#and i think ill try reblogging all the responses i got over the weeks

[lizzybeth1986]

.

[jamiebluewind]

Warning! Pet illness, xray

A friend of mine a few states away had a pregnant female cat walk onto her porch and decide she lives now. She had 3 kittens. Since my friend/roommate @winterpower98 was looking for her first cat, we (other roommate/bestie, Winter/Gaia, and I) decided to take a trip down to visit and see if one of the kittens would work for her.

The thing is, she did fall in love with one! He's black with white markings, so the 6 year old had been calling him Eclipse. He's, curious, playful, and always trying to get into something. He loves Gaia. I mean LOVES her. And she loves him. Like... emptying her savings loves him.

Right before we arrived, our friend noticed a little lump on his belly. They thought nothing of it. And then, it got bigger. And bigger. And bigger.

After a week, we took him to a local vet to get checked out. He had a umbilical hernia. Luckily it stopped before his diaphragm, but the hernia was severe enough that he would need surgery to close it (a lot of articles talked about smaller ones closing on their own which is why we waited). He would also need special care for IBS symptoms and to keep his hernia from getting injured or obstructed before repair (which couldn't happen until he was big enough to go under anesthesia). He would need to come indoors for his safety and be separated from the others as his sisters pouncing on the hernia was causing issues (a week earlier than the 8 week mark).

I was honestly expecting Gaia to say it was too much for her to handle. Even told her that nobody would judge her for not being ready for that level of responsibility. That we could find an organization that could take him and get him the help he needed and find him a good home. He has two sisters she could consider, there were plenty of shelters back home with cats under a year old, and we could even check the town we were visiting and places on the way back home, so there were options. I knew how much it took to care for a kitten with health issues (my current cat required months of specialized care and there were plenty of scares along the way) and Gaia has no previous experience with cats outside of hanging out with our cats, so that's just starting on hard mode.

After a long serious talk on the responsibilities she was about to take on, she said she knew it would be hard but the thought of giving him up made her sick. That she would do whatever it took to give him a happy life for however long she has him. We aren't rich people, she's going back to college full time, she had only decided on him over one of his sisters that morning, and (again) this would be the first cat she has ever had. She went all in without a second thought.

The original quotes from various vets willing to do the surgery (not all vets can) were pretty insane, but luckily I found a non-profit that did the surgery for about half. My other roommate and I fully support her and chipping in what we can.

Eclipse is 8 week old and his surgery is scheduled in a month, but we are going to call in and check for cancelations since he's reached the minimum weight and age for anesthesia. Winter has been so busy caring for him that she's not had a chance to post about him, so I decided to do it on the drive home. I think the story is important because it raises awareness about an issue most don't know about and shows someone genuinely caring about a pet with special needs. As a disabled person who's went through a lot of ableism and survived abuse, it really hit me to see how much she loves him with her whole chest and doesn't ever approach his issues with anger or blame.

I don't ask for reblogs much, but I wanted to ask you guys to boost this. I linked Gaia's PayPal below if anyone wants to help take some of the financial burden off her, but you can also support her with messages and boosting this and her future post/s about Eclipse (cut her some slack guys, she's currently in tired new mom mode). I don't expect anyone to donate because I know you guys are mostly in the same shape as us, but I think showing Gaia support is just as important.

Now if you'll excuse me, the hyperactive boy got the zoomies and just jumped in the toilet XD

Edit: Late thing to add on, but a few days after posting this my other roommate/bestie Sarah decided to adopt his sister! Her name is Melanite, but her honey eyes have earned her the nickname Miel. Her and Eclipse have always been very close (often laying on top of each other), so it's great that they'll get to stay together.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, medical procedures including dialysis and chronic illness, dry humping, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Pete Brenner, short!reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Before you depart, you leave an extra tip at the counter. The owner was more helpful than he needed to be. You feel indebted.

As you go out into the street, you give a long glance in each direction. You're paranoid even after the hours that passed since the unwelcome encounter. It's not just that one time, it's that this guy keeps popping up.

You walk the block warily, checking over your shoulder every few steps. Your building is quiet now that the maintenance is done, at least for the day. You go up to your apartment and drop your bag by the door.

What a long, strange day. Still, you got a lot of work done. You can just relax. You have another appointment tomorrow and that will be less than soothing.

You go to the bedroom and pull out a set of pajamas. You change a piece at a time, stretching as fatigue knots your muscles. You pull up the shorts as a shadow flickers by the window. You turn, finding nothing but the dimming sky and the rattling fire escape.

You don't think much of it. The wind often shakes the metal ladder and your apartment never quite gets the full shine of daylight. You grab your laptop and turn on the same show you've been marathoning for almost a week. You nestle into bed and yawn, even if it is a bit early to turn in.

You try to unwind and let go of the stress needling in your temples. You close your eyes, the heaviness less crushing, more hypnotizing. It drags you down even as the tension longers in your body.

You dream of the cafe and its moody owner, the other man like a shadow outside the window, the ambience overcast and sinister. At the edge of your subconscious is the glare of the laptop screen, the garbled audio skewing to a hum. A cool flow washes over you and sends a shiver up your spine.

You rouse slightly, enough to pull the top of the quilt to your chest. You hug the patchwork and grumble as you roll onto your side. You seal your eyelids and cling to the sleep that weighs on your lashes. The blackness slowly spreads and all at once splinters as your name gristles into your ear.

Your eyes snap open to darkness. Your laptop is closed and set on your night table. There's a weight over you that suggests more than a blanket. You feel something wiggle under your side and realise an arm is hooked around you, their hand tucked beneath you.

You go rigid and inhale, ready to scream your lungs out. The hand swiftly slides free and smothers your voice. You whimper and squirm against the intruder.

“You know, sweetheart, I just wanted to talk…” his nose brushes along the shell of your ear, his damp breath on your nape.

You whine and grab at his hand desperately. How did he find you? Jow did he get in here? This has to be a nightmare!

He hushes you and nuzzles your hair. He presses a kiss to the back of your head and growls. He wiggles even closer to you, rolling his hips against you.

“Now I don't feel like talking,” he snarls.

Your eyes gloss as his strength traps you. You don't understand. What did you do to deserve this? Why does he care so much?

“You know what I feel like?” He rasps, rocking against you as his breath shudders with his fervent motion, “I feel like holding you down and seeing if the rest of you still works.”

You squeak as you claw at his thick wrist. Your heart thunders and your ears burn. You've never felt this helpless.

He keeps his rhythm, his crotch chafing against you as his other arm snakes under you. His hand flutters up to squeeze your chest. He grunts between his quickening pants as the bed shakes with him.

“I can be a nice guy,” he huffs, “but you make a guy wanna be mean.”

Your tears break free, leaking down to stain your pillow. You writhe and throw your elbow back. He growls as you catch him in the same spot as before.

He leans his weight into you, turning you on your stomach as he crushes you against the mattress. He pins you with his body, thrusting against you as the fabric between your bodies grows warm. You murmur and bawl into his salty palm as you feel his bulge hard and throbbing against you.

“That's it, baby, that's it,” he coaxes as he rocks faster, “almost….”

He slips his hand behind your head and pushes your face into the pillow, suffocating you. He coughs and grunts and spasms. He shakes and his pace turns erratic and he slows, little by little, until he still and gulping for air.

He falls limp over you, his head next to yours as he pets your hair. He purrs and turns to kiss your temple. You turn your head away from him and sob.

What just happened?

[vanillahub]

Name / Alias: Vani Are you over 18? Yes / No Is your muse(s) over 18? Yes / No / Depends on the muse & verse When was your blog established? This blog was created at the end of 2022 and start of 2023. That's when I moved here! REPOST, DON'T REBLOG!

– W R I T I N G –

Are you selective about who you write with? No (anyone) / Semi (most people) / Yes (some people) / Highly (few people) / Private (mutuals only).

Life gets busy for me, I tend to also feel overwhelmed easily so I’d rather keep my circle small so I can provide everyone with a good RPing experience!

Are you selective about who you follow? No (anyone) / Semi (most people) / Yes (some people) / Highly (few people).

If your muse is canon, how much do you adhere to canon? Not at all / A little / Some / Mostly / Strictly / Not Applicable.

Star wars’ lore is MASSIVE... As a result, I try to learn more about it through bits and pieces, I choose what I feel like will work best for my interpretations then fill in the gaps however I feel like. Pokemon's lore is very chill, easy to digest and fun to play around with! Even if there isn't much for many characters, but I still try to stick with the timeline of events that most fans agrees with. Saint Seiya's lore is what I'm currently learning more about! So far, it's kinda of chill like Pokemon's but it is fun to think of, like it is with SW's.

What post lengths do you write? One-Liners / Single-Para / Multi-Para / Novella / All of the aforementioned.

One-liners are only for crack/dash shenanigans. Shorter responses work best for Discord RPs. But on tumblr, I have a huge preference for lengthier threads.

Do you use icons and/or GIFS? No / Gifs / Icons / Yes / Sometimes.

I used to love using icons, I had tons of fun with both iconing and making borders for them. BUT I've dropped them in favor of banners. ATP I got too many muses, and it'd drive me MAD to make them for each one of them. My banners are meant to fill in the void left by icons, and this way it challenges me to put more effort on my writing.

Do you write on other platforms? No / Yes

Discord, mutuals are welcomed to ask for it <;3

What level of plots do you write? Unplotted / Open-Ended Plots / Semi-Plotted / Fully Plotted Epics / All of the aforementioned

I have a huge preference for plotted stuff. Knowing the course of events and my partner’s muse makes things a lot easier for me, and overall it is a lot more enjoyable to me.

How quickly do you usually respond to threads? Very Slow (more than a month) / Slow (3-4 weeks) / Average (1-2 weeks) / Fast (less than one week) / Very Fast (less than three days)

It depends on the kind of thread & the size of it TBH. Usually speaking, I'm fast to get to RP responses, but I rely on my queue to deliver them. It helps me to space out RP responses, and manage the numbers of RP threads I have going. I can't stress enough how this method helps me SO MUCH, to prevent any form of burnouts. It may seem like I tend to respond faster to Discord rps, simply because the threads there tend to be shorter in size. But it is mainly due to the fact, there isn’t a queue system.

What types of themes do you like? Adventure / Romance / Fluff / ANGST / Violence / Tragedy / Domestic / Family / All of the aforementioned

WHAT GENRES DO YOU LIKE? ( Feel free to add! ) High Fantasy / Supernatural / Science Fiction / Historical / Horror / Comedy / Romantic / Drama / Action / Smut / Adventure / Espionage / All of the aforementioned

Are there any themes you’re uncomfortable writing on your blog? (Not triggers) No / Yes / Sometimes

Gore can leave me feeling ill, graphic descriptions of injuries/blood/etc can cause me to feel nauseous. Overall it is something, I'd rather avoid reading altogether. I'm also uncomfortable writing adult/minor and incestuous relationships.

Do you have any triggers? How do you request it tagged?

I have no triggers! But I would like that my mutuals tagged anything related to current world events/politics. I get how heated these subjects are to many people. However, I’m not an American, when I’m on my RP blogs I don’t want to see those things. Trust me, if I wanted to know more about it, I'd search for reputable sources of information. And not random blogs, that could be spreading misinformation or fear mongering, uninformed people. No one benefits from these types of situations. I've been in the RPC for many years, and this shit shouldn't be seen an acceptable way to behave online. Spoiler alert: You're not a grand savior, just bc you reblogged a post that had something to do, with whatever may be happening. Not everyone on Tumblr is from the US.

– S H I P P I N G –

What types of relationships are you open to?

Romantic / Platonic / Familial / All of the aforementioned

It all depends on the chemistry, and IC development. I’m extremely picky about platonic/familial relationships, due to having some really awful experiences with it in the past.

What types of pre-established relationships are you open to? Romantic / Platonic / Familial / All of the aforementioned

See the answer above. So long as we have managed to come up with something that works well for both muses, it’s all good for me.

Do you have OTPs? No / Chemistry Only / Yes

I do! My ship bias lists can be found on my muses about docs/pages!

Do you have NOTPS? No / Yes

They can be found on my muses about sections/docs as "ships I refuse to romantically write". These can range either for my own comfort, to me straight up not liking them.

What is your muse’s sexual orientation? Heterosexual / Heteroflexible / Bisexual / Pansexual / Homoflexible / Homosexual / Demisexual / Sapiosexual / Asexual / Still trying to figure it out / Depends on the muse you’re asking

See their infos

What is your muse’s romantic orientation? Heteroromantic / Heteroflexible / Biromantic / Homoflexible / Homoromantic / Panromantic / Demiromantic / Sapioromantic / Aromantic / Still trying to figure it out / Depends on the muse you’re asking

See their infos

Are you comfortable writing smut? No / Selectively / Yes

I have a NSFW side blog just for that, even though I haven’t used it in ages LMAO. I just have been preferring to write NSFW stuff on discord lately. With that said though, not all of my muses are open for it.

How early in a relationship do you ship romantically? Autoship / During plotting / After a couple IC interactions / Several IC interactions / Slow burn / Plot dependent / Never

Man it just happens.

Are you open to toxic ships? No / Selectively / Yes / I am not sure

With that said, I’m selective about who I’d write such subject. I personally, prefer doing this by myself. I’m not opposed to writing it with others, I just want to make sure nothing will be romanticized during the plotting/writing of such relationship. And due to a few bad apples in the past, I’ve become wary of giving others a shot at this.

Are you open to problematic ships?

No / Selectively / Yes / I am not sure

Bruh, anything can be considered problematic in this day & age, let's go grab some juice instead. I have ships where, a good chunk of their respective fandoms have labelled them as "problematic". But then when you look at my writing, I'm not writing the "problematic" things the fandom claims them to be as. In the end of the day, my followers and mutuals are highly encourged to curate their stay. This includes, blacklisting to their hearts' content. I feel like we as online fandoms have devolved so much, to a point you will likely find a mfer claiming how shipping in itself is problematic. As well as how you must be ashamed, to enjoy pairing fictional characters in general. Anyway hit me with whatever you want, and I’ll be the judge of what I want to write or not.

Are you open to polyshipping? No / Selectively / Yes / I am not sure

It depends on the muse you’re asking for. This is something that's more dependent on IC reasons, than OOC ones. Many of my muses wouldn't approve or be open, for a relationship like that.

Are you an exclusive shipper? Never / Sometimes / Yes / I would be open to discuss it

No, absolutely not. I’ve never had any luck with exclusivity, and after many failed attempts. i’ve come to the conclusion, it just isn’t for me.

Does crack shipping ever happen? Nope / Yes / depends / altho they gradually become normal ships

Stares @ all of my ships and sweats.

[rommahh]

I Carry Your Heart

Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 4k

{Ahhhh ok so this is my first work like ever. There will definitely be a second part because ive got more to say and it needs a second part. I hope whoever sees and reads this imagine enjoys it. I appreciate comments, likes, reblogs, ideas on what could go into the story, and any form of help and redirection as to how i should write things. Much love, R.}.

Part two

All Y/N wanted tonight was to hang out with her boyfriend, eat a mass amount of junk food, and watch a marvel movie or two. That was all she wanted and that was all she asked of her boyfriend. Instead of any of that happening, she found herself sitting on the nasty kitchen island of her boyfriend's frat at a party that she was trying to avoid going to.

This party was supposedly ‘the party of the year.’ The last rager before finals and then christmas break. Y/N had spent the whole week studying and finishing up end of semester projects hence the want for a chill night. When Harry came to her saying his frat was throwing a party tonight and that he just HAD to be here, Y/N didn't feel like she had a choice but to let him go. She came because she thought this would be the only time she would be able to have some time with Harry after a long week of barely seeing each other. With two vastly different majors, the couple wasnt able to find a lot of time in the middle of school work to make time for just the two of them. Obviously her hopes of quality time with her man were futile because here she was sitting by herself in the kitchen of the frat while Harry drank and got high with his friends in other parts of the house.

Of course she was disappointed. She felt a knot in her throat and a weight on her chest just sitting there in that kitchen. Her white claw was warm now- not that it was any cold when she opened it. She was starting to form a small headache from the too loud music and the ache in her heart was growing.

She stood from the countertop on the search for her boyfriend, hoping he wasn't too far gone from sober. Wiping the back of her jeans from anything that was left on the island, she began walking around the house. She doesn't remember the last time the two of them spent time together by themselves. Of course they occasionally ate dinner together in the dining hall but they were normally surrounded by friends. Y/N wanted to be alone with her boyfriend to talk and bask in his presence.

After pushing through groups of partying humans, she found Harry and at least ten other people sitting around playing some sort of drinking game.

“Y/N! Where have you been?” Luca, one of Harry's frat brothers yelled out to her from the circle. Luca was cool, he was one of the only tolerable boys in this frat aside from Harry. Hearing his girlfriend's name, Harry turned around from where he sat on the ground and reached out for his girlfriend to sit beside him. Much to Y/N’s dismay, Harry was wasted. His eyes were half mass and his words bumped and slurred together. “We are playing truth or dare, wanna play?” Luca asked.

“I don't wanna play but Ill sit and watch.” Sitting next to her boyfriend, she grabbed one of his hands holding it in her lap. She was annoyed at him but it did her no good to show it when he was this drunk.

This game of truth or dare was childish. Dares of licking people's shoes and taking multiple shots had been done and truths about money and relationships were being spilled among the group. It had finally become Harry’s turn to do something, making Y/N tense.

“Ok Harry, I dare you to…” One drunk frat boy started looking around the room trying to come up with something clever. His eyes landed on a pretty girl in the room, Yara, a stuck up girl who for sure got her way no matter what. “I dare you to kiss the hottest girl in the room- obviously not your girlfriend because that defeats the purpose.” The frat boy smirked knowing what his intentions were. Everyone in the group giggles and gasped shocked by the dare but ready to see what was going to go down. Y/N’s brows furrowed as she became angry with the stupid dare.

The ache in her chest seemed to tip over the edge when she felt her boyfriend in the room move to stand up. She grabbed at the bottom of his shirt as a way of stopping him. Harry halted his movements to look down at his girlfriend. He giggled a little.

“You’re not actually going to do this right?” She asked Harry with wide eyes of shock. Harry laughed at her like she made a joke, making her heart hurt even more.”Harry I do not want you to do this just take the shot and lose the dare.” Her tone held warning.

“Don't be silly of course I'm going to. It's just a dare, nothing serious. Don't be so clingy.” He stood walking over to Yara and planted a wet kiss on her mouth. Yara gripped Harry’s shirt and kissed him harder. The kiss went on for a few more seconds, the room absolutely silent out of shock. Harry stepped back from Yara slightly sobering up from his actions. Yara smirked at Y/N, hand gliding down the front of Harry's shirt.

Y/N stood from the seat she was in and scoffed. Scoffed because she should've known Harry would do something like this. Scoffed because it hurt to see her boyfriend do something so careless without any regard for his girl's feelings. She pulled herself together, feeling her throat tighten once again. She was quick to leave the room and down the hall of the frat.

Harry's clumsy steps could be heard from behind her as he mumbled her name. Or at least he tried to. He was still so out of it, his words not making much sense. Y/N was crying now, the strength that she had slowly dissolving as she walked further away from her boyfriend.

“Y/N wait. P-please wait. I cant-” Harry stumbled over his legs behind her falling into the grass of the front yard. The girl couldn't help but turn around looking at her stupid boyfriend. She was choking on sobs now. She wasn't crying over a measly little kiss but over an extreme amount of burnout from school and exhaustion from simply existing. She was crying because her boyfriend ignored her boundaries, crushing and erasing the boundaries she had set in their relationship. Harry tried reaching for her once she had stopped walking. His hand clasped around her wrist, he laid his head down on her shoulder. He hated seeing her cry even if he was too drunk to see why.

“Baby don't leave, Im-Im Sorry.” He hiccuped and burped due to the alcohol. Y/N felt her rage build. Shoving Harry off of her, she crossed her arms across her chest as a way to shield herself from Harry physically. He was hurt by her distance and the wall she put up around her.

“You're an idiot Harry. An idiot!” her sobs grew louder, some stray party goers watching in amusement- some even snapchatting it for shits and giggles. “I didnt want you to kiss her and you did. What provoked you to think that was ok? All I wanted was for us to hang out tonight and just be us and you did this!” She was yelling now. Her hurt is beyond her now. Anger and rage simmered throughout her body making her head dizzy and her fingers curl within themselves. She didnt like being angry. It wasn't an emotion she liked acting on, it felt impersonal.

“Baby I don't under-” Before Harry could finish his sentence he was barfing at his feet. Y/N stepped back disgusted with her boyfriend. She couldn't even feel remorseful because of how angry she was. Luca, the frat brother from earlier, caught up with Harry and his girl only to find Harry doubled over heaving. Luca wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders.

“I'm sorry Luca but I can't do this tonight. Can you please make sure he gets some water and goes to bed. I-I can't do it tonight, I wish I could but I can't.” Y/N didn't want to leave her boyfriend in this state but she didn't deserve this. She wasn't going to care for her drunk boyfriend when all she wanted to do was care for herself. Selfishly, she enjoyed seeing him this way because of the anger he caused her.

Luca shook his head in understandment. “Of course, I'm really sorry for tonight. He's going to seriously regret this in the morning, especially since it will be circulating all over snapchat in the morning.” Luca waved to Y/N then proceeded to pull Harry into the house. Harry called out for Y/N not wanting to be away from her but Luca pulled him harder.

