head, he threw the cleaver. Lila turned her head away, believing that the cleaver hitting the side of her head would be less painful than it hitting her face. She waited, but the cleaver never came, and there was a 'clank' sound. Lila opened an eye and saw that Chat Noir, being supported by Ladybug, had deflected the cleaver with his staff.

"Took you long enough!" she complained. "Get me down from here!"

Ladybug took a deep breath as she assessed the situation. She could either be a hero and save Lila, or still be a hero and rid the world of Lila... 'Fine!' She made her way over to the sausage-haired girl and slowly took out the darts, and was clearly trying to keep herself from stabbing Lila with the very sharp ends. Once the last dart was removed, Lila pushed Ladybug into Chat, making him stumble a bit and lose his composure before making a run for it.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Evillustrator yelled, enraged. He grabbed Chat's staff while the leather-clad hero was still gripping it, and flung him over the railing, making him fall and crash onto the hard courtyard floor.

"Chat!" Ladybug called out. Angered, she threw her yoyo at the Akuma, but he caught it and opened his sketchbook, much to Ladybug's horror. Before the weapon could make contact with the page, Chat's staff extended and the end hit the side of Evillustrator's face. He fell to the floor and clenched his jaw. With him down, Ladybug ran for the sketchbook, only for a glass wall to appear between her, the Akumatized object, and Evillustrator. He drew something else on his tablet, and multiple swords appeared, all pointed at Ladybug.

"Stay out of my way!" He growled. Ladybug swung all around the courtyard as the swords chased after her. Seeing that there were still some students around, she led the swords into an empty classroom and proceeded to dodge them there. Seeing Chat Noir about to vault over to him, Evillustrator drew a giant boxing glove that knocked Chat down to the floor. He was in the middle of drawing an anvil when suddenly, a gloved hand grabbed his wrist. He looked up to see who had the nerve to stop him, but his anger diminished when he saw that it was Marc. "Rainbow, what are you doing?"

"Nath, you gotta stop!" Marc pleaded as he intertwined his and Evillustrator's hands.

"You don't know what she did, Marc!" He exclaimed. "You weren't there! Now let me go!" He tried to pull his hand out of Marc's grasp, but the writer wasn't letting go. 'Rossi's getting away! I can't let her get away with this!' With some reluctance, Evillustrator raised his sketchbook and tried hard to ignore the sad look in Marc's eyes. Just as he was about to press the page to his chest, Marc was pushed to the side, and the page instead was pressed to Rose's face, making her disappear into the sketchbook.

"ROSE!" Juleka and Marc cried out.

Evillustrator hit his fist on the metal railing in anger, "DAMN IT! SEE WHAT ROSSI'S MAKING ME DO?!" Hurridly, he drew a jetpack that appeared on his back. He pointed to Chat, "If you or Ladybug get in my way again, I WILL ERASE YOU BOTH FROM EXISTENCE!" Before he took off, he noticed Alya peering from around a corner. She was recording the fight using Nino's phone. When she noticed his eyes on her, she quickly made a run for it, but Evillustrator was faster. He hoisted the journalist over his shoulder.

"You're coming with me!" he yelled. "I want you to be there when Lila finally gets what's coming to her!"

"Wh-what are you- AH!"

Evillustrator flew out of the school just as Ladybug ran out of the classroom with her pigtails missing a couple of inches, one side strand missing, and some cuts on her face. She knew Evillustrator was a dangerous Akuma. He nearly drowned her and Chat and almost killed Chloe with a buzzsaw, but this was next level brutal. Hearing a groan, she looked and saw Chat Noir slowly climbing up the stairs with a slight limp. "Chat, are you okay?"

He shook his head, "No, m'lady. He got my ankle bad."

"Ladybug, Chat Noir!" Nino called out as he and Sabrina approached the two in-pain heroes. "Are you two okay?"

Ladybug gave a nod, "Yeah, we're fine. And don't worry Nino, we'll get Alya back."

Nino let out a breath of relief before Sabrina said to Ladybug, "Hey, after you were helping Lila down, I-I saw her push you. A-and before that, she sounded so rude when you were trying to help her." Ladybug frowned at that. She's saved that girl's butt so many times, and not once has she shown any gratitude. "Are you two having a fight, or-"

"No. We're not."

"Then why-"

Chat cut Nino off, "They're not friends, okay? Never have been, never will be."

"... Lila was lying?" Sabrina whispered to herself.

"And the sun sets in the west," Juleka muttered, making Marc give her a little nudge with his elbow.

The two bespectacled students cast each other looks of disbelief. Lila was lying about being friends with Ladybug, and she pushed the heroine into Chat, knowing he was injured and trying to fight Evillustrator. If she lied about that, what else could she have lied about? Pulling them out of their thoughts was Aurore and Mireille running over to Ladybug and Chat Noir with their phones.

"Ladybug! Chat Noir!" Mireille called out. "Alya's live-streaming right now." She hands the spotted heroine her phone, and the screen showed a live stream of the Ladyblog. Alya was in an odd position with a look of clear terror on her face that she was trying to mask with a brave smile. "He-hey, viewers! So, I am..." She looks down, and her eyes bulge before she looks back at the camera, "About a hundred feet above the ground right now, and I have nothing to hold onto! B-but don't worry. I mean, I'm slung over an Akuma's shoulder like a sack of flour, but at least he's not handsy like Pharaoh." She panned the phone to Evillustrator. "Care to comment?"

Evillustrator looks to the phone with an enraged look. "Lila Rossi, if you're watching this, I will find you! Be sure of it! And I might consider letting you live if Ladybug and Chat Noir hand over their Miraculous!"

Marc felt a tear about to escape out of the corner of his eye. What did Lila do to Nathaniel?

Alya panned the phone back to her horrified face. The fear of falling from a great height didn't phase her anymore. Now she was scared of the possibility of seeing an Akuma murder someone. Finally, much to her relief, they landed on a balcony.

"Wh-what are you doing here?!" A woman yelled.

Ladybug paused the video, "Thanks, you guys." She turns to Chat, "You gonna be okay?"

Chat gives her a thumbs up, "I'll be fine." He extends his baton, ready to vault out of the school. "Let's go!"

The two heroes swing and vault out of the school and head over to where Evillustrator is, leaving Lila's former followers to awkwardly stand with her haters.

"... We tried to tell you," Marc told Nino and Sabrina after a long, uncomfortable silence.

"Evillustrator, this is going too far! Let her go!"

Evillustrator glared at the Italian woman tied up and gagged on a couch. Floating over her were about ten daggers, all of the blades sharpened to a deadly point. "Yes, spare the mother of a demon spawn," he said sarcastically. "You said that you'd stay out of my way!" He turns to Alya, who's trying to inch out of the room. "Don't. Go. Anywhere. And keep rolling! Let's see if Lila Rossi is all she claims to be."

Mme. Rossi lets out a loud muffled response. The Akuma approaches her and rips the duct tape off of her mouth, making her let out a pained yell. "What are you talking about?! What does this have to do my daughter?!"

Evillustrator gives the woman a pitiful look. It's sad how this woman doesn't know what her daughter has been up to. Well, now she'll know.

"MAMA!"

"Perfect timing," Evillustrator smirked as Lila ran up the stairs and into the living room.

"Mama, don't listen to him! He's an Akuma, and he's trying to hurt me!"

Evillustrator chuckled, "Well, that's not the whole story, is it?" He turns to Alya, still recording, "Paris, let's see how committed to her lies, Lila is. Would she put her own mother in danger just to avoid the consequences?" He approaches the scared and very confused woman. "Irene Rossi, your daughter has been claiming many things recently. Confirm a few things for me, okay?" Irene nods frantically. "Great. And if Lila tries to save face, then... I'm so sorry she's your daughter." He draws a ball and chain something on his tablet. That same one appears around Lila's ankle, preventing her from escaping. "Now, Irene. Tell us, have you ever met Prince Ali?"

Irene furrowed her brow in confusion. 'What is he talking about?' She shook her head, no. "What are you-"

"He's trying to make me look bad, mama!" Lila wailed. "Please, don't answer whatever he asks! It's a trick!"

"Damn, Lila," Evillustrator whispered. "I thought you loved your mother." He pointed to one of the daggers, and at his command, it dropped down, dangerously close to hitting Irene's shoulder and embedding itself into the couch cushion. All three women and everyone watching the Ladyblog Livestream let out horrified gasps. "This is what happens when you lie," he taunted. "So, you've never met Prince Ali? So, that would mean Lila's never worked on Go Green charities with him."

"What?!" Irene shrieked. "Prince Ali doesn't even work with Go Grene charities! He's devoted his time to helping children! Lila, what have you been telling people?"

Before the brunette has a chance to speak, Evillustrator interrupts, "Next question. Are you the descendant of a fox hero named Volpina?" Alya's jaw dropped at that question. "Did anyone in the family ever pass along a necklace with a fox-tail pendant down to Lila?"

Irene shook her head, "No! No one hasn't!" She glares at Lila, "The only family heirloom passed down is a wedding veil with the brides' names stitched on!"

"M-maybe you just didn't know about it!" Lila lied, much to Irene and Alya's shock. They saw what happened when she lied, and she's still trying to save herself. "Nonna passed the necklace down to me because she-"

"LIES!" Another dagger came very close to hitting Irene's foot. She managed to move it out of the way at the last second. "So shameful. Letting your mother face the consequences for your lies? Is there no level you won't stoop to, Lila?" When she didn't answer and instead glared at him, he asked Irene the next question, "Why wasn't Lila in school for what was it?... Three months?”

“I was told that school was closed due to an Akuma outbreak and that Ladybug and Chat Noir were too incompetent to stop them.”

”By Lila?”

”...” She nodded, ashamed, “Yes.”

Evillustrator smirked, “Well, while your daughter was relaxing at home, she’s been telling everyone that she was really in Achu with Prince Ali.” He adds, “And it takes Ladybug and Chat Noir about three hours to defeat an Akuma, so they’re not incompetent like your daughter says they are.”

Irene hung her head. How could her own flesh and blood be so deceitful? And how could she risk the life of her own mother like this?

”Aw, that’s so sweet!” Chat exclaimed as he and Ladybug landed on the balcony and made their way inside.

”Nathaniel, you’ve already exposed Lila,” Ladybug tried to reason. “Just hand over your Akuma so no one else gets hurt!”

”My name is Evillustrator!” he growled. “And that wasn’t even half the lies she’s told!” He turns to Irene, who’s gone pale learning that Lila's told more lies. “You thought those were bad? Just wait until you see what else she’s hiding.” He draws a gas mask that appears over his face and a smoke bomb that releases purple smoke all around the living room. There are some scattered coughs that decrease as the smoke clears up due to Ladybug and Chat Noir spinning their weapons. They act like fans and blow the smoke out of the window. When the room clears up, Evillustrator, Lila, and Alya are gone, but Irene still remains tied up on the couch with the daggers still above her.

“Where’d they go?” Ladybug wondered aloud before Chat went to go untie Mme. Rossi.

”Th-thank you, b-both of you,” she stammered while eyeing the still-floating daggers. “I-I am so sorry for what I th-thought of you, I’m sure you’re both-“

”Ma’am, it’s alright,” Chat told her. “Lila was the one making us look bad; you didn’t know.”

"Maledetto," Irene sighed and buried her face in her hands. “Looking back, some things Lila has been telling me did seem far-fetched. The school being closed for months, every student and teacher being akumatized, the people working for the media have been held hostage." The heroes give her unbelieving looks. "Yes. I realize how dumb it sounds now, but I'm new to these... Akumas, and Miraculous. I... I thought I could trust her."

Ladybug rested a hand on the woman's shoulder and gives her a sympathetic look, "We'll set your daughter straight, Mme. Rossi. You can be sure of it." As the woman smiled, Ladybug called her for her, "Lucky Charm!" The object that dropped down into her hands was, "A ram's horn?"

Chat Noir scratched his head in confusion, "You gonna play a little tune?"

"That's also what convinced me you two weren't capable," Irene said. "You rely on random objects to defeat an Akuma?"

Ladybug looked around the room, trying to find a way to use the Lucky Charm, "Well, they do help in battles. I just need to figure out how to use it."

"Hey!" Chat piped up, "Isn't there a Goat Miraculous?"

Ladybug recalled seeing a Goat Kwami when she was battling Kwamibuster, and she wore horn-shaped barrettes. "You're right, Chat! Go and follow Evillustrator, I'll be with you soon." With a salute, Chat was gone. Before she left, Irene told her in a low, threatening voice, "Bring her back, so I may give her the punishment she deserves."

Ladybug tensed, "Well, with what Lila's been doing, she'll probably be out of your hands and in the polices'." She left before Irene could ask what she meant, leaving the Italian woman to sulk in her living room.

'What did she do to him?!' Marc wondered over and over as he sat in the art room with Juleka, furiously writing his feelings down in his journal. Both of them needed a break from the guilty look of Juleka's classmates and decided to spend the rest of the day in the art classroom. It was so quiet without the others.'That sausage-haired jerk deserves what's coming to her!... Maybe not death.'

Juleka takes a peek over Marc's shoulder to read what he's written. Her eyes go wide when she sees the many words Marc has used to describe Lila... Well, he was right. "You feeling better?" she asked.

Marc looked up from his journal and turned to face the goth girl. "... I need worse words for her." Juleka chuckled and took the seat next to him. "I have used every curse word and insult I could think of to describe Lila, and none of them are strong enough."

Juleka pulls out a pencil, "Try this." She writes something down on the corner page of his journal and has him look at it, leaving Marc's face a crimson red. "Eh?"

"Juleka," Marc gasped. "Wh-where did you-"

"You won't believe what mom said around me," she smirked. "One of them was actually Luka's first word." Her amused expression turns sour, "I still think those words are too good for Lila, though."

"Every curse word is too good for her," Marc joked, making Juleka laugh. Cutting off their amused laughter was the sound of something hitting a window. They turned around and saw Ladybug standing on a ledge right outside the classroom. They ran over and opened the window, allowing the heroine to come inside.

"L-Ladybug, what are you doing here?" Juleka asked in awe.

"The Lucky Charm told me to come here." She turns to Marc, "I'm gonna need to borrow you for a while, Marc." The emerald-eyed boy stood, frozen in shock. Ladybug. The Ladybug wanted to borrow him! Realizing that he's just been staring at her for a while, he snapped out of his daze and nodded.

"Y-yes! Of course!"

"Smooth," Juleka whispered.

Ladybug wrapped her arm around Marc's waist and threw her yoyo out of the window. Once it wrapped around something, it pulled the two out of the classroom, leaving Juleka alone.

"... Might as well go home," she said to herself before gathering up her stuff.

Once she and Marc were on top of a roof, Ladybug moved them to hide behind an air vent, away from the public view. "Marc, what I'm about to ask you is very important, okay?" Off his nod, she pulled out a hexagonal box in front of her. "Marc Anciel, here is the Miraculous of the Goat, which grants the power of Compassion. You will use it for the greater good. Once the job is done, you will return the Miraculous to me."

Marc was speechless. He wanted to faint, scream, and jump up and down like a child on Christmas morning. Ladybug. Was asking him to assist her in saving Nathaniel... But what if he failed? Nathaniel would stay an Akuma forever, he'd fail Ladybug and Chat Noir, and-"

"Do you accept?" Ladybug asked, concerned when Marc didn't give her an immediate response like the previous heroes. "Marc, I trust you. And Nathaniel needs you."

"... I'll do it."

With a smile, Ladybug handed him the box. Marc opened it, revealing two hair clips in the shape of horns. There was a bright flash of light that had Marc shielding his eyes for a moment before looking up at the goat-like creature floating in front of him. All he could think was, 'I WANNA PET THEM SO MUCH!'

"Hi!" She greeted, "My name's Ziggy, and I'm a Kwami! It's a pleasure to meet you!" She flies around Marc, making him chuckle. "I love him already!" Ziggy squealed as she nuzzled against Marc's cheek. "Okay, to transform, you just gotta say, Ziggy, Fleece On!"

With a nod, Marc put the clips in his hair, where they turned into crescent moon-shaped clips.

"Ziggy! Fleece On!"

Ziggy flew into one of the hairclips, transforming them both back into their original design. Marc swept his hand over his face, making a black mask appear around his eyes. A golden sheep's bell appeared on his choker necklace. The magic spread from the bell and formed a white hoodie with black trumpet sleeves, white gloves with black fingertips, black pants held up by a white studded belt, and black and white combat boots. He ran his fingers through his hair, making fake goat ears appear atop his head, and his hair became an inch longer with the tips dyed white. Finally, he reached up into the air and caught a shepherd's crook that materialized in the air. He spun it around before tapping it on the ground.

Capricorn was ready!

All of Paris' citizens stood before the Eiffel Tower, eyes glued to their phones as they watched the LadyBlog live stream with anticipation. Firefighters stood all around the structure with large trampolines ready to catch someone. And at the very top of the Eiffel Tower were Alya, filming the fight between Chat Noir, Stormy Weather, and Mime, both drawn by Evillustrator, said villain plucking at a rope tied to the railing, and tied at the end of the rope was Lila, dangling thousands of feet above the ground and screaming to the top of her lungs.

"Come on, Lila," Evillustrator told her as he continued messing with the only thing keeping Lila from becoming a stain on the ground. "Make things easier for yourself, and tell everyone the truth."

"I'M NOT A LIAR!" she screeched.

Evillustrator snarled before ducking out of the way of one of Stormy Weather's lightning bolts. "You'll do anything to keep up your act, won't you?!" He drew a throwing dark on his tablet and aimed it for Lila's head. She managed to swing out of the way just in time, much to Evillustrator's frustration. He let out a sigh before saying, "Fine. Have it your way." He draws a blade on his tablet, and that same one appears in his hand.

"NO!" Chat Noir yelled before he was pinned to the floor by one of Mime's invisible objects. His staff was out of reach, and he could barely move. Stormy Weather approached him with her parasol, and zapped him with an ice blast, freezing him in place.

Hawkmoth's symbol appeared over Evillustrator's face, "Evillustrator! Forget the girl! Take Chat Noir's Miraculous! Unthaw his hand!"

"She's made my and my friends' life a living hell, and you expect me to let her GET AWAY WITH IT?!"

In his lair, Hawkmoth swayed slightly due to being overwhelmed by Evillustrator's emotions. How can one boy feel so much rage? He looked through the Akuma's eyes and saw him putting the blade close to the rope holding up his follower. Hawkmoth didn't care for Lila, but he wasn't that cruel. Plus, if she died, where else is he gonna find some selfish civilian willing to work for him and get rid of a couple of Adrien's bad influences in exchange for the hero's downfall and a modeling contract? "That's enough!"