Harry woke up the next morning feeling like the bottom of a dumpster. He wasn't shocked by that. He knew he got trashed last night, he had planned to. He, just like Y/N, spent all week studying and completing projects while also fulfilling certain responsibilities for his frat. He wanted one night to be a normal teen. So he drank and drank and drank and maybe even smoked some weed. As he tried to recall last night's events he came up with nothing. He didn't understand why Y/N wasn't here with him like she normally would after a party on the weekend. They were normally always together during the weekend. A bad feeling loomed over him. He could tell something wasn't right but decided to put his feelings to the side.

He saw a bottle of water beside his bed making him think she was probably here and left early. Chugging the water he started to go through his socials to see if anyone had posted about the party. He had multiple tagged pics and videos in his notifications from snapchat. Way more than he normally would.

The first video he saw was a video of him and Y/N standing in the front yard of the frat house. Turning the volume all the way up he could hear Y/N yelling, it shocked him. She doesn't normally raise her voice, especially not at him. The angle changed showing her face which was red with anger, eyes filled with unshed tears. He could hear her yelling about him kissing someone else. He felt his heart stop. He had kissed someone else? On the next snap was a picture of him keeled over vomiting on his shoes with the caption saying, ‘are yall seeing this shit?’ Harry was embarrassed but he was more concerned than anything.

His head was hurting but it didn't stop him from rolling out of bed, washing up, and putting on a fresh set of clothes. He checked his phone hoping Y/N had messaged him but nothing was there. He walked into the kitchen only to see luca sitting at the counter eating cereal.

“Hey Harry….” Luca said warily. Luca pushed the cereal around his bowl feeling the tension begin to rise in the room. He felt horrible about his friends.

“Luca...what's up?” Harry was confused by Lucas' wariness.

“So do you remember anything about last night?” Luca asked, setting his cereal down in the sink behind him. Harry started playing with the frayed edges of a bracelet Y/N made for him. It had little beads with her name on it. They made them together at an event on campus.

“I don't, I only saw the videos of Y/N screaming at me. I think I fucked up but I- I don't know what happened.” Harry's cheek flushed with even more embarrassment. Luca awkwardly chuckled scratching the back of his neck.

“You got dared to kiss the hottest girl in the room and um actually did it in front of Y/N...even though she didn't want you to. Which led you guys outside and yeah you know the rest...Im sorry dude, I wish I had stopped you.”

“Who- who did I kiss?” Harrys stomach lurched when he heard Yara’s name come out of Lucas' name. Y/N didn't like Yara and it was understandable. Yara has been pining after Harry since their first year of college. Harry couldn't breathe. He felt disgusted with himself. He could only imagine how Y/N was feeling.

Y/N woke up the same morning, eyes puffy and crusty from tears and head hurting. She probably cried herself into dehydration. She was lucky enough to have no roommate because she wouldn't have wanted someone else to see her breakdown. She still couldn't believe last night went down the way it went down. She couldn't tell if she was just being overdramatic or if her emotions were in the right place. She didn't want to be mad at Harry. He was everything to her, she had an odd connection to him. Meeting him during their freshman welcome week they quickly became best friends with a growing romantic connection in the mix. They started dating before Christmas break. They had grown close so fast that he even came home with her to meet her family for the first few days of break.  Even though they were in their junior year of college, Y/N could see them beyond college. She's imagined them getting married, travelling, sharing a home. She saw the whole future with him. She had her doubts though. He was immature just like every other boy in college. He was dumb with his actions and tended to only do things if they benefited him. He had a lot of growing to do as a person, so did she but she wanted to grow with him.

She heard a knock on her door hesitating to answer it because one, it could be Harry, and two, she looked like a wreck. Answering anyways, she was met with a very sorry looking Harry holding a small coffee and bagel from their cafe.

“Hi baby…” He sheepishly said holding out the items. She silently let him through the door not once looking him in the eye. He stepped into her room, setting her treats on her desk. He could see that her bed was messy meaning she recently woke up. Y/N never went about her day without making her bed. He turned back to her and finally their eyes met. He took in all of her facial features, from her puffy eyes, to her downturned lips that looked chapped, to her flushed cheeks that longed to be held for warmth. He hated to see her like this, the last time he saw her so upset was when her parents moved out of her childhood home. It took alot to make Y/N this upset. She was normally really headstrong and vigilant. She knew how to ease her way out of problematic situations and could talk her way through anything.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Y/N holding her hand up in front of his face. “Don't talk. I'm really hurt Harry, so if your plan was to come over here and apologize over bagels- think again.” She snapped, backing up to put space between the two of them. She sat down on her bed while Harry pulled the desk chair out and sat down. He much preferred to be on the bed with her holding her tight but he didn't want to overstep boundaries.

“Love, I don't know where to begin. I'm really sorry for what happened last night. I was really drunk and obviously wasn't in the right headspace.” Harry reached out and touched the tips of her fingers with his. She wanted to move but it felt good to be touched by Harry.

“I told you that a measly little apology won't do Harry. I didn't want you to kiss Yara and you did anyway. You know how Yara feels about you and you just let it happen!” She pulled her hand away remembering the prior night's events. Harry felt himself getting angry too. He felt like he needed to defend himself- even though it would be a very bad idea.

“I think you're being over dramatic.” Wrong move Harry. “It wasn't like I was making out with her!”

“You're joking right?” She scoffed and scooted further up her bed to create more distance. “Harry it's the simple fact that you did something that made me uncomfortable that shouldn't have even happened. I see myself getting married to you and it makes me worry that right now in our relationship you can't respect my boundaries!” She yelled. Harry’s eyes widened as he laughed sarcastically.

“Married? What the fuck are you on about? I'm a junior in college. In what world would it make sense for me to be prepping a relationship for marriage? Once again I think you're being over dramatic.” Her eyes watered hearing Harry's statement.

“I- I guess I'm the only one in this relationship thinking about the future? I thought we were on the same page. I'm not planning our marriage now, obviously. I'm thinking about how elements of our relationship now could play out in the future when we do want to get married. You cheated on me last night. I went to a party you begged ME to go to only to be there for you. I wanted to be here cuddling with you, pigging out on fast food but I was at a party with you and got cheated on!” Her volume rises once again, making Harry shove his chair from underneath him when he stands up.

“You're doing too much right now. I'm not planning a future right now because I don't want this future! I want to be myself without thinking about how to appease my girlfriend. I invited you to the party so you could lighten the fuck up. I love you, I do, but I'm not thinking of marriage and futures. I'm thinking about my life right now and having fun.” Harry snapped right back at her. Her chin wobbled. Obviously her and Harry were on different pages. It hurt so much to hear him say that he didn't want a future with her. Harry didn't mean it though.

“Ok, well I guess that's my fault for assuming we were thinking along the same lines. Um, I don't want to hold you back from being yourself so with that being said, you are a free man Harry.” She pushed herself up from her bed walking to the door ready to escort Harry out.

“Huh? Love, what?” Harry was confused on how they got to this point. Just a few days ago they were in love, meeting in the library to share a lunch and exchanging sweet words determined by their love.

“Listen I have a day full of exams tomorrow so if you could just leave that would be best. You don't really want this so I'm letting you go, Harry.” She had tears rolling down her face, falling from her eyes down to her chin where they fell to the ground in droplets. Harry’s eyes welled up watching his love cry before him.

“I don't-”

“Harry, leave, please.” She opened the door making room for him to go through. He walked through the door turning to look at her. She turned her face away from him whispering a small goodbye before shutting the door. Harry was left in the silent hallway, so silent he could hear his thoughts and the tears hitting the tile floor beneath him. He thinks he stood there for at least thirty more minutes before accepting what had happened and walking away.

Leaving Y/N in her room sobbing like she had never done before. Her tears coated her face and she thought her head could explode right then and there. She didn't want to accept what had happened but she had priorities. She composed herself enough to start studying for her exams.

The week rolled by quickly, Monday meeting Friday in a flash. Exams were done and Christmas break was on the horizon. Students were piling off of campus in a hurry ready to get home to their loved ones. People were outside by cars loading up their winter necessaries and saying their goodbyes to their close friends.

Harry cried everyday this week. He wasn't normally a crier. He hated crying, he hated the feeling of crying and the headache that came from it. He cried because he realized how wrong he was. He missed Y/N. He missed finals week dinner together where they tried to get off campus at least once and be alone for a moment. He missed watching her relax while eating food that wasn't from their school's cafeteria. He would pay for their meal just so she could have one less thing to worry about. They would normally get frozen yogurt right after too, Y/N getting as many toppings as she wanted because Harry would be the one paying. He missed her tight after exam hugs. She would squeeze his shoulders tight, smiling into his neck, telling him how proud she was of him. She would bring him tea in the morning when they met for breakfast. Sometimes they would spend the night in one or the others room so they could have time together to destress and just talk.

Y/N wasn't doing any better. She normally went into exam week feeling confident. She studied too hard not to. But this week she felt like shit. Her heart hurt and she kept thinking about the fight. She feels like she overreacted but hearing Harry talk about their lack of a future hurt nonetheless. She really assumed that they did have a future that included marriage and a life together. She didn't understand where his sudden lack of commitment came from. She regretted dumping him but at the same time she wished he did more to get them back together but he was silent. He hasn't contacted her at all and avoided all of their spots on campus all together.

She stood by her car prepping for her six hours car ride back home. Packing away her clothes and some essentials in the trunk of her car, she heard light footsteps behind her. Closing her trunk she turned to see Harry standing with his hands in his pockets.  

“Hi.” He said. She looked at him, putting her own hands in her pockets. It was cold outside, the nippy air hinting at a possibility of snow.

“Hi Harry.” They shared a moment of silence together. Just staring at each other. It felt good to be near each other again. They felt like they could breathe again.

“I had to see you before you left. I know the break is only a month but I didn't want to leave without seeing you.” He replied quietly. She made him feel so shy. Her beauty always made him awestruck. Even in a hoodie with their college's logo and some large sweatpants and some fuzzy crocs, she was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“I don't know what to say harry.”

“It's ok. I don't deserve anything from you after what I said. I just wanted to apologize and wish you a good break before you left. I also wanted to give you this.” He pulled a small box and envelope out of the front pocket of his backpack. “I know we agreed on no presents but I think thats a dumb rule and I love you too much to not get you something.” She smiled at his words, taking the gift from his hands.

“Thank you Harry, it means a lot to me. So what are your plans for a break?” She asked him, the tension that was in the air slowly dissipating.

“I couldn't get a flight home until next wednesday so i'll stay here on campus until then.” He shrugged.

“Oh ok. Well tell Anne I said hi. I have to go Harry but I'll see you after the break, ok?” She didn't want to leave him but she didn't want to drive through the dark.

“Ok, love. Drive safe. I lov- I mean have a good break.” Her chest tightened at his hesitation. She wants to hear him say the words but she knows he won't.

“Have a good break Harry.” She whispered. Before getting in her car she stood on her toes placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Rubbing her thumb across his cheek and turning away and into her car.

She drove away knowing that her heart was left in that parking lot in the hands of someone she loves way too much.

Harry stood in the parking lot watching his heart drive away for winter wanting nothing more than to be with her.

Part two

[misterewrites]

Mystery at the Salt-Irons

Hey everyone! E here with a new chapter! kept you waiting huh? Haha sorry it's been a busy few weeks. Nothing serious but I had to keep starting and stopping this chapter so it threw me off but it's here, it's ready and I hope you enjoy it!

I have some special guests in this story, some ocs made by my friends because you know what I can so I will and honestly, they were really great oc ideas guys. so keep an eye out for @hains-mae and Biz_fantasist  OC(I don’t know if she has a tumblr but it’s late so I’ll edit it later) 

That's it for me! I hope you are all stay safe, keep your loved ones safe, wash your hands, wear your masks, push to give everyone the vaccine cuz this is getting ridiculous. I hope you have a great week, thank you for reading. I deeply appreciate and feel free to share it with your friends, give me feedback. Reblog and comments all that fun stuff! Thanks and I'll see you soon!

Here’s the chapter over at Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/85394095

Here’s the story from the beginning if you’re curious what this is about

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

and here’s a list of all my work both original and the various fandoms I write for

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/works

Summary:  Finnrick is called to solve a mysterious case as per his job as the city's only Private Investigator wizard but as he sinks deeper into the case, the more it seems that something is happening behind the scenes. Of course with an old friend in town and dark magic surrounding the case, Finnrick is as busy as ever. Ain't no rest for the wicked.

-----

The Salt-Iron Flats weren’t anything special on the surface: An unassuming apartment complex on the north side of Newton Haven, the only thing most people remembered about the place was how the price tag hurt their souls.

Of course, unlike the general housing market, the Salt-Irons (affectionately referred to by the locals) actually had a very reasonable reason for fetching such a high rate: The salt and cold iron baked into every single brick that formed the building.

If you weren’t in the magical know, you’d think it utterly insane that you’d be forced to pay such a large amount of cash because some weirdo decided to make a new age artistic statement with bricks. Of course, if you are aware of the greater community at large, you’d knew you were paying the insanely large sum because someone decided to make the Salt-Irons the single most protective location in the city.

Most mortals have forgotten their history, their lore and collective knowledge passed down throughout the generations: Why their ancestors used to place lines of salt in front of the door and windows, why the elders always suggested to the braver, recklessly youthful family members to carry iron whenever they ventured through the wild.

Outer beings were repelled by salt and iron. No one really had an idea why fae, angels and demons weren’t fond of salt or iron and there's been plenty of arguing about the subject but all in all the fact remained they did not do well when faced with either.

That was the main reason Finnrick didn’t find himself in the north side of town often.

Well that and the zealous Gate Keepers. Those guys were freaks but between them and the Salt-Irons being the only supernatural community up here, Finn never got a case from the area.

Until today.

The Salt-Irons were great at protecting you from any outside threats that wished you ill will: It didn’t protect you from anything you decided to bring in with you.

It was five in the morning when Finnrick got the call. The M.R.R.D representative didn’t have much to offer beyond the address and floor but he thanked her all the same.

Finnrick yawned tiredly, stretching the tension out of his neck while he sipped his coffee. He let out a sigh of relief as the sun slowly rose into the sky.

The Salt-Irons was a twelve story tall building painted a ghastly pale green that made Finnrick sick just looking at it.

“People are paying how much to live in that shade? I’d ask for discount if I were them.” Finnrick laughing to himself, making his way into the apartment complex.

Luckily the interior was much nicer than the outside: Everything was well kept and cleaned. Not a single speck of dust in sight and the wooden stairs didn’t creak when Finnrick placed his foot on them.

Which was good given Finnrick needed to go up seven flights of stairs.

Finnrick wheezed a little, wiping the sweat from his brow when he reached the seventh floor. He glanced down the hall one way then the other as he began to search for room 707 which basic deductive reasoning suggested should be around the corner.

Finnrick crushed the empty foam cup and tucked it into his coat pocket as he made his way to 707. It was a simple wooden door and immaculately spotless just like the rest of the place. He rose his hand and gently rapped on the door.

No response.

He frowned, checking if he was still alone in the empty hallway and rose his hand towards the door frame.

His eyes glowed with a blue energy as he whispered softly “Revelis”

The door gleamed with a bluish hue for a moment before fading away without a trace.

No protective spells laced over the frame so the only thing Finn had to worry about now if it was locked.

He tried the knob, unsurprised when it swung open silently.

“It’s not breaking and entering if someone’s expecting you” Finnrick justified to himself as he pushed the door in.

He nearly staggered backwards: The air tasted thick and foul like something had been left rotting inside. His skin prickled with anxiety, a chill running down his spine with each step he took further in.

Finnrick took deep, calming breathes while doing his best to ignore the bitter taste that seem to cling the air within.

He noticed the trail of footsteps, perfectly preserved in what appeared to be black dust leading deeper into the living room.

“Hey da! You here?” Finnrick called out, carefully stepping closer “You and ma still married?”

There was a deep grunt of acknowledgment before a voice responded “Sorry son, we’re divorced now. She got custody of you.”

“Well fuck. I guess I’m going to be eating kale and poorly cooked spinach for the rest of my life.”

Garrus Valka was not in fact Finnrick’s father, adoptive or otherwise. He was actually one of the highest ranked officers of the Magical Rapid Response Department: An elf clocking in at 200 years old with richly tanned skin. His bluish gray hair was slicked back in his preferred style. Garrus’s had his back turned to the detective but Finn knew his sliverish gray eyes were deep in concentration as he took down notes about the surroundings. His beautifully inhuman features were marred with a scar on the right side of his face: burnt skin on his cheek, healed by time and various surgeries. An old war wound though Finn never got the full story.

He was dressed in typical M.R.R.D fashion: Dark blue windbreaker, jeans and a blue shirt with the words “Powered by coffee and spite” splashed across the front. His Winchester rifle was slung across his back, ready for any action that may befall the elf.

“Drift.” Garrus greeted teasingly while offering a hand.

Finnrick gave it a playful shake “Da. So is mom here or she trying to smite pigeons again?”

“THEY TRIED TO STEAL MY HOTDOG!” Garrus’s partner Eden screamed from another room “I SHALL BRING MY GOD’S WRATH UPON THEM!”

“You know when they mean justice.” Finnrick called out “I don’t think they mean against winged rats.”

Eden chuckled darkly “You know not their sins.”

“Okay.” Finnrick nodded despite the fact she couldn’t see him “If you say so. What happened Da? Aside powerful necromancy.”

“Powerful necromancy” Garrus replied cheekily “and missing persons.”

Finnrick rose an eyebrow “Persons? More than one?”

“Two: A father and son. Richard Charles and his son Richard Jr. Recluses it seems. Neighbors hardly saw them. Mostly kept to themselves.”

Finnrick pursed his lips thoughtfully “Any magical abilities?”

“They’re not on records if that’s what you mean.” Garrus answered “Never signed up in the academy, not registered with The Council. If they were practitioners they didn’t tell anyone.”

“So what was the spell? I just smell the remnants of spookiness.”

“Hadn’t noticed the rest of the room huh?”

Finnrick frowned before finally getting a good look at the rest of the room: Every inch of the apartment was blanketed with the same black dust that he found in the entrance way. Inches and inches of the substance and that wasn’t the strangest part.

Everything was bent at different and odd angles: chair with crooked legs, the wall clock warped and twisted, the fridge leaning like someone folded it in half. Floorboard reached for the sky and walls split inward.

There was a common misconception about magic. Most people thought spell casters, especially wizards, could command reality to their wills. That magic was capable of impossible feats and it was as simple as snapping your fingers.

The truth was all magic, ranging from divinity to free range nature, was performed on a micro scale. Practitioners did not alter reality but rather shortcut it. Throwing fireballs was as simple as rapidly heating the air until it combusted. Turning invisible was less about vanishing completely as it was bending the light around you to not be seen. Magic was rooted in reality and imagination. If you had the magical strength to perform the magic, the magic often followed your lead.

Of course there were spells that required much more than magical hand and willpower. Powerful magic, like summoning outer beings or raising an army of zombies, required both time and materials. Magic was like any other energy: you needed enough of it to perform what you wanted. The human body could only generate so much magic without dying and resting was necessary to replace any expended in the use of spells. Materials were guidelines for the spell. Feathers for anything with flight, ash for fireballs etc etc.

The other thing needed was to gather energy and store it for the spell’s use. There were different ways to achieve this: Wands, talismans, potions were basically magic soups. The most efficient way to gather energy was the wizards preferred way: Circles.

Finnrick eyed the room closely this time, murmuring under his breath about angles and trajectory. Garrus paid him no mind, well familiar with the private investigators methods.

“If this went like that” he gestured to the wall clock “and that went here.”

Finnrick glanced about, carefully walking about as if worried he was going to step on a landmine.

“Here.” Finnrick found himself staring at a spot in the middle of the room “Ventus.”

He gestured with a hand and light breeze filled the room. It brushed away some of the dust covering floor, revealing the outline of a half melted metal ring.

“What is it?” Garrus turned curiously

“Spell circle. The source of the explosion. I’m willing to bet it’s custom made. Copper, steel. Maybe some bits of tin couldn’t stand the surge.”

“No iron or sliver?”

Finnrick shook his head “That’s for containing or repelling monsters. Necromancy is more about drawing in the evil entities. Or sucking out life.”

Garrus sighed tiredly “Don’t touch?”

“Only if you want to live to see retirement. Might have some pent up magic ready to blow outwards.”

“Understood. I’ll call in our guys. I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

Finn nodded gratefully while pulling out a vial and motioning to the elf “Mind if I do?”

“Be my guest, you might find something we’d miss.”

Finnrick smiled gratefully before scooping up some of the dust and sealing it within the vial.

“Take care Garrus, stop fighting birds Ma!”

“Flying rats!”

-----

The cafe was lively despite being early but that was no surprise given it was Mother’s. Mother’s was the single best food establishment in all Newton Haven and if anyone disagreed, they were allowed to have their opinions.

They were also allowed to be wrong.

Finnrick paused in the doorway, breathing in the scent of well cooked eggs and sweet lemonade. The pop and sizzle of heated grease brought a sense of comfort to the hard working private investigator.

“Finny Drift!” Maddie Copperstone called from behind the counter “How’s my favorite customer holding up?”

Maddie was 40 years young with tastefully curled dark brown hair. Human, little on the short side but fierce. She wore a simple red blouse and jeans, both stained with flour that the apron around her waist did not prevent.