Hawkmoth was physically restraining Evillustrator from cutting the rope. The Akuma struggled to regain control, "Why are you defending her of all people?! You got a soft side for Rossi, Hawkmoth?!" He sneered, "What is she, your follower or something?..." He gets the use of his body back and smirks when Hawkmoth says nothing. "Your silence says a lot."

Alya and the citizens watching from down below gasped. Some inexperienced model was secretly working for Hawkmoth? She was working against their beloved hero! Hawkmoth felt like he was about to pass out from the massive wave of emotions. For once, he was praying for Ladybug to show up and de-akumatize the victim. Once this was over, he needed a long break. Screw the jewelry, this headache was awful.

Evillustrator hummed, "Well, less of Hawkmoth's followers, fewer problems." He slashed the rope, and Lila plummeted to the earth with a blood-curdling scream.

"OH MY GOD!" Alya screamed as she dropped her phone.

The firefighters tried to pinpoint where she would drop, and the police stood by, ready the question the girl (If she lives). Lila was halfway to her doom. She clenched her eyes shut and waited while thinking to herself, 'I'm lucky enough to have gotten out of there without him exposing me! That pest better get here in time!' Right as she was at the second level of the tower, she suddenly stopped falling. It felt like something was hoisting her up. She opened one eye and turned her head to see who caught her. (Maybe gain some sympathy while she's at it) "Oh my goodness! Thank you so much for-"

"Cram it, Liar Rossi," Capricorn sneered as he pulled Lila away from the balcony using his crook, and set her down. He unhooked his weapon from her jacket and ran off to help Ladybug.

"HEY!" Lila screeched, throwing away her kicked puppy act. "Aren't you gonna untie me?!"

Capricorn just smirked, having no intention of helping her, and vaulted his way up to the summit of the Eiffel Tower.

Ladybug spun her YoYo, deflecting each of Evillustrator’s projectiles while occasionally using her weapon to hit the ice Chat was trapped in and free him.

”So Ladybug, tell me.” He drew a few throwing stars, “Is Lila really your best friend?”

Ladybug flung one of the projectiles into the throwing stars, making it explode on impact. “She hates me! I try to be friends with her, but she swore a vendetta on me!” She backflips away from the sketchbook before it could pull her in. “Hell, I’m pretty sure she wants me dead! When I was fighting Oni-Chan, she tricked Chat into leaving me!” At the mention of her partner, she threw her YoYo at the ice block once again, creating a few cracks along the surface. “So to answer your question, we never will be friends! Ever!”

Alya felt her hands shaking as she struggled to keep her phone up. She owed Marinette, Nathaniel, Alix, Rose, Juleka, and Marc a huge apology when or if this is all over. So far, it’s not looking good.

Ladybug threw her YoYo once more, intending to grab the sketchbook, but it instead wrapped around a sheet of flypaper. When she retracted it, Ladybug had some trouble separating the two, and just got both of her hands and weapon stuck to the paper. Evillustrator drew a ball and chain around the heroine’s ankle and calmly approached her.

”I won,” he sang as he reached his hand over to grab the earrings. Alya cut her phone off and shielded her eyes. She wanted to know the heroes' identities, but not like this.

But a second before the earrings were in his grasp, Evillustrator was whacked to the side and fell to the ground. While getting up, he watched as a figure dressed in black and white used a shepherd’s crook to break the chain connected to the 100lb ball, and the ice trapping Chat Noir. “Who are you supposed to be?!” He snarled.

He smiled, “The name’s Capricorn.”

Without saying a word, Evillustrator furiously drew a missile on his tablet that appeared and went after the heroes. While running, Ladybug finally got the flypaper off and threw her YoYo around Alya. She flung her over to the elevator and yelled, “Go!” Alya complied and quickly went inside the elevator to avoid the fight.

As he and Capricorn ran, Chat came up with an idea on how to get rid of the missile. To the new hero, he shouted, “Launch me!” With a nod, Capricorn ran ahead of Chat, got down on one knee, and locked his fingers together. Once he was close enough, Chat leaped into Capricorn’s hands, and the latter launched him into the air. Chat called out “Cataclysm!” as he went over the missile, and slid his hand across it, turning it into black ash.

”Nice one, you guys!” Ladybug commended as she rejoined the fight.

“Well, I couldn’t have done it without ewe,” he shot Capricorn double finger guns, making Ladybug roll her eyes and Capricorn stifle a laugh. Seeing Evillustrator drawing something else, Ladybug said to the new hero, “Capricorn, use your power. You can connect with Nathaniel and figure out what’s wrong!”

He nodded, “Cover me!”

Ladybug and Chat Noir ran towards Evillustrator, just as he was finished drawing three buzz saws. Chat Noir got in front of Ladybug and deflected them while she called for another Lucky Charm. It was a box of tissues. She set those to the side and went after Evillustrator, wrapping her YoYo tight around him. He kept his sketchbook clutched close to his chest and had no intention of letting go.

With him restrained, Capricorn yelled, “Connection!” And his crook was illuminated by a bright white light. He calmly approached Evillustrator, ignored his threats, and tapped his forehead with the crook. In an instant, Capricorn was no longer at the Eiffel Tower; he was at someone’s home. He looked around and recognized the place thanks to the furniture and photos framed on the wall. He was at Nathaniel’s house.

”Where’s my lil’ Leonardo?!” A playful voice called out followed by some giggling. Capricorn looked towards the door and saw a tall man with dark red hair and turquoise eyes walking in with a bright smile and a bag in his hands. Capricorn recognized the man. He’s seen his photos every time he goes over to Nathaniel’s house. It was his father, Maison Kurtzberg.

The man smiled as a child with long red hair wearing paint-splattered clothes ran into his arms. It was clear to Capricorn that the boy was Nathaniel.

”We really gotta cut your bangs, kids,” Maison laughed as he ruffled young Nathaniel’s hair, making the child laugh.

”Oh, leave him alone,” a voice Capricorn recognized as Aya’s said. “he likes how they look.” The seven-year-old nodded in agreement with his mother, making Maison chuckle.

”Well then, how are you gonna be able to see when you’re drawing in your books?” he asked.

”Oh, our little artist used up all of his sketchbooks,” Aya simpered while Maison just looked astonished.

”All ten of them?” Aya nodded. “Well then...” He hands Nathaniel over to Aya and reaches into the bag his holding, “It’s a good thing I bought this!” He pulls out a black sketchbook with a white outline of a paintbrush, pencil, and pen on the front. The young boy’s eyes gleamed under his bangs, and he made grabby motions with his hands, either to get to his dad or grab the new sketchbook.

Aya giggled and kissed her son’s forehead. “We really need to get him to talk more.”

Capricorn smiled at the scene before it faded away and transitioned to the school locker room. He looked around and saw Nathaniel, standing at his locker and frantically flipping through the torn pages of a black book. Upon closer inspection, Capricorn realized that it was Nathaniel’s sketchbook, the one his dad bought for him.

‘So that’s what Lila did,’ he thought bitterly.

When Nathaniel broke out into tears and sat down on the floor, Capricorn approached and kneeled beside him. “... Nathaniel?” He looked up at him with a tear-stained face and murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Capricorn placed his hands on Nathaniel’s shoulders, “You had every right to be mad. You-“

Nathaniel cut him off, “Took my anger out on everyone! I-I trapped my classmates, I hurt Ladybug and Chat Noir, I tried to kill Lila!” He covers his face with his hands and cries harder, “I almost hurt Marc...”

Capricorn wanted to tell him, ‘No you didn’t.’ But that would reveal himself as Marc.

”My classmates are gonna hate me even more for what I did to Lila. Don’t make me go back out there...”

“I won’t.” He moves Nathaniel’s hands out of the way and cups his face in his hands. “But you can’t stay Akumatized forever. I get why you’re upset. That sketchbook came from someone very important to you and she took it away...”

Nathaniel sighs and holds his hand against his cheek. “...”

”... If it makes you feel any better, Evillustrator exposed Lila as Hawkmoth’s partner.”

Nathaniel looks up, hopeful, “He did?”

Capricorn nodded, “You won’t have to worry about her anymore. She can’t hurt you or your friends again.”

“... The Akuma's in my sketchbook,” he said, right before the locker room faded away.

Capricorn looked around and saw that he was back at the Eiffel Tower. In front of him was a heavily crying Evillustrator, no longer bound by Ladybug’s YoYo. He slowly loosened his grip around his sketchbook and handed it over to Capricorn. The goat hero took it, turned around, and tore the book in half. The pages scattered onto the floor and morphed into the people Evillustrator trapped in the sketchbook. Finally, the Akuma fluttered out of the book.

”No more evil-doing for you, little Akuma!” Ladybug caught it with her YoYo. “Time to de-evilize! Gotcha!” Emerging from the YoYo was a pure white butterfly that fluttered up into the sky. “Bye-bye little butterfly.” She looked around for the tissue box Lucky Charm until she saw Capricorn using a handful to wipe Evillustrator’s tears away. With a smile, she took the box and tossed it into the air.

”MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”

The tissue box burst into thousands of magic Ladybugs that flew across the city. The people released from the sketchbook were placed back on the ground, all of the damage caused by Evillustrator was fixed, Chat and Ladybug’s cuts from earlier were healed, everything erased was restored, and Lila was no longer tied up. Finally, the Akuma’s magic washed over Evillustrator, leaving Nathaniel curled in on himself.

Ladybug and Chat Noir fist bump, “Pound it.”

Chat Noir looks off to the side and notices something lying on the floor. He walks over to it and picks up Nathaniel’s repaired sketchbook. “Hey,” Nathaniel looks up and gasps when he sees his sketchbook, “this yours?” He hands it over to the redhead, who immediately takes it.

”Th-thank you,” he whispered in disbelief as he flipped through the pages. Everything was there. He furrowed his brow in confusion, “I-I thought the Miracle Cure could only repair things caused by the Akuma.”

Ladybug wasn’t sure how to answer that. Maybe the Miracle Cure could fix Akumatized objects that were previously damaged, she thought. Before Ladybug could reply, he YoYo beeped. She switched it to the phone setting and saw a LadyBlog Livestream, only Alya’s phone was pointed to the floor. Did she know she was live right now?

”Please! All it takes is a few tears, and everyone will think Hawkmoth manipulated or blackmailed me!” It was Lila.

”Did Alya plan this?” Ladybug wondered.

”Clever girl,” Chat said.

“And just wait until tomorrow. Those idiots will fall at my command and attack that asshole, Kurtzberg! Maybe I can get them to tear up his sketchbook again! No doubt Ladybug's fixed it."

Capricorn‘s grip around his weapon tightened when she said that.

She let out a fake whine, “‘Oh, Nathaniel tried to kill me! Lock him away!’ See? It’s that easy!”

“I’ll tell everyone!” Alya retorted.

”And who’s gonna believe some lousy tabloid writer?” She taunted. “One word from me, and you’ll be a social pariah like those f*g art kids!”

Ladybug wanted to punch that girl so badly... Eh, let Paris take care of her.

”What the hell did you do to her?!”

”Well, let’s see... Threatened her, told her she’d lose her friends, and succeeded. Framed her for theft, cheating, and assault. Then I got her expelled so I could have Adrien all to myself."

Chat Noir held back the bile rising in his throat.

”So, I’m gonna go on a limb here and say you’ve been lying about every single thing.”

”Took you long enough, idiot! I hope you like sitting alone tomorrow. Meanwhile, I’ll be rich from taking that dumpy bitch’s charity money, and modeling for Gabriel.”

”And meanwhile, Paris will be hunting you down.” Alya pans the phone over to her smug face. “You heard it here, Paris. Lila is working for Hawkmoth, has been tormenting students and Francoise-DuPont, stealing charity money, and she’s homophobic.”

She pans the phone towards Lila’s horrified face. “So Lila, how does it feel to be the most hated girl in France? Oh, look at that. The comments are rolling in- Wow, everyone really hates you.”

Officer Raincomprix steps in between the two girls, “Miss Césaire, we’re going to need that phone for evidence, please.”

”One minute sir,” the video pans to her face, “Babe, if you’re watching this, I’m sorry. Your phone’s with the cops now. Okay, here you go.” The screen cuts to black.

Chat Noir couldn’t help but laugh, “I love that girl!”

Ladybug ran her fingers through her hair and grinned, “It’s over! She’s gone! She’s finally gone!” She turns to Capricorn with a bright smile, “Capricorn, why don’t you take Nathaniel back home? I’ll meet up with you later.”

With a nod, the goat hero scooped up Nathaniel into his arms and leaped away. Ladybug and Chat Noir swung and vaulted off, feeling very relieved knowing that they would have to deal with Lila anymore as civilians or heroes.

Capricorn landed right outside Nathaniel’s home and gently set him down.

”Thanks,” Nathaniel said as he shyly looked down at the ground. “A-again, I am so sorry about-“

”Nathaniel, it’s fine,” Capricorn reassured him. “You weren’t in control. I’m sure everyone will understand.”

Nathaniel smiled at that, “Thanks.”

Then, without thinking, Capricorn pulled him in for a hug, which Nathaniel returned once he got over his surprise. This lasted for a few more seconds until Nathaniel said, “I- uh... I have a boyfriend.”

Capricorn mentally facepalmed. ‘You’re not Marc right now! Nathaniel is not Capricorn’s boyfriend!’ "Sorry." Awkwardly, he pulled away and the two boys looked away in embarrassment. Finally, after an uncomfortable silence, someone called out, "NATH!" It was Alix, running towards him with Rose and Juleka. The latter narrowed her eyes at the goat hero, making him tense up and worry she'll figure out he's Marc.

"Oh, shit!" Alix cursed and she engulfed Nathaniel in a bone-crushing hug. "I thought we lost you, bud!"

"We could hear everything while we were in the sketchbook," Rose piped up. "They know Lila's lying!"

"Everyone in Paris does," Juleka smiled. "A police car drove by me earlier and I saw her in the back seat."

Alix cackled, "You should have seen their faces, Nath! It was priceless! Bustier was rocking back and forth like a mental patient, Max was face-palming over and over, and Mylene? Whoa! Don't get me started-"

Rose pointed to Capricorn, "Who's this?" Alix and Juleka turned their attention to the new hero.

"Sweet!" Alix pumped her fist in the air. "A new hero! And he helped take down Rossi!"

Capricorn's elation from the compliments turned to concern when Nathaniel asked, "Wait, where's Marc? Is he okay?!" Before Capricorn could come up with an excuse, Juleka answered, "Oh, his moms called him home," she fibbed while occasionally stealing glances at Capricorn. "I was gonna go with him, but my mom needed me home for something, too. He's probably still there."

Capricorn furrowed his brow. Did Juleka know?

"Thanks, Jules!" The four of them watched him run to Marc's house. With them distracted, Capricorn took this opportunity to quickly vault away once he heard his clips beeping and go look for Ladybug.

Capricorn met with Ladybug in an alley near his house and said the de-transformation words. "Ziggy, fleece off." The goat kwami flew out from the hair clip and hovered next to Marc, nuzzling his cheek as he removed the clips.

"That was so much fun!" Ziggy squealed. "Can you call on him again one day? Pleeease?" She put her flipper-hands together and gave Ladybug dough eyes, making her and Marc laugh.

"We'll see," Ladybug giggled. She gives Ziggy a little pat on her head before pulling out the box. Marc set the clips back in and said goodbye to Ziggy before she flew back into the horn-shaped clips.

"Thank you, Marc." She tucked the box away then pulled out her yoyo, preparing to swing away. "I knew I picked the right person for the job. Now, I suggest you go make sure Nathaniel is alright."

Marc nodded, "I will."

"See you soon, Capricorn." Marc wanted to ask what she meant by that, but she was already gone. He let out an excited squeal before running to his house. He waited outside for about three minutes until he saw Nathaniel running towards him.

"Nath!" The two ran towards each other and met each other with a tight, loving embrace.

"Rainbow, I'm so sorry," Nathaniel whispered, taking an exhale before asking, "Are you okay?"

"I should be asking you that. Nath, what Lila was... It-it was fucked up." Nathaniel nodded once he got over the shock of hearing his boyfriend curse. "But she's gone, now. She can't hurt you, me, Mari, anyone anymore."

With a smile, Nathaniel kissed Marc, and he melted into it as he wrapped his arms around Nathaniel.

The next day, the art club kids walked to school together. (Marc made sure to set an alarm for Marinette) They wanted to be prepared for any random apologies from the Akuma class or any reporters swarming the schoolyard looking for Hawkmoth's latest victim. When they realized DuPont was an Akuma hotspot, news crews would always go to get an interview from the Akumatized student or teacher. So far no reporters yet, much to Nathaniel's relief, but there were a few police cars parked outside.

Around them were a few officers questioning the students and teachers as they made their way to the doors. Before they could go in, the doors swung open, and four police officers walked out, escorting Mme. Bustier and M. Damocles to the police cars. Marinette asked Nino, who walked out a second later, "Are Mme. Bustier and M. Damocles getting arrested?"

Nino shrugged, "I heard the school board decided to do an investigation when Lila mentioned missing months of school and getting you expelled without any proof. Some people from the board came, talked to them, and, uh..." He slipped off his cap and ran his hand through his hair. "I don't think we're gonna see them for a while, Mari."

Marinette couldn't help but grin at the news, "I don't have to be the class example anymore!" Nino's eyes bulged at that. "I-it's a long story. I'll tell you later."

Nino chuckled before giving the group a remorseful look, "I... I'm sorry I didn't believe you guys."

"Don't sweat it, Lahiffe," Alix said. "You guys are just too nice and naive to notice when you're being conned."

Nino furrowed his brow as he processed what she just said. After a moment of silence, he said, "Thank... You? Well, school is canceled for today and the class is going to get some ice cream. You guys in?"

"Yeah!" Alix cheered. "Let's get some ice cream and apologies!" She sat on top of the stair railing and slid down.

"There they are," Kim said, pointing to Nino arriving with the art students. The Akuma class tensed up as they approached. Some were going over their apologies in their heads while others were figuring out what to say, especially to Marinette and Nathaniel. "Alright," he took a breath, "let's do this, guys."

Before any of them could apologize, Alix spoke, "Yes, yes. You all were idiots, we're smart, you're sorry, and promise to listen to us when we say someone is lying."

"... Y-yeah. Ba-basically," Kim stammered. "But seriously, you guys, we're sorry we took Lila's side."

"We've known you guys since we were kids," Mylene remarked. "We should've known you guys couldn't have done the stuff Lila said you did."

"Yeah, you should've," Juleka muttered, making Rose nudge her girlfriend with her elbow.

Alya walked over to Marinette with a sad smile, "Any chance you guys might forgive us someday?"