Finnrick bounced over cheerfully, reaching over the counter to give the matron the biggest hug he could muster “I’m good Maddie. Working a case.”

Maddie’s brown eyes searched his face carefully “You always working Finny. You resting as much?”

“Scout’s honor.”

Maddie let out a disbelieving chuckle “You weren’t ever a Scout.”

“Honorary scout after I stopped that bear from eating them.”

“Thought it was a giant raccoon.”

“Yes but people don’t take giant raccoon seriously. He here?”

Maddie clicked her tongue disappointingly but motioned to the booth at the far end of the establishment “Rest.”

Finnrick rose his hand in surrender “After.”

“Never you mean!” Maddie shouted after him.

Amos Frye hadn’t changed much since last he was roaming around Finnrick’s neck of the woods: Handsome with soft gray eyes that reminded Finn of gathering storm clouds. His long black hair was tied in a messy bun held up by a golden pin, a braided strand hung loosely near his face. His beard was much shorter than what Finnrick remembered though he noted the unkempt split ends indicated that Amos hadn’t trimmed it in a few weeks. His iconic dark red sleeveless jerkin and black jean combination would look ridiculous on a lesser man but had allowed the monster hunter to show off his muscular frame. His brown skin was a bit more pale than usual so no doubt Amos had been operating at night lately.

“Finnrick, you cheeky bastard! I am so glad you came!” Amos beamed happily, his various bangles and bracelets clinking together in equally joyous celebration as the two shook hands.

“Amos! Happy to see you.” Finn beamed brightly as he slid into the booth across his old friend “Why though? Family trouble?”

Amos’s joyfully gleam turned dark for a moment.

“No. Have you…?”

Finnrick shook his head quickly “Not a word. Sorry, I hadn’t meant to…”

Amos waved the apology away “No worries cuz. I understand why you’d think that. Coming across the pond isn’t a spur of the moment thing and Os has always been the black sheep of the family. I suppose no news is good news.”

“Right.” Finnrick cleared his throat awkwardly “So what’s the trouble? I doubt you’d call me up for a nip and chat.”

“Rightly so.” Amos confirmed, reaching into the bag at his side and pulling out a folder “Hunting business as usual cuz.”

That made sense: Amos was the latest of a long family whose specialized business was monster hunting. The Fryes had been striking at things that went bump in the night for centuries ever since the first Frye defended the folk of some underground society.

Amos was an average wizard if Finnrick was being generous. That was not a slight against his old friend, it was a matter of fact: Amos spent most of his time honing the physical aspects of his profession which was obvious given the size of his arms. Any spells he knew were purely for defensive or preventive measures so he often communicated with Finnrick for higher quality and complex spellwork.

Finnrick took the folder from Amos and began pouring over its contents.

Most were quickly scrawled notes Amos had noticed about his quarry: Long sliver hairs, canine in nature. Large paw prints found in the areas it had been sighted, far too big to any natural wolf. Wulfvur and werewolf were hastily written and as quickly crossed out. A pattern of hanging out in wild areas, often forests and swamps.

There were pictures too: flashes of sliver, blurs of fangs and muzzles darting in and out of camera frame. It was always a distance away, sprinting deeper into the wildness. It was hard to tell from the photos but Finn guessed it might’ve been 10 feet tall at the very least.

“Why we hunting wolves now?” Finnrick asked curiously.

Amos flagged down the waitress “Contract given to my pa. It was hanging around the marsh lands of the jolly old isles. Someone wanted it gone.”

Something wasn’t clicking with Finn “and you followed it here? From England?”

“Nah cuz” Amos gave a cheeky grin “I tackled it through a portal and found I illegally crossed into America.”

“Ah.” Finnrick nodded in understanding “Fae.”

“Fae?” Amos frowned thoughtfully “I thought that too but I never heard of any snarling wolfie breaking into homes and snatching out wee younglings in them old folktales.”

“Fae are weird.” Finnrick shrugged “Their whole shtick is not making any sense. I had to expel a cat the size of a bus once. Double decker tall.”

Amos whistled in appreciation as he scratched his bread “So fae. Slippy fellow as you can tell. Whatcha recommend?”

“What’s the contract?”

“Banishment. It’s looking like wolfie ended up in the wrong part of town.”

“I think you mean next town over. Fixed a pattern yet?”

“Not yet but I wasn’t looking for one.” Amos admitted “Thought I was tracking some mutant. Fae changes a lot. Magical circles?”

“Easiest way to catch it.” Finnrick agreed “Sliver for sure. Iron would hurt it and based on your files, it hasn’t done anything than thin the local wildlife population. No need to anger mister big bad wolf.”

“Good call. I got some talent to handle a few circles but tracking is not really my speed.”

“I’m on a case but if you swing by the M.R.R.D, maybe they’ll loan you a wizard.”

Amos let out a disappointed sigh “I need to take care this sometime this year Finny. Bloody bureaucracy probably set me back a month at least.”

“There’s always Jaime but she’s pretty busy at work.”

“Jaime huh?” Amos smiled mischievously “I haven’t talked to your sister in a long time.”

“I will curse you.” Finnrick playfully threatened “And not no simple hex either. I’ll make you bald.”

Amos gasped dramatically, clutching at his hair protectively “You wouldn’t dare mate.”

“Shinier than the sun.”

“Okay, okay” Amos conceded “I’m kidding. She’s with Casey anyway. Good couple. Cute couple. He still hopelessly selfless and she still trying to fast track her way to power?”

“Yep.”

“You gonna fix that?”

Finnrick shook his head “It’s their lives. Their choices.”

“Idiots.” Amos chuckled “the lot of them.”

“All you need is love?”

“Spoken true the gospel of my land.”

-----

A few hours later with a brainstorm session completed and a promise to help out the next day, Finnrick left Amos to his work and continued with his own.

It was noon now and as the sun rose high in the sky, Finnrick found himself at the Grimyard.

The Grimyard was the premiere spot for all things magical in Newton Haven: Rows and rows of shops specifically catering to the magic community. The streets were paved with century old cobblestone and the buildings here were various hues of faded brick and mortar. It was easy to get lost in the Grimyard if it was your first time as the Grimyard did not spread out, it stacked downward. Layers upon layers of the Grimyard were actually underground to allow those with issues against the sun to sell their goods and services at all times of the day. Don’t let the dark fool you, anyone with worthy talent or product was here in the Grimyard.

Normally Finnrick would wander around a bit, checking out the various businesses and protective wards around the mile long patch of land but he was on the clock and the sooner he began to figure out what was going on, the sooner he could stop it.

Luckily for him, his destination was right here on the top floor of the marketplace. Specifically furthest back corner.

Knightly Ore was ran by the Knight family. Originally they only sold rare metals and ores which were necessary components for some of the more complicated magicks. At some point the owners expanded into selling more alchemical materials and eventually brewing potions, salves and such for a fee.

Despite decent business, it was the most rundown building in this part of the Grimyard: Broken window shudders with the paint faded down to the original shade when the business first opened decades ago. The humble black door was crooked and creaked whenever it moved

Finnrick knew the owners fairly well but here wasn’t here for them. He was here to see their son.

He pushed past the building, ducking into the alley that led to the lot directly behind the shop.

“Halt!” A voice called out “Who seeks the Brewmaster of the Grimyard?”

“It is I, Finnrick the detective. I got money and I need work done”

The Brewmaster was Theodore Knight, an incredibly talented alchemist who didn’t have the same opportunities Finnrick did: He was pretty tall for his age (14 or 15, Finnrick lost track once or twice) but clearly a teenager given his short lavender hair had a few strands dyed red. His eyes were an unnatural pale blue, paler than the blue of the sky. He wore the usual attire Finn often found him in: A sleeveless dark blue hoodie with a fist sized red gem clasped in front just under his neck and a lighter shade blue t-shirt. He wore black finger-less gloves gripping his brown messenger bag slung around his shoulder. A matching brown pouch hung around the waist of his gray cargo shorts and his brown boots were kept clean despite his place of business was in an alley behind his parents shop.

Theo jumped out from a hidden shadowy corner of the lot “Finn, whatcha got for me now?”

Finnrick reached into his pocket, showing the eager teen the vial that held blacken dust within.

“That’s it?” Theo scoffed, rolling his eyes “I was expecting something…...cooler.”

He took the vial and raised it to the sun. Theo gave it a rough shake and watched it carefully for any properties the strange substance would display.

Theo frowned, clearly unsatisfied by what he saw “You brought me ash? Plain ash? It’s your money but even I think it’s a waste.”

“It’s ash?”

Theo shot the detective a look that screamed how obvious it should’ve been “Yes, ash. Thicker than what I’ve seen but ash all the same.”

Finnrick bit his cheek thoughtfully.

“Look Finn, you know my rates. I dunno what you want me to do but standard fees apply.”

“I’ll paying double.”

The Brewmaster’s eyes narrowed suspiciously “Double for ash? What’s so special about it?”

“Oh nothing." Finnrick pretended to look disinterested “Aside it was taken directly from a crime scene: Necromancy and cast via a half melted spell circle.”

It took Theo a minute to allow the implications of what Finnrick said to sink in. His eyes shifted from suspicion to wild excitement.

“Really?!” Theo clutched the vial like it was his first born child “Necromancy really doesn’t like many alchemy processes. It’s not going to be easy for me.”

“I know right?” Finnrick grinned impishly “It’s almost like I’m going to have to pay double for it.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to….” Theo pouted unhappily “Ha freaking ha. Okay smart guy, pay up.”

Finnrick handed over 50 gold. Theo took it eagerly, his eyes lightening up with glee.

Theo paused for a moment, his face turning oddly serious for a teenager.

“It might take me awhile depending on what you want.”

“I want to know what’s in it. Necromancy requires specific ingredients. After that it’ll be easier to track the seller.”

“And the buyer!” Theo blurted out excitedly “Smart.”

Finnrick ruffled his hair playfully “I wish I thought of it. You keep this up and you’re going to run me out of business.”

“I’ll text you when I have something.”

“Pleasure as always Theo.”

“It’s Brewmaster.”

-----

It was 2 in the afternoon when Finnrick made his way back to the Salt-Iron. He stood outside the complex, tossing the remains of his pizza into his waiting maw and crumpling the can of soda he was drinking before tucking into his coat pocket.

“What’s this?” Finnrick asked, utterly confused by the crushed foam cup he pulled from within “Oh right my coffee. I’ve been really at today.”

Finnrick wiped his hands clean and made his way inside the Salt-Iron once more, mulling over the details of the case as he ascended up the stairway.

Blacken ash cast by a spell circle. Both father and son missing with no indication where they went too. Recluses and rarely seen. Necromancy within a threshold.

It was hard to tell how deeply the father and son were involved in spell. Someone who had access to the apartment was behind it no doubt. Spell circles were the most consistent way to cast magic but they took time to build, set and channel energy. You didn’t build a spell circle without knowing exactly what you plan to do with it.

The nature of the magic was also a mystery: Dark magic had various applications and not a single one was good. Finnrick hadn’t much experience with that branch of magic but there was nothing logical about the aftereffects: Ash spread throughout the apartment, clinging to everything like a second skin. There was no signs of an outward blast given that nothing bent in the same direction. Everything in that room decided to twist in whatever wayit felt like. If the spell was supposed to draw in something then chair legs and wall tiles would’ve been pulled directly towards the circle.

“Curiouser and curiouser Alice” Finnrick spoke to no one in particular.

He was on the fifth floor when he noticed something odd.

Finnrick raised an eyebrow as the skies outside the window darken, black and stormy.

A thunderstorm it seems.

Finnrick peered out the window, glancing upwards to see what was going on.

Dark clouds swirled directly overhead. Rain began to lightly drizzle as the skies boomed. Thunder and a moment later lightning trailing across the gathering storm.

A thunderstorm that formed directly above this building.

Without warning.

“Well that’s not ominous.”

Finnrick made the mistake of leaning closer to the window, peering around to see if he could see where exactly the storm was coming from when it happened.

“Watch out below!”

Finnrick noticed three things in that moment: First, was of course, someone shouting to watch out below. Second was the distant sound of claws scratching something wooden, the walls perhaps. Lastly was the thudding of something falling down quickly and towards him.

Finnrick rose his hand, pivoting on his heels in time to see something crash into him.

It wasn’t much of a contest: Both Finnrick and whatever slammed into him broke through the fifth story window and went sprawling into a freefall.

[mimibtsghost7]

Fuck you and all your little brain washed rats sending people hate because you cant take responsibility for your actions!! But go on stay silent like you always do, pretend its nothing of your business, keep being a fetishizing racist delulu like you love to be while pretending to be the best blog on tumblr!!!

NOT like anyone will see this but YOU will so LET’S GOOO!!!~~

TW: mental health and more (if you feel like this can trigger you, pls don’t read this, breathe in and out and listen to this HERE and remember I love you), loads of tea and Mimi NOT being a friendly and kind ghost. 

funny enough: 

I never pretended of said I was the best blog. But I guess the fact that you say it might be because you heard it frequently? Thanks for thinking so^^

I sent hate to no one and u r the one sending it to me rn ^^ In my whole 4 year journey on Tumblr I received a lot of love but also worse hate that you can imagine. Yes you are saying now you are receiving hate ... funny how it’s bad when It’s addressed to you but when it’s at me and my dear followers it is not. Still, I never told anyone to go hate on you. You were the idiot that tagged my old blog and as soon as my blog was gone pple searched me and found out you were the reason behind this. But as you keep hating on me. Let me tell you I am kind but don’t mistake that for me being a coward.

I am not into insulting others and I don’t care much if you insult me. BUT don’t YOU DARE touch my dear followers. Insulting ain’t hard. Let me try: The only rat here is you hiding in your hole as an anon. I went and compared your writing with this ask and previous hate asks. And it was you~ Good for you~ the sewers smell just like your filthy mouth spilling sh*t left and right. So on brand. However, I know who you are @hobisbeautifulass Hi ^^

Me racist? HAHAHAHAH you truly know NOTHING about me nor my ex-blog’s message. It was a place when you were welcomed no matter your skin color, religion, gender ... proof? well it got deleted thanks to you. but ask around this time and search for who reblogged my posts as they were always the top of the tags (even if I don’t trust how bad you are at research). I supported the BLM movement and still do and will always do but I did so veeery early without anyone telling me. Not for the notes but because of my humanity. I wished my dear followers’ happy holidays no matter their religions. And never cared about those things. Why judge someone on something based on religion or how they were born. As for the LGBTQ+ community, I was always and will always be there for love being love. I talked about mental health and opened venting nights. I helped left and right and when I was receiving hate because of people like you spitting lies about me. What did I do? Did I go online and called people bad? No. I looked back at myself and asked myself if I did anything wrong. I tried to educate myself and apologized sincerely when I had to. I read books and watched documentaries to learn how to become a better human. AND never repeated a mistake twice. You tend to forget that our cultures are different and sometimes you grow up to see some things as normal when they are not. This is not an excuse tho, so I always believed that I was lacking and if someone had something to say against me, there is a chance they are right and just in case I should reflect on myself. But for your case it was pure nonsense. ME? a stalker? how can I stalk when I have social anxiety and at that time couldn’t even leave my room? I am even afraid of taking public transportations and just the other days I was crying from joy when I took a taxi alone. they said I was in Japan stalking Jimin and Jungkook and took a pic when I was NEVER EVER was on that land. You put me on the same list as people who bought info about BTS’ flights to be on the same plane as them? I was stalked before and let me tell you it ain’t cute and fun. I am even scared of the idea of being followed. that’s why I never shared openly my age, country, or anything about me on my blog. that’s why I have no personal social media to this day and that’s why making my ex-blog was some sort of miracle in my life. 

Silent? yes I was silent when I received hate and didn’t even vent to my dear followers or pointed fingers. Why? because I thought as my day was hell I shouldn’t make anyone’s day worse. I was worried about my dear followers with mental illnesses being triggered. I tried to take my life so many times I lost count but I still came here and smiled. It was my safe place and you took it away. Yet, I should pity you? You hated on me first for no reason and you know it deep inside but right now you are trying to convince yourself that you are the angel and feel no guilt. Compared to you. I pointed fingers at no one and didn’t name you when my blog was gone. Why? because compared to you, I thought you will not be able to manage the hate and what was done .. I didn’t want you to suffer the same way I did when you are the one who made me suffer the most the past couple of days. But the kind Mimi is someone you will never remember because you dared touch the friends I love and calling them names. I don’t mind people insulting me but don’t you dare touch my people. I know myself best. My dear friends/followers know me best. I thought ... I could leave without this mess but you keep barking in my ask box and it’s annoying. I left this backup account just to talk to my friends and yet you are here to ruin things again? I should stop being kind to the ones who deserve non of it. I ignored you when I had so many followers and you went silent too because you were scared of me. But as soon as I lost my blog because of you, you went, edited and then reblogged that stalker post. How can I be a stalker? do you even know the definition of a stalker? do you even know shame? well .. I don’t think so.. you said it yourself. You are NOT ashamed (and you reblogged that so many time lol). 

Death threats? this is no competition but thanks to people like you I have been there and wish no one to be there not even you. The only difference is that you almost killed me for real. You were not the sole reason? Great job walking away from you beloved word: RESPONSIBILITY. And I didn’t get just anon hate, I got literal tagging by people like you, DMs, and people pointing guns at me. That’s why I didn’t mention you. I was worried about the one who took away what I worked for for 4 YEARS. I was more sad and concerned about the ARMY fandom here. Do you know how many rely on my updates? do you know how many people said I helped them? do you know any of that? do you think 200k people were “rats”? Do you think if I did and say wrong thing I will not be questioned by those people. I always told my dear followers: “friends, if I do or say anything wrong or share anything that hurts anyone please tell me. I am willing to learn from everyone.” But what did you know? what did you do? Well ..  guess you love notes? As the most notes you ever got and the most attention was when talking about me? 

Love how you talk about fetishing when my blog was what people call “family friendly”. I also like BTS. I love them for their music, talent, personalities and the happiness they give me. I also enjoy BTS’ bond and love their interactions. I posted content of all kinds of interactions JM X JK, JK X V, V X JIN, JIN X SG, SG X JH, JH X RM, RM X JM ... If you are calling this fetishing asian men just because I scream over BTS as a fan and love their bonb. Then aren’t you against the idea of being an ARMY? I was a clear OT7 and you were told that you weren’t right: 

 Then you answered this without even explaining the nonsense about me: 

idk .. I am trying to find sense in your nonsense so .. wait wait let me look at the definition of fetishism first. 

Fetishism /ˈfɛtɪʃɪz(ə)m/ noun: a form of sexual behavior in which gratification is linked to an abnormal degree to a particular object, activity, part of the body, etc.

Then .. judging from your URL alone hmmm ... cute. I won’t even talk about the SMUT you write that is full of kinks and fetishism. Well I have no problem with fan fiction but the irony you spit is out of this world.

Also, I made money out of mimibtsghost? HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH no lil one. I worked day and night for FREE. At some point when BT21 just came out and there were no products on AMAZON or anywhere but S.Korea, someone reached out to me to offer 20% off or something for my dear followers. When they asked what I wanted I said what about international giveaways for my dear followers. Basically, made gifs, found content, updates, analysis, edits, and so on for free. Again, w-wait .. Aren’t you the one asking for commissions? Well .. It’s not wrong. But again THE irony. 

So, I went to see that post you made about me with “PROOF” and it was just another person who was salty as I got them blocked I can’t even recall who they were but oh well. Their arguments according to YOU and many should be taken as FACTS just because they said them?  You said HERE that your first comeback was MOST:7 that came in just last year (2020) SO what the hell do YOU know about what happened years before you came when all the proof you pointed at where baseless without any backing?

Let’s see this so wise person you used to delete my blog and what I have done ^^

The gifs: There is a story to this. The first week I came to Tumblr, It was my first time on this site and the first time I share anything. I shared some content and my analysis had a lot of notes for a small creator that started just a week ago. But I made a mistake, I found a gif and posted it while crediting the gif maker. At the time I had NO idea it was wrong. I logged off and after 5 hours I log in and there was a WAR for that ONE gif. The big blog had me blocked and her friend was telling me to take it off. As soon as the person told me I did IMMEDIATELY and apologized againa and again and told them to tell the original gif maker to deblock me as I want to apologize directly and that they can block me after that. They did and I apologized but they just kept insulting me. Of course it was MY mistake and that’s why I apologized. But for them. for a mere gif (yes I say a mere gif because I made so many gifs and they were used on all platforms but I never thought it was necessary to hate that much on someone like they did to me). That blog was big and had big blog mutuals. Thanks to that, I became someone you do NOT become mutuals with but block and never reblog content from. Without any big mutuals. Without any shoutouts. Only my love for BTS, my dear followers’ support and my hard work.. My blog, became bigger and FAST (I got 10k in less than 6 months after I started) and that brought loads of jealousy and thus more rumors. Even if, I apologized and since then made my own gifs. And I made SO many gifsets that I can’t remember how many there were. What I can recall is at some point I made them daily and many times a day.

Ships Jikook? I posted content of ALL the members interactions. I was here at a time where Jikook stans and Taekook stans where always fighting. BUT I posted about both and even made so many posts to encourage loving all the members and all the interactions. I also used the tags solely used for shipping with other big tags to show that BTS’ interactions are all important and their bond is beutiful. That our fandom shouldn’t hate on a member just because they are not part of a ship we like. And wait .. even if I shipped Jikook? I got called ALL those names by someone who ship the members with readers and write sexual scenes? Like, wait ... I am truly confused. Like, write fanfic and do all you want as long as you hurt no one I guess but why am I getting hurt for doing non of it? Like according to you, the person you should be cancelling is yourself?! I am also not into cancel culture like you so hahah whatever.