Marinette smiled and pulled the girl in for a hug, "Alya, shut up. I forgive you."

The creole girl smile and wrapped her arms around Marinette, "Thanks, Mari."

"... But if this happens again, I will physically knock some sense into you all until you admit that I'm right and beg for mercy," she whispered. The students just stood there, disturbed by what the sweetest girl in class just said.

Alya slowly back away from Marinette and nervously chuckled, "Got it, girl."

"Now, Alya," Alix piped up, "guys, isn't there someone else you want to apologize to?" She gestures over to Nathaniel.

Alya wasn't sure what to say to Nathaniel. The only time they really interacted was yesterday when she accused him of stealing Lila's art. So, taking a deep breath, she said to him, "Nathaniel, I... I jumped the gun, there, I'll admit it." A few nodded along. "When I think about it, the more I realize that you'd never steal another person's art."

"I mean you went into a fifteen-minute rant during history when we were talking about some art thief," Ivan brought up. He chuckled at the memory before stopping abruptly. "Yeah... Sorry."

"I forgive you guys," Nathaniel smiled. "Just don't do that ever again or I might also knock some sense into you guys."

To change the subject, Max brought up Capricorn, and now that was all anyone could talk about. Marc blushed when some of the girls called his hero persona cute. Was he? He didn't really get a good look at his outfit. As they rambled on about the new hero, he and Nathaniel went to get some ice cream.

"So, what'd you think of Capricorn?" Marc asked.

Nathaniel hummed in thought before answering, "I like him. He really helped me out there... Plus, he's kinda cute." Marc tried to fight back a blush. "Not as cute as you, though." Marc wasn't sure how to respond to that. "He was really understanding about why I got Akumatized and he even convinced me to hand over my Akuma."

Marc feigned surprise. "Really?"

He nodded. "Do you think he'd mind if we put him in the comic?"

Marc pretended to think about it for a moment, "I don't think so."

AO3

~Taglist~

[peachyteez]

second chances ≫ DAY ONE, STRANGE NURSE.

as a feral wolf hybrid that was violent with all of the employees assigned to him, seonghwa was subjected to be put down. however, jiyu being the softhearted feral hybrid nurse she was, she decided to save seonghwa no matter what.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: currently empty, but if you would like to be added, feel free to let me know!

✧ notes: featuring bunny!soobin because i couldn’t resist.

next。

hybrids. half human, half animal. humans that not only possess an animal’s features and personality, but also have the ability to shapeshift into their respective animal.

owning a hybrid wasn’t something uncommon. as a matter of fact, it’s an idea actually encouraged by society. of course, there were people who take advantage of their authority over hybrids and force them into unspeakable, sometimes even illegal, acts for their own benefits or pleasures.

and jiyu despised them.

she never understood how some people have the heart to selfishly exploit their own hybrids. hybrids were practically considered humans, too, were they not? so why treat them as if they were worthless?

“jiyu!”

a voice snapped her out of her thoughts. looking up, she noticed yeonjun, one of her coworkers and deskmate, staring at her with a raised eyebrow.

“sheesh, i called your name three times and it was like i didn’t even exist!” he whined.

jiyu lightly scoffed before she continued typing up a progress report for one of the hybrids under her care. “sorry, got lost in my thought again,” she apologized. “but what’s up?”

yeonjun handed her a stack of files. “can you enter these into the system? some are new and some have to be...” he trailed off, trying to find a soft way to put it.

jiyu knew what he meant. “okay. just leave them here, i’ll get to them once i’m done with soobin’s report.”

“ah, the new bunny! how’s he doing?” yeonjun asked, seeming eager to know about the condition of the new bunny hybrid that was recently admitted into the recovery facility.

jiyu smiled as she saved the document. “he’s making progress. he spoke a little more today compared to when he first came in.”

yeonjun sat down next to jiyu. “that’s good to hear. poor guy was so timid before,” he reminisced.

jiyu took the top file and started sorting through the contents. “he was. he barely spoke a full sentence.” flipping through the contents of the file, jiyu realized it was for a hybrid that was about to be put down. “park seonghwa...” she read the name aloud.

yeonjun leaned over to take a peek. “oh, yeah. he’s under my care, but he got transferred over to the feral ward. probably has some hatred or distrust against humans since he keeps attacking the nurses that come in for his checkup,” he said.

jiyu kept silent as she looked at the picture of the wolf hybrid attached to the file. she frowned. no hybrid deserved to be put down. but alas, she didn’t have any say over the matter since upper management makes the final calls over matters like that.

“jiyu, you can go on your lunch break now,” yeonjun nudged. “it’s twelve–thirty.”

standing up, jiyu strectched her arms over her head. “just leave the files on my desk. i’ll finish entering them in when i get back,” she said before leaving the office. yeonjun hummed in acknowledgement.

jogging down the hall, she came to a halt in front of one of the hybrid’s rooms. “soobin, can i come in?” jiyu asked with a knock to the door. hearing a faint ‘come in’, she entered the code into the keypad and the door automatically opened. peeking inside, she noticed the bunny hybrid wrapped in his blanket and watching TV.

she softly chuckled before closing the door. “look what i brought for you,” she said in a sing–song voice before taking out a bread packet from her white lab coat pocket.

his ears perking at at the familiar sound of the packet crinkling, his head whipped over in her direction before making a leap with his blanket for the packet. taking it from jiyu, he softly smiled. “thank you,” he softly said before sitting back down on his bed. he opened the packet and nibbled on the pastry.

jiyu sat next to him and gently rubbed his head. “did the nurses take you outside yet?” she asked. the facility had a little field area outside for the hybrids.

soobin nodded his head. “i met a golden–retriever hybrid outside! his name was beomgyu,” soobin proudly stated. “he’s really energetic, though...” he sheepishly added.

jiyu chuckled at soobin’s newfound enthusiasm. “is that so?” she vaguely remembered yeonjun telling her about beomgyu’s endless amount of energy once he fully adjusted to the facility. “did you have fun with him?”

“yep! we made—”

before soobin could continue telling jiyu about his time outside, a loud crash echoed from down the hall, followed by a scream. startled, soobin yelped and hid under his blanket.

gently giving his a few pats, jiyu immediately got up. “i’ll be right back soobin,” she said before frantically running out of the room and towards the source of the sound.

jiyu saw an open door to one of the rooms down the hall and assumed that was where the crash came from. looking in, jiyu’s eyes widened at the scene in front of her.

a hybrid was cornering a nurse, ready to pounce. the hybrid’s back was facing towards jiyu, making it easier for her to sneak up behind him and give him an anesthetic shot. the hybrid stumbled around before falling to the ground, completely losing consciousness.

with a sigh of relief, jiyu observed the state of the room. papers, medicine bottles, and medical equipment were scattered everywhere. “what happened?” she asked the nurse as she extended a hand out to help her stand.

the nurse was slightly trembling. “i–i was g-giving him h-his weekly c-checkup and all of a sudden he just...he just...”

“he attacked?” jiyu finished for her. seeing the nurse frantically nod, she sighed before shooting the nurse a soft smile. “you can go take a break. i can take care of things in here.”

“t-thank you!” the nurse gratefully said before scurrying out of the room.

jiyu’s eyes scanned the condition of the room once more before going to look at the name plate outside next to the door. she almost choked on her spit. park seonghwa.

“well, yeonjun definitely wasn’t lying,” she mumbled to herself. she took a look at the unconscious hybrid. “now how am i suppose to get him onto the bed...”

ten minutes and a few cracked joints later, jiyu sighed in relief when she successfully hauled the wolf hybrid onto his bed. she spotted the numerous toothless plushies lined along the side and her heart melted. turning away, she started cleaning the room. while picking up and organizing the various medicine bottles, she felt her heart drop to her stomach when she heard soft growling behind her.

slowly turning around, she was met with seonghwa’s glare and bared canines. without her hearing or even noticing, the anesthetic wore off on seonghwa and he had huddled into the corner of the bed and the wall.

the most logical option she had was to slowly back out of the room and close the door, but something about seonghwa made jiyu stay rooted in her spot. the longer she looked at the growling hybrid in front of her, the more she realized how scared he looked rather than intimidating.

“you’re scared, aren’t you?” she mumbled, mainly to herself but seonghwa managed to understand with his enhanced hearing. as if to prove her wrong, he started growling louder.

jiyu realized he must’ve been nonverbal if all he’s done so far was growl at her. she slowly put her hands up. “i won’t hurt you, buddy,” she softly reassured. seonghwa’s eyes quickly flitted to the open door then back to her. she softy smiled. “no one else is going to either.”

she gestured to the toothless plushies, trying to get seonghwa to loosen up and relax. “you really like toothless, don’t you?”

seonghwa glanced down at the multiple plushies next to him. his eyes slightly softened and jiyu swore they were filled with a child–like curiosity and sparkle. she couldn’t help but chuckle, causing the hybrid’s attention to shift back onto her. fortunately, his growling stopped, but he still had a hard stare.

“will you let me clean up the rest of the room?” she asked. seonghwa didn’t say anything, but he didn’t object. as she cleaned, seonghwa’s eyes were trained on her figure, following her every move.

he was quite confused. normally, others would’ve left his room out of fear when he growls at them, yet this female stayed and even talked to him.

“there, all done!” jiyu chirped when she put the last bottle on the shelf. glancing at the clock, her eyes widnened when she realized her lunch break ended five minutes ago. “oh my god, i need to go,” she mumbled before turning to seonghwa. “it was nice meeting you, seonghwa. who knows, maybe i’ll come by again later,” she smiled before leaving the room.

seonghwa stared at the door after she closed it. she really was a strange nurse.

yeonjun weirdly stared at jiyu when she came back late. “where were you? your break ended ten minutes ago.”

jiyu bit the inside of her cheek, debating on whether or not she should tell him the truth. “would you believe me if i said i was in park seonghwa’s room?” she meekly asked.

yeonjun practically choked on air. “you were where?!” he shouted. jiyu slapped a hand over his mouth while sheepishly smiling to her other coworkers who looked over at them.

“don’t scream,” she chastised as she uncovered his mouth.

“b-but you don’t even have a scratch on you!” he resorted to whisper-shouting. “are you joking around with me?”

jiyu rolled her eyes. “no, you idiot, i’m not. i really was in there. he was about to attack a poor nurse and i just happened to hear the commotion and help out.”

yeonjun raised an eyebrow. “yet he didn’t attack you?”

“...i guess not.”

“huh, interesting. i wonder why,” yeonjun pondered. “he usually attacks everyone that comes in to check up on him...”

suddenly, a light bulb went off in her head. “transfer him to me.”

yeonjun almost fell out of his chair. “pardon?”

“i didn’t enter his put–down proposition into the system yet, so the higher ups don’t know about it. transfer him to me. plus he doesn’t attack me, so i’ll take care of him.”

yeonjun stared at her like she grew a second head. “y-you want to take park seonghwa. the violent wolf hybrid,” he said, making sure he heard her right.

“yes, yeonjun,” she deadpanned.

after a moment of hesitation and contemplating, yeonjun slowly nodded. “alright. but the moment he’s violent with you, let me know, okay?” he pulled up seonghwa’s file on his monitor. “there, i emailed seonghwa’s file to you.”

jiyu smiled. “thanks!” she cheered before turning to her computer to create an application for her new patient. 

park seonghwa; wolf hybrid.

[voiceless-terror]

Going Back (The Magnus Archives)

Whumptober 2020 Day Thirty: Wound Reveal

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Jonathan Sims, Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood

Summary:

“I can’t even feel it anymore, really. She just liked to see what colors she could make me turn.”

Martin could’ve thrown up.

Jon returns from the Circus through Helen’s hallways. Martin and Tim see the aftermath.

The room wouldn’t stop spinning.

He kept it together just long enough to get Melanie out of Elias’s office. Jonathan Sims, Human Shield. Who would’ve thought it?

But now, stumbling down to the Archives, he wasn’t so sure. Everything was scrambled, neither here nor there. His arm throbbed and the hallway tilted, or perhaps he tilted. Wouldn’t that be funny? Just walking sideways down the hall while everyone stared. Don’t mind me! He let out an involuntary giggle- did it echo? Like Helen’s voice echoed? Like poor Michael’s? No, not ‘poor Michael.’ He tried to kill you!

Right, right. 

He was getting some looks. Jon was starting to get used to this whole ‘pariah’ business. He was never the most social person, but people would still greet him in the hallways. Now, though. Now they just stared and whispered. It’s not their fault, of course. He knows he doesn’t look good. Jon hadn’t seen a mirror in a good long while, but he certainly wasn’t feeling good, The Circus had done a number on him and it’s not like he had time to make himself presentable before going back to the office. The Distortion wouldn’t have allowed them to make pit stops. Be funny if it did, though.

He laughed again, stumbling into a wall. A woman looked as if she wanted to help, reaching out an arm that was slapped away by her companion. “Leave him,” the man whispered. He was right to. Jon was starting to think this whole avatar business was contagious. 

“Don’t worry,” he whispered back in an attempt to be reassuring. It probably would have come off better if his voice didn’t have the consistency of sandpaper. “I’ll be gone soon enough!” He smiled and they scurried off, looking horrified. Huh.

He didn’t know what he meant by ‘gone.’ Out of their hair, back in the Archives, dead in a hole somewhere. It was all the same to him. 

There was a song playing in his mind, an incessant, repetitive tune that should be cheerful but it was not. He hummed along with it.

Ten minutes or two days later, he stumbled through the door to the Archives, tripping down the stairs at a rate more like falling. No one was there to greet him, perhaps it was lunch time? Jon was very hungry. But that wasn’t a good indicator of time- Jon was always hungry now. For answers, for food, for someone to look at him without anger. Hungry hungry hungry.

Someone must have left a thing or two in the break room. Martin always had snacks lying about. Maybe he could have one of Tim’s protein bars? Melanie’s Gatorades? So many choices it almost made him weep. 

Elias was always saying he chose this. He’s starting to agree. He always wanted more- more answers, more information. The choice was always easy then- go wherever the knowledge takes you. So why was this one so goddamn hard? Just pick some food, any fucking food you’re so hungry-

It would be nice if someone picked for him. He hadn’t had to choose his own food for a while, but now the options were just overwhelming. Just let him have one more thing out of his control. He wasn’t ready to go back to normal, not just yet.

But they had to move forward, he knew that. Jon wanted answers and so did the rest of them. They never liked the answers he gave them. Is that Jon’s fault, really? Maybe. Everyone else seemed to think so. Elias didn’t tell them he’d been kidnapped, but he’d been gone all the same. It’s sad isn’t it, when you become a person no one will miss? Jon missed them. Jon missed everything that was real, flesh and blood and warm. Jon was selfish that way.

But now he had an answer. Something good that came out of all of this, a lead. Tim would be happy. He might even thank him.

The world tilted and Jon tilted with it.

________

“Hang on-is that Jon?”

Martin peered into the break room on his return from lunch; he wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here. But there was a small figure there in the dark, swaying on their feet. He rushed over and flicked on the light switch- it was Jon! His excitement was dampened, however, when he got a good look at the man.

Jon looked bad. Martin didn’t think he could possibly look worse than he did after Daisy brought him back but no, this was definitely worse. At least then he’d been angry, rushing around and demanding answers from Elias. Now though, he was just...swaying, his eyes distant and cloudy, not even noticing the other occupant in the room. His hair was tangled and long, his face was gaunt. He was drowning in his clothes- clothes that were dirty and blood stained and torn as if he spent the last month living in the woods. “Jon?” he asked hesitantly, inching forward in the room like he was approaching a spooked animal. “Jon, are you alright?”

No answer. Jon was humming, a strange, childish tune like something from a music box or an ice cream truck. Tim was silent and still behind him; Martin wasn’t surprised he was unwilling to help. It was a horrifying picture, after all, and he and Jon weren’t on the best of terms. Martin managed to get close enough to venture a hand on Jon’s shoulder.

This seemingly broke him out of his fog and stopped that god-awful hum. His eyes cleared as he turned to Martin and smiled- Martin had always wanted Jon to smile at him but not like this, never like this. Happy and dreamy yet somehow manic. “Oh!” he croaked; he sounded as if his voice hadn’t been used in days. “M-Martin, you’re here!”

“Yes, I am,” he explained slowly, trying to match his smile if only to put him at ease. “Are- are you alright, Jon? We haven’t seen you for a while, and you look- well, not great.” That was an understatement. There was a strange, glowing sheen on his otherwise unhealthy frame, like a doll that’d been covered in greasepaint. It was unnerving, to say the least.

“Yes!” Jon said excitedly, grabbing at his arm with thin, spindly fingers. There was a desperate strength behind it. “Now that you’re here. Where’s Tim? I have to- I need to find Tim!”

That was not a good idea. “Erm, are you sure?” he hedged, trying to usher him into a seat but Jon was having none of it and pulling at his arm insistently. “Jon, I really think you should get to a doctor, I mean look at you-”

“Tim!” Jon called in that croaking, animated voice. The man in question looked irritated at first, and then clearly disturbed by the man in front of him. “Tim, I have news.”

Tim backed up as Jon approached and leaned forward on his desk as if imparting a secret. ‘I know where it’s going to be. The Unknowing.” Martin watched as Tim’s eyes lit up unwillingly and he grabbed at Jon, pushing him into his own desk chair. Easy, Martin wanted to chide, though he knew Tim wouldn’t heed it. He had a one-track mind when it came to dealing with the Circus.

“Where?” Tim asked urgently, his hands on Jon’s shoulders as if ready to shake him lest he gave the wrong answer. Martin noticed the way Jon leaned into the touch, threatening as it was. “Where?”

“A wax museum!” The words were...delighted. Jon was smiling like a child giving a teacher the correct answer and that strange, clouded look was coming back into his eyes. “I don’t know which one, though. They didn’t tell me that.” Who?

“Who?” Tim echoed his thoughts and pushed Jon up straight as he listed to the side. “Was this- was this one of your powers? How long have you known?”

“No, not this time,” Jon patiently explained. “I was there. I’ve known for- hm, Elias said - about a month!” What? Tim’s eyes narrowed and his hands gripped harder. Jon didn’t seem to notice. “I would’ve told you, but I was all tied up!” He reached his hands up imploringly, sleeves slipping down his arms to reveal wrists rubbed raw, clearly infected. Martin gasped and even Tim let up, looking nauseated. 

“Jon,” Martin kneeled by the chair, trying to meet his eyes. “Jon, what happened? Who did this to you?”

Without Tim’s help, Jon fell to the side of the chair, only supported by it’s arm. His shirt, worryingly baggy, slipped off his shoulder to reveal deeply bruised skin, blooming a purple and green that seemed to extend beyond what they could see. Jon must have noticed their horrified stares, for he rushed to reassure them. 