Posted stalker pics: well wow the story changes each time. Next thing you will hear that I was the one holding a camera for a member in a Vlive lol. Let me teach you about this update thing I was doing. I follow accounts I trust and that’s how we get info circulating fast. I always do reasearch but sometimes mistakes are made. For example when lately people shared pictures of BTS leaving their virtual concerts and schedules. There was a watermark of a news outlet. Normally we trust those but only later we realized that those people stalked BTS. You clearly can’t know it all. But I still didn’t share many pics related to many events (I will not name those as pple can search them even now because some pple never deleted those). And all big accounts shared many pics then deleted later. This happens all the time but it happened like ONCE for me. However, I am called a stalker for that? 

When Jonghyun passed away ... I don’t even wanna recall that night as the memories just ... when that happened I posted about it and send my condolescences. that post had over 10k notes and was at the top the tag. Why did I do that? I was devastated. Yes, many were but I will talk about me rn: I was suicidal the days before that and one of the songs that I listened to when I was broken where by him. I has been in the kpop world since 2006. And learned about his group since their debut with ‘Replay’. I was never a stan but I still knew of many groups and listened to all the songs I liked. I was very sad when he was gone and ANGRY mostly. Why is this angel leaving? Why is someone like me still here? Why did I not leave instead of him? How much did he suffer? And in the midst I posted a post from twitter that stated how agencies usually put down pple with mental illiness and hide it in the industry. Yes, that was important but NOT at that time. I shouldn’t have posted that and I realized after 5 min of doing so that it was WRONG. So I deleted it FAST but it kept being reblogged and I kept getting hate and people telling me: “Go kill yourself”... the sad part is that I almost did as my answer was “true ... why am I still here?” I apologized and logged off then to this day won’t forget crying at 3 AM while walking outside next to my dad. I was outside as I couldn’t breathe anymore and the idea of seeing the walls of my room was hell. I cried and cried and the teary eyes that my father looked at me with are something I am ashamed of to this day. To add one more thing while I am spilling the beans. I hate learning about someone dying. My grandma passed away sometime before that and it was so shocking to me. and some people came and told me when I was mourning her: Go follow that bitch of grandmother of yours. And for what? At that moment I didn’t think I would live to see the next year but I went to therapy and took medecine that was hurting and made me shake all day just to turn somewhat sane. No one knew tho ... I smiled all day and cried all night.. Even on the blog I fought no one of the ones who hated me. I just blocked them but even that was an insult to them?

Again, you said no one should defend me. Yet, you were ready to fight whoever touched anyone around you. What about changing your URL to beautifulassirony

Also THE hypocrisy. If you are sorry then why are you answering an ask of someone isulting someone you want to apologize to? Just make a post wher you apologize or ignore it from the start?

One more thing but surely not the last. You said you were good with research which you are NOT. So, let me show you what an OG detective ARMY can do. But first, as I was scrolling I saw some of your “work” (let’s not even talk about those gifs) and I am just giving my point of view here: I hate how you painted Namjoon as this horny-idiotic-make-dog. Like I get it it’s a fanfic or Namjoon as a dad but ... Namjoon is such a smart man who is very respectful and ofc he is a human with needs like many but what the hell is this way of portraying a character? Also a character is not cool, amazing, and a strong woman just because they curse and belittle their partner. 

Oh well, only you kept reblogging that as it show 36 reblogs when only 33 as still there when I looked and out of those 13 reblogs are yours? (you might have reblogged it more) but again some people might have liked ... people have different taste ... so ... whatever. 

Let’s continue, shall we ^^. You said you were the victim here when I was the one getting robbed right? How can I believe someone who reblogged the post below and was proud calling themselves an abomination or how the Oxford dictionary defines it:  a thing that causes disgust or loathing. For once you weren’t wrong.

What can you expect from someone who has the “I am not like others” kinda mentality while stating relatable things that everyone goes through?

This is getting pretty long. So to sum this up. You are now telling others that hate is NOt ok and that they should be ashamed of themselves when you yourself is not ashamed of hating on me?

I am not the type that sends anon hate. I might ignore some barking but the past days you came and bite me hard. I face the ones I have to face without fear. I know I am not the bad guy here and I don’t care much what you think about me. Even BTS got haters. This says a lot. BUT do NOT dare talk badely of my dear friends/followers. You said you do research well? Start by deleting the post below that was originally by ME from your blog ... oh how meticulous you are. From your baseless receipts to your twisted logic. Indeed people on the internet can say anything and it will be FACTS. You painted me as the devil and painted yourself as this researcher? What’s next you receiving a Phd in ‘pity me’ after your MBA in lies and irony? Whatever~ 

Whaaatever~ Karma will have upcoming talks with you. No need for you to apologize. I never cared about you and you only got attention using me. But I am not here anymore how will you get that blog running now? Are you gonna add me in a fanfic next? No need for you to send me my appearance fee when you do so~ And no need for you to apologize to me just apologize to you conscience if you have any left.  As for me @hobisbeautifulass​ you are just someone I will forget soon anyway~~ 

And because according to what you said HERE when you described the things you hate about people and I thought that was VERY close to how you treated me. Thus, you might really not stand yourself rn.

Do.Not.Worry. BTS are starting the Love Myself campaign again and just in time for you to jump in (you are good at jumping to conclusions about me so I won’t worry about you). I know you don’t like me or my friends but be sure to love yourself at least ^^ 

You are a Hobi stan? Then learn from Hobi to share some sunshine not bring the storm. Have a good day~

[matbarzyy]

Where We Land (Bonus) [A.B.]

A/N: I love this trope and some people’s reblogs and tags made me feel soft (looking at you @fallinallincurls​ and @hookingminor​) so I figured I’d write a little bonus. If you want to see something specific with these two I might consider writing some more little extras like this. This one is set just a few years after they start dating so you get to see more of their dynamic as a couple and with Alex.

Word count: 1605

.

“Have a good day love,” Tito murmured as gently pressed his lips against yours. He was already dressed and his shoes were on, but he couldn’t leave without giving his two favourite people a goodbye kiss.

“Don’t go yet,” you groaned and reached out to wrap your arms around his neck. “Need more kisses.”

“I promise you’re getting all the kisses you want tonight,” he chuckled, having to put a hand out on the mattress to keep you from pulling him back to bed. “We can take a bath together after Alex is in bed?”

“I’ll be waiting,”

“Go study hard,” Tito left one last kiss on your forehead before pushing himself up and finally leaving the room.

Then, he went to see Alex and quietly knelt by the little boy’s bed to wake him up.

“Alex, come on, time to get up,” he shook the little boy’s shoulder until he stirred and then smiled. His son only groaned in response, opening his sleepy eyes and rubbing his hands over his face. “Breakfast is ready, I’ll open the curtains.” Tito informed him.

He leaned forward to kiss his cheek and got up to let light into the room.

It had become a routine since you came to live with them. Tito got ready for practice and let the two of you sleep, he made sure breakfast was ready right before he left and then he kissed the two of you goodbye. You got Alex ready once he was gone and dropped him off to school before getting to your own classes. In the afternoon, Tito would pick Alex up from school and you’d be home soon after them unless you had to spend extra time in the library to study.

“Have a good day, Alex,” Tito said before leaving the room, and the young boy waved from his bed.

“You too daddy!”

Less than ten minutes later he had devoured a large bowl of cereal and you were cleaning up in the kitchen while he got dressed in the clothes that had been laid out the previous night.

“Got everything for school?” You checked with Alex as soon as he was by the door. You had just been about to forget your phone, so you hoped he was less distracted than you.

“I need you to sign my book!” His eyes widened as he remembered, and he hurried to take his backpack off his shoulders to get the book out.

“Alex, daddy’s supposed to sign that,” you took it from him and checked what it was. It was just a few grades his teacher wanted parents to see, mostly A’s and a few B’s on short surprise tests.

“But Miss Werber is going to check if it was signed, I don’t want to be punished,” he looked at you with all the anxiousness a six years old could muster when it came to a teacher checking he had done his homework.

“Try to tell daddy the night before next time, okay?” You took a pen out of your bag and signed before handing it to him. “Come on, we don’t want you to be late,” you let him walk out the door first and watched as he skipped to your car.

You sighed after you dropped him off, hoping Tito wouldn’t mind you signing something for Alex. He was still his son, no matter how much you took care of him you hadn’t discussed everything about your responsibilities towards him. Up until now Tito was always the one to sign school things for him; Miss Werber wouldn’t even recognise your signature. At least it was fancy enough that she would know Alex didn’t just make up something himself, so you hoped that’d be enough to keep him out of trouble.

.

Meet you for lunch?

The text from Tito came just as you were leaving the library to get yourself something to eat. Your friends had left you a few minutes ago and you told them you’d meet them as soon as you were done with your assignment. You texted them to let them know you wouldn’t be joining and replied to Tito so that he wouldn’t rush.

Sounds good, my next class is at 2

Be there in 20

You smiled to yourself as you walked a little further past your usual café. Tito had met you there a few times, but there were too many students in it and far too many of them happened to be hockey fans. Instead, the two of you had picked a lovely place only a few blocks further to meet at when he wasn’t busy during your lunch hours. You liked that they had small booths rather than just tables, they offered more privacy.

You got there first and picked a booth in a corner away from a window. You wanted a quiet lunch with Tito and sitting by the window meant there was a high chance of someone recognising him. Most people didn’t bother him, especially when he was sitting in a café and they spotted him by the window, but the stares made you uncomfortable.

You liked having a routine like this with him, and you wondered what would become of it at the end of the year. You would graduate then, it would be the end of five hard years and you’d be able to apply for the jobs you were interested in as something other than an intern. You hoped it’d be close to this place, or that there’d be something similar nearby where you and Tito could become regulars.

“So, how was your morning?” Tito asked after greeting you with a kiss and sitting across from you.

“It was good, pretty busy,” you said and interrupted yourself when someone came up to take your orders. “Um, Alex also asked me to sign something for school this morning. I know we never really talked about that but I didn’t want him getting in trouble,”

“Please tell me you’re not worried about what I might think because you signed a paper for Alex,” Tito reached out to take your hand over the table, and you gave him a small shrug. “We live together, you take care of him like he’s your own kid and drive him to school every day. Of course you can sign school stuff for him,”

“Okay, it’s just… I don’t know, we didn’t talk about it before I didn’t want to overstep,” you explained, still shy under his bright blue eyes.

“You never overstep, but fine, let’s talk about it now,” he nodded, lacing his fingers through yours and rested his elbow on the table to prop his head up with his free hand. You gave him a quiet ‘okay’ before he continued. “Remember last week when I asked where do you see yourself in five years?”

“Yeah?” You wondered where he was going with it, but you recalled the conversation perfectly.

“You told me you see us, with Alex, maybe in a house with a garden, and a puppy.”

“I remember,” you smiled at the thought. You had been staring at the ceiling in Tito’s bedroom, his hand in yours as you talked about the future. There was so much ahead to imagine, so many possibilities and decisions to take together. The conversation had ended in kisses that left your lips red and swollen.

“Well I can see that too, you know? And I thought about it a lot, and maybe… maybe it could also be with another kid too, when we’re ready. And if you want that with me,” he added, a little shyer now that he had said that. The talk was supposed to be about Alex but he couldn’t help bring this up.

“I want everything with you,” you reassured him, giving his hand a squeeze that made him smile. Neither of you were ready for it just now, but it was something you had already thought of for the rest of your relationship.

“Then please, don’t ever feel like you’re overstepping when you take care of Alex. You’re always there for him no matter what, when he’s ill and you pick him up from school in the middle of the day, when he wakes up at night and comes to find one of us, when you come watch him skate even on the days you’re supposed to be studying.” Tito listed what he could think of at the top of his head, but the truth was you were there in every single moment and he couldn’t be more thankful for it. “You’re always there, and you know what that means?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me,” you felt your eyes begin to pool with tears, and Tito’s next words were enough to make a tear roll down your cheek.

“That means you’re Alex’s mom in all the ways that matter.” He said it with such conviction that all you could do was nod and wipe your cheeks with the hand he wasn’t holding. “No tears, please,” he smiled softly, clasping both of his hands over yours and bringing it up to his lips to leave a kiss on your knuckles.

“You can’t just show up for lunch and tell me that and expect no tears,” you laughed in disbelief, sliding out of your seat to join him on the other side of the booth. Tito welcomed you with open arms and you rested your head on his shoulder for a moment. “I love you so much,”

“I love you too,” he kissed the top of your head. “And Alex loves you more than you know.”

.

Please reblog and let me know what you thought <3

taglist (add yourself here): @itrocksmysocks @kerwritesthings @pupsandpucks @barzysreputation @whythough1319 @smit41 @glassdanse @fiveholegoal @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @thefootballfaithfull @calgarycanuck @heatherawoowoo @fallinallincurls​ (strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you)

[imgonnagetkilledbynutstink]

Patient Is The Night

Chapter 3

(Moodboard by me)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Danny Wagner

Rating: none

Warnings: none

Summary: Danny takes Jake out to an market and they cook together and shit gets cute

Notes: im trying to write and get chapters out of weekends cause i typically have nothing going on then, but take that with a grain of salt, i cant hold myself to strict schedules lol. Also ignore anything i said about it being winter, i realize now they cant do anything cute in winter so its spring. Also this chapter took a bit more to write and i love it so any reblogs are 100000% appreciated!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Jake stared at his phone. Still nothing. It had been maybe 5 days now and not a single text or call from Josh. He feels like hes expecting too much of him. He is on his honeymoon but he told Jake hed keep in touch and send pictures. Jake had never felt more alone. To be fair he hadnt messaged Josh either but he didnt know what to say. All he had been doing was adjusting and it hadnt been going great so what was he meant to say? "Hey Josh! Just had my 3rd mental breakdown of the week and ive never felt emptier, how are you?"

It was about 10:00 A.M. and Jake was letting his coffee get cold. Soon he heard the familiar knock of Danny at the door and his spirits where lifted just a bit. Danny had been stopping by now and again to check up on him but it was really nothing more then that. He hopped up from his couch and quickly walked to the door. Opening it for his friend, he said "you know you don't have to knock, right?". "I know but i figured id be polite. Didnt think you needed someone barging in unwelcomed right now" Jake rolled his eyes "you arent unwelcomed" he mumbled. Danny giggled and closed the door.

"So, today its supposed to get in the mid 80s and i was thinking we could go do something! I dont think you sitting around and doing nothing alone is really helping..." Danny said. Jake giggled a little and looked out the window. It was beautiful outside. "Well... it does look pretty nice". Danny smiled and clapped. "Great! So i was think we could go to the market out downtown. Maybe do some cooking. Or baking. Or both. I know you like both" Danny rambled. Jake giggled again. He loved when Danny got like this. "I do like both"

"Ill go get dressed, wait here" Jake said and ran upstairs. Danny felt like a kid. He remembered doing things like the market or the fair with Jake and the rest of the band when they where kids. He remembered one time when Jake was scared to go on the rollercoaster and hid his face in Danny's shoulder the whole ride. Danny has been taller then Jake since he was 14 so he was used to that kind of stuff but for some reason that memory really stuck with him.

Jake came downstairs wearing a white long sleeved turtleneck, brown bell bottoms and one of his signatre big black hats. Danny felt his face get hot. While getting his money together, Jake looked over at Danny and noticed how pink his cheeks where. "Oh no, did you get sunburn on your way over here? I know we live close but you have to stop walking here in this weather" Jake sighs "ill get you some sunscreen, hold on" he disappears into the downstairs bathroom.

"Yeah, must be sunburn" Danny says, more to himself then Jake. Jake comes back out and hands him the bottle. After putting it on, the two leave and Jake drives them to the market. Jake parks the car and as soon as he steps out he hears the squelsh of the mud under his feet. He sighs in defeat "well this will be fun to drive out of" Danny giggles in response and they head in. Jake has never been great around people he doesnt know, but hes happy to be around others again. He had some well needed alone time but he feels a lot more open now.

Danny walks up to a booth to buy some apples and soon hears Jake shout "Danny, look at this guy's chicken!" Danny pokes his head out to see Jake holding a chicken while standing by a seafood booth. "Jake, where did you get the chicken" Danny says after making his way over. "We just got here and you already have a chicken?" "Would you have preferred me to find the chicken later? Also she belongs to him" Jake gestures towards the elderly man running the seafood booth. Dan cant help but laugh at this situation amd takes a picture of Jake holding the chicken. Eventually Jake has to part ways with her, much to his disappointment.

Danny feels the familiar feeling of Jake holding onto the back of his shirt so he doesnt lose him in the crowd. Danny loved feeling helpful. They stopped at a wine booth to try a sample or two. When Jake tried some of the dark red wine, Danny couldnt help but giggle at the faint pink stain it left on Jake's top lip. Jake looked up at him and innocently tilted his head in confusion. "Youve uh, youve got some wine on your lip" Danny said and without thinking ran his thumb over Jake's lip to wipe it off.

Jake blushed a little and Danny immediatly pulled away when he realized what he had just done. "Is it off?" Jake asked shyly, trying to ignore what had happened. "Y-yeah you're good". "So uh... you guys gonna buy a bottle or what?" The lady running the booth asked, seemingly running low on patience. "Oh! Yes please" Jake answers. They buy a couple bottles and move on. "What should we have for dinner? Do you have a taste for anything?" Danny asked. Jake thought about it for a moment "maybe some kind of pasta?". Danny smiled and nodded in agreement and they went on their way to find ingredients for chicken alfredo.

Sadly it was getting later and they had finished their shopping. The people at the market where closing up for the night. Danny and Jake had spent more time there then they anticipated. And to make it better it started to rain. The two sprinted for the car through the mud and the puddles and tossed their things in the back seat. When they got in the car and slammed their doors shut, they burst out into laughter. Jakes hat was soaked and so there the bottoms of his pants. Danny's everything was soaked. "Do you mind if we stop at my house to i can get a change of clothes?"

"I mean sure but you did leave a pair of pajamas at my house a while back" Jake said, tossing his damp hair in a bun and starting the car. "I know but that was for if i was staying over and i dont want to walk home in my boxers and a t shirt. Im pretty sure my neighbors will call the cops on me" Jake giggles at that statement. "Well you can always stay the night if you want. We didnt change Josh's old room into a guest room for nothing". Danny thought about it for a moment and agreed. As they where driving home, Dan caught himself staring at Jake. His mind was racing with thoughts. He was thinking about how cute Jake's ears were, mostly.

They pulled into the driveway and ran inside with their things. After getting inside, Danny slipped on the mud on his shoes and fell on his butt. Jake laughed at him and sat down on the floor next to him. They laughed at each other and their eyes eneded up landing on the other's. Danny felt lost in Jake's. They where so dark and warm, like a dark oak tree. "Your hair's wet" was all he could say and Jake laughed more. Jake gets up and helps him to his feet. They go into the seperate rooms and change into something comfier. Jake caught himself still giggling while changing and didnt know why he was so giddy around Danny. He realized he hadnt looked at his phone all day. Usually he would have been checking it every hour hoping for something from Josh. He checked it for good measure but it was exactly what he expected, nothing.

He couldnt help but feel like he was being ignored and he missed Josh so much. Tears pool in his eyes but he wiped them away immediately. "No" he thought to himself. "You're having fun and i dont want to let Josh ruin that... its been so long since youve had fun". He heard a knock on his door and wiped his eyes one more time just in case before opening the door. "You okay? I thought i heard you sniffling" Danny said looking a bit worried. "Im okay, dont worry" Jake said with a small smile before tossing his phone on the bed and heading downstairs.

They spend some time cooking and goofing off. Jake plays an Elton John record and they sing together. Danny's hair had dried over time and looked so frizzy. Jake giggled and ran his hand through it, moving it out of Danny's face. Danny smiled down and Jake and suddenly he felt so small, but in a good way. He felt so safe with Danny and he made his chest feel funny. "Your hair is soft" Jake says quietly. Danny blushed but didnt follow his instict to pull away or move Jake's hand. They stood there like that for a bit before Danny looked down at the sauce he had been stirring and said "its done, of you want to set the table" Jake pulled away gently and nodded. When Danny came into the dining room, the table was set but Jake was nowhere to be seen.

He put the food on the plates and poured the some wine. Soon jake came down the stairs holding his phone. "I wanted to take a picture, for Josh" Jake said. Danny smiled and nodded. He moved out of the way so Jake could get a nice picture of the food. Jake took it and sent it to Josh. The two sat down and started eating. "This is quite possibly the best pasta ive ever had" Jake said. Danny giggled. "Well what do you get when you put two good cooks in a kitchen together? Easy. Good ass food" Danny replied. Eventually they finished and headed to their rooms.

Danny layed down in the bed in the new guest room. He stared at the ceiling and knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep. His mind was racing with thoughts and memories about today. He couldnt help but laugh to himself. He was so happy. Meanwhile, in the other room, jake stared at his phone. It had been a few hours and still nothing, it hadn't even been seen by Josh. Jake felt the tears pool in his eyes and this time he couldn't stop them. He missed Josh a lot. He would have been happy with anything, a hello, or a goodmorning, if he was really lucky maybe even a quick call but he got nothing. Jake didnt get to cry for very long before Danny poked his head in.

Jake couldn't bring himself to explain his situation but the truth was, he didnt have too. Danny didnt care, all he cared about was that Jake was crying. Danny crawled into the bed next to Jake and was immediately hugged by him tightly. Jake cried into Danny's chest and Danny slowly layed the two of them down on the bed. He hugged Jake back and ran his fingers through his hair. "I miss Josh" Jake cried weakly into Danny's shirt. "I know, bug, i know". Jake liked that, bug. It was new but it made him feel special. The two layed there and eventually Jake's cries stopped and where replaced by soft snores. Danny let himslef drift off as well and thats how they fell asleep, close and tangled in each other. Safe.

Taglist: @tripthelight-fanfic @theweightofstardust @goodpointsandbadpoints @asthedaysgobythesun @teddiie @infantryvines

[destinationtoast]

In case it helps anyone to know -- if you struggle, you are not alone.

I think many people who who've followed me or known me for a long time probably think I have my shit pretty together. And in a lot of ways, my life is great, and I have done some cool stuff. But despite that, I struggle with mental health, and my brain is sometimes a terrible place to live. I've spent a bunch of time recently:

Feeling incompetent and like a complete imposter

Feeling like a failure and a disappointment

Feeling like I'll never be able to do any job well and will end up penniless and without healthcare (but still with chronic pain) and an enormous burden to everyone

Feeling like a waste of resources -- "I have so much privilege, and so many advantages, and I squander them by being useless and by not even enjoying my life"

Feeling like I'll never enjoy anything again

Feeling like life will never be anything except stress and despair

Lying awake feeling all my muscles clenched and my heart racing

Having a tremendously hard time getting out of bed

Having an even harder time attending work meetings or doing work

Not being able to eat much and experiencing nausea and digestive issues (where usually I tend to eat larger amounts than usual in response to stress, occasionally it flips and I have to force myself to eat)

Crying unpredictably, e.g. while doing dishes, and having to awkwardly explain to housemates

Feeling numb and impatient and distracted while trying to read/watch TV/browse Tumblr

Feeling So. Much. Guilt. And. Shame. Just constantly.

This is all in spite of the fact that (a) I have substantial and even recent evidence to the contrary about a lot of this stuff (e.g. I got feedback at work not that long ago that I was doing really well and could consider going up for promotion soon). And (b) I've had intense episodes of anxiety in the past and then gotten better, so I have plenty of examples of how these intense feelings don't necessarily predict the future.

Despite all this data, and despite my loved ones telling me wonderful, helpful things, I have spent a lot of time feeling viscerally quite horrible over the past few weeks (as well as for much longer stretches, at times in the past). And parts of my brain have compellingly argued that this will probably last forever.

I've dug myself partially out by talking to a doctor (though I realize healthcare is a privilege not everyone has, though we all should) and getting a short term Rx to help me relax at night enough to sleep. And signing up for therapy again. And discussing longer term possible changes to my meds (I'm on an antidepressant that had been working well till recently). And doing simple breathing exercises. And forcing myself to go do some small amount of work -- especially to make progress on a couple of the things i was most dreading, or to ask others for help with them. And forcing myself to eat and go for walks. And spending time petting kitties. And admitting to my closest peeps that I am struggling, and getting them to say that they'll still like me even if I lose my job. And remembering all those past episodes of anxiety and depression (as well as panicky bad drug trips) that I was sure would last forever at the time, but didn't. And realizing that life is long, and there are many ways to survive and find joy in this world -- and even if I thoroughly fuck up one path, there are other things to try.

I also had to do a big hard thing at work this week that was very stressful (definitely the dread of this has been one contributing factor in my recent spiral). Afterwards, I immediately felt drenched in relief, and feelings of interest and joy and hunger have started to flood back into my life again. "HAHA JUST KIDDING," the unhelpful parts of my brain suddenly said. I still would like to get to a much more stable place mentally, and I'm going to continue to work toward that, and to develop my toolbox for coping. But the sudden easing of some of the terrible sensations feels miraculous, and I'm grateful, and amazed at how fast my internal state can change. And even if maybe it turns out I feel worse again tomorrow, I'm going to enjoy today and try to remember that I did so.

So. If you're struggling, I empathize so much. And it's worth trying to keep in mind that:

Strong feelings of incompetence and/or certainty that the future will suck don't stem from reality. Our brains+bodies sometimes make us feel these things strongly even when actual evidence says otherwise.

That means anxiety/depression is like a bad drug trip. It feels very real, but you're likely to feel at least somewhat differently -- and sometimes substantially better -- if you can hang in there a while.

Just because your brain may be lying to you doesn't mean the resulting struggle isn't real. It's legit hard sometimes to do the basics of survival -- Eat. Sleep. Move the minimal amount needed to get food & water, go to the bathroom, etc. When you're finding those things hard, you're ill. And you deserve time off and self care and a trip to the doctor, if you can manage any of that. If you can't? If you're taking care of others/working or going to school/doing anything else on top of being ill? You're a superhero. I hope you can get others to help take some of your duties for a bit, or to help you book a doctor's/therapist's appointment, or to at least listen and sympathize and send you cute animal pics or memes.

Other people who may appear to have their shit together may not. Many of them are going through big struggles of their own.

The pandemic & state of the world right now are making things much harder for so many people. My doctor (general practitioner) told me that nobody she's seen in the past year is doing that great mentally, and the number of people having acute mental health issues has skyrocketed. Be as kind and forgiving toward yourself as you can manage (in general, and even more so now).

Good luck. Hang in there as best you can. I'm rooting for you. 💗

(Feel free to reblog or to reply, but I may not have energy to respond to comments... responding is hard right now.)

[yacoka]

SHOOTING STARS

pairing — yamaguchi tadashi x reader

genre — slightly angstish? but overall fluff I think

beta — @doughnuts-5ever​

note(s) — my piece for the to infinity and beyond collab!!

-ˏˋ please reblog if you enjoyed this! ˊˎ-

YEAR ONE

you’re a novice with trembling hands and a shaky stance. the weight of the bow is unforgiving, the string cruel, cutting deep into your fragile skin. the wind blows harshly, and you’re not entirely sure what, nor where the target is. so there you remain, eyes closed and bow drawn, snapped arrows scattered all around.

first days of anything are never easy, not when you’re entering a new phase of life, into a new environment all alone. sometimes it gets eased by the people around you, the friends you make. sometimes it doesn’t.

your first day of highschool stretches on for almost half a year, and you’re still where you’ve started - alone and lonely.

it has never been easy for you to make friends, and it certainly didn’t help you didn’t really know how to. you suppose it’s partly due to the fact that you could never decide on what to say and what time to say it. too many conversations had been killed by your ill-timed inputs, and eventually, you stopped trying.

loneliness is not a foreign companion, and you’d like to think you’ve made good friends with it. but it leans a little too heavy on you, every step takes a little more effort. it wraps its arms around you like a lover, whispering in your ears as you watch the group of teenagers in front of you push each other around, joking and laughing and having fun.

your head dips a little lower and your shoulders slump a little more. it’s just another day; another long, lonely day. you’ll be okay.

or maybe not.

a hard shove has you flying backwards, and you yelp in shock and fear. wide eyes meet yours and a hand reaches out to grab your arm, stabilizing you.

“hinata, you idiot!” a voice rages, and it snaps out of the shock-induced haze you’ve settled into.

“are you alright?” the boy in front of you asks, and you register who exactly it is that’s still holding your hand. his hazel eyes are filled with concern, and you can’t help but get distracted by the stray strand of green hair standing up.

“i- uh, yeah-” you stumble out. the warmth of his hand is distracting, and maybe you’ve been out of touch with talking to people for far too long. “fine.”

he eyes you worriedly, and there’s a moment of hesitation before he nods and lets go of you. “i’m so sorry about my friend, we were just messing around, and it got a little… out of hand.”

“it’s fine,” you shake your head lightly. “i’m okay, it’s-”

“i’m so sorry, are you okay?” another boy jumps right into your face, all pink-faced and messy red hair. “i didn’t mean to run you over, kageyama just bet me i couldn’t run backwards, i’m so sorry-”

he’s yanked back by another boy, this one taller than the previous two. “i’m sorry about this one, he’s lacking a few brain cells tonight.” he shoots you a bland smile before dragging the redhead away, another boy following after them.

“you’re sure you’re fine?” he asks you once more.

“i am, don’t worry,” you smile at him reassuringly. “i should get going, thank you for catching me.” without waiting for his response, you bow quickly, speeding off home.

you know it means nothing to him, but you remember how good it felt to have someone be concerned, to feel like someone cared. it's a fleeting thought, but you thought, just maybe, he could be someone to you.

you’ve only just begun to familiarise yourself with the bow, and you’re a far cry from a perfect shot. you’re still a little lost, beaten and bruised by the harsh snaps of the bow’s string. but you’re learning, and the arrows aren’t as cruel as they once were. they too, have learnt to have patience with you. you shift your feet, and you wait.

it’s almost the end of the year when one of your classmates approaches with a nervous smile.

“hey, y/n right?” she smiles politely. you know of her presence, the blonde girl reminiscent of wild daisies along the road with a sweet spring personality to match. she’s even prettier up close, and you can’t help but panic a little at the realization that you don't know her name.

how could you have shared a class with her for almost a year and not know her name?

“i’m sorry, i must’ve got your name wrong! please forgive me! i was so sure you were y/n, i shouldn’t have made assumptions, please forgi-”

“no, no, i am y/n!” you cut her off quickly. “that’s my name.” a nervous chuckle slips out of you.

“oh,” her shoulders slump in relief. “that’s good. i’m yachi! yachi hitoka.”

“uh, hi yachi.” you greet her, awkwardly shifting on your feet. this interaction had been going on for longer than you were prepared for, and you were very well aware of how bad your conversational skills were, especially without preparation. thankfully, yachi seemed to get the hint and gets to the point immediately.

“i’m one of the managers for the volleyball club, and shimizu, the senior volleyball manager, is graduating soon, and we’ll need another manager to help us out. do you think you’ll be interested in joining us?”

the very idea of helping out a club, where you had to interact with numerous people, for the next few years, was in short, terrifying. but it was as if yachi could see the very thoughts floating through your mind, and she was quick to add on, “i know it seems really intimidating! i thought so too when i first joined. but everyone was really welcoming, and i think you’d be a great fit. please just consider it?”

at her hopeful smile, you couldn't say no, not without causing that adorable expression to fall. so without thinking, you blurt out a yes, you'll try out being a manager for a week. the grin that yachi gives you almost makes the nerves that follow worth it.

you somehow find yourself outside the gym after school, nervously listening to the squeaking of shoes and slamming of balls. a couple of minutes passed, and you gathered your scattered bits of courage into a tight fist, holding on to it for dear life as you push open the doors.

you’re instantly greeted by yachi, who as it turns out, was about to go and find you.

“hey, y/n! this is shimizu, she’s the senior manager.” you smile politely at her, introducing yourself. it doesn’t take long for the rest of the volleyball club to notice your intrusion.

“who’s this?” a grey-haired boy sticks his head over shimizu’s shoulder. she elbows him back lightly before introducing you to the boys who had been quick to gather around the entrance.

it was intimidating, the stares that were locked onto you, analyzing you. you weren’t used to this much attention, and your discomfort was clear as you shifted nervously on your feet, eyes darting around in slight panic. it ran from face to face, hurriedly try to connect the names that were being thrown out. tanaka, asahi, nishinoya, hinata, yamaguchi-

yamaguchi.

you gaped a little at the overly familiar face standing in front of you. that was the boy that had saved you the night before. and that must mean- yes there were the others, the one who ran you over, and the over two who had barely exchanged a few words before leaving.

(no, your shoulders did not relax slightly at their familiar faces. and no, your heart rate certainly didn’t raise at the sight of yamaguchi. you were perfectly composed, as much as you could be under the scrutiny of so many people.)

the polite smile you give is accompanied with a slight bow, and as you greet them officially, your eyes lingers a little longer upon the green-haired boy. maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something else, something new.

YEAR TWO

the target finally comes into view, with black and green circles that surround a pulsing, bright red. for the first time you see something with stunning clarity, and you know where you need to aim for. your arms raise in preparation, the arrow poised, and you wait.

it’s been a little over six months since you’ve joined the volleyball club as their manager, and yet it feels like forever as you sit with your fellow second years below the large oak tree in the courtyard. there’s a soft murmur of conversation and laughter, mixed in with a little bit of chaos as hinata and kageyama get up to their usual schemes.

yachi reels them in just enough to keep things from exploding, though tsukishima certainly doesn’t help anything with his snarky jabs and snickers. you laugh once again as he throws another passive-aggressive comment at the two, leaning against yamaguchi’s side.

the contact leaves sparks jumping across your skin, and the circus comes to life within you. yamaguchi doesn’t seem to notice how affected you are, in fact even seeming to shift so you could lean on him more comfortably. no one notices anything, or so you think until yachi makes eye contact with you. she gives you a knowing look, and you flush deeply, pulling yourself upright.

(you miss the slight downturn of yamaguchi’s lips when you do so, and the subconscious shift of his body following yours.)

you manage to tame the turbulence of emotions within you, and with a fond smile, you watch your little group of friends as they chatter on about everything and anything. it’s sharp contrast from last year, where you were alone and lonely.

now, you had a group of people who you loved and cared for, and who loved and cared for you in return. it’s another day filled with laughter and joy, with burdens to be shared, and company to be had. you’re grateful for them, for all that they’ve brought into your life, even the chaos that trail behind them.

loneliness wasn’t foreign to you, but it also wasn’t as close of a friend as it used to be. instead, these five had filled the void it was so determined to maintain, and they pushed you to grow as they did, to aim for higher heights, even when it seemed impossible.

and as yamaguchi smiles at you when you try and fail to catch the grape that hinata pelts at you, you realize, the warmth you once so desperately sought now curls in the corner of your chest, hidden behind your ribcage.

you had them now, and they had you.

even with a clear target, you can’t seem to take the shot. it’s frustrating, and your arms ache from being held up for so long, your fingers bloodied. the bowstring is stained red with your aching failure, and you’re sure your limbs have gone numb from being frozen for too long. but still, you maintain your position, set in determination.

there’s a running tally in the club room of who gets the most confessions out of the second years, and at the very moment, yachi takes the lead with eight. it’s a wonder it isn’t more, though you know there have been many who had been scared off by the boys.

(tsukishima and kageyama, to be exact. hinata and yamaguchi were much too friendly to ever be seen otherwise.)

and it looks like there’s another score to be added to the tally as you watch a freshman approach yamaguchi, one hand holding a letter and the other a box of chocolates. he greets her with a bright smile, and the sight sends dull, rusted arrows into your heart. it isn’t the first time he’s been confessed to, though it still hurts the same every time.

you can’t help the bitter smile that rests on your lips as you watch them. there’s a mixture of admiration and anger that bubbles in your chest; admiration for the courage the girl had to confess, anger for not being able to do the same. there’s a box that sits beneath your bed containing a bunch of letters you’ve written to him, though none of them have ever made it out of your possession.

it’s horrible of you, you know, to enjoy the look on their faces when yamaguchi turns them down, and the sick relief that settles your jealousy.

Today though, your heart drops into your stomach when yamaguchi accepts the chocolates, something he’s never done before. was he accepting her confession? a warm hand lands on your shoulder and you jump, whirling around to see tsukishima staring down at you.

“he didn’t,” the blond says firmly, his hand still firmly planted on your shoulder. “he won’t.”

biting back the tears that threaten to fall, you nod your head shakily. but the sight that greets you when you turn back around taunts you with deafening doubts you’re not sure tsukishima can quell.

“how can you be so sure,” you whisper quietly. “he looks happy enough with her, doesn’t he?”

tsukishima remains silent as yamaguchi pulls out of the hug, but his grip tightens, and you know he’s here for you, no matter what.

YEAR THREE

the target calls out to you, it dares you, it taunts you. but still you remain waiting, no matter how much your arms ache, how heavy the bow feels, how painful your fingers are. the tension’s drawn too taut, but you’re no stranger to it. you’ll hold, you’ll persevere on. you won’t shoot until it’s time.

it’s valentine’s day, and there’s a flurry of activity as people rush around trying to profess their love to someone. there’s a mess of chocolates flying and candies scattered around with a few people fighting to gift their present first. you’ve never been a fan of the chaos that valentine’s day brings, and there’s an underlying bitterness that comes from never being on the receiving end.

fighting through the crowd that had formed outside yamaguchi and tsukishima’s class, you managed to squeeze through the doorway. someone grabs your arm and yanks you further into the classroom, and it is only due to spending so much time together that you know it’s kageyama.

his grip was always gentle, but firm enough to guide you around.

“hey guys!” you grin cheerily at them. “so who’s got the most goods this time round?”

hinata raises his hand proudly. “i got three more chocolates than kageyama, suck on that!” he sticks his tongue out at kageyama.

kageyama scowls, grabbing one of the chocolates at the table and pelting it straight at hinata’s forehead. “just you wait, i’ll beat you by the end of today.”

“how much did you get y/n?” yachi cuts in gracefully, smiling at you from behind her pile of sweets. “i bet many people confessed to you, huh?”

you grin weakly at her. “none, actually. i don’t really talk to anyone outside of you guys.”

she frowns slightly at this. “well, that’s alright! do you want some of mine? i won’t be able to finish it all. too many sweet things isn’t good for me anyways.”

“no, that’s alright. thanks yachi.”

yamaguchi yelps suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention upon him. he’s scowling at tsukishima, rubbing his side in pain while the blond smirks in faux innocence.

“yamaguchi, are you okay?” your question has him flushing a violent red as he turns his gaze upon you.

“ye-yeah! i’m fine, tsukki just got a little handsy is all,” he waves a dismissive hand. you don’t miss the subtle glare tsukishima shoots him, as well as the hand that sneaks another pinch into his side. “also!” yamaguchi’s smile tightens. “i made some chocolates for you!” he thrusts out a black box tied off with a red ribbon.

your brows raise as you exchange an appreciative look with kageyama.

“for us? thank you yamaguchi, you’re the best!” hinata dives for the box, and snatches it out of his hands. he’s quick to delve into it, sounds of appreciation falling from his chocolate covered lips as he devours a good third of it.

“they weren’t for- nevermind, save some for the others hinata,” yamaguchi sighs exasperatedly.

“aye aye captain,” hinata replies with a salute. “these are really good!”

you also don’t miss the way yamaguchi keeps glancing at you, nor the flush that refuses to subside after you complimented his chocolates. though you refuse to feed into the voice that whispers to your heart that he likes you, he likes you just as much as you do him, you have a chance, a real shot here, you can’t help the flutter your heart gives in response.

the crowd begins to disperse into clusters of families and friends, and you fight your way through them to find your friends. you take three elbows to the chest and a couple near accidents before you find them standing under your usual tree.

“we did it!” you greet them breathlessly, throwing yourself onto the nearest person in a hug. the rest join in, and you’re surrounded by some of the best people in your life who have made memories worth keeping, who have helped you fly.

it takes a long while before the hug dissolves into slight tears and messy thanks and goodbyes. before you even realized what had happened, only you and yamaguchi were left standing alone beneath the tree, the other four having been caught by other friends wanting to say goodbye.

“so,” you smiled at him through watery eyes. “this is it.”

he grins at you, and it hits you how much you feel for him. you wished you had more time, more courage, more of him. what you would give to be able to say the words that have resided in your heart for a long time. i love you, i love you, i love you. you are made of the night sky, of stars that shine so bright, peace that brings so much joy. you are my wishing star, and there’s nothing else i’d wish for than you.

but you stay silent, a prisoner to your fear, chained by the doubts that have never left. instead, you do the only thing that doesn’t require speaking, one action that speaks of the thousand words you’d like to say - you offer him your second button.

yamaguchi’s grin widens into a smile, filled with hope and something too complex to be defined by words. his hand reaches out, shaking ever so slightly, and he offers his to you as well. it takes a moment for you to comprehend his silent response, and another before you slide your hand into his, your buttons clasped between both your hands.

his hand is rough from years of volleyball, but you find you don’t mind it when his free hand slides up to cup your cheek. it’s a tender gesture, and you melt into his touch.

“we took a while, didn’t we?” he whispers, leaning his forehead against yours.

“just a while,” you hum, shifting even closer to him. “but it’s worth it.”

your arrow flies, and it flies and flies, and it lands. it lands with a gloriously solid thud, dead center of your target. you’re a far cry from a professional, but your shot has finally landed, and you’ve won more than a bullseye.

you’ve won love.

[aliendes]

Natural Borns - Chapter Four

Banner made by @thebannershop​

Series info/genre: Angst, fluff, (possible) smut NSFW due to darker themes

Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual)

Warnings: mentions of sadness, indecent thoughts? maybe, if you squint. it gets a little steamy, I suppose, but mostly just fluffy sadness, if that’s a thing. This series will have different trigger warnings listed for each chapter (if there are any), but as a whole, this series will include violence, mentions of depression & other mental illnesses, cursing, abuse, drugs/alcohol, some shitty medical descriptions because i am NOT a doctor, self-esteem issues, fluff, and possible smut in future chapters (but that’s undecided). i will add more warnings/tags in the future if there are any.

Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it?

Word count: 8k~ (whoops so sorry. if you like longer chapters like this, let me know!)