“I can’t even feel it anymore, really. She just liked to see what colors she could make me turn.”

Martin could’ve thrown up.

“Who’s she?” Tim stuttered out, horror rooting him in place though his hands twitched in what look liked an urge to help.

“The clown. Nikola. Needed- needed my skin for the dance. She couldn’t cut me up yet. I was almost-” Jon was no longer there with them, not anymore. “I was almost ready.” He pitched forward, eyes rolling back in his head and Martin rushed to grab him but Tim got there first, sweeping an arm under his chest and pulling him back up on the chair. There was a feral, unhinged look in the man’s eyes- anger, fear, and something he couldn’t name making his arms shake even as they kept Jon in a tight grip. 

“Should- should we get him to the hospital? This is bad, Tim.”

“No!” Jon shot up in the seat, arms flailing in a sudden panic. “No more- no more strange hands! I don’t w-want them touching me, please Martin, I don’t want to I don’t want to-”

“Shh,” it was Tim who hushed him, leaning Jon into his side and taking most of his weight. He was completely attentive now in an entirely different way- Martin would say it was protective if he didn’t know the man’s real feelings. “We won’t. How about we take you to the cot, have a rest, yeah?”

“Tim…” Shouldn’t they be doing more? A nap wouldn’t cure him- he needed real medical attention.

“Just for now,” he said and his tone didn’t leave room for any arguments. “He doesn’t want it. Not right now.” Martin wondered what made him suddenly attuned to Jon’s needs- as if a switch had been flipped at the mention of a clown. He followed behind like a lost puppy, watching as Tim took a still-murmuring Jon into Document Storage.

“Their hands, Tim. I don’t- too much touching-”

“I’ll let go of you as soon as you’re settled,” Tim promised, laying him down with the utmost care as Martin watched from the doorway. “I’m sorry-”

But Jon’s arm shot out and grabbed at Tim’s as he tried to walk away. “Not- not yours. I-I didn’t mean yours.”

And to Martin’s surprise Tim sat down, leaning back against the cot and entwining his hand with Jon’s. His eyes held that same far-away look as Jon’s, as if he were trapped in a memory and seeing something else entirely. Martin suddenly feels like he’s intruding.

He shuts the door and lets them be.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27285688

[sourwolphs]

Like an Animal - Bucky x Reader (5/8)

Read on Ao3 (for better interface + formatting)

Summary: Reader is an enhanced Omega kidnapped by Hydra and trapped in a cell with Alpha Bucky Barnes. Tags: A/B/O, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending Warnings: Rated M A/N: Angst ;) And Bucky being cute as all hell. Leave a comment on Ao3 if you’re enjoying!

The sound of Bucky’s door slamming down the hallway resounded like a thud in my chest. At the risk of sounding like a hopelessly romantic, dopey-eyed Omega, it felt like something cracked inside of me.

For the briefest moment in the lounge, I had caught his scent— that Alphacomforthomesafe scent I’d searched for for weeks. Just a hint of it had sent a jolt of electricity, hope and relief through my entire being. We’d locked eyes— his facial expression carefully blank, beard unshaven and growing long, hand gripping white-knuckled into the strap of his duffle bag, before he had fled to his room— leaving behind the confusing, raw scents of guilt and despair behind him.

Natasha and Steve both looked to me in concern, before engaging in a silent conversation through their facial expressions. Both smelled overwhelmingly of unease, but neither said anything to abate the awkward tension suffusing the room. Steve gave a lame excuse for Bucky, looking bewildered as he did so— something about the other Alpha having a rough few weeks, but I quickly bowed out of the lounge, retreating back to my apartment to process the heartbreaking fact that he’d been away, and now that he was back, he clearly wanted nothing to do with me.

Maybe he was just shy, I thought, self-comforting. But he hadn’t been shy in that cell. He’d been quick to introduce himself, to alleviate my fear by baring his throat to me.

Maybe I’d made him uncomfortable. Had I made him uncomfortable? It’s not like I could stop myself from falling into a sympathy heat, especially under the influence of an Alpha purr.

Then there was the other creeping, dreadful thought that had been plaguing my thoughts for the past few weeks: Maybe he already has an Omega.

I hadn’t smelled one on him in that cell, hadn’t felt a bond mark on his neck, but both could have been hidden under the scents of rut and fear, and the filth of our surroundings.

I even briefly worried that he was Wanda’s mate, since I’d never met the Alpha she always spoke about with a soft and wistful smile. But when I tentatively asked after her mate later that night during our evening Full House marathon, she had given me a sad smile and told me he was working off-world.

I barely slept the night after Bucky came home. Knowing that he was just a floor away made the longing even harder, my Omega anxious and desperate for comfort. I shuffled through a hundred different explanations— each more frustrating and heartbreaking than the last— for why he’d been away for so long, why he’d reacted the way he did when he saw me, why his scent had reeked of guilt and sadness.

But above all— my Omega worried viciously whether he was okay. The connection I felt to him burnt bright and hot within me, tugging at my heart. Find Alpha. Comfort Alpha.

I tried my hardest to bury my thoughts deep down, feeling like a crazy person. Bucky barely knew me, and here I was lying in bed, staking a mental claim on him like some feral, unsocialized Omega. For all I knew, he was snuggled up with his bondmate, recovering from the turmoil of our kidnapping in his or her embrace, thoughts of me all but forgotten.

The next day, I moved tentatively around the compound, bracing myself for an interaction. I’d run through one hundred potential scenarios in my mind— one hundred introductions, one hundred apologies, one hundred questions I wanted answered. But one day stretched into two, stretched into a week, without anything more than a flash of his retreating form as he exited the gym before I entered one afternoon.

Despite his intentional or unintentional attempts to avoid me, he couldn’t erase his lingering scent, which tucked itself into every available corner of the compound, driving my Omega insane with want and worry.

Rationally, I knew that the compound smelled like everyone— like determined Steve after a boxing match, like Sam’s bubbly joy over breakfast, like Wanda’s gentle concern, like Natasha’s smug laughter, like Stark’s curiosity.

But even knowing that I could smell everyone didn’t stop my Omega from catching his scent in every room— musky, heady cedar, warm and inviting campfire. It was maddening.

On top of the Alpha scent that left my brain in a muddled haze, there was also the situation with the gifts.

They weren’t really gifts. But, I didn’t know what else to call them.

The first one appeared three days after Bucky returned to the compound.

When I shuffled out to the kitchen around six am for a coffee and some eggs with Sam, I found my favorite mug (a cute green ceramic one made to look like a tin camping cup) already set out on the countertop, along with a spoon, a pot of sugar and a folded napkin. Next to it, the coffee pot was spitting out the last few dregs of brew— fresh and hot.

At first, I thought it was Sam who’d prepped the coffee for me, and a warm smile spread across my face at the Beta’s sincere care and friendship. But then he appeared ten minutes later, still in his camo pajamas, yawning and rubbing sleep from his eyes, and I frowned. Sam and I were the only early risers around here, as far as I knew. But maybe he’d fallen back asleep after getting up to make coffee.

The next day, my yoga mat was missing from its usual spot tucked high into a cubby on the wall in the gym. Figuring I’d left it in Natasha’s training room, I headed in that direction, only to find it rolled up neatly right outside the door, along with a massive, full water bottle and a charged pair of StarkPods. Weird. These Avenger Betas sure do let the hero thing get to their head, I thought. Sure enough, Natasha was already inside, balancing in a graceful arabesque as I readied myself for yoga. I thanked her with a smile and nod, which she returned.

The day after that, Steve and I got way too riled up on our morning run with Sam, and I tried to outpace him (failing, spectacularly) one too many times, causing me to have to limp back home with blisters on the back of my heels from my running shoes. After a shower in my room, I nearly tripped over a little pile of blister bandages and antibiotic cream sitting outside my door, which I snatched up, eager not to have to poke around the medbay for something as simple as band-aids. Even Steve was getting in on this babying nonsense, I thought. Maybe I wasn’t hiding my distressed Omega scent as well as I’d thought, moping around after Bucky.

Later that week, I meandered down to the movie room for another previously scheduled watch party with Sam. I got there about 20 minutes early, planning to stake out my favorite spot before the others arrived, but I found Wanda already in the movie room, flicking through channels on the projector-TV. She was working her way through a bag of crispy Gozinaki— her favorite sweet snack from her childhood in Sokovia. Steve always made sure to keep bags of it stocked in the common kitchen, attentive Alpha provider as he was.

In my usual spot on the shaggy brown couch rested a fluffy, folded plaid blanket, with a pair of soft gloves on top.

“Aw, Wanda, you didn’t have to do this,” I said, scooping up the blanket to tug around my shoulders, my inner Omega shivering in delight at the cozy texture. Perfect for a nest, my mind unhelpfully supplied. The past couple of movie nights, I’d been complaining about my cold hands, especially after long afternoons training with Wanda left my limbs frigid and achy from the force of my abilities. Sometimes it took hours to get my skin back to a human-feeling temperature. I slipped the navy blue gloves on gratefully.

Wanda looked over at my snuggled up form and quirked a brow. “Those were there when I got here. I thought you left them for tonight,” she said curiously.

I looked down at the blanket as if it would give me an answer, then brought it up to my face for a curious sniff. The faintest scent of cedar wood hit my nose.

Alpha.  

I felt a whoosh in my head and stomach, like I was floating away from my body, and knew I must have had a dazed expression on my face.

If Bucky had left the blanket and the gloves… Maybe it wasn’t Sam who’d prepped my coffee. Maybe it wasn’t Natasha with the yoga mat and the water, or Steve with the blister bandages.

But why would Bucky…

“I can hear the gears turning in your brain from over here,” Wanda interrupted. “I take it it wasn’t you who left that pile down here?”

I shook my head, biting my lip as I muddled through my thoughts. If I was going to talk about what I’d been feeling for Bucky with anyone, Wanda would be the least likely to judge. She was a fellow Omega, after all.

“Can I ask you something? About your mate?” I hedged.

Wanda nodded, brushing crumbs from her lap before standing to sit down next to me on the shaggy couch. “Anything.”

“I’ve been here for over a month, and I still haven’t met him. And I wonder— What does it… feel like. For you. When he’s away.”

Wanda smiled, soft and wistful. “My mate is the Vision. He is not really human, but he was programmed as an Alpha, and when we mated, he gave me his mark,” she explained, reaching up to the back of her neck to press her hand to her mating gland. I had seen the shiny silver scars before, when Wanda had swept her hair up into a ponytail off the back of her neck during a training sesh.

“Even though he is not human— he does not have a scent as you or I do— I still struggled with what we Sokovians call gajovi. It means “heart-rending,” the feeling when you are separated from your bondmate. The longer we have been bonded, the easier it is to be apart. But I still sometimes feel the ache. Like a physical pain, inside,” she offered, moving her hand to the center of her chest, the same place where I had felt the same unbearable ache for weeks.

I took a deep breath, willing my scent to stay calm as anxiety, uncertainty and confusion warred in my mind. I feel the same thing.

“Do you ever feel like you need him… to fall asleep?” I asked, cheeks flushing. Even though we had grown close, I still felt uncomfortable asking Wanda about my craving for Bucky’s purr, as it was such an intimate act between mates.

“I have a feeling we are no longer talking about Vision,” she murmured, no judgement on her face. She placed a comforting hand on my knee, and I felt some of the tension in my body release slowly. “Sometimes it feels impossible to sleep. To eat. To even get out of bed. A bond is the most beautiful and powerful connection you can have, but it also makes you vulnerable. When things are bad, I can… feel him. Through the bond. We support each other,” she explained. Wanda closed her eyes momentarily, and I knew she was reaching through her bond to feel her mate, thousands of miles away. A warm smile crept across her face as whatever she was projecting through the universe was returned in kind.

While I was undeniably happy for Wanda and her mate, my heart ached at the realization that I was experiencing the same or similar withdrawal symptoms after my time with Bucky. But without a bondmark on my neck, without the connection she used to draw soothing strength from her mate, I was drifting— alone in a sea of longing and pain.

Wanda scented my sour sadness, giving me an empathetic look. “Do you? Have a bondmate?”

I saw her eyes flick towards my neck, where a bond mark would be, knowing that she had already seen my gland void of any bite scars.

I shook my head, looking down at my still-gloved hands in my lap.

Wanda opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. Instead, she placed one hand in mine.

I wondered, then, if she knew more than she was letting on.

“When will Vision be home?” I asked, changing the subject and forcefully shaking off my sadness.

“This month,” she said, unable to hide the smile that crept across her face.

“What’s got the lovely ladies down?” Sam teased, interrupting our moment as he stepped into the movie room with a massive, unopened bag of Cajun-spiced Lays tucked under his arm.

Steve was right behind him, looking cozy in what was probably an XXXL hooded red sweatshirt. He came up behind my couch wordlessly, wrapping me up in a huge bear hug. I laughed, leaning into him and allowing his comforting Alpha scent to wipe away the remaining tendrils of my unease drifting in the air. I’d learned quickly that Steve was generous with his affection, and extremely protective— the type of Alpha an Omega could only dream of finding. Not an aggressive and possessive knothead, but a supportive provider and protector— always there when you needed him, but never overbearing.

Just like Bucky, my brain unhelpfully supplied. I shook away the thought. You barely know him.

I could hardly focus on the movie Sam selected, some Russell Crowe action flick set in Ancient Rome. I was too lost in my thoughts, curled up in the blanket Bucky had inexplicably left for me, squished between Steve and Wanda on the couch.

If I didn’t know better, it would seem like Bucky was trying to court me with these weird offerings, like some old-fashioned, 1940s Alpha would woo an Omega with flowers and chocolates. But even if he was, that didn’t explain his flightiness, or the bond withdrawal-like symptoms I was experiencing, or the frightening possibility that it was just me suffering from them. Faulty Omega.

Either way, after my conversation with Wanda, my resolve had hardened. I had to confront Bucky, even though my inner Omega withered at the thought. I needed to know if he was feeling the same way I was. And if not? Well, then— I’d cleared the air. That was that. I’d give him his space, leaving the compound and the pack behind if I had to. Go back to being on my own.

The thought made my hands tremble.

I clasped them resolutely in my lap, leaning closer into Steve’s absurdly thick bicep for comfort. At least for now, I could enjoy this.

————

Bucky has officially gone insane. After over 70 years of world war, Hydra torture, memory loss, coerced assassinations, cry0 chambers, getting dusted by a purple space god and fighting a war of disgusting aliens, it was one cute but deadly Omega that pushed his ancient Alpha ass over the edge.

After their disastrous reunion in the lounge, Bucky made it his personal mission to evade Y/N at all costs. He knew he was leaving the stink of shame all over the compound— both Steve and Sam called him out on it after they’d watched him flee the gym upon Y/N’s arrival one day— but even his snarling inner Alpha couldn’t get him to soften his resolve. There’s a reason he and Steve were thick as thieves from the jump— they were both infuriatingly stubborn people.

Y/N was happy here. That much was obvious. She left behind that peppermint-and-snow scent wherever she went— sweet with her joy, sharp with her determination— and he caught himself taking deep, pathetic inhales when she’d recently left a room that he’d entered.

In the mornings, he could hear her in the common room kitchen with Sam, laughing and bickering over the smell of eggs and bacon. In the movie room at night, right underneath his apartment, his super-soldier hearing clued him in to the team’s laughs and murmurs, the musical sound of her voice— unintelligible through the floor but soothing to his Alpha ears nonetheless.

He’d watched from a distance through the bulletproof glass a few times as she’d trained in the reinforced rooms with Wanda. Each time he spotted her she looked more and more powerful, more in control of the abilities that Hydra had kept locked away in restraints when they’d met in the cell. Wanda would watch patiently nearby, her red magic coiling along her fingers in anticipation as Y/N breathed in deeply, drawing her hands up in an elegant swoop along her midline before forcing them outwards in a jab, sending a spray of deadly ice shards at the steel wall, where they left hundreds of minuscule puncture wounds. Some days, the two Omegas would spill out a gallon of water on the floor, and Y/N would lift and arc it up into frozen creations, an intricate, jagged weapon or a delicate, curving flower, leafs of ice ivy crawling up the walls or pillars of impenetrable cold built from ceiling to floor.

What tore at him the most, though, even more than her delicious scent, which lingered on everything— and enticed more than a few embarrassing hard-ons he had to flee to his room to hide— was her scent mingled with another Alpha’s.

One Alpha in particular that hurt more than any other.

It hadn’t escaped Bucky’s notice that Y/N and Steve were spending lots of time together. Steve accompanied her on her morning runs— sometimes with Sam, sometimes without— but they always returned to the common areas flushed, sweaty and smiling, pumping out happy, sated pheromones. He’d passed the movie room and the lounge more than a few times to find her curled particularly close to him, his arm around the back of the couch behind her or her head resting against his bicep.

He’d even seen her and Steve sparring in the gym, Natasha and Sam cheering and whooping from the sidelines as she held her own against his restrained moves— a punch here, a kick there, which she dodged and delivered right back. They were comfortable in each other’s space. Comfortable enough that he’d even spotted her sleeping on the red lounge couch next to Steve one day, a book open in her lap while he sketched away in his notebook, using her hand draped off the side as an anatomy study. Her red socked feet were pillowed in his lap.

That mental image had kept Bucky up for a few nights, his Alpha flushed with an instinctual, possessive rage that he shoved shamefully down into the darkest recesses of his brain.

He couldn’t be mad. Even if his Alpha was roaring at him to step forward, to stake his claim, to pick her up and drown her in his scent, to crawl into her nest and cover her completely with his body.

He couldn’t be mad because she had sized up both Alphas and made what even he knew was the correct decision. Of course she had.

Why choose Bucky— broken, red-ledgered, half-vibranium, nightmare-riddled Bucky— when you could have the human embodiment of a golden retriever? Steve. The model Alpha. A gentle, caring provider— never aggressive or out of control, always protective, supportive and calm.

Plus, super-serum aside, Steve had always been handsome. Y/N wasn’t blind.

All of that is to say that Bucky hadn’t meant to start offering her gifts. It was his Alpha instinct, is all. Some feral, competitive nature still ingrained in his hindbrain. An instinct left over from a more primitive civilization, one where he would have had to prove to his Omega that he could be the best provider.

And if nothing else, leaving her the gifts soothed the terrible ache in his chest, helped him sleep another hour at night as he lay there agonizing about her smell, remembering how her face had felt cradled in his neck.

Wondering if she was sleeping in her room alone or curled up in her nest with Steve.

He knew that what he was feeling, what he was doing, was beyond wrong. If she knew why he was leaving her these gifts, she’d feel threatened, or stalked. He would be the creepy Alpha desperate for her attention.