A/N: *deep breath* ok here is chapter 4. things are starting to heat up, but i cut this chapter in two because it was like over 12k long.... i go back to work tomorrow, so updates may start slowing down, but i’m hoping to post updates every Sunday night. i was feeling a little bit bogged down last week, not seeing as much influx with chapter three than i have with the other chapters. if you enjoy reading, please reblog so others can see it, too. thank you, as always. xx - Des

Updated: 8/9/2020

But the second he took one look at you, standing outside, wet and bloody, saw the look in your big beautiful eyes as he so heartlessly demanded things from you, he knew he stood no chance. 

Yoongi sat in his makeshift office on an old torn recliner they found in the warehouse. Surprisingly, the warehouse had been decently furnished when they found it. Granted, it was all old, worn furniture, but furniture nonetheless. The building was incredibly old, but it was also very large and had a lot of empty rooms on two levels. The entire place was made out of concrete, meaning it hasn’t seen much weathering over the years. It was a place they could call home for now. 

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and stared at his beloved laptop in front of him. He wasn’t trying to think about you, no, in fact, he wanted nothing more than to erase the memory of you. Try all he might, his thoughts kept wandering back to the scared, small girl he saw earlier tonight. He let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes, letting his head loll back. 

The blonde man was snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of footsteps outside his door. He picked his head up and spun around in his seat right as Hoseok came through the doorway. 

“Hey,” Hoseok said, leaning against the doorframe, “I heard they found her.” His tone was indifferent, not happy, nor sad. Hoseok didn’t really have an opinion on you yet, voicing to Namjoon he didn’t really mind either way if they found you or not.

“Have you seen her yet?” Yoongi asked the red head knowing he hadn’t, as his demeanor would’ve changed the moment he did.

Hoseok shook his head, confirming Yoongi’s suspicions. “Good,” was all Yoongi said in response.

Hoseok gave him a puzzled look, cocking his head to the side. A bright grin started to take over his face as he took in the disgruntled look on Yoongi’s. “Are you letting her get under your skin that quickly, Yoongs?” He asked the older man in a teasing voice. “Is that why you’re hiding away while they fix her up?”

Yoongi’s blonde head snapped up at Hoseok’s words. “What do you mean ‘fix her up’?”

Hoseok’s smile started to slowly fade from his face, leaving a knowing smirk in its place. “She was pretty banged up from what Jungkook said. Poor boy was distraught when he came running into my room earlier.” Hoseok watched Yoongi’s face closely as his lips pursed into a thin line and he tried to act as if he didn’t care about you. Hoseok could see right through him.

Yoongi tried to keep his breathing steady and stared Hoseok right in the eye. “Who cares,” he shrugged as he turned back around in his chair and started typing away at his laptop. 

“Who cares?” Hoseok asked rhetorically, “I think you do.” The red head walked over to Yoongi’s chair and put his hands on the back of it, pulling it down a bit so he could look into Yoongi’s eyes. He raised a questioning brow at the hacker, waiting for some kind of response.

“I don’t care about her,” he scoffed, “I don’t even know her.” Yoongi looked away from Hoseok as he spoke, knowing his closest friends would be able to see his lie. He didn’t want it to be a lie, what he was saying he wanted wholeheartedly to be true, but he knew it wasn’t. Why did he care about you? He really didn’t know you. But as Hoseok chuckled and walked away from the chair with a breathy ‘yeah right’, Yoongi’s thoughts just drifted to you.

“Please stay still,” Jin pleaded with you for the third time. You were currently laying on what you assumed was his bed while he took a look at all your wounds. He was looking at your bruised, and possibly fractured, according to him, ribs. It was painful and you weren’t sure how he expected you to stay completely still. 

You had been laying here for the last twenty minutes, staring up at the ceiling, going over your conversation with Namjoon prior to letting Jin take a look at your wounds. You had learned that the five of them had been staying here for the last three weeks. They stumbled upon the place when exploring the surrounding forest. It was devoid of life, but a lot of furniture and supplies had been left from workers or from kids who threw parties here in the past. They made it into a base of sorts, where they could live and work. Work, you learned, was mostly Yoongi trying to hack into Big Hit’s, and other companies, systems, while Namjoon dealt with contacting people and said companies to get more information. Apparently, they had found out about you through Jimin, who had overheard some of the lab techs talking about a female natural born living on the outskirts of Seoul. You still weren’t certain what exactly made you all ‘special’, but Namjoon had said it had something to do with the markers in your DNA that made you desirable to these designer baby companies.

Namjoon had also told you that they were planning on going to Big Hit soon, in hopes of getting Jimin and Taehyung out. As they helped you limp to Jin’s room, he told you that he and Jungkook were going to help Yoongi and Hoseok with the planning tonight, and told you to get some rest.

When you first got to Jin’s room, you were pleasantly surprised by the cleanliness of it. For an old warehouse, they really tried to make it feel homey. Seokjin’s room was small and looked like it used to be some kind of office or file room. There was a small double mattress in the corner, which you were currently laying on, a small desk on the opposite side of the room, a small wooden end table, and a couple of backpacks and duffle bags laying about. While everything in the room looked old and worn down, it still smelled nice. It smelled like Jin, like pine and soap. Speaking of soap…

“Hey - how do you guys have lights and running water here?” You were curious, previous experiences made you think this place was totally abandoned. 

Jin looked up from poking at your ribs, “Oh - Yoongi. He was able to get the electric and water companies to turn stuff on under a fake name,” he trailed off after noticing the apprehensive look on your face, “I know it’s not the most ethical way to go about things, but we don’t really have much of a choice right now.” The solemn look on his face told you that he regretted their actions, but truly had no other choice. 

You nodded at his answer and jumped a bit when he went back to putting cream on your ribcage. “Please - stay still YN.”

“Sorry, sorry. It just hurts,” you groaned out and he finished his work. Jin let out a short sigh before pulling your shirt back down your torso. He picked up one of your hands and started to unravel the bandages to clean and rebandage it. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll try to be quick,” he gave you a quick smile and gently ran the back of his knuckles along your bicep. You tried to ignore the way his action made you feel, he was just trying to comfort you, right? He was a caring person, and he probably just felt bad seeing you in pain. That’s what you told yourself anyway.

You went back to staring at the ceiling, biting the inside of your cheek and Jin disinfected your cuts and scrapes. The feeling of his hands on you leaving you confused. 

Once Seokjin had finished tending to your wounds, he gave you an old t-shirt and some sweatpants to change into before giving you a little privacy. After you had changed, you hobbled back over to the mattress and sat down. You stared around his room for a moment, finally letting the events of the day sink in.

You inhaled a deep breath as you thought back to everything that had happened. In just a few short hours, you had met these strange men who took you out to a forest and made you question your entire existence, witnessed your father make some kind of deal or exchange with a man who was likely trying to take you away, and ran away from your life, your family, and your friends. You didn’t even know who you could trust anymore, aside from probably Mina and Woo, but who knew when, or if, you would ever see them again. The thought alone made tears prick at the back of your eyes. You looked up to the ceiling to try and stop the hot tears from falling, to no avail. What were you getting yourself into?

As you felt a tear roll down your cheek, you heard a knock at the heavy door of Jin’s room. Quickly, you wiped the back of your hand at your face with a sniffle, before telling whoever was knocking to come in. 

To your surprise, it was Jungkook who walked through the door, not Jin or Namjoon like you had expected. You blinked owlishly up at him for a moment as he shut the door and ventured into the room. He took a few steps in your direction, hands behind his back, and looked even more shy than you had seen him earlier. 

“H-hey, noona?” He timidly asked, eyes locked on the floor.

Your eyes softened at his hesitancy. You made a sound of affirmation, urging him to continue speaking. Slowly he brought his hands from behind him back and extended them in your direction. He was holding a water bottle and a container of what looked like pain relievers. “Jin-hyung wanted me to tell you to take two of these,” he started, walking towards you with his hands outstretched like he was feeding a tiger, “and to drink the whole bottle.” 

You gave Jungkook a small smile as you took his offering. He seemed so sweet in that moment, you couldn’t stop yourself, “Jungkook?” Your voice made the poor boy jump a little, but he relaxed as soon as he saw your smile. His big doe eyes somehow got slightly bigger as he nodded his head at you. “How old are you?” You asked him, head cocked to the side.

“Twenty two,” he said easily. He’s only a year younger than you, it was odd to you he was so timid, almost childlike at times. You hummed in approval. You truly did want to get to know these men, and Jungkook seemed like such a sweet guy. He was shy, but you could tell he had a kind soul. You wondered what had happened to him to make him so quiet. You hoped you would find out with time. You had a sort of affinity toward him. Maybe it was because he had literally carried you through a forest without so much as a complaint. You weren’t entirely sure. 

The boy hesitated for a moment before turning around to walk out of the room. Just as he was about to reach the doorknob, he stopped and turned around to face you. “Noona?” His voice was so small, you almost asked him to repeat himself. Instead, you made a noncommittal noise, urging him to continue. “How old are you?” You wanted to coo at how cute Jungkook looked right now. Cheeks rosy, head slightly cocked to the side, eyes wide with mirth, almost like he was thankful for a reason to speak to you. 

You gave the boy a bright smile before answering, “Twenty three.”

Jungkook stared at you for just a second longer, before nodding once and leaving the room.

“Who the fuck is Pearl?” 

Hoseok shrugged his shoulders, not even looking up from the game he was playing on his phone. 

“Are you even listening to me Hobi?” Yoongi was aggravated, to say the least. Namjoon, Seokjin, and Jungkook brought you to their base last night and he hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep. Namjoon brought him your phone, asking him to remove data from it so it couldn’t be tracked. He did so immediately, but the damn thing was burning a whole in the back of his head while he tried to sleep on the old, black leather couch in his room. Eventually, he got up from tossing and turning, and decided - against his better judgement - to look through the device. He knew it was wrong, knew it was a huge invasion of privacy, but he didn’t particularly care for you. Besides, he was curious, who could blame him?

The red head, currently sitting upside down on Yoongi’s couch, just huffed in response. Yoongi just rolled his eyes and spun around in the old, squeaky rolling chair. He had your phone open on his desk. It was early in the morning now, he figured you and the rest of the boys, aside from Hoseok, were probably still asleep. Hoseok tended to be an extremely early riser, yet still went to bed late at night. Yoongi never understood how he had so much energy with so little sleep.

Yoongi had already looked through your apps and photos. You didn’t have any social media that he could tell. Your apps were incredibly boring, just a few games and a notepad app that he found some of your notes on. Mostly things like grocery lists and dreams that you had. Nothing too interesting. Your photos weren’t very exciting either, mostly pictures of trees and fruit. You had some photos of your mom and dad and a couple of animals he assumed were yours. You seemed to live a pretty boring life, based on what was on your phone. The cynical side of him wanted to tell himself this meant you were a boring person, but he knew that was an unfair assumption.

The last thing Yoongi decided to snoop through, were your text messages. While he hadn’t found much there, aside from conversations with your mom, dad, and a group chat with someone named “Mina” and “Woo”, he did notice how everyone seemed to refer to you as ‘Pearl’. Aside from when your mother called you by your name yesterday, you were almost always referred to as Pearl. This piqued Yoongi’s interest, but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe this was evidence as to why the others shouldn’t trust you? It’s a simple nickname, but Yoongi was suspicious of you from the beginning. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he knew he was looking for reasons to hate you, to make the others hate you. 

Yoongi nearly jumped straight out of his skin when the door to his room was swung open with such ferocity it slammed into the wall. Hoseok jumped straight up from the couch and Yoongi nearly fell out of his chair at the noise. “Jesus kid!” Yoongi yelled as he righted himself.

Jungkook had the graciousness to look ashamed as he entered the elder’s room. “Sorry hyung, I- I didn’t mean to,” he murmured without meeting the eyes of his older friends. 

Hoseok sighed and relaxed a bit before pushing a hand through his bright locks and announcing he was going to ‘find something better to do’. Jungkook nodded at him as he left and took Hoseok’s previous spot on the couch. Yoongi surveyed Jungkook as he sat down. He looked tired, like really tired. He could see the small bags forming under the youngest’s eyes, a purple tint to his nearly perfect skin. Yoongi also noticed how skinny the kid was looking these days. He narrowed his eyes at the boy, “You doing ok, kid?”

Jungkook lowered his head into his hands and rested them on his knees, shaking his head back and forth slightly, “No hyung. I- I miss them,” Yoongi could hear the tears that were threatening to fall. He always did have a soft spot for Jungkook. He rose from his seat and sat down gingerly next to Kook on the couch, making the leather creaked beneath him, and slung his arm around the dark haired boy.

“I know, I miss them too. We all do,” he bagan, running a soothing hand up and down Jungkook’s upper arm, “we will get them back, Jungkook. I promise.” Jungkook lifted his head and looked at his hyung, eyes glazed over. He believed him, he really did, he just missed his best friends. 

Jungkook nodded his head as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth. Yoongi thumbed at the younger’s lip sweetly, prompting him to release it. He knew Jungkook’s stress, he understood it. He missed the twins too, and he was working his hardest to get them back. Soon. He could feel it. 

Last night had gone about as well as you thought it would. After Jungkook left you alone, Jin never returned to his room. You took the painkillers they offered you, but you thought for sure someone would be back to check on you, and you didn’t feel comfortable enough to wander around the place. You also felt a little bad for taking Jin’s bed when he had been so gracious to you. So after a while of waiting - and mentally hoping - for someone to walk in, you tried your hardest to fall asleep, to no avail. You tossed and turned in Jin’s small bed for what felt like hours, but you didn’t really know how long it had been. There was no clock in the room, you didn’t have your phone, and there were no windows. You guessed you finally fell asleep sometime in the early morning and had a very short, fitful rest before Jin was coming in to wake you.

“YN?” You heard Seokjin’s soft voice from the doorway. You blearily blinked away sleep as you tried to fully regain consciousness. As you rolled over in bed to face the door, you saw Jin standing there with a plate of something that smelled absolutely delicious. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were, but your stomach was beginning to rumble at the sight of food. You remembered the last time you ate anything was yesterday morning at breakfast.

Jin walked a little further into the room and sat down at the edge of the bed. He wanted to laugh at how entranced you were by the food in his hands, and at the erratic way your hair was sticking up. “Hungry?” He asked, arm outstretched towards you with the plate. You let out a small yawn and reached your arms above your head with a small pout. The large t-shirt you were wearing - Jin’s t-shirt - rode up slightly as you stretched and Jin thought you had to be the cutest thing he’s ever seen. As you finished your much needed stretch, you nodded your head with one eye open, taking the plate. 

“Thank you, I’m so hungry,” you mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. Jin’s plump lips upturned into a bright smile as you started to eat a piece of toast from the plate. “You’re able to cook here?”

“There’s a small kitchen,” Jin nodded as he spoke, “it looks like it was an old staff lounge or something? We aren’t entirely sure what this building used to be, but it seemed like some people used to live here. There were beds, couches, even an old television when we got here.”

Now, feeling a little more awake, you nodded along with Jin, “Where do you get the food?” 

Seokjin didn’t even miss a beat before answering, happy you were coming out of your shell a bit, “I go to the market at least once a week,” he smiled, “I take Jungkook with me sometimes…” he started to trail off a bit, looking away from your eyes, almost like he was embarrassed. “That’s actually how we found you.”

You stopped chewing, mid-bite of scrambled egg, “Found me?” You mumbled, mouth full. 

Jin nodded, looking bashful, “Jimin told us he overheard people at the lab talking about a girl, a natural born living in this town. We honestly didn’t think we would find you here,” Seokijn rubbed the back of his neck as he continued, still avoiding your gaze, “We came out here and found this warehouse, it ended up being perfect for us to stay in,” as he continued his eyes finally met yours, he mentally noted how cute you looked, cheeks puffed out with food staring at him, “we needed food, so me and Jungkook went to the market. When I saw you, I knew.”

Your stomach was doing flips at Seokjin’s admission, and you weren’t entirely sure why. They were harmless words, maybe even a little reassuring. They weren’t stalking you, they happened to stumble upon you. So you weren’t sure why you were suddenly feeling so shy. His words almost sounded like a love confession you would hear in a blockbuster movie about soulmates. You could feel your cheeks heat slightly as you finally swallowed the eggs. “What do you mean, you knew? I don’t remember seeing you, or talking to you,” you prodded for some more information.

For a moment, Jin just stared into your eyes, and you thought he wasn’t going to answer you. Then, his plush lips parted as he quietly murmured, “Well, YN, you’re breathtakingly beautiful. I hope you know that,” he never broke eye contact as he uttered his next words, “and now that I’ve gotten to know you more, I can say you have a beautiful soul, too.” You were reeling. Were you the female lead of this made for TV movie your head conjured up?

You stared back at Seokjin with wide, glazed eyes, lips slightly parted in shock. No one has ever said anything like that to you, aside from Mina telling you how beautiful you were and how jealous she was of your skin. Jin was gazing at you as if you were the only person in the world, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel incredible. You were high on his attention, you loved the way your stomach was erupting with butterflies. 

You were still seated on his bed, legs crossed and hands sitting in your lap, food forgotten next to you. Seokjin was still staring intently into your eyes, with an intensity you’ve never felt before. Slowly, ever so slowly, he lifted his hand and went to lightly brush his knuckles against your cheek bone. The action made you flush, eyes closing at the soft feeling of his hand. Just as you were leaning into his touch, a soft smile on his lips, the door to his room opened, causing both of you to jump backwards, eyes shooting towards the person intruding on such an intimate moment. 

“Jin,” Namjoon looked slightly embarrassed, cheeks pink realizing what he walked into, “we need you in Yoongi’s room.” He bowed his head once at you both before turning on his heels and walking away. 

Seokjin cleared his throat and you found it endearing how his neck and ears were turning a beet red. “S-sorry,” he sputtered out, “I - I’ll be back in a little bit?” He sounded unsure as he scrubbed a hand down his face. You gave him a small smile and nodded, a little sad at the loss of companionship you were just starting to get used to. You couldn’t quite place the emotion you were feeling, but you knew it was nothing like the platonic friendship you felt for Woo or Mina. Jin stood up from his bed, making his way towards, before giving you some parting words, “I’ll have Jungkook come show you where the showers are.” 

After your encounter with Jin this morning, you were reeling from the onslaught of emotions you were feeling. You weren’t given much time to think too much about it though, because once you finished your breakfast, Jungkook came to give you a short, and rather quiet, tour of the building. 

Like Seokjim promised, Jungkook showed you where the one bathroom was located, which looked more like a gym locker room than a bathroom. There were shower stalls, benches, and a couple of toilets and sinks along with a wall of lockers. It looked to be a changing room for employees of the mill. Jungkook had brought with him your black linen pants, washed by Jin according to him, and another large t-shirt. He didn’t want to admit it was his this time, and blushed fiercely as he handed them over to you, along with a clean towel.

Jungkook kindly showed you how to work the showers, helping you turn one on because of your hands. He also sweetly helped unwrap your hands and feet so you could properly shower and clean the cuts and scrapes. After he was done, he turned away, telling you he would wait on the benches for you to finish. As he was retreating, you reached out your hand to grab his forearm, “Wait - I- I can’t really lift my arms up,” you mumbled, warily looking up into his wide deer-in-headlights eyes, “can- can you help me?” You’ve never been shy about your body or nudity, but something about Jungkook seeing you nearly naked, made you feel like a shy teenager again. 

You thought Jungkook was about to spontaneously combust the way he was staring at you. His shoulders were squared and nearly meeting his ears, lips pursed into a tight line, and eyes the size of dinner plates. You almost laughed at his expression, but then remembered how awkward this situation was for the both of you.

“I- I - ye- yes,” Jungkook was a stuttering mess, but wanted to offer you his help regardless. He felt like he was on fire with the way his cheeks and neck were heating. Slowly, you retracted your hand from his forearm when you felt like he wasn’t about to bolt out of the room. Jungkook carefully reached for the hem and your shirt and you turned around so your back was facing him to make this all less embarrassing. The boy audibly gulped as he slowly pulled your shirt upwards removing it from your head first, pushing it towards your front. He stepped closer to you so there was barely an inch of space between your now bare back and his front. Reaching his arms around you, he gripped the shirt and slid it down your arms, removing it from you completely. His fingers ever so slightly brushed the skin on your arms and made a shiver run up your spine. Jungkook didn’t miss the way you let out a strangled breath, almost inaudible.

 He needed to cool off, quickly. 

You quietly thanked him, quickly covering your breasts with your arms, as he turned away still holding Jin’s shirt and made his way out of the bathroom without another word. 

After your much needed shower you struggled to dress yourself, but you would rather cut off your own arm than go through the embarrassment of finding Jungkook to help you again. Once you were finally decent, you found Jungkook sitting on the benches outside of the shower room, just like he said he would be. He has visibly calmed down, now wearing a calm expression. When he noticed you walk into the room, he gave you a small smile. “Feel better?” 

You nodded enthusiastically, happy to feel clean again.

Next, Jungkook showed you the small kitchen that Jin spoke of earlier. It was more like a kitchenette, almost like an employee break room. It had a tiny refrigerator, cabinets that were filled with dry goods, a sink, and one electric burner. The building was so old, you were shocked to see the kitchen in such great condition. At the shocked look on your face, Jungkook told you that Jin really loved to cook and worked really hard to clean it up and keep it that way. Your face flushed at the reminder of the older man who was making your heart feel things just this morning. The thought of him caring so much about his kitchen, moving about in here cooking the delicious food you ate for breakfast, made your stomach twist in a pleasant way. 