But his hindbrain didn’t care. Alpha will provide.

It first started when he noticed that she always left the same green cup in the sink after breakfast. So one day, he got up early to leave it out for her— alongside a napkin, a spoon and the pot of sugar— though he didn’t yet know how she took her coffee. He also started the coffee pot just in case, slipping back to his room before she woke up, machine still whirring behind him.

Then, he noticed that she always ran out of water halfway through her yoga sessions with Natasha after she almost stumbled upon him in the kitchen the few times she’d come up to refill it. So Bucky topped up a 36 ounce bottle he found in the kitchen instead and left it outside the training room. Just so she won’t get thirsty, he reasoned. He couldn’t resist leaving her the yoga mat and earbuds as well. It was nothing. Not an exorbitant expense. Just something she needed, and would have gotten for herself anyway. What does it matter that he bought them for her first?

Then, he heard Sam ribbing her about her bleeding heels after their morning run, so he scrambled to the medbay to ask Dr. Cho for bandages and antiseptic— much to her confusion, as he didn’t ever need either. He dropped the supplies outside her door before she could finish showering off her run.

Then, he overheard her complaining about her cold hands one night as he passed the movie room. Bucky had to fight to repress the growl in his throat as he watched Steve take her hands into his own, rubbing them together for warmth while she laughed. He went back to his room and asked FRIDAY to help him order a pair of top-rated, insulated gloves in navy blue— he liked that color, but didn’t know if she did— as well as a blanket marketed as “perfect for nesting,” because he has officially lost all self-control. While the rest of the pack was out, he snuck into the movie room to leave the soft bundle on the couch that smelled the most like peppermint.

After a full week of secretive little offerings, Bucky was curled up on his own couch with a book, rubbing absentmindedly at his chest where the constant ache felt sharpest, when he heard someone start to turn the knob on his door.

It had taken him a few years, but he’d stopped jumping at unexpected noises like this, though he still often caught himself subconsciously scenting for threats, unable to shake the conditioned hyper vigilance. His Alpha instinct to constantly be prepared for a fight, made infinitely worse by Hydra’s torture, had gradually mellowed out with the safe reassurance of living with a pack. Knowing he had people close by who would protect him and people he would fiercely protect in return had served as a balm for his PTSD symptoms.

Bucky scented him before he saw him, but Steve slipped through the door upon finding it unlocked, giving Bucky his signature golden boy smile, before plopping into the armchair across from him.

“Hey, jerk. Are you avoiding me? Are you okay?”

Bucky felt his hackles raise as he caught a lingering whiff of Y/N on Steve and willed his expression into nonchalance. “No,” he said, before returning his gaze pointedly to the pages of the novel that he wasn’t really reading. “What makes you think I’m not okay?”

“Well, for one, you’ve barely left your room since I dragged you back here from Brooklyn, your apartment reeks like your dog just died and you’ve almost rubbed a hole through your shirt.”

Bucky quickly snatched his hand away from his chest where he’d continued rubbing circles without even noticing he was doing it. “I don’t have a dog,” he replied snidely.

His words came out a bit more venomously than he intended, and Steve’s easygoing expression faltered. Shit. He hadn’t meant to take his Alpha bullshit out on his best friend. It’s not like Steve was doing anything wrong. The problem was that he always did everything right.

“Sorry,” Bucky sighed, putting down his book and scraping a hand across his jaw, where his stubble was starting to border on a full-grown beard. Ugh. “I’m still just… processing.”

Steve gave him a concerned look, his eyebrows drawn together.

“You’re not still feeling guilty, are you?” Steve said. Bucky broke eye contact, studying the logo on the other Alpha’s oversized red sweatshirt instead. (“American University Est. 1918”— a gag gift from Tony last Christmas.)

“Buck— Come on, Y/N’s fine! Everyone loves her, and she’s doing great here. She doesn’t even talk about yo—“ Steve cut himself off, catching the grimace that flashed across Bucky’s face before he could reign it in. “I didn’t mean it like— She hasn’t even seen you, man, you’re always hiding away here or in the library.”

Bucky sighed again, tired yet begrudgingly appreciative of Steve’s attempts at soothing the issue. The other Alpha might not always know the right thing to say, but he was always earnest and honest about things.

“It’s okay, Steve, really. I just need some time, is all,” Bucky said, making a concerted effort to push out a less depressing version of his scent to mollify his best friend.

Steve gave him a tentative smile. “I talked to Fury about Y/N, by the way. Wanda told me she’s progressed a ton over the past month or so, you should really see her use her abilities in combat, it’s incredible! And Nat trusts her completely— you know she’s always the hardest to win over,” he said, his grin broadening. “I’m going to ask Y/N to join the team, officially, this week.”

The ache in Bucky’s chest ramped up, throbbing like a bass drum, but he forced out what he hoped was a convincing smile, knowing it didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m glad she’s fitting in,” he said. And he was glad. He was thrilled to know that his Omega was safe, loved and happy, that she had grown her powers with Wanda, that Steve was asking her to join the Avengers.

Even though it meant that if he couldn’t get his own urges under control, he’d need to find a new pack.

“Why don’t you come join us downstairs? Sam’s putting on Gladiator in a few,” Steve added.

For a second, Bucky really considered it. He could sit through one movie with her, after all, without falling apart at the seams. He was a freaking super soldier Alpha. He’d survived Hydra.

Then he remembered the bundle of blanket and gloves he’d left sitting on the couch a few hours ago in anticipation of their movie night and decided against it. If she put two and two together in front of the pack, Bucky didn’t think he could explain his way out of that one.

“Maybe later,” Bucky said, lifting his book up in a half-hearted attempt to look occupied. Steve could see right through him, he knew, but the other Alpha just gave him a smile and a reassuring shoulder squeeze, before slipping out of the door.

It was better this way, Bucky thought. Better for everyone if he rode this out on his own.

His Omega was okay. That’s what mattered.

[skinsharpenedteeth]

WIP-lash.... WIPs of the Past

I don't have much more than this. It's a convoluted ghost story plot i started on a thousand years ago. It's probably the smallest WIP i have, totaling in at a whopping 2501 words. I think about it a lot though. And for some reason I feel like posting everything I have so far on it. It will not end in a reasonable place or make sense. But i want it out in the universe to start gaining some traction in my mind.

---

(Affectionately) Ghost Story Malex

.

Alex looked at the Sander’s Junktique Auto front façade and bit his lip nervously. The deeply grained red wood door had overcooked long ago in the New Mexico sun and now it seemed petrified in place… or maybe that was Alex. He could feel the sweat breaking out over his brow and along the nape of his neck as he continued to stand in the sun, the pavement of the parking lot leaving his legs feeling boiled in their khaki casings. He needed to go inside, needed to force his legs to move if for no other reason than to get him into the shade of the porch overhanging the door. The inside of the metal building would feel like a block of ice inside in an oven as the A/C units struggled to keep up with the demands that a late fall heatwave had put them under.

He saw movement flickering near one of the lead windows along the front of the building and held his breath, afraid that the person he’d come to see had noticed his loitering and was coming to shoo him away. The door stayed closed however and Alex let his breath out again in a long exhale. Gathering himself, he walked onto the porch and stood before the door. Indecision warred inside of him and he tensed to turn and walk back to his car, sure this had all been a mistake when the red door swung open. No one stood behind it, but it held steady despite the storm door springs which creaked in admonishment that they’d been left stretched thin against the unseen force keeping the door was rocketing back in place. Alex sighed and accepted that he hadn’t gone unnoticed and that he’d better go in and do what he’d come to do.

The first blast of icy air from the A/C was the sweetest kiss to his overheated skin. He looked around the shadowed interior of salvaged auto goods, new pieces and parts, and half-destroyed auto bodies laying around the main floor. He scanned the room and spied Michael at the back counter, staring at him with a blank expression. The slap of the wood against the door frame behind him made him jump and let out a terrified squeak. Michael grinned his charming, molasses smile at Alex after he’d grabbed his heart and shot Michael a dirty look.

“Alex, what brings you to my neck of the woods?” Michael asked, looking away and grabbing a rag from the counter to start wiping at his grease-stained hands. He’d said Alex’s name like he always did, like a separate line of silent questions ending in a pause of consideration before continuing aloud. It always made Alex feel like he should really be answering the unspoken instead of what was really asked. It always made him feel exposed and unnerved, like he was caught seconds before a disaster. It was the tone authority figures used with children right before they were unknowingly about to get hurt or blow something up. He hated it when Michael said his name like that.

Gritting his teeth, Alex walked over nearer to the counter, stopping about six feet away and watching Michael methodically try to pick black from under his nails. He knew intimately that nothing could get some of the stains off except time, but Michael never stopped trying to find quicker ways of ridding himself of the evidence. Michael paused in his picking to look up through the curls that had fallen in front of his eyes, pinning Alex in place with his eyes.

“I doubt you came here to watch me clean my hands. Why are you here, Alex? Feeling lonely?” Michael spoke up again when Alex remained silent, his tone mocking and a little cruel. The last question, the pettiness of the statement, made Alex sure he should leave. There was no point in even asking what he’d come to ask. Michael wasn’t in a place to do him any favors. It had been five years since they’d seen each other and apparently that hadn’t been long enough. He looked Michael over once more, unintentionally trying to memorize how good he looked in a grease-stained grey t-shirt and jeans, before turning on his heel and heading back to the door. He didn’t hear Michael following him, just heard the roar in his own ears of his own voice telling him how stupid he’d been to come here at all. He grabbed the cold iron of the door handle and yanked, ready to throw himself back out into the heat, and almost hurt his elbow when the door didn’t budge.

“What do you want, Alex? You didn’t come here to stare at me and leave. You could’ve done that at the Crashdown. What’s up?” he heard Michael ask from much closer than he should’ve been. Alex spun around and found Michael only a few feet away, a softer look of concern on his face than had been there a moment before, and the rag nowhere to be seen.

“I need a favor,” Alex bit out, hating that he’d let Michael’s eyes convince him he would be safe to expose himself. “There’s a big job in upper New York, a haunted bed and breakfast, and I think I need back up for it. There’s something like 10 highly active spirits and possibly a curse in the works. 50k payday.”

“How many other people have you asked?” Michael inquired, leaning his body back against the half-rusted truck frame littered with collectible motor oil tins. He’d crossed his arms and legs as he feigned comfort, an old cowboy trick he’d used to fool people into feeling challenged and thus revealing more than they’d intended. It was a dirty trick because it especially worked on Alex. He found his body thrumming with the need to prove that he wasn’t a liar, wasn’t inadequate for needing help, wasn’t using this as a sad excuse to see Michael again. The other needs that thrummed through his body as he raked his eyes over every stretched piece of fabric on Michael’s frame stayed ignored. Alex would hang onto to anger for now.

“A couple,” Alex lied, hoping he’d inflicted a small wound. He tried to mirror Michael’s casual posture but Alex thought he only ended up looking more defensive. He could never pull off the cool, unaffected look like Guerin could. He couldn’t untense his muscles enough to seem nonchalant.

“Liar,” Michael replied with an almost feral smile. He knew Alex’s tells. Alex didn’t know why he even bothered trying to engage Michael in this way.

“Maybe. If I did, they turned me down, and here I am, asking you. Do you want the job, Guerin?” Alex bit out, not feeling much like flirting. Michael watched him, smile still stretched across his lips, and he shook his head slowly, focus more inward than on Alex.

“No, I don’t. I’ve got a job,” he replied, opening his arms and gesturing to the shop around him. It was cool and quiet, the hum of electricity and central air a pleasant white noise around them, and there was no one else in the parking lot, the store, or the junkyard beyond.

“You could take a week off, Michael. I don’t think anyone would miss you,” Alex replied, eyes flitting around the room meaningfully. Michael’s expression darkened and his arms fell to slap against his thighs.

“Well, you sure didn’t,” he said, voice neutral but eyes almost haunted as they stared into Alex’s. “It was nice seeing you, Alex. Stop by anytime if you need some oil for your car or someone to look under her hood.”

Michael pushed his body off the truck frame and started back towards the counter. Despite his words, Alex felt all the hits land against his heart. Michael pushed people away to see who wouldn’t come back. Alex had failed him there and yet here he was, showing his face around again. He knew it’d been a mistake to approach Michael about the job, but he wasn’t lying when he’d said it was too big for just him. Michael was a strong empath, maybe because he was alien, and he was a strong practitioner of banishing spirits. If Alex was honest with himself, the job wouldn’t have been too much for Michael to do by himself. He wouldn’t have needed any help, but Alex would.

“I’ll split the fee 60/40 to you,” he called at Michael’s retreating form.

“70/30 and you never darken my doorstep again,” Michael countered, not stopping until he was back behind the counter. Alex felt his heart burn at the anger in Michael’s voice. This was such a bad idea.

“65/35 and… yeah. Never again, I hear you,” Alex replied, his voice saying the last part past the sudden thickening in his throat. He hadn’t realized he’d physically started rubbing his chest over where his heart lay until Michael started staring daggers through his hand. He looked down and then let his hand drop, embarrassed he’d been caught self-soothing.

“You still have my number?” Michael asked though clenched jaw. He was still staring at the spot where Alex’s hand had been.

“Yeah, I’ll text you the details. The job starts in two weeks,” Alex finished, turning and going to the door again, unsurprised when this time it opened for him just fine.

-*-*-

The weeks flew by to Alex’s chagrin. He and Michael were flying out and renting a car. They’d always been fortunate to be able to travel light thanks to their respective abilities so there was no need for a long road trip trucking a bunch of gear out to a job. Alex was worried about the job, however. They’d done some smaller homes that had been haunted, but never something with ten active spirits and a possible enchantment. The fact that the business was willing to pay so much worried Alex. Ghost hunting wasn’t usually so lucrative and Alex asking Michael to come was a desperate move on his part. Alex was fully aware of how much ire Michael still had towards him and he had spent too long trying to let that particular fire burn itself out, but at the end of the day he was secretly glad he hadn’t had to seek out any other hunters to come with him. Michael was the best and now the band was back together, so to speak. They’d checked in through the airport and had gotten as far as the airplane before Alex had tried to break the ice.

“So… what did you think of the files I sent you?” Alex asked, struggling to find something to talk about.

“I think you’re getting sloppy if that’s all the research you’ve done on this,” Michael replied without looking up from his phone where he’d been texting or playing games almost nonstop since he’d sat down. Alex took in a calming breath through his nose. He knew Michael was baiting him. It didn’t make it any easier to forgive the slight, but he did know what was happening.

“Did you do more research or are you just being mean?” Alex asked, matching Michael’s sarcastic snappish tone.

“I did, as a matter of fact, because I like knowing what I’m walking into,” Michael said before letting them lapse back in silence. He was waiting for Alex to ask what he’d found out. Alex let the silence stretch, seeing if Michael would cave and give him the information to release some of the tension between them. When it seemed like he wouldn’t, Alex opened his mouth to finally ask what he’d found out. As soon as he drew breath, Michael went ahead speaking.

“There are, as you said, ten active ghosts in the B&B. Five couples who’ve died there over the past hundred years. There have been 3 other couples that have died under mysterious circumstances elsewhere after having stayed at the B&B that we know of. All eight couples were engaged at the B&B and then broke off their engagements. The five that haunt the actual establishment got engaged AND broke off their engagements at the same place. Two for cheating, two over family issues, and one for money. The original couple, the Wailing Bride and the Lonely Gentleman as they’re so-called seem to have a lot of conflicting stories about how and why they broke off their engagement and why the Gentleman killed them both and cursed the place. That is one thing we’ll have to see if we can’t get a straight answer on. Motivation is pretty important when unwinding a curse,” Michael finished, reaching down to start rifling through his backpack on the floor between his knees. He produced a bag of beef jerky and grabbed a piece out to start gnawing on it.

“Okay. Are there any other correlations between the couple’s deaths? Certain number of years apart repetitively? Way they were found? Any of that?” Alex asked, looking out his window at the tarmac and ignoring the urge to watch the muscles in Michael’s jaw move as he chewed on the tough meat.

“I swear to God, Alex, did YOU even look at the case file before emailing it to me? Did you do any of your own research?” Michael exclaimed, banging his first on the arm rest between them in frustration. Alex turned and looked at him sharply.

“If you’re getting 65 percent of the fee, you can pull a few extra minutes on the computer, Guerin. Besides, I’m just trying to see if we came up with the same findings,” Alex replied acidly, making sure Michael caught the glare he was giving him before turning back to stare out the window.

“You’re such an ass. I’ve never been the one afraid of putting in a little extra work to fix a problem,” Michael replied acidly.

“Yeah, but as soon as your workday is done, you clock out and leave whatever mess there is where it stands,” Alex replied, not bothering to turn and look at Michael. They were both taking cheap shots and he felt a little bad about his part in it. They were going to be stuck together for who knows how long working on this case and they needed to at least be on speaking terms. Alex shifted in his seat and turned to look at Guerin who was back to studiously ignoring him in favor of his phone.

“That was uncalled for. I’m sorry,” Alex apologized. Michael snorted and shot him a withering look before turning back to the phone screen. Alex waited another couple of beats before deciding Michael was just going to let it lay there. Alex wasn’t getting an apology back. Apparently, Guerin didn’t care about keeping things civil. Inwardly Alex groaned and lamented what a long case it was going to be if Michael kept throwing punches and Alex kept apologizing for punching back.

[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 9: Training

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Once again, all sound ceased as Rowan descended the stairwell and entered within view of the kitchens. Emrys’ soft singing and the mindless chatter from the young male – Luca, he remembered – cutting off abruptly. The girl was hunched over a washbasin, slowly scrubbing at a dish. Just the sight of her was enough to turn his slowly burning fury into a raging inferno.

Rowan hadn’t realized that he’d been hoping to find the girl suffering, moaning and groaning about doing such menial, servant work. But she just seemed to have been steadily laboring, quietly in the corner.

“Let’s go.” Rowan said, his voice hard.

As the princess moved to join him, Rowan caught Emrys looking at him with a new kind of fear in his eyes. A fear for others, for this girl.

Rowan clenched his teeth tightly, grinding them together. Something about Emrys’ worry on the behalf of this arrogant, insufferable, worthless princess was beyond aggravating. She did not deserve any pity, or affection.

Rowan led the girl through the small interior courtyard and out into the forest. It was now nearly midday, but the light and warmth of the sun’s rays couldn’t really pierce through the layers of mist shrouding the moss-covered oaks. It chilled Rowan’s bones, and he could hear the princess’ teeth chattering behind him. Good.

They slowly made their way up the rocky ridge and into the highest reaches of the forest, until the foothills were left far behind them and green fields stretched before them.

After the speed and surety of his flight that morning, treading along at a mortal pace was agonizing. The girl seemed to barely move, their snail’s pace making this short trip into an hour-long slog.