The last place Jungkook showed you was a mostly empty room on the second floor of the building. He told you that they didn’t use the second story much, considering the state of disrepair of the place, they didn’t want to risk getting hurt up here. But this room, Jungkook told you, was his favorite place to hang out. It was a rectangular concrete room that had a large expanse of windows on the far  wall. Some of the windows were broken, allowing the breeze from outside to enter. In front of the windows sat a small tan sofa that looked like it had seen better days. Jungkook led you over to the windows, and you quickly realized why he liked this room so much. 

You could see the entire quarry from up here. It was beautiful. At the bottom of the quarry was water that took on an incredible aquamarine color, turning almost green in the sunlight. The water was completely still, no disruptions on the surface, making it look serene. Along the bank of water, there were lush, green bushes and trees swaying slightly in the wind. On the other side of the quarry, you could see a small patch of yellow and purple flowering plants. Along the steep sides of the cliffs, you could see the smooth surface of exposed marble. Over the years, the marble has become weathered and looked smooth to the touch. The late morning sun, high in the sky, was reflecting off of the stone in a way that made it sparkle. It was an incredible sight, and you were surprised you’d never seen it like this before, having been out here in the past. 

As you stood there, taking in the breathtaking scenery, Jungkook was taking in you. You had a look of mirth in your eyes, and he mentally patted himself on the back for bringing you up here. He took in your side profile, admiring your sharp features that looked as if they were carved from the very marble you were currently staring at. He loved the way your soft lips were forming a small pout, eyes focused on the sight in front of you. He didn’t realize he was grinning at you, until you turned around with a look of shock on your face.

A grin spread across your face as you saw Jungkook’s smile for the first time. It reminded you of a bunny, large front teeth on display for you to admire. You stood there for a moment, smiling at each other before you both started giggling. “Thank you for showing me this, Jungkook,” you crooned once the laughter had subsided. He just smiled at you in return before looking back out towards the quarry. You stayed in a comfortable silence after that, before Jungkook deemed it time to head back downstairs. 

Downstairs, Jungkook led you to a room that was right in the middle of the long hallway that contained all the other rooms. “This is Yoongi-hyung’s room,” he cautioned, hand on the door, “don’t worry, Joon-hyung told him to be nice,” he rushed out, seeing the fearful look on your pretty features. 

You were still uncertain, but nodded at Jungkook anyways, prompting him to open the door. Jungkook waited patiently for you to enter the room on your own with no pressure from him. You peeked around the corner to find the occupants of the room all staring right at you. You purse your lips into a tight line and avert your gaze to your newfound safe harbor, Seokjin, who was sitting on a black leather couch. His eyes softened at your uncomfortable look before scooting over to make room for you on the couch, patting the seat next to him, inviting you over. You hesitantly walked over and plopped down on the soft cushion.

Jin rubbed a large hand on your shoulder briefly to calm you down before placing both hands in his lap. As you felt yourself relax a bit, you took in your surroundings. Jungkook was still standing near the door, leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He looked oddly stoic, shedding the shy persona he usually wore. The room was fairly large, or at least, larger than the rest of the rooms you’ve been in. Against the right wall was the black leather couch you and Jin were currently sat on, and to your right against the far wall were two arm chairs, one of which was occupied by Namjoon. Sat in a desk chair in front of what looked like an old corporate desk, was Yoongi, with multiple laptops and devices sprawled out in front of him. Leaning against the wall behind Yoongi was another man, one you didn’t recognize, but you assumed was Hoseok. He was staring intently at you. His expression was unreadable, not cold, but not welcoming either. He looked intense with bright red hair, a sharp jawline that looked like it could cut diamonds, dressed in all black. He was a little intimidating and not at all like the golden retriever type boy Namjoon had described to you last night.

As you took in the men around the room, you hadn’t noticed Yoongi and Namjoon discussing a possible plan to break the twins out of Big Hit. “Jimin said there might be a window of time where no one is around,” Yoongi scoffed, “but you remember what happened last time he said that.”

Namjoon nodded his head. Now you were listening intently to their conversation, as were the other men in the room. “We need to trust Jimin, Yoongs. He’s the one inside there, he sees what’s going on, we don’t,” Namjoon sighed, running his hands over his knees, apparently a self-soothing mechanism, “if you think you can get in and knock out the cameras, we might as well give it a shot. We will make sure we’re better prepared this time.” Namjoon seemed defeated. You weren’t sure what happened ‘last time’, but it didn’t sound good.

“It doesn’t matter how prepared we are, he was wrong about the window last time. By two hours. If he’s wrong again we could get caught, or killed,” Yoongi snapped, anger apparent in his eyes, “I’m not willing to risk you guys again.”

“What about her?” This time, it was the redhead who spoke. You hadn’t noticed his eyes on you throughout the entire conversation, assessing you.

“No!” Both Jin and Jungkook barked at the same time, making you jump in your seat. Jin set a soothing hand on your shoulder as you looked at him, and then at Hoseok with wide eyes. Jin shook his head aggressively before looking at Yoongi and Hoseok, “No way. She’s never been there, she would have no idea what to do. You’re not willing to risk one of us, but willing to risk her?” He snarled, you haven’t seen him angry before, and you were positive you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his anger. 

Over by the door, Jungkook had uncrossed his arms and was walking towards Yoongi’s desk. “You can’t send her in there, hyung,” he started, placing both hands palm down on the desk, “please.”

Yoongi looked up at the maknae with soft eyes before pursing his lips and sighing through his nose. Behind him, Hoseok raised his hands in surrender, “It was just a suggestion,” he sighed out passively, “we’ve all lived there at some point or another, they would recognize us immediately, just like last time.”

“They know her too. Hyunwoo has been scouting her for months, according to Jimin. We can’t let her go in there.” It was Namjoon who was being the voice of reason this time, causing both Jin and Jungkook to let out a collective sigh of relief. The five men continued to argue while you got lost in your thoughts. Hoseok wanted you to navigate Big Hit? Alone? You mulled it over in your head for a minute, remembering Yoongi’s words. If he was able to hack the cameras, they wouldn’t be able to see you, right? You felt so grateful towards Jin and Namjoon, and even Jungkook, for helping you, you wanted to contribute in some way. You wanted to help them, ease their pain at the loss of their friends.

With this thought in mind, you spoke up, “I could do it…” you trailed off, voice quiet. All five of the men’s heads snapped towards you, most with looks of disbelief on their faces. Even Hoseok hadn’t expected you to agree, he was testing you, to see how you would react. Yoongi looked at you curiously, waiting for your next words. He couldn’t deny the clench in his heart at Seokjin’s words. No, he wasn’t willing to risk you, but if you were offering... “I mean.. I want to help,” you hesitated, looking between Jin and Jungkook who were now looking angrily at you. You shrunk in on yourself a bit, awaiting their response. 

“Then it’s settled,” Yoongi remarked. He was trying hard to contain the fear he felt at allowing you to enter Big Hit alone. He knew it was dangerous, and he really wanted to not care about your well-being, but try as he might, he was terrified of allowing you to do this. He assumed he hid it well though, because everyone bar Hoseok was looking at him with incredulousness. 

“No way,” Seokjin spoke first, his tone leaving nothing up for discussion, “this conversation is over.” Jin stood up abruptly, looking directly at Namjoon, “You aren’t ok with this, are you?” The look in his eye was intense, and Namjoon could feel it. He could feel the emotions Jin felt towards you, that he was going to do whatever it took to protect you. Namjoon would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t feel the same way.

Namjoon let out a short sigh and closed his eyes before setting his gaze on Yoongi, “We can figure this out without involving YN.” 

“You heard her,” Yoongi growled, “she’s willing to risk her life. Who am I to tell her no?”

From there, the argument got even more heated, Jungkook even getting involved at one point. You were starting to feel uncomfortably hot in this cramped space. You understood both sides. You wanted to help, but you also knew that whatever you were volunteering yourself to do was dangerous. You needed air.

Suddenly, you stood up from the sofa announcing to the others that you ‘needed space’ and bolted out the door. Jungkook turned to run after you, but Hoseok, who was now standing next to the youngest, put his hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Let me go Hobi-hyung, I need to make sure YN is ok,” Jungkook rushed out, turning to the elder.

“Let her go, Kookie. This is probably a lot for her,” Hoseok told the boy, who looked like his heart was breaking at his words, “She’ll be ok, give her time.”

In your haste to remove yourself from the situation, you missed the look of absolute devastation on Jin’s face. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to do anything to repay them. He didn’t want you to feel like you owed them. He couldn’t believe how strongly he felt for you after only one day, longing for your presence next to him, now that it was suddenly gone. He could see that Jungkook - and to some extent, Namjoon - felt similarly. 

Namjoon’s heavy sigh could be heard by everyone in the room, even over the loud chatter between the boys, as he slowly rose from his seat. As he made his way over to the door, he looked over his shoulder at the hacker. “Fix this.” His words held a finality that made Yoongi gulp. The blonde had a stoic outer shell that was hard to crack, but no one in this building could deny Namjoon was the one in charge, the one they wouldn’t defy. Yoongi nodded, biting the inside his cheek to hold back his retorts as Namjoon left the room. 

After you burst out of Yoongi’s room earlier, you ran towards the big metal door that led outside the warehouse. You didn’t really want to go home, you were way too scared of what might be waiting for you there, but you did need some fresh air and some time to process everything that has happened to you since yesterday. 

You made your way down the long winding path that led back to the fork in the path at the edge of the forest. You were thankful Jungkook had found you a pair of slippers earlier and you were no longer barefoot. You passed the broken fence blocking the dirt road down to the quarry and carefully hiked down until you were at the embankment and sat on the edge of the water. It really was beautiful and now that you were up close, you could see how clear the water was. It looked like liquid gemstones, barely rippling in the slight breeze. The marble looked so pretty up close, nearly snow white with swirls and lines of grey. It was calming out here. You took a few deep breaths, inhaling the scent of the water and the trees. 

You have never done well with crowds of people. Not that five men were a crowd by any means, but you weren’t used to being around more than a couple of people at a time. Growing up, you had severe anxiety, especially while at school, and it carried over to adulthood. You also haven’t had many chances to socialize as an adult, outside of Mina and Woo. Being thrown into a situation with five men, two of whom you don’t think even want you around, is a lot. It’s only been twenty four hours and you’re already starting to regret leaving your home. You thought about your mom, and the huge breakfasts and dinners she would make for you and your father. Your father, who you didn’t know if you could even trust anymore. You’ve lived your whole life putting all your trust in your parents, as one should. But now you were questioning everything. Were they aware of your genetic rarity? Did they know about Big Hit all along? You had so many unanswered questions that you would probably never have answers to unless you went home.

Your mind wandered to Mina and Woo. How you weren’t sure if you would ever get to see them again. You were worried about them, worried that they would look for you and find themselves in some kind of trouble. They were your only friends growing up, and you didn’t even get to properly say goodbye to them. You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt something wet and warm drop into your lap. You were wearing the pants that you got dressed in yesterday morning before what could’ve been your last breakfast with your family. At that thought, the dam within you broke and the tears started flowing. 

While staring at your damaged hands, you were reminded of Seokjin, and his caring nature. The tall, broad shouldered man who has shown you nothing but kindness. He was so gentle with you, like no one ever has been before. He made your heart flutter and your mind blank when he spoke to you. You thought back to how angry he had been with his own friends, over you, a girl he just met. He was defending you, and it made you feel like you were tearing a family apart. You didn’t want to bring him, or anyone else for that matter, any pain or harm. But then you thought back to how nice his large hand had felt against the delicate skin of your face this morning, and how his words had made you blush with fondness. You’ve never loved someone outside of your family, never even had a crush before. You weren’t sure how to define what you felt for Seokjin, but it felt good. 

Then you thought about Namjoon, the well spoken and intelligent man who was the reason you were brought in with welcoming arms. From what you’ve gathered, he was the one who pushed to find you, to make sure they did something to stop Big Hit from getting to you. You were thankful for him, and you didn’t want to put him in a position where he had to choose you or his brothers. He cared for them deeply, you could see that clearly. 

Jungkook was mysterious to you. He seemed so shy and timid, yet he was so angry with Yoongi earlier in defense of you. He had shown you one of the most beautiful places you’ve ever witnessed before, and given you one of the most precious smiles you’ve ever seen. You wanted to learn more about him, get to know him, be his friend. You felt drawn to the boy and wanted to protect him. It was odd, you’ve never felt an instinct to take care of someone else before, aside from maybe your cat. You wondered if that was how Seokjin felt towards the rest of them, the thought causing your heart to clench, emphatic towards him.  

The red haired man, Hoseok, was the one you knew the least about. It felt like he didn’t really like you, but he was so hard to read. You remembered what Namjoon said about him being excitable and friendly, but you had yet to experience it yourself. As much as you felt unwelcomed by him and Yoongi, you still felt inclined to get to know him better, a pull to him, much like the others. You couldn’t explain these feelings, and they were confusing you.

The last man of the group, the blonde. Yoongi. He definitely didn’t want you here, and definitely made you feel unwelcome. But could you blame him? You weren’t mad at him. No. You understood completely how he felt. You were a stranger, disposable, and you weren’t his friend. He had no reason to care about you. None of them did. You mentally berated yourself for allowing your mind to conjure up the idea that they owe you anything, that you deserved their care and affection. 

As you sat and cried silently to yourself, you let the dark thoughts take over your mind. Were you some kind of charity case to Namjoon? Like he felt the need to save someone who was like him and that’s all you meant to them? Maybe they felt sorry for you, and that’s why they were treating you so kindly. Seokjin acted caring towards everyone, why were you anything special? You were acting crazy, it’s only been a day with these men and you’re already feeling such a strong pull to them. You need to get a hold of yourself. You continued to sit there, on the edge of the water, shoulders hunched as you cried silently. As the day went on, and the sun started to set beyond the hills, your mind was plagued with the thoughts that this was all a horrible, horrible idea. 

To be continued….

A/N: if you made it this far, first of all, THANK YOU! If you want to be added to the taglist, make sure you’re following me and send me an ask. if you enjoy the series consider reblogging so it can reach more readers. i’m feeling a little down about writing right now, so i’m trying to make sure to update next sunday. we will be meeting the twins in the next couple chapters, depending on how long they get, and you will be getting some steamy scenes between YN and (a) boy shortly. much love 

xx Des

taglist:  @minifruity​  @mrcleanheichou @arantxaglz​ @chim-possible​ 

copyright 2020 aliendes

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Frailty, thy name is woman! {1}

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, masturbation, mentions of miscarriage, depression, and suicide.

This is dark!doctor!Steve Rogers and soft!Peter Parker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You have an illness that can’t be seen or named. Doctor Rogers is your last chance at a cure as your loving husband tries to rediscover the woman he married.

Inspired by this ask

Note: So this went a little long and I split it into 2 but you can just pretend it’s a one shot lol. It’s set in the 1900s so keep that in mind! I hope you all like it.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Another cold morning. It started like any other. You woke in the bed, wrapped in the same woolen blanket, in the same dress you’d been wearing for more than a week.  In the same spot you hadn’t left for nearly as long. You didn’t have the strength to do anything but wallow, trapped in another episode of melancholy.

You wanted to be normal, you wanted to be happy, you wanted to get up and go tell your husband to stop messing around in the kitchen so you could do your work. So you could be the wife you were supposed to be. But that desire could not fill the endless pit you felt deep in your chest.

You listened to the clink of heavy dishes and the bubbling of water over the hissing gas burner. Peter moved around in a series of groans and creaks from the floorboards. You pulled the blanket tighter, sickened by your own odor, and sniffed. You wouldn’t cry again, you couldn’t. You always felt as if the tears would fall at any moment but they never came. You just laid there, staring at the wall, curled up against the drafts that blew through the rattling window panes.

You heard the hinges and winced. Worse than letting down your husband was looking in his face and seeing it. He came around your side of the bed and sat on the edge, just against your stomach. He set down a bowl on the boxy night table, steam curling from its brim as he set a spoon against the side and clinked a cup down next to it.

You turned your face into the pillow and he touched your shoulder as he turned and bent his leg up on the mattress. He rubbed your arm gently but you felt nothing. You shivered and knotted your fingers together.

“Hey, you need to eat,” he coaxed, “please.”

You grumbled and shook your head. “I’m not hungry.”

“You said that last night,” he ran his knuckles over your cheek and bent over you, “you haven’t eaten in two days, dear.”

“I don’t care,” you pouted into the feather pillow.

“Well, I do,” he stretched his fingers over your head and rubbed your cheekbone with his thumb, “I care about you, dear. Even after everything that’s happened.”

“Why?” you asked weakly.

“Because I will always care for you. I love you, you’re my wife and we will get through this together, so please, sit up and eat for me.” His voice was brittle and threatened to shatter in the air. Your heart squeezed and you rolled onto your back. 

You looked at him grimly, “I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t need to be sorry,” he pulled open the blanket and hooked his arms under yours to pull you up. He sat you against the metal headboard and took the bowl. “Just eat. I put some cinnamon in the porridge, just like you prefer, and milk in the tea. I promise, it’s not sour this time.”

You accepted the hot bowl and nestled it in your lap. You stared at the oats and wiggled your nose. “I… you shouldn’t do all this. You shouldn’t have to,” you held the bowl with your legs and covered your face, “I want to do it all so badly but--” you blinked away the tears and wiped your cheeks as you dropped your hands back to the dish, “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you want to,” he grabbed the spoon and scooped up some oats, “and I want to help you do that but I can’t unless you help me.”

You let him feed you a mouthful. Just like everything else, it was bland, you barely even felt the heat.

“I’m trying--”

He hushed you and fed you some more. He focused on the task until the bowl was empty and your stomach felt painfully heavy. He placed the bowl back beside the porcelain and handed you the tea.

“I need you to listen to me, dear,” he said, “please and understand this is for your own good. To help you be the wife you once were.”

You held the cup with both hands and watched him over the brim. You gulped. Would he send you to one of those sanitariums where women never came back the same, if at all?

“Please, don’t send me away. You can’t! Please,” you begged and nearly spilled the tea.

“No, no, I… couldn’t,” he touched your elbow gently, “but I’ve been asking around and I’ve found a physician.”

“A physician? Oh, Peter, the last one laughed me out of the room,” you moped, “and the one before him yelled at me so horribly. I cannot do it again.”

“I know, I know,” he played with a fold along his sleeve, “but this one specialises in women’s issues. I’ve heard positive things about him and I think you should talk to him.”

“I don’t know,” you sipped the tea, it was acidic but thin.

Peter was silent as he hung his head. He grasped his knees and his jaw ticked. He heaved and closed his eyes. “I can’t let you die in here. I can’t--” his voice cracked, “please, just try this for me, dear.” He opened his eyes and looked at you, his warm brown irises were desperate, “It would kill me too.”

You lowered your chin and peered into the mug, errant leaves floating in the tea. You exhaled and gulped.

“I’ve made the appointment for noon.”

“I… I’m unready. My hair, my dress… I am unbathed.”

“You have time and I will help you,” he ran his hand up your leg smoothly, “and if you want me in the office with you, I will be there, and if you want me away, I will go.”

You thought and took another drink. You leaned back on the whiny headboard and blinked at Peter. 

“You really think he can help me?”

“I’ve got to hope. It’s all I got,” he said as he opened his hands helplessly, “I believe in you. You’re still the woman I fell in love with.”

🩺

Peter helped you wash and dress. You picked the grey dress with the buttons down the front and the straight sleeves. You hid your hair under a black hat and teetered on the low heels of your boots. You felt like an imposter, like anyone could see through your disguise to the horrid creature beneath.

He drove you uptown in the one-horse buggy and the old steed moved slowly through the mud and cobbles. 

You felt a sudden storm of guilt as he drew up to the brick front of the office and tied up the horse. He did everything, he worked at the laboratory as an lowly assistant, expected only to dispose of the refuse and wipe the countertops, then came home and did your chores for you. He worked hard for the little money you had and now he was spending it on another doctor to fix your irreparable mind.

He helped you out of the buggy with his hand on yours and you pulled your short cape closer as you huddled down against the collar. He led you to the front door of the shared offices and up the three flights to the door marked ‘Dr. Steven Rogers, physician’. 

You wrung your hands as you entered and glanced around as Peter gave your name and the time of your appointment. You were surprised to find that your husband was the only male in the room. He led you to a bench and sat with you, his hand on your arm as he comforted your doubts.

You listened as names were called and after more than an hour, yours finally rose from the nurse’s lips. You stood as Peter did too. “Do you want me here or with you?” he asked.

“I…” your heart raced as you looked between him and the nurse, “I suppose I should do it myself.”

“I’ll be out here. You send for me if you need,” he squeezed your hand one last time and watched you go.

The nurse smiled at you but you couldn’t return the gesture. You were terrified. You had seen so many doctors and each one gave the same answers; there was nothing wrong with you, you were only lazy, you were conjuring it all in your head, you were just another woman without sense.

You were shown into the sterile room and the nurse left your chart on the desk. You stepped up the stool and sat on the metal examination table covered in pure white linen. You waited in suspense, arguing with yourself not to flee and go back to your blanket and bed. When a knock came, you squeaked and the door opened slowly.