Luckily, the princess kept silent, and they both avoided throwing gasoline onto the flames simmering between them. But not for long.

Rowan was leading them to an old temple of the sun goddess, Mala. It was now a ruin, but he could still feel the warmth of the goddess’ power echoing in the stones below as he crossed over them and paid homage to the goddess who favored him.

Then the girl spoke up from behind him, her voice a crackling whip through the misty silence. “Do your worst.”

Rowan turned and gave her an obvious once-over, cataloguing her mist-soaked clothing, the bruises on her face and body, her loose muscles, the positions of her feet and arms... She wasn’t ready for a fight, and she knew it.

He breathed through the fury. This girl was going to be the death of him. “Wipe that smarmy, lying smile off your face,” he snarled. Rowan had no patience left for her ridiculous antics today, not after the morning he’d had.

She didn’t shift a muscle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” If anything, the antagonism in her voice had only increased.

Rowan felt the muscles in his body stretch and expand, filling with a violent intent and a ravenous desire for action. He stepped forwards, his chest now less than a foot from her body, and flashed his canines at her.

“Here’s your first lesson, girl: cut the horseshit. I don’t feel like dealing with it, and I’m probably the only one who doesn’t give a damn about how angry and vicious and awful you are underneath.”

Her jaw clenched. “I don’t think you particularly want to see how angry and vicious and awful I am underneath.”

“Go ahead and be as nasty as you want, Princess, because I’ve been ten times as nasty, for ten times longer than you’ve been alive.”

Rowan’s words, or at least the aching, primal challenge within them, finally reached her. She pulled her lips back from her teeth in a feral grin. He snarled in response. “Better. Now shift.” Maybe if her pissed the girl off just enough, he could find a way around those iron bars in her mind.

Her voice was vicious. “It’s not something I can control.”

“If I wanted excuses, I’d ask for them. Shift.”

She didn’t even try, didn’t reach within herself. Instead she snarled right back at him. “I hope you brought snacks, because we’re going to be here a long, long while if today’s lesson is dependent upon my shifting.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re really going to make me enjoy training you.”

She plowed on, heedless of the violence promised by the set of his jaw and the shape of his body.  “I’ve already participated in a dozen versions of the master-disciple training saga, so why don’t we cut that horseshit, too?”

His fingers twitched, voice becoming quieter, more lethal. “Shut your smart-ass mouth and shift.”

She set her jaw, tensing her muscles. “No.”

And Rowan lunged.

Somehow, she dodged his first blow, sidestepping the fist he sent flying to her face. And then she twisted enough in the opposite direction to blindly avoid his second strike to her left side. But even with her years of training as an assassin, she wasn’t fast enough to evade his third blow, a swift kick to the backs of her legs.

She thudded to the ground gracelessly, slamming her already wrecked face onto the weather-beaten rock. The princess rolled to the side, groaning, her breathing ragged, as Rowan effortlessly pounced and straddled her chest, effectively rendering her motionless.

She tried to unseat him, but her movements were ineffective, fluttery things. They lacked strength, or any real conviction.

“Shift.” Rowan hissed, shoving all the menace, all the anger and hate and vitriol that he possessed into the command.

She just laughed at him, an emotionless, cold thing. Like a dead fish.

It was as if her every action, her every breath, was perfectly designed to piss him off. Rowan didn’t think it would have been possible for him to be more furious, more insanely angry than he had been when he hit her last night, but he had been dead wrong.

“Nice try,” she chuckled. “You think you can trick me into shifting by pissing me off?”

Rowan snarled viciously, his canines inches from her throat.

“Here’s an idea: I’m rich as hell. How about we pretend to do this training for a week or so, and then you tell Maeve I’m good and ready to enter her territory, and I’ll give you all the gods-damned gold you want.”

Rowan nearly exploded with rage. Bribery? The girl thought to placate him with her blood money?

For the first time in two centuries, Rowan was filled with the desire to hurt another being. To make her suffer. To make her feel pain.

“Here’s an idea,” The words escaped from deep within his throat, cracking his ice-covered heart with the fiery hate they were bathed in. “I don’t know what the hell you’ve been doing for ten years, other than flouncing around and calling yourself an assassin. But I think you’re used to getting your way. I think you have no control over yourself. No control, and no discipline—not the kind that counts, deep down. You are a child, and a spoiled one at that. And,” he paused, deliberating, finding the words that would hit her the hardest, “you are a coward.”

The word sank into her like that blade it was, and she struggled beneath him, her eyes alight with fury. He let out a low, malicious laugh.

Then Rowan took the blade and twisted.

“Don’t like that word?” He leaned closer still, now close enough to rip out her throat without barely moving. “Coward. You’re a coward who has run for ten years while innocent people were burned and butchered and tortured because of you. Because you fled, because you abandoned them – ”

Rowan’s voice cut off as he saw the utter, complete blankness in the girl’s eyes. It was like she was dead, like his vicious words had killed her and sent her to the Afterworld.

But her heart still beat and her chest still moved, so she wasn’t dead. She was hiding. Hiding away where the truth couldn’t touch her, where she didn’t have to deal with her reality, or face her fears.

Well, if anger couldn’t bring on the shift, perhaps fear would. The princess could do with a healthy dose of fear.

“Get up.” Rowan stood, setting the princess free. She didn’t move. “Get up.” He snarled more viciously. Slowly, the life returned to her eyes, but she still didn’t move a muscle.

Rowan’s nostrils flared. He reached down and pulled her up by her shoulders, her thin body light as a willow wand.

“Pathetic,” he spat, releasing her roughly. “Spineless and pathetic.”

The girl just looked back at him, her face blank and pale, as he turned and strode into the woods.

···

Rowan led the princess back down the wooded slope and through the oaks, but he was not taking her back to Mistward. No, he was angling towards the barrow field mounds, and the wights that nestled within them.

Rowan knew that this was a stupid, dangerous idea. He was just too furious to care.

He wanted the princess to get a taste of the creatures waiting out there, a taste of the wideness and depth of a world that she had barely seen a fraction of. He wouldn’t actually let them kill her, no matter how much he wanted her gone. He just needed her to get a taste of real fear, of the inescapable panic brought on by powerlessness. Maybe it would even force her around those iron bars. Force her to shift.

Rowan didn’t really care either way. He was so angry at this girl, this child, that he could barely see straight. Yet again, he had surprised himself, Rowan hadn’t wished death on another thinking being so desperately, so violently, since the years after the death of his mate. The years where he slowly took his revenge, and then aimlessly wandered the earth, purposeless.

There was no reason for him to hate the princess that much – no logical explanation for it. It didn’t make sense, but Rowan with still too furious to give a shit. He just wanted the girl to hurt. And to wipe that arrogant smirk off her face permanently.

The pair of them approached the barrows, Rowan drawing his sword and dagger cautiously, then he turned to the girl and spoke.

“I had planned to wait until you had some handle on your power – planned to make you come at night, when the barrow-wights are really something to behold, but consider this a favor, as there are few that will dare come out in the day. Walk through the mounds – face the wights and make it to the other side of the field, Aelin, and we can go to Doranelle whenever you wish.”

Her eyes were cold and hard as she regarded him. She had to know that this was a trap, that there was no way she could face the wights without control of her magic and still live. Had to know that Rowan was using her mortal impatience against her.

The scent of fear drifted from her on the wind’s back, while her posture spoke of a hesitant wariness.

The corners of Rowan’s lips curled into a smile as he noticed her eyeing his weapons. He shrugged his shoulders, “You can either wait to earn back your steel, or you can enter as you are now.”

A quick flash of temper. “My bare hands are weapon enough.”

Rowan’s smile widened as he turned and sauntered through the hills, leading the girl to the center of the field where he knew that a wight had been freed.

Each of the barrows were sealed with heavy, iron doors that were bolted into stone foundations, locking up the beasts within. There were dozens of them, ancient tombs of kings and princes long since passed. And they all breathed – the air around them moving in strange, twisting currents as the creatures within slept.

But as he and the princess walked past, the earth yawned, and the barrow mounds were filled with the rustling of awakening things. But still they walked on, the princess remaining close behind despite the fear steadily pumping its way through her blood and pulsing into the air around them. Her fear excited the wights, pulling them out of their niches and from within their lairs.

They reached the center – the oldest barrow in the field. It rested in the middle of a circle of dead grass, and the stones of its threshold had been broken – torn asunder by the tenacious fingers of tree roots and gnarled bushes. And the iron door was gone, nowhere in sight.

“I leave you here,” Rowan said, carefully keeping his feet outside the ring of dead grass. His smile was deadly. “I’ll meet you on the other side of the field.”

The girl looked like she was about to bolt. To run and run and run until she was as far away from him and this field as she could get. But instead of giving in to the impulse, the foolish girl steeled herself, inclined her head to Rowan, and walked into the dead grass.

She moved slowly, steadily, the way one does when they’re trying not to spook a predator. Not realizing it wouldn’t make any difference.

But for some reason, the wight didn’t attack. It remained hidden within its barrow, completely out of sight as the girl made her slow approach and turned to walk around to the other side of the mound. It was…afraid. But not of them. Wights were not afraid of the Fae, no matter how powerful.

Rowan took off, sprinting to the other side of the field. Could luck, blind, foolish luck get the girl out of this completely unharmed?

Frustration bubbled deep in Rowan’s gut as he reached the other side of the field, eyes searching intently for any sign of the girl or the wight. But when the central mound came into view, only darkness met his gaze.

Rowan stopped suddenly, his whole body tensing yet again. But it was a completely different kind of tension than he had just experienced in his brawl with the princess. Then, he had not actually felt any danger, any threat. The girl was only a mortal – a well-trained one, yes, but a mortal nonetheless. She posed no danger to him or any other Fae.

This however, was something different. Something wrong.

The blackness was not of the wights’ making. It was different. Entirely other. And the creatures were hiding from it.

The darkness cloaked the barrow-mounds like a black cloth, thicker and more impenetrable than smoke. It was like a brick wall of inky night had been erected in the middle of the field, and from within, Rowan could barely sense a thing.

He could just barely smell the princess’ terror and pain, but those scents were almost entirely masked by the overwhelming scent emanating from the dark wall itself.

It was of dust and carrion, and something else – something indescribable. It was almost like the scent that had obscured the body of the demi-Fae male, but different somehow. Shifted. The way scents varied between individuals. But still wholly wrong. Not human, not Fae, and not animal. Not even skinwalker or faerie or dragon. It wasn’t alive, had no pulse or emotion or essence the way all living beings did.

Rowan could just barely hear the girl gasping, “This is not real. This is not real.” Her voice was desperate and panicked, and Rowan was surprised to be feeling…fear. Though the emotion was barely a flicker, it was still there. He was afraid.

Rowan rallied, and considered his options. There weren’t many.

He could either wait for the princess to appear out of the darkness, for the black curtain to dissipate on its own, or he could enter into the black void and discover for himself what was within.

His entire being shied from that path. The darkness and whatever created it was wrong. Not of this earth. And…when he looked too long in its depths he could see things…hear Lyria’s screams…feel her body in his arms…

And then the princess was running, lurching and stumbling and falling over herself. Desperate to get away, to escape the blackness and whatever lay within it. Rowan moved forwards to meet her, to pull her away from the void, shoving that aching, screaming part of himself deep inside and locking it behind walls of ice.

A gasping, shrieking noise was leaking from somewhere deep in her chest. Her face was bone white, and her clothes were soiled, covered in vomit and piss and bodily fluids.

She stumbled and fell at his feet, still retching, though now only a small stream of bile trickled from her mouth, her stomach emptied.

Rowan gritted his teeth. No matter the ferocity of the darkness, or the strength of the malice it radiated, the girl should have more discipline, more self-control than she was currently demonstrating. The princess was weak, and self-indulgent. She had no control over her emotions whatsoever, and instead gave herself to them, letting them do what they would.

The terror and grief and pain coming from her was so strong, so intense that he could taste its metallic tang on his teeth. It coated his mouth like bile.

And then, finally, she began to shift – the fear so strong and all-consuming that she was forced through those iron bars and into her other form.

Maybe this had been worth it.

But there was only a flash of canines and pointed ears and then she groaned, returning to her mortal form – but there was another flash of light and the girl shifted back to immortal, her face contorting in agony.

The shifting was completely uncontrolled. Her flesh rippled like water as she flipped between her two forms, mortal and immortal, fast as the beat of a hummingbird’s wings. She was stuck in the place between, tangled up in those iron bars separating her from her power.

The girl’s magic surged around her, cradling her in its blanket of fire. But instead of relaxing into its embrace, she choked on it, gasping, screaming –

And then she passed out.

Rowan sighed in exasperation.

While he had been focusing on the princess writhing on the ground before him, the darkness had slowly dissipated, leaving behind no trace of its existence, or of what had created it.

The wind whispered to him of a fast-moving body, some kind of creature, whipping through the tree branches to the southwest.

Rowan longed to go after it, to track it back through the barrow mounds and into the forest beyond, to follow it back to its lair. But he couldn’t leave the girl at his feet on her own, alone and weak and vulnerable in the middle of a field of wights. Wights that were quickly recovering in the absence of the dark creature, and stirring once more in their hollows.

Rowan groaned his frustration, and then gingerly grasped the disgusting girl’s shoulders and dragged her into the safety of the forest at their backs.

He dumped her a few hundred feet into the safety of the canopy, then sprinted back towards the barrows, shifting midstride. He circled the fields and the surrounding woodlands, scanning for any sign of the darkness or anything that could possibly be the otherworldly creature that had created it. But there was nothing.

Nothing strange, nothing that stood out. And no trace of that awful, wretched stench.

Rowan curved back to return to where he’d left the princess, fuming. If only she had more self-control, if she could have run into the safety of the trees without completely losing it, he could have gone off and pursued the creature. Maybe even discovered what had killed the demi-Fae male, and removed a threat from Doranelle’s lands. Protected the fortress.

But the spineless princess had prevented him from doing so.

Rowan sat on a rock next to her prone form, waiting for her to return to consciousness. He idly threw a dagger as he stewed, his anger slowly bubbling and murmuring in his blood.

Eventually, the girl awoke, her eyes slowly sliding open, sore limbs stretching.

He didn’t wait for her to recover. “No discipline, no control, and no courage.” She turned to look at him, eyes glazed over. “You failed. You made it to the other side of the field, but I said to face the wights – not throw a magical tantrum.”

Her fury blazed to life, overwhelming the exhaustion and lingering fear. Rising to match his own writhing temper. “I will kill you. How dare – ”

“That was not a wight, Princess.” Rowan interrupted, his well of patience dangerously close to running dry. He definitely didn’t have enough left to listen to her go on another arrogant tirade. He barely had enough to speak at all.

Their eyes met, and he mentally shot towards her, That thing should not have been there.

Then what in hell was it, you stupid bastard? she shot back, without hesitation.

Rowan clenched his jaw. Even completely silent, the girl’s tone reeked of arrogant disdain. “I don’t know. We’ve had skinwalkers on the prowl for weeks, roaming down from the hills to search for human pelts, but this…this was something different. I have never encountered its like, not in these lands or any other. Thanks to having to drag you away, I don’t think I’ll learn anytime soon.” He looked pointedly at her deplorable state. “It was gone when I circled back. Tell me what happened. I saw only darkness, and when you emerged, you were – different.”

She looked down at herself, frowning in disgust. “No. And you can go to hell.”

He pressed. “Other lives might depend on it.”

“I want to go back to the fortress,” Her words came with a very great effort, her breaths shallow and labored. “Right now.”

Anger burned even higher within him, reaching to claw at his throat. Selfish brat. “You’re done when I say you’re done.”

“You can kill me or torture me or throw me off a cliff, but I am done for today. In that darkness, I saw things that no one should be able to see. It dragged me through my memories – and not the decent ones. Is that enough for you?”

The girl’s voice was different, altered by her encounter with the creature. This time, her ferocity didn’t come from arrogance, or aggression, or narcissism. Instead it was the sound of a desperate, small, trapped person. Someone who had run from pain for so long, that they no longer knew how to face it any other way.

Rowan spat out a sharp sound of frustration and anger. Nothing could excuse her refusal, her unwillingness to provide potentially crucial information. He was right, the girl was a coward – through and through.

Rowan stood, and led her through the woods and back to Mistward, completely failing to ignore the fury pounding its way through his limbs as he brooded.

The iron bars in her mind were made of fear. A terror so large and great that she allowed it to control her, to cripple her and prevent her from being herself. From accessing the other half of her identity – her Fae form.

The princess would have to overcome her own fear and cowardice in order to learn control. The question was – how to make a coward face their fears?

They arrived back at the fortress, the girl turning away from the entry guards as they passed, trying to hide the horrific state she was in. They noticed anyways, disgust and anger and fear wafting from them as they took in her rank stench and beaten body. And the sentiment was reflected by all of the many workers and soldiers they passed, though none voiced their worry or discomfort – all too intimidated by the force of Rowan’s presence, or by the girl’s own hostility.

He knew the reputation he already carried with the fortress residents, as well as the wider world. Knew that this would do nothing at all to endear them to him. Would maybe even make the girl a figure of sympathy.

He didn’t care. There was nothing to be done about it regardless.

Rowan was desperate to leave, but before he dumped her, he managed to say, “These are the female baths. Your room is a level up. Be in the kitchens at dawn tomorrow.”

And he strode down the corridor without a second glance – relieved to escape the fiery torrent of her presence and fall back into the waiting arms of his cool, icy indifference.

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[gold-and-rubies]

In It For The Long Haul - Chapter 8

Violence Warning, especially for the ending. Mac POV.

MacCready leaned against the wall behind where Flynn was sitting. She was sat in front of the synth detective’s desk. He did not trust him as far as he could throw him, but Flynn was right. They did not have any other options at the moment.

What he did not understand was why the reporter was still with them. She had barely added an extra edge when they went to rescue Valentine, and he had practically felt judgement radiate from her when he had first met her. She was not offering anything now, but if he was honest he did not think he was either. He did not completely understand why she was having him stand there, and not buy more provisions since they had burnt through some ammo already.

His gaze shifted from the opposing wall to Valentine when he spoke. It was unsettling. He sounded just like a human. Maccready had always thought the earlier generations would sound more like the robots he was used to.

“When you’re trying to find someone who’s gone missing, the devil is in the details. Tell me everything you can, no matter…” Valentine paused for a moment, as if searching for the right word, “painful it might be.”

Flynn nodded. He could not see her face from where he was standing, but he could see from the way her shoulders were slumped that ‘painful’ was the right word.

She took a deep breath before speaking, “We’re looking for an infant named Shaun. He was my neighbors’ son. I have no idea why someone would want to take him.”

“That’s a good question,” Valentine said, “Why an infant? They require lots of care, so this isn’t just some run of the mill kidnapping. What else can you tell me.”

“They had to take him from his father. He wouldn’t let them take them. He fought back as best he could, and uh… they shot him,” MacCready could hear her voice getting noticeably weaker. He shifted, unsure whether he should go comfort her. He trusted her more than almost anyone else at this point, but he did not know if they were close enough for that. He recalled the glassy look on her face the few times they had talked about the vault.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to say anymore,” the secretary, Ellie said.

“So we’re talking about a group of cold-hearted killers, but they waited until something went wrong to resort to violence. That and the fact that it was an infant that was taken confirms it. This isn’t a random kidnapping. Whoever took him had an agenda,” he deduced.

MacCready wondered if the mechanical brain helped him come to that conclusion so quickly.

“Hmm… There’s a lot of groups in the Commonwealth who take people,” he continued, “Raiders, super mutants, the Gunners, and of course, there’s the Institute.”

“Well, it definitely was not super mutants, and they were too quick, clean, and professional to be raiders,” Flynn explained.

“And it definitely sounds like a job the Gunners would take, but they wouldn’t decide to do that on their own,” MacCready interjected.

“Which leaves the Institute,” she sighed, “Do you really think they're responsible?”

“Well, they’re the boogeyman of the Commonwealth. Something goes wrong, everyone blames them. Easy to see why. Those early models are a force of nature, or science rather. Killing anything that gets in their way. Then you have the newer models that are as good as human. Pulling strings from the shadows. And no one knows why they do it, what their plans are, or where they are. Not even me,” Valentine explained. MacCready was not sure how much he bought the fact that Valentine did not do anything. He hoped he was not lying.

Flynn shook her head, “Either way we need to focus on Shaun.”

“You’re right. All this speculation is getting us off topic. Let’s focus on what you saw. What did these kidnappers look like?” he asked.

“You’ll, uh, need to take this with a grain of salt. I was… I was stuck in a cryostasis pod, and the glass was foggy,” she warned, “There were three people there, I think, but I only saw two. One was wearing a hazmat suit, so I couldn’t see her face or anything. The man on the other hand, I did see his face. He was bald, and I think he had a scar on the left side of his face.”

“Wait,” he said, his expression suddenly changing, “It couldn’t be… You didn’t hear the name “Kellogg” at all, did you?”

“Uh, I don't think so? Why?”

“It’s way too big of a coincidence. Ellie, what notes do we have about the Kellogg case?”

“The description matches,” she said, looking through her notes, “Bald head. Scar. Reputation for dangerous mercenary work, but no one knows who his employer is.”

“I doubt it’s the Gunners. I’d recognize the name,” MacCready blurted.

“Which doesn’t help matters,” Valentine sighed, “Anyway, he bought a house here in town, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, that’s right. The house in the abandoned West Stands. The boy with him was around ten years old.”

“He had a kid with him? That’s not reassuring,” Flynn groaned.

“No kidding. Whether it’s another kidnaped kid, or his own. Either way they left a while ago, but the house is still there. Why don’t we take a walk over there? See if we can figure out where he went.”

“Alright,” She said standing up and turning to MacCready and Piper, “Why don’t you two wait in the market or something? We’ll come get you when, and if, we find anything. I think all of us going up there will cause a bit of a scene.”

“You’re not taking Dogmeat with you again?” MacCready asked. Part of him hoped they would not be including Piper anymore. He was already getting tired of the suspicious ways she glared at him.

Flynn frowned at him, “I was talking about you and Piper. Besides, I am taking Dogmeat with me. Might need his nose.”

“Whatever you say, Boss,” he sighed. He knew there was no point in arguing. There were more important things they needed to get done.

Together they all left Valentine’s cramped office. Instead of heading directly to the market, he leaned against a wall, and watched Flynn, Valentine, and Dogmeat ascend the stairs.

He noticed that Piper had not wandered off either.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked sarcastically.

“You’re a merc, aren’t you?” she asked. He could hear the judgement in her voice. He was more than used to it at this point.

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I am. Why do you give a f- why do you care?”

“Because I don’t understand why you two are traveling together. She’s the general of the Minutemen, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” he said simply.

“So, why is she traveling with a mercenary?”

“Because she hired me, pays me well, and I do a damn good job of watching her back,” he scoffed, turning to the market. He wondered if he could buy any stimpaks off of the doctor.

“Shouldn’t she be traveling with one of her Minutemen?” she demanded as she followed him into the market.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “but she doesn’t want to spread everyone too thin, and we aren’t here on Minuteman business.”

“But-”

MacCready cut her off, “Look, I get you aren’t thrilled about having to work alongside a fu- damn merc, but I’m not going to go anywhere. Take your issues up with the Boss.”

She pursed her lips, but did not say anything more. He knew at this point she was probably invested in where this was all going, given she was a reporter. It was going to be an interesting story, he could not exactly blame her for sticking around.

She walked off to where who he assumed was her sister was, selling her news articles. He walked over to the doctor to try to buy some stimpaks off of him.

Just as he finished up bartering with the doctor Dogmeat went bounding past him being followed by Flynn and Valentine.

“We gotta go!” was all she said as they ran past. He pocketed the stimpaks as he took off after them. Despite what he had hoped, Piper followed them as they ran past.

Neither Nick nor Flynn offered any explanation as to what was happening until Dogmeat stopped running, and started sniffing around at a pond just outside of Diamond City.

”When we searched Kellogg’s house we didn’t find anything but some of his old belongings, so we’re using Dogmeat to track his scent to find him,” Valentine explained.

“Makes sense to me,” MacCready said, panting slightly. He really needed to stop smoking.

“Another one of his stogies,” Flynn muttered while picking up a cigar. Her face wore a steely expression. This was more than focus. MacCready had seen her focused on taking down raiders and Gunners, but this was different. This was personal. As personal as taking down Winlock and Barnes, but he had no idea what was going through her head.

She held out the cigar for Dogmeat to smell, and he took off again. She ran after him wordlessly. She barely reacted when they were ambushed by molerats, but there was a flicker of pure anger on her face when they found a group of dead bodies. They looked like raiders, but there was no way to be sure. That look she had made him glad he was on her side.

“Do you think Kellogg did this?” Piper asked, voicing his thoughts for him.

“If it was, it was pretty irresponsible for him to leave this behind,” Valentine responded, picking up a swath of bloody bandages.

I thought he was supposed to be a professional, he thought, as Dogmeat picked up Kellogg’s scent.

When they got up they were met by a pack of feral mongrels, which were more of a nuisance than anything else. MacCready always felt a little bad having to deal with them. He wondered how many were just abandoned pets. Then a yao guai attacked. He felt bad about killing it, because he knew they wouldn’t be able to get the meat. A waste in his eyes. It was better than having to live off of molerat.

“He really chose the path of most resistance, didn’t he?” Valentine quipped as they fought their way through a pack of ferals.

MacCready would have responded, but he was more focused on keeping the ferals off of him and Flynn. He hated them so much. He hated the way they moved, and he hated the noises they made.

“Mac,” a voice said, tearing him from his thoughts, “we gotta keep going.”

He looked up at Flynn. There was a different worry on her face. He glared at the dead feral one last time before running to catch up with the others. They had gotten a fair ways away.

“Damn,” he said when he finally caught up. The dead body of a woman, an innocent trader probably, lay next to a completely dismantled protectron. The goods she had been hauling were strewn across the broken pavement. On the opposite side of the road a heavily damaged assaultron was barely online.

“Alert: critical signs,” it repeated over and over.

“Do you think Kellogg did this?” Piper asked. Her voice was quiet with horror.

“Identity confirmed. Tracking known mercenary Kellogg…” the assaultron answered.

“Bastard,” Flynn cursed as she picked up the cigar that had been discarded next to it. Her steely expression was slowly forming into anger. He could see bits of frustration working their way in.

“We’re going to find him, Boss.”

She simply nodded in response, before they took off again. They stumbled upon another wad of bloody bandages and a herd of radstags. He was starting to wonder if he was leaving the bandages behind on purpose.

MacCready glanced at his watch. They had been chasing down Kellogg for a little over two hours at this point. As they ran into a crumbling town MacCready was about to suggest they take a break. If Kellogg was as much of a threat as he was made out to be, they were going to need all of the energy they could get. Just as he was about to say something, he noticed Dogmeat was leading them to a large building with live turrets on the roof. Luckily he was not the only one to notice.

Flynn quickly shrugged off her bag. She had sewn a patch of cloth onto her bag to look like a pocket. In reality it was just a flap to cover a handful of grenades clipped to the side of her bag.

“How good are you at throwing things?” she asked Valentine and Piper.

“Probably better than most,” Valentine responded.

“Unless you want me to help break down the wall, I’ll pass,” Piper said.

Flynn nodded, handing Valentine a grenade. Together they lobbed the grenades forward. Both hit their marks. She threw a third, which destroyed the final turret.

The moment it was a pile of scrap metal Dogmeat was on the move. He led them up the steps of the building to a barricaded front door. He stopped and started barking.

“I think we’ve found where he is,” Valentine said.

She nodded. She bent down to pet Dogmeat and to tell him how well he did. When she straightened back up she reminded him of when she had first introduced herself, except angrier.

“Then we’ll find a way in. I think there is an entrance to a parking garage on the side of the building we came from. We should start looking there,” she said. She sounded like she did when she gave orders at The Castle.

She led them down to the parking garage, and found that she was right. There was an unblocked door that led directly into the building.

The moment he walked into the building, MacCready was met with the sound of more turrets. He groaned quietly. Flynn was going to run out of grenades at this rate.

There were stairs to their left, and a door right in front of them. Dogmeat immediately went to the door. Flynn went to open it, but it would not open.

“Damn. It’s chained,” she explained.

They carefully made their way up the stairs instead, following Dogmeat. MacCready marveled at how smart he was.

On the second landing there was a terminal, a protectron unit, and a set of doors. One of the doors was hanging off of the frame. Flynn approached the terminal. MacCready assumed it was to try to disengage the turrets, but immediately stopped when they all heard robotic voices. They were not the typical robots.

“Gen twos,” Piper whispered.

Neither MacCready or Flynn knew enough about the Institute to question her. Flynn nodded at him to poke around with his rifle, and see if he could take down a few.

He took one step forward when they heard one of voices say, “An enemy may be utilizing stealth.”

He looked at Flynn, waiting to see what she wanted to do. She looked at Valentine, unsure what to do.

“You cannot remain undetected for long,” the voice said. This time it was accompanied by the sound of footsteps. He watched as her face morphed to say, ‘Fuck it.’ He immediately got the memo, and moved to let her go in front of him, the way they had fought together over the past month. The others quickly caught on to the plan.

Together, guns ablazing, they cleared out the floor. It was crawling with synths. MacCready was impressed that Valentine’s guess that the Institute was somehow involved was right. Their suspicions that Kellogg was there were also correct, as the synths kept talking about him.

When all the synths and turrets were dealt with, Dogmeat led them to an elevator.

“I hope this old thing can hold all of us,” Flynn muttered. She pressed the call button.

MacCready watched as she awkwardly played with the collar of her vault suit. The nerves were finally getting to her. Part of him wanted to say something to reassure her, but the elevator dinged and opened before he could even open his mouth.

They took the elevator down to the lower level where they had originally tried to enter. They followed Dogmeat deeper into the building destroying every turret, trap, and synth that got in their way. Eventually they arrived at a door with a tension trigger.

As MacCready knelt down to disarm it a voice came over an intercom.

“Well, if it isn’t my old friend, the frozen TV dinner. Last time we met you were cozying up to the peas and apple cobbler,” it taunted.

“Was that him?” Flynn asked, turning to Piper and Valentine. Her voice was a mixture of anger, determination, and, although it was barely noticeable, worry.

“Yeah,” said Valentine.

When he disengaged the trigger, he turned and looked up at Flynn. Her face Looked exactly like her tone.

“We’re going to take him down, Boss,” he said, trying to comfort her.

She did not acknowledge him. Instead she put her steely face back on, and followed Dogmeat. That worried him. He did not want to see her fall down a hole like that. Taking down raiders and Gunners was one thing. It was the right thing to do. Something like this, however, it was a slippery slope due to all the emotions.

Kellogg continued to taunt her, as they drew closer and closer. He was not sure what to make of her lack of reaction. She never got like this when the raiders or whatever bad guys taunted her. She always taunted them back.

Eventually they got to what looked like Kellogg’s makeshift bedroom. On the opposite side of the room there was a security door with the locks engaged.

Before any of them walked in MacCready blocked the door. He wanted to do his best to keep her from going down that dark road, but he knew she would not listen otherwise. It was his job to keep her safe.

“What are you doing?” she asked impatiently. Valentine and Piper gave him a quizzical look.

“Before you properly face him down, you need to listen to me, Boss,” he explained.

She looked at him expectantly.

He took a deep breath, “Look, I know you are no stranger to taking down the bad guy, but this is not some random raider boss. You’re doin’ this for more personal reasons. This stuff can fu- can mess up your head. I’m just making sure you don’t let him get in your head.”

“He’s not wrong,” Valentine agreed, “I’ve seen this stuff ruin good people.”

She stared up at MacCready, and sighed, “I’m not letting him, and I’m not going to let him get in my head. I promise.”

He believed her, or at least he believed that she was not going to let her anger get the better of her. He stepped aside and let everyone in.

As soon as Flynn approached the security door Kellogg’s voice came on the intercom again, but this time it was not to taunt her.

“Okay. You made it. I’m just up ahead. My synths are standing down. Let’s talk,” he said, and the door swung open.

She glanced behind her shoulder at them all, and nodded. She switched her pistol for her shotgun, and headed through the door.

As they entered the command center the lights dramatically switched on. Kellogg walked out into the open with his arms raised above his head. A synth stood to his right behind him. MacCready noticed another behind them in the corner near the door.

“There she is,” Kellogg said, “The most resilient woman in the Commonwealth.”

“Where’s the kid?” Flynn demanded. Dogmeat stopped right at her side, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

“You mean Shaun? He’s a good kid. A bit older than you last saw him, but I think you know that by now. You’re not going to find him,” he said cooly. The calmness of his voice sent a shiver down MacCready’s back.

“Don’t you think you’ve underestimated me enough?” She said, leveling her gun.

“I’m not underestimating you. At least not now. You aren’t going to find him, because he is in the Institute. His home.”

“The Institute? As if that’s going to stop me. I’ll find him, wherever he is,” her words sounded like a promise.

“You know, more people should act like you. You’re acting the way I would hope to if I was in your shoes. But I think we’ve been talking for long enough. You know how this has to end,” he said, almost completely emotionless.

“Fuck you, Kellogg.”

She shot him twice in the chest before he could even raise his revolver. The two synths fell almost as quickly.

MacCready turned from the synth he had just gunned down to where Flynn was standing over Kellogg’s dead body. She had a look of defeat on her face.

“You did the right thing. He wasn’t going to talk,” he said. He did not get a response for her.

“‘Kidnapper and Murder Gets His Brains Blown Out By One Of His Only Surviving Victims.’ It would be a great headline if we still didn’t have one of the biggest mysteries in the Commonwealth to solve,” Piper sighed.

“Gets his brains blown out… hmmm,” Valentine said before MacCready could turn to glare at Piper.

“What?” Piper asked.

“His brains. A man like him would know how to get into the Institute,” he explained.

“But like I said, he wasn’t going to talk,” MacCready said.

“And I don’t feel like opening a portal to Hell,” Flynn muttered.

“I’m not talking about the paranormal. There’s a place called the Memory Den in Goodneighbor. They specialize in memories, and the doctor there is an expert on brains.”

“I know the place. I’ve never been there myself, but I’m pretty sure they need the people to be living,” MacCready said.

“We don’t have any other options. You’re going to need me to introduce you to the doctor, and I need to go there anyway.”

Flynn finally looked up at them and flatly said, “I’m not dragging a dead body all the way to Goodneighbor.”

Under different circumstances MacCready would have laughed, but the broken tone of her voice curbed any laughter.

“All we need is his brain.”

“Nick, that’s disgusting,” Piper said, gagging slightly.

“We could probably use one of the medkit boxes…” Flynn muttered.

“Seriously?” Piper and MacCready demanded.

She ignored them, and focused on Valentine, “Do you think you’re going to be able to do anything about this?”

Realizing that they were going to actually go through with it, MacCready turned around. He was fine with different bullet wounds, but when violence was taken to this level he had a weak stomach. It just reminded him of the horrible things mutants and ferals do. Dogmeat must have sensed his discomfort, as he pressed himself against his leg. He heard them shuffle around, and then the sickening crunch of the skull cracking. He heard other disgusting noises as they did whatever they were doing.

“What the hell?” he heard Flynn exclaim.

“Cybernetics,” Valentine explained, “We just hit the jackpot.”

He heard the snapping shut of a plastic container, before Valentine said, “I’m going to poke around in that terminal.”

After a few moments the security doors swung open.

MacCready did turn around, as he did not want to see the carnage. He asked over his shoulder, “Find anything.”

“Just that he wasn’t lying.”

Flynn sighed, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

As she walked past him, he reached out and squeezed her arm gently. Physical affection was not something that existed between them, but he wanted to do something to comfort her. She did not jump or pull away. She simply stared at his hand. When she looked at him, he tried to give her a sympathetic look before he let go.

They all walked to the nearest elevator, and piled in. It opened into a room on the roof. A security door was on the other side of the room with a terminal right next to it. MacCready heard an odd noise coming from outside, and he could not quite place it. Flynn used the terminal to open the door, and he was the first to step outside. Immediately his eyes flew to the hills, and found the source of the noise.

“Son of a….”

The Brotherhood of Steel’s airship was coming in over the hills surrounded by vertibirds.

“I don’t believe it,” Piper exclaimed.

As the airship sailed overhead a voice boomed from it, “People of the Commonwealth. Do not interfere. Our intentions are peaceful. We are the Brotherhood of Steel.”

Together they stood there in shocked silence as they watched it sail toward Boston.

“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing.”

Valentine’s words hung in the air, giving it a chill.

It took another moment before Flynn finally spoke up, “What. The. Hell.”

“I dunno, Boss, but it certainly isn’t good.”

“I hope I don’t have to deal with that too,” she sighed before leading the way off of the roof.

[the-dark-swan]

On My Side

“I was under the impression I was an ‘insufferable, territorial bastard’,” he mocked in a terrible impression of her voice. “You can’t have it both ways.”

“No, you can’t have it both ways, Mister Don’t-Touch-Me-Like-That,” Aelin spat at him, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.

the Pandemic AU that literally no one asked for. i wrote the entire thing because of two lines of dialogue that popped into my brain (bonus points if you can guess which ones). 

i’ve never shared anything i’ve written for the TOG fandom on tumblr before so here *chucks story into the void and runs*

(also available on ao3)

“I swear to every god that is listening I will choke you next time I see you, Rowan Whitehorn,” Aelin snarled, leaning her face dangerously close to her computer’s camera.

The speakers emitted a cacophony of howling laughter. She saw Rowan in the little square showing his camera feed, a shit-eating grin on his face. A beat passed, as he waited for a pause in the din of noise. His grin turned feral and he replied, “Do you promise?”  

More laughter shrieked through the speakers, only broken by a choked gagging sound, no doubt from her cousin Aedion. “Could you guys keep it PG for more than 5 minutes at a time? I am begging you,” he groaned.

This all had started as an innocent way for them all to see each other again during their cities’ respective stay-at-home orders. Fenrys, ever the ring leader, had suggested in lieu of their typical March Madness bracket arguments, they could make brackets for other, more mundane things, then argue and vote on them via video chats. The first bracket they had done was MLM power-rankings based on the product and likelihood that Lorcan (the most cynical among them) could be convinced to join. It had taken them two hours before they had reached a conclusion, but for the most part it was goofy and civil.

Today’s debate was more personal: who among them was more likely to start a brawl in a bar. Instead of not wanting to be the one chosen, the group had immediately started vying for the position of most likely to.  The current debate was between Aelin and Lysandra. Rowan had just given his two cents that not only was Lysandra more volatile when drunk, she was also more likely to cause a fight.  Aelin was positively furious.

In the camera, Rowan spread his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “Sorry, love, Lysandra is more likely to start a fight,” he knew she hated when he used pet names on her, “If the question was who is more likely to finish a fight, I would most certainly have picked you.”

“That’s it, Buzzard, I don’t care about social distancing…” Aelin leaped up and out of the screen.

Her friends couldn’t see her, but she stormed out of her apartment, practically ripping the door off its hinges. She took the steps to the third floor two at a time. One right turn and two left turns brought her in front of Unit 343. There was no resistance as she turned the handle and shoved the door open. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the rational part of her puzzled at what reason Rowan could possibly have for having his door unlocked.

Aelin stalked through the long hallway that opened into his loft apartment and found Rowan sitting on the ground, back against his couch, the laptop still open in front of him. Through the speakers, she could make out Fenrys’s voice.

“... twenty dollars says she spits directly into his eyes from Aedion. Lys has an additional five dollars down that Aelin will bring up the incident from New Year’s…”

Rowan reached forward calmly, pressing a button on his laptop, then finally raised his head to look at her. Pine green eyes roved up her body, making Aelin suddenly very aware that she was barefoot and actually wearing a shirt of his that she had stolen months ago.

“Was there something you needed to say?” he asked.

From the computer, someone asked, “Oh my god, Rowan, is she in your apartment?” to which Rowan responded by turning the volume down.

“Technically, you shouldn’t be here,” he added, his voice rumbling in that way that did funny things to Aelin’s heart.

Before she could stop the words, she shot back, “Technically, I thought you were supposed to be on my side, not Lysandra’s.”

“Did he mute them? I can’t hear anything,” a voice complained through the computer speakers.

He cocked his head at her, ignoring the laptop entirely. “You’d sound jealous if I didn’t know better.”

Aelin opened her mouth, but no words came. “Does anyone read lips?” Fenrys asked through the speakers.

“I was under the impression I was an ‘insufferable, territorial bastard ’,” he mocked in a terrible impression of her voice. “You can’t have it both ways.”

“No, you can’t have it both ways, Mister Don’t-Touch-Me-Like-That,” Aelin spat at him, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.

Rowan went still, in that eerie, preternatural way of his. From the computer, someone murmured, “I think she just brought it up.”

The New Years’ Incident. Nausea rolled through her stomach every time she devoted any thoughts to it. The memory of Rowan yanking her hands away from his face, growling “Don’t touch me like that,” while everyone around them counted down the final seconds to midnight, was not a memory she liked to dwell on.

He rose to his full height, unfolding long, muscled limbs from where he sat on the floor, towering tall enough that Aelin swore he had his own gravitational pull. “Are we finally going to talk about it?”

In her chest, Aelin’s heart took off in a nervous gallop. Did she want to have it out with him over it, finally? Three months of carefully maintained distance from Rowan had been painful. Sidestepping him when he went to touch her, letting their inside jokes die on her tongue, sandwiching herself between Fenrys and Aedion at shared meals like they were bodyguards. Now that she thought about it, this was the first time they had been alone together since that night, despite living in the same apartment building.

Across the room, Rowan moved slowly, rounding the coffee table that separated them in measured, calculated steps, as if he was approaching startled prey. Aelin remained rooted to the floor, swaying a bit as he came within arm’s reach. This close, she had to tilt her head back to look him in the face.

“I’m sorry, Aelin.”

She shook her head, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “You don’t really even have anything to be sorry for. It was nothing.” In her head, ‘Don’t touch me like that’ played on a loop.

“It wasn’t nothing, Aelin. You won’t let me within three feet of you. And I miss you. Although, given the pandemic, maybe that has been for the best.” He paused for a beat, raising his hand out towards her. When she didn’t retreat, he moved closer, reaching for her hand and grasping it gently. She offered no resistance as he lifted it towards him and pressed it to the curve of his jaw.

Beneath her hand, his mid-day stubble bit into her palm. “Rowan,” she started, but he shook his head, cutting her off.

“Lately, it feels like the world is ending, and I keep thinking how you might have never known how much I miss you and how sorry I am,” his voice cracked and he swallowed roughly. “I didn’t mean it, what I said. I got… I got scared, Aelin. You mean everything to me. Everything. I thought if I… if we… if we kissed, it would ruin everything. I couldn’t risk messing everything up and losing you, but then I did that anyways.”

Her body rocked into his gravity of its own accord, her other hand automatically bracing against his chest. Talking over the pounding of the blood rushing in her ears, she said, “You didn’t lose me. I trust you, always. And if friendship is all you can give-”

“No,” he interrupted gruffly. “No, Aelin. I’ve had three months to be honest with myself and this has never been just platonic.”

A shuddering breath stuttered through Aelin’s chest at his confession, hope clogging her throat, preventing any more words from escaping. Rowan left her hand on his face, moving his own to cup the back of her neck and tip her face further up. This close, she saw the way his pupils had swallowed most of the green of his irises. She licked her lips and his eyes tracked the movement.

Just as he started to drift towards her mouth with his own, a voice startled them both. “Do you think they’re kissing or fighting? Lorcan had ten dollars on a brawl, Elide had twenty on a make out.”

“Could you excuse me for one moment?” Rowan whispered, his breath ghosting across her face. Removing his hands from her, he marched over to where the laptop sat open on the coffee table, bringing his face back into view and unmuting it.

“If you would kindly stop interrupting us-”

“I’m sure there’s lots of talking-” the unmistakable voice of Lysandra quipped.

“Like I said, there's money down on fighting or fucking pick your-” Fenrys added unhelpfully.

“Shut up ,” Rowan growled, leaning his face nearly all the way into the camera. “If you could shut your traps and stop trying to profit off of your friends’ love lives, that would be great.” Aelin slapped her hands over her face, a blush spreading like wildfire across her face. Love lives? Love? She hadn't dared to acknowledge the way that word rattled around her brain when she looked at Rowan, yet here he was casually throwing it out into the world. Through her fingers, she saw Rowan note her reaction.

“Goodbye, fuckos.” He snapped the laptop shut unceremoniously.

His steps were near silent as he made his way back to her, wasting no time drawing her back into his arms. Aelin brought both her hands up to his face this time, letting her thumbs drag over his cheekbones. His thumb brushed across her lower lip, as if to remind her where this moment was headed.

“Did that word scare you?”

She shook her head. “Nothing about you could ever scare me. Like you said, I don’t think this has been platonic for a long time, if ever.”

He considered her again for a moment, eyes tracking across her features. “What if you deserve better than me?”

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t deserve, Buzzard.”

“Gods, you’re such a brat,” he murmured, and then his lips were on hers.

[monstersandmaw]

Twelve Days of Exomas - 70+k words of exclusive exophilia stories!

So, they’re all up now.

*wheezes and passes out*

For a long excerpt from Day Six (male were-yeti x reader) see below!

Twelve Days of Exomas (Christmas Special stories) 2019

Day One (male mummy x female reader - v. light nsfw)

Day Two (male djinn x male reader - NSFW)

Day Three (female were-hyena x female reader - NSFW)

Day Four (male sharkmer x reader - v. light NSFW/kiss)

Day Five (female orc x male reader - NSFW)

Day Six (male were-yeti x reader, Part One - SFW)

Day Seven (male were-yeti x reader, Part Two - v. light NSFW/kiss)

Day Eight (non-binary demon x reader - light NSFW)

Day Nine (male werewolf x male vampire x female character, Part One - NSFW)

Day Ten (male werewolf x male vampire x female character, Part Two - NSFW)

Day Eleven (female naga x reader - NSFW)

Day Twelve  (male haunted mirror/Fae (x reader - NSFW)

Day Six - Male were-yeti x reader  long excerpt (sfw)

“Come to Snowy Starfall Springs, they said. Live out the fairytale Winter Wonderland dream, they said,” you spat as you waded through knee-deep snow, way off the trail, lost, freezing your backside off, and with the daylight hours slowly burning out. “Fuck.”

The eerie stillness of the woods didn’t help either.

Short, stocky, slow-growing pines, their branches laden with snow, stood sentry against the approaching night, and the old, softened tracks of either a cervitaur or an actual deer were the only sign that anything else aside from you was even alive out here. You might not be for much longer unless you found that trail and headed back, but you couldn’t be that far from where you’d gone wrong. You had driven three hours out of Starfall Springs into the Starfall Mountains, parked up at the trail head, donned your awkward snow-shoes, and plunged eagerly into the wilderness that morning. You’d only intended for this to be a four hour hike, but instead you’d missed a turning somewhere, and had ended up somewhere off the usual trails, in the arse end of Winter Wonderland. “Happy Solstice, eh?” you chided yourself.

You’d just stopped and resigned yourself to digging around in your pack for your phone and compass - having been assured that the trail would be easy enough to follow in a nice loop from the car park - when up ahead, the stillness broke as something shifted between the trees, and you froze. These parts weren’t known for harbouring particularly dangerous wildlife, but there were packs of wolves, and even feral werewolves if the stories were true, and you were easy picking like this. Tiredness seeped into your muscles along with the cold, and you flexed your fingers, frozen on the point of sloughing off your backpack.

To your utter astonishment, a young child appeared between the snowy pines. Unlike you, he was not really dressed for the cold, wearing only a sweater and scruffy jeans. He stopped, stared straight at you, and then laughed. It wasn’t a particularly kind laugh either.

“Shit,” you hissed, watching your breath fog across your vision for a moment. Your eyelashes were frozen, creating a thick border of white around your vision because you’d neglected to bring your goggles too.

The child bent and swept their hand through the snow in a rapid arc, sending a wide spray of powder glittering through the air, and amid the flurry, they turned and ran.

“Wait!” you yelled after them. “Wait! Is there a shelter around here?” As if you had no more sense than a jackrabbit, you plunged through the trees after him, immediately tripping on the toe of your snow shoe and pitching into a deep bank of snow, face first.

His hair had been a white blond, and his skin a warm, rosy brown, and somehow he looked like he belonged here among the sleeping pines and wild, endless skies. You, meanwhile, were making more noise than a bear in a city trashcan.

Around your fresh mouthful of snow, you cursed and rolled upright. It wasn’t easy to do, but you’d fallen over enough times on your way out from the trail head to learn how to pick yourself up. Faceplant, roll onto your front, rock up onto your knees, windmill your arms a bit, stand up. Rinse and repeat.

As you straightened again, you heard the boy’s laughter and froze. “Hello?”

It seemed to come from one direction and then, a moment later, from another.

“Fuck’s sake,” you muttered bitterly to yourself. “Listen, I got turned around and I could use your help. I’m going to freeze my butt off if I stay out here tonight. Can you help me or not?”

Empty childish laughter was your only response.

Sucking in a deeper breath - cautiously because if you breathed too deeply and too quickly you’d start coughing with the cold - you headed in the direction you’d last seen the boy prancing through the snow like a Solstice reindeer. How did he move like that? Could he be a fae? At that point you were almost ready to sell your left kidney for a safe place to spend the night, but as the thought crossed your mind you realised that maybe you were more desperate than you should be. You still had perhaps an hour left of daylight, and you had a compass and a detailed map in your bag.

Out of nowhere, a deep, bellowing roar split the silence, crystalline fragments of winter peace shattering as your ears rang and you stumbled, catching the front of your snow-shoe again. You went down hard with a grunted ‘oof’ and felt your ankle go. It didn’t snap, thank all the gods, but you’d sprained it before and remembered the shock and the sudden rush of heat. You couldn’t have helped the yell that left your lips as you went down even if your soul (or your left kidney) had depended on it.

Defeated, frustrated, and in a fair bit of pain, you just lay there, face down in the snow for a minute. Perhaps the bear - if it had indeed been a bear - wouldn’t notice you if you just lay there.

Heavy footfalls reached you not long after, the snow squeaking slightly as it was compressed beneath large feet.  

Shit.

Summoning the strength to turn your head, you looked and found two enormous, fluffy white hind paws, tipped with thick, four-inch long, jet black claws standing right beside you. You didn’t think that polar bears lived in these parts, but by this point, your exhaustion ran bone-deep, your muscles were shaky and cramping with the creeping cold, and your reserves of courage had just run completely dry. And with that, you went limp.

The creature knelt beside you and turned you over, chuffing softly like a tiger and gripping your backpack as if it were the scruff of your neck. Your stomach swooped, and when you opened your eyes, you saw that you were five feet off the ground, in the claws of a creature you’d thought only existed in ancient fairy tales.

A yeti had you in its claws.

Stars danced in your vision and you went limp before you could process much more than the dull, deep growl that reverberated around pronounced canines and black lips.

Warmth washed through you and you wriggled gently before a flash of sharp pain shot up your leg and you stopped moving immediately. At the sound of your shuffling, something sat up straight beside you and you blinked again, trying to clear your vision a bit.

Covered by a soft, woollen rug, you were lying on a sofa in a wooden cabin, with an iron, wood-burning stove blazing away at one end of the modest space, and with vibrantly coloured rugs and throws decorating the floor and couch. Everything had a handmade look to it, including the house itself right down to the cement used to seal the gaps between the rounded logs of the cabin walls and the rustic wooden handles on the doors.

In a chair near you sat possibly the most handsome man you had ever seen in your whole life, and the first words out of your mouth when you spotted him were, embarrassingly, “Am I dead?”

He laughed joyously, his ice-blue eyes crinkling at the corners. His skin was a warm, rich tanned brown, his eyebrows steel grey, and his long, thick, wiry white hair tied back off his ruggedly chiselled face in a half-ponytail. He looked to be at some intangible age between thirty and forty, with laughter lines around his eyes and one or two between his brows. His lips were full and looked infinitely kissable, slightly chapped, and he had a thick, pale scar on his chin that stretched up his neck, over his jawline to his lower lip that just invited you to press your fingers to it and draw him closer for a kiss. Naturally, you did none of that, and just stared at him like a thunderstruck imbecile.

“You’re not dead,” he chuckled, and you immediately felt hot all over, under your skin. He had a beautiful, rich, deep, lyrical voice with a lilting, thick accent. “But you did twist your ankle pretty good. How do you feel?”

As you blinked again, you realised that it was dark outside and that the curtains had been drawn against the night. You shifted again, trying to sit upright, and you realised that your foot was cold. Staring down at it, you discovered that he’d strapped a plastic ice block to it, wrapped in a tea-towel. “Where am I?” you asked groggily. “What happened?” and then you added, “That kid… there was a boy out there…?”

“You mean that one?” the man asked gruffly, scowling and jutting his chin over his shoulder at a wild-looking boy standing at the other end of the cabin. He was resting his lean, wiry frame against the doorway to what looked like a kitchen area, though it was hard to see in the low lamplight. The kid, perhaps nine or ten, flashed you a wickedly sharp smile and disappeared into the other room.

“Yeah,” you said lamely. “He’s yours?”

“Yup,” he said, standing up and looming over you for a moment before backing off, mostly so you didn't have to crick your neck to look at him.

He was wearing a creamy, cable-knit jumper with an intricate pattern on, and pale scruffy jeans with a rip in the knee. Where he was tall he was also broad-shouldered, though there was a softness to his torso that spoke of a different kind of strength from movie stars and body builders. He was the kind of man who could lift a tree trunk without much difficulty, but probably couldn’t sprint for long without getting winded.

“Who are you?” you asked as he turned away and reached for a mug on a nearby table. It looked unusual and you realised a second later that it was carved from wood. Something in the back of your head said, with the voice of your late grandmother, that it was called a ‘kuksa’ by folks in these parts.

“Oh,” he said, pausing and glancing back at you over his shoulder. His hair was thick and coarse looking, hanging just down to his shoulder blades but you still felt the inexplicable urge to run your fingers through it. You frowned, wondering whether he’d slipped you something while you’d been unconscious. “I’m Arttu,” he said, drawing out the consonants in a way that made your mouth go a bit dry. His eyes were so blue that they were almost beyond comprehension. You’d never seen anyone with eyes that colour. “Here,” he added, moving back to you and holding out the kuksa.

You made no move to take it from him, no matter how rough and big and inviting his hands looked. “What is it?” you asked.

“Water,” he grinned. “You’re safe here, I promise.”

“You can’t blame me for being wary,” you grumbled, sitting up awkwardly and reaching for the cup. “Passing out in the claws of a yeti and waking up in the cabin of some supernaturally handsome guy…”

Arttu nearly dropped the kuksa as he handed it to you, but he laughed almost shyly at your words. “Well,” he said, oddly flustered and with his cheeks slightly flushed. From the other room, the boy yelled something in a language you didn’t speak or recognise, and Arttu replied more softly in the same.

You tried not to make an indecent noise at the sound of his voice, and looked away. You took in the way your foot was propped up on a cushion and, for the first time, noticed that your very unflattering snow-suit was nowhere to be seen.

When you looked back up at him, Arttu was licking his lips nervously and had stepped back even further. You drank and then set the kuksa on a nearby hand-made, pine coffee table. “I mean it,” he said in a soft, earnest voice. “You’re safe here. Are you hungry?”

For you? “Uh, yeah?” you said, suddenly realising how long it had been since breakfast as your stomach clenched almost painfully.

His lips twitched and he nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

___

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