A man peeked inside cautiously and cleared his throat as he spotted you. “I’m coming in, miss.”

You nodded and he entered, the door clicking behind him. He greeted you with a handshake and read your name off the chart as he gave his own; Dr. Steven Rogers. He sat on the tall stool by the desk and looked at you. 

His blond hair was as neat as his suit and his blue eyes were penetrating but placid. His white jacket hung from his broad shoulders and a stethoscope rounded his neck as his posture put him above most.

“You can sit on the sofa if your are more comfortable,” he gestured to the leather seat along the opposite wall, “this is just an introductory appointment, I won’t be doing any examinations.”

You pursed your lips and shifted off the table. You went to the sofa and sat, your leg shaking wildly as you tried to still it with your hand. He smiled patiently and dipped his pen in the well.

“So, we will start easy, how old are you?”

Your eyes rounded. You sputtered before you got the answer out and he nodded and scribbled on the paper. He went down a list; an previous health issues, height, weight, current prescriptions. When he finished he set aside the folder and looked at you fully.

“That’s all just formality and I don’t like my patients to feel like they’re being interrogated so we’re just going to talk. Would you like some water?”

“No, no, I’m…” you smoothed a wrinkle in your dull skirt and stared at your lap. 

“You need a moment?” he dipped his head as he tried to catch your eye, “take a breath, I know it’s a lot.”

“No, I’m just… pathetic.” you murmured.

“Now, we don’t talk like that in this office,” he girded, “so why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”

You sucked in a breath and your hands crawled over your skirts nervously, skittering like spiders. You could feel the dread rising and the air was thick in your lungs. You began to pant in shallow breaths and gripped the arm of the couch.

“Ma’am, ma’am,” he stood slowly and neared you, “may I sit with you?”

“Oh, oh, oh,” you moaned as you began to shake, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you wetted your dry lips with your tongue, “yes, doctor.”

He lowered himself lightly onto the cushion. He leaned forward and looked you in your face as you tried to hide from him and struggled to breathe. “I’m going to count and you breathe in time; one, two…”

You focused on the numbers and rocked back and forth until your heart slowed and your gasps petered out. He stopped his count and sat up. He stayed where he was, his hand on his thigh as you felt his gaze on you.

“So, what has been happening in your life, ma’am?” he asked.

“I’m sure my husband--”

“No, I don’t speak with husbands, I want to hear from the women themselves. You see I run a practice for women and their troubles and I cannot treat these troubles if they come from the lips of men. So you explain, in your own way, in your own time.”

You raised your shoulders and exhaled. You folded your hands and nodded. You tried to sort through all your thoughts, the blurred days, and the frightening nights.

“Today is the first I’ve left my bed in more than a week. It’s not the first time, either. It keeps happening and… I just don’t know why,” you’re voice quivered as you shrunk down in shame.

You waited in silence. You peeked over at him as you expected him to speak.

“Go on, just pretend as if you were speaking to yourself. No one else is here, you’re just going through your thoughts aloud. Sometimes when we hear them, they are clearer to us.”

“I don’t understand--” you clapped your hands.

“Close your eyes and keep talking.”

You swallowed and let your lids shut. The room disappeared and you mustered your voice. You didn’t know where to begin. So you went back to the day you married Peter. From the wedding day, to the first episode, the second, the third, you gave a brief map of the three years you’d been together. Then you braced yourself for it, the “I don’t know” and “nothing’s wrong”.

“Hmm,” he stood and you opened your eyes. He paced to the other side of the room and leaned against the table. “That’s not everything. You… have to be honest with yourself. This isn’t about me and what I think, it’s about you. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything.”

“I don’t know what else to tell you,” you gulped.

He nodded and crossed his arms. He dropped them when he saw you frown and resumed his seat on the stool. He sat straight and watched you but held no anger or malintent in his gaze.

“Alright, then we shall go through some questions and answers. Many of my patients find a dialogue more helpful,” he said. “Now, I might ask some personal questions but remember that your answers do not go beyond these walls.”

You bit into your bottom lip and hummed your agreement. He clicked his tongue and smiled again.

“You said you’ve been married for three years, thereabouts, so when was the last time you were close with your husband?”

“Close?” you stammered.

“Intimate,” he prodded.

“Uhhh,” you squirmed and looked away.

“You are married, there is no shame in it. So?”

“Months,” you confessed, “I don’t know how many. And it isn’t as if he doesn’t try but I can’t.”

“Mhmm, and you said you have no children?”

You tensed and couldn’t answer. Your heart sank and you bent over as you hugged yourself.

“You… you’ve lost a child?” he asked softly.

You nodded and batted away tears with your lashes. You shook and grunted in frustration. You stood suddenly and stomped your foot.

“I need to go,” you hissed as you marched to the door.

Doctor Rogers was quick and held the door closed before you could reach it.

“Did he know?” he asked.

You sneered and shook your head.

“Just one?”

You trembled and tried to push his arm down. “I can’t--”

“Hey,” he grabbed your shoulders and edged you back from the door, “I’m trying to help you. You’re here to repair yourself and your marriage, you need to try and it won’t be easy but it would be worse to wallow in all that grief alone.”

“Please, Dr. Rogers, I have to--” you shoved on his arms as you sobbed, “I… I… he is my husband and I can’t give him the most precious thing he ever wanted. I can’t make him happy no matter how I try. It would be a gift if I were to die in that bed. He would be free--”

“No,” he said sharply and guided you backward, “we don’t speak like that.” He sat you down and knelt to look in your eyes, “you don’t speak to yourself like that.”

He sighed and dropped his hands to yours. He held them gently as you sniffed back the tears and hid behind the brim of your hat.

“When was the last?” he asked cautiously.

“I lost it a month and a half back. I abstained from my marital bed in hopes it might survive,” you quavered, “It did not.”

“Is there pain?”

“Now?”

“Yes?”

“At times, but in my soul,” you said.

He let you go and stood, “and how do you sleep?”

“Not much. I cannot. I only lay and stare and wish.”

“Mm, well, I have some things for you to do but they are easy and I do not want you to stress yourself. If you cannot do all, then some.” He sat on his stool again and picked up a small pad. “I will prescribe you a medicine you can put in your tea, it will aid in your sleep and that it the foundation of healing. Then, there are only small things; when your husband comes to you, affectionately, you will let him kiss you, just on the cheek if you wish, but if he cares as you say, you will let him.”

You listened and fidgeted as he spoke.

“And you will do things for yourself and for your children. If you feel like you can make a dinner, do so, if not, you will take a journal and write. These words are only for your. You will write about those you’ve lost so that they may rest and you will too. For every chore you cannot complete, you will write one sentence, or one page, or as many as you need to.”

“What do I write?”

“Whatever you think. Whatever weighs on your heart at that moment. And you will come back to me in two weeks to go over all you’ve done and I have faith that you will make great progress.”

He stood and tore free a page. He neared and held it out to you. “Take this to the apothecary and they will fill it. One drop in your tea, two if it is an especially bad night.”

You took it and rose. You folded it and tucked it into your handbag. You looked up at him and adjusted your cape.

“I’m sorry, doctor, I will try.”

“You will start by not apologizing for yourself. You have a right to feel and be. And try is all I ask.”

He smiled and turned to stride across the office. He opened the door and bent his head. 

“Now, I hope a peaceful day awaits you and don’t forget, two weeks. You will make an appointment at the desk before you go.”

🩺

The drive through the city was quiet as Peter watched you worried from the corner of his eye. He didn’t dare to ask how it went as you hadn’t yet said a word but to tell him to stop at the pharmacy. With the vial in hand, he took your home and sat you at the table as he made another pot of tea.

He sat with you and sipped his own cup as you stared at the reddish brown brew. You lifted the vial and read the hand-written label. It was too early to sleep. You put it down and looked at Peter.

“It was… not bad,” you said slowly.

He perked up and sat forward on his chair. “Was he nice?”

“Very nice,” you felt the hot porcelain, “he listened.”

“And the medicine?” he looked at the vial.

“For sleep.”

“That’s good,” he uttered nervously, “you’re going back, right, dear?”

“Yes, two weeks,” you said, “I hope. I…” you looked at him glumly, “I’m going to try. I want to try.”

“I know,” he reached across the table and took your hand, “and I can help. I only want to help.”

You nodded and squeezed his hand. It was rough against your dry skin. You felt as if your body was falling apart from neglect. Your nails were peeling and cracked at the tips. You turned his hand so you did not have to see them.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

You lifted your head and searched his face. You tried to smile but it was small. 

“Please,” you whispered.

He came around and bent to kiss your forehead, then your cheek. You stood and shyly looped your arms around him. He held you tentatively and as you leaned into him, he relaxed. You were relieved to find the warmth was still there.

🩺

That night, Peter put you to bed and laid beside you. You wore a proper nightgown and the tincture dragged you down in a deep dreamless slumber. When you woke, you didn’t want to get out of bed but if you stayed, you’d feel worse. You dressed and Peter didn’t hide his joy as he readied for a day at the lab.

You ate together, more porridge and he left you with another kiss. When he was gone, you stared at the wall. You took the dishes and boiled water to wash them in the basin. There were only a few so your work was easy. You thought of wiping down the stove but once more felt the lethargic weight on your chest.

So you went to the bedroom and dug out the old recipe book your mother bought you as a wedding present. You hadn’t used it so the pages remained blank but for a single list of ingredients for stuffed duck. You tore out that page and wrote the date on the next.

You sat at the vanity you never used. Peter bought it after your first episode, thinking it might help you to have the mirror and place to store your toiletries. You held open the pages and dipped the pen into the shallow well. Most of the ink had dried up. You made a blotch on the paper as you tried to think of what to write.

You stayed like that and inked the pen again. Then you wrote the name. The name of the daughter you lost. Peter didn’t know that name and you never dared to speak it. She was the first one, at least, you wanted it to be a girl. You wrote that you wanted her to have Peter’s eyes and his sweetness. You wrote about him holding her and smiling down at her. Then, you shut the book and dropped the pen.

You began to sob and leaned on the vanity. You let out horrible, draining wails. You quaked until you had no strength left. You stood and watched your feet as you went to the bed and fell onto it. It hurt so much.

🩺

You tried to follow Dr. Rogers advice, tried to keep to your chores and your writing, but your renewed vigour faded by your next appointment. That morning wasn’t as hard as the first but Peter had to convince you to leave the house. He couldn’t wait for you as he was due at the lab but he gave you coin for your ride back..

You sat in the hushed waiting room and stared at the wall. The other women chatted with their neighbour or read the penny weekly’s left out for the patients. You rubbed your gloved hands together and counted your breaths. You felt that tidal again, the rising wave of nerves rising within.

When your name was called, you were taken to the same room and the same chart was left on the desk. You sat on the sofa but your restlessness had you back up on your feet and pacing. When the door opened again, you turned and stopped as Dr. Rogers entered with a knock.

“Hello, again,” he offered another stiff handshake and you accepted it meekly as you crossed the room, “and how are you this morning?”

You let out a breath and shrugged, “well as I can be.”

“Please, sit, and we can go over the last two weeks,” he waved to the leather bench and sat on his stool. He ignored the chart as he slung one leg over the other. He waited for you to lower yourself onto the couch and watched your hands you wrung them, “would you like some water? A tea?”

“No, thank you, Doctor,” you tapped your heels nervously.

“You’re anxious,” he said. You nodded and he did the same, “why? Did our last appointment go so poorly?”

You shook your head and stilled your fingers, “I don’t know why I am alight, but I am.”

“Mhmm,” he tapped his fingertips on the desk as he leaned his arm against it, “and your home life, has it changed at all?”

“I… I try to do more but it’s difficult,” you admitted, “I get so overwhelmed.”

“Have you written at all?”

“Some but… it makes me sad,” you explained as you folded a wrinkle in your skirt, “I find myself as I was, in bed with a hole in my heart.”

He considered and scratched his chin, his clean shave smooth beneath his fingers. “Your husband, he is… affectionate?” When you affirmed the question, he continued, “and you have made yourself open to him?”

“Kiss, hand-holding, embraces, but… I cannot…” you squirmed, “I cannot even make him feel as my husband.”

“You have a lot of emotions but speaking of them makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?” he uncrossed his legs and sat up straight.

“They feel like excuses, like a delusion I’ve made up to escape my life,” you stared at the floor, “like I’ve lied not only to myself but the man I love.”

“You’ve seen other physicians for your maladies?”

“Several, yes.”

“And what did they tell you?”

“They told me I was healthy and that my emotions were of my own failure,” you poked your palm with your nail, “and I couldn’t claim they were wrong for I don’t know myself.”

“Do you take exercise?” he asked.

“Not often, not anymore,” you replied evasively.

“You go out in the sun? Open the windows?”

“No,” you muttered, “no…”

“I would suggest thought it is with your own will to take it that you leave the house once a day, for a few minutes, for an hour, whatever you can do, and just walk. You don’t have to go anywhere but I want you to see the sun and keep your blood moving.” he stood and cleared his throat, “perhaps you cannot see it or you will not accept it, but you are doing well. You’ve made progress. If I am being quite honest, I did not expect a second visit and that in itself is a feat.”

You pressed your lips together and shifted. He went to the end of the examination table and looked you over.

“Now, as this is our second visit and we’ve gone over the basics, it is my usual practice to administer a physical exam but if your are unprepared, we can delay it until your third appointment,” he said cautiously, “but as you’ve disclosed your difficulties with conception, I do think it pertinent that I rule out any biological barriers.”

Your eyebrows shot up and you sucked in air. The only man who had ever seen beyond your dress was your husband and even with him you were shy. Still, he was a doctor and he might be able to help. You doubted yourself knowing that if you had time to think on it, you would refuse it altogether.

“If you advise it,” you stood rigidly, “I would permit it.”

He bowed his head and pulled the corner of the sheet taut on the table. He backed away and smoothed his white jacket as he went to the door.

“You only need remove your under garments and I will return in a moment. You will lay on the table and I will do a brief exam of your anatomy,” he guided, “Is this to your acceptance.”

“Doctor,” you said and watched him go, releasing a sigh when he was on the other side of the door.

You removed your leggings and drawers and folded them. You climbed onto the table and laid on your bad, your legs clenched together as your skirts felt thinner. You waited and tried to ease your nerves. The knock at the door spiked your pulse and you assured Dr. Rogers you were ready.

He entered and you listened to him move around. You squeezed your eyes shut and he neared the table. You quivered as he came near and his hand settled on the hem of your skirt. He stood at the foot of the table and his shadow coloured your eyelids.

“We’ll take it one step at a time, I will let you know everything I do before I do it,” he assured you, “now, I’m going to have you bend your legs.”

You nodded and kept your eyes closed and bent your legs. He touched your knees through the layers gently.

“Now part them,” he coaxed.

That was harder and as you obeyed, you felt a rush of air slip up your skirts. Your dress rustled and Dr. Rogers held the hem firm.

“I will now have a look,” you heard metal and flinched, “and I will use a special tool to do so. You will feel perhaps a cold touch and some pressure inside but I will be quick.”

You only nodded and gripped the sides of the table. He lifted your skirts entirely and you gasped. You felt the metal instrument on your most intimate part and he pressed it until it was slightly inside of you. He bent over you as he opened you up with the tool and removed it almost as suddenly as he’d applied it.

“Well, I see no abnormalities,” he set the instrument aside and fixed your skirts, “nothing which would cause difficulty.”

You sat up and turned your legs over the edge of the table. You felt your cheeks burn but he seemed entirely unbothered. You reminded yourself how usual the practice must have been for him.

“I would also recommend smelling salts if you do not already use them for when you feel faint or overcome and I will have a diet plan for you to take with you. Those might help improve your condition as well. I think for now,” he neared the door and paused with his hand on the handle, “that is enough change. It isn’t about pushing yourself, it is about little steps.”

“Thank you, doctor,” you said.

“And if you require anything, you needn’t wait for your next appointment. If you have questions, you may come in and ask,” he turned the handle slowly, “along with all we’ve gone over today, you will continue on with what we established since our first appointment.”

“Yes, doctor.”

He smiled and left you again. You slid off the table and reached for your undergarments. You dressed quickly and as you stepped out, Dr. Rogers bid you farewell. You hoped he could help you, that this wasn’t another lost cause.

[sunfoxfic]

Can I just at something about the awakening movie spoilers we got yesterday??

At first sight, I thoughthe looked like a baby kitten and adorable.

But also...HE LOOKS NOTHING LIKE ADRIEN?? NOR DO THE OTHER CHARACTERS?? SGKSBAIAJAHSJS

I saw that post you reblogged and was kinda relieved I wasn't the only one ngl.

Though I am all in for AUs and such, another main thing which I am low-key terrified of is the fandom response.

Like I have been so emotionally invested with this show for 6 years and thus the canon reveal would feel,,idk EMOTIONAL?? We have travelled with these kids for so long and seeing them grow and just cdshvshss it would be amazing.

But I am afraid that this movie coming out in a few months would kinda ruin the impact?? Moreover there will also be THOSE people who would go, "ThE MoViE WaS WaY BeTtEr ThAn ThE ShOw" which I definitely don't want to see. I want to like this movie so bad but some of these people are ruining it lol

And then, the models. I have so many... opinions about them. Marinette looks cute, but also looks like one of those generic character models and not like, well, MARINETTE DUPAIN CHENG, who is LADYBUG. The movie one looks pretty but lacks personality. Like I don't know how to explain it but when I see the series character models,I just feel INTRIGUED to learn more about these characters while the movie ones just have pretty hair and colours and lighting but not, personality.

Also I will be frank here, I am almost jealous that the movie has taken so much of the budget which could have been used for the show. Also the song seemed so beautiful and hearing the movie chat and ladybug singing that makes me feel weird because I want OUR LB and CN singing it?? I am being incoherent sorry djdgsjvaiabs

Anon, you are so not alone at all. Everything you said is already a concern that I've seen expressed. Honestly, the thing for me is that I don't anticipate the movie is going to be a very good retelling of the show. I can elaborate on this elsewhere but I think that the show's monster of the week format has allowed for there to be a slow progression of conflict over 4 seasons while still giving the viewers emotional payoff at regular intervals. i.e., we see the slow progression of conflict for Adrien's arc over Mega Leech and Guiltrip and Optigami and Sentibubbler, etc, but each of those episodes also provides the viewer with some relief.

That's not to mention that part of what makes the world work is that Hawk Moth is unrelenting and constantly there, which is why episodes like Truth and Gang of Secrets can happen at all. In an hour and a half movie, they can fit... maybe 3 battles? Imply maybe a few more happened? But you aren't going to get the same sense of neverending fight against evil. That, and if they don't akumatize the major characters (such as those in the Miracuclass), most of them will never get development at all, and so much of Adrien and Marinette's motivation comes down to "I am doing this because of how much I care about other people." If you never see that care in action, I think Marinette's arc in particular will fall flat, and Adrien will likely be severely reduced to "doing this because he's in love with Ladybug :D" which is. Not the move.

The more I think about it the more I think that ML needs an episodic format, which is why either a TV show or a comic/manga is ideal, IMO. A movie just won't work to tell the story we love.

And yeah, I don't think it looks good at all, and I think it's bullshit that the show can't get animated by the favored animation company but the movie is getting millions of dollars to look like crap. Zag is trying too hard to replicate the success of ML without thinking about why ML was successful and I think it'll end up flopping in the end, at least compared to what they could have done if they'd just given that money to the original show.

The brightside: You may or may not have followed me many months ago when my URL was animatics-ill-never-make but I am so pumped for the songs. I know, like capital K Know, that animatic artists are going to take those songs and give them to the original characters we know and love, and I think they're going to be beautiful. That is the one thing I am unequivocally hyped for this movie.

[hatters-workshop]

I feel like I've posted about this before but I can't find it to reblog again but FUCK ME am I ever sick of people thinking that losing weight is always a good thing. I know this is not a new take, and luckily I've never had an eating disorder but I do at times of stress have disordered eating. I will physically struggle to eat when I'm anxious, and where I'm already quite small, that often translates into weight loss being quite noticeable. And then my weight loss becomes a source of stress in and of itself.

The last time I intentionally lost weight was with my mother when she was trying to diet and lose weight, and since she was the person who bought the food, plus I was trying to help and support her and it helps to have someone else to keep you to a diet, I was in it too. In the end I told her I didn't want to lose any more weight as I was feeling uncomfortable in my skin and didn't have much more weight to lose. The skin around my ribs had started to feel tight and uncomfortable. She responded "what's that on your arse and thighs then?!".

The answer was that it was muscle that I developed when she made me do dancing from age 2 and a half to age 13, which guaranteed that I would never have super slim legs (I remember being told I had "German man legs" by one bully when I was at my physical fittest. It took me a further 10 years after that to stop hating and self deprecating myself about them. Another 2 years to start to like them). Funnily enough, that experience has ended up enforcing in me that I don't like to go below a certain weight because it makes me feel like I've once again got my mother trying to refuse to let me "quit" dieting.

End of 2019-start of 2020 we were moving house and had a lot of drama with it. I was living away from my partner for the first time since we moved in together a few years before, the house sale fell through 2 days before moving and all in all it was a bad time. I struggled to eat 3 meals a day, usually ended up feeling like I was going to be sick rather than finish my lunch. My jeans stopped fitting me.

Everyone told me how good I looked. Even when I tried to explain that it was a stress response, I was told how "lucky" I was "because when I get stressed I eat loads! Yours is a much better way to be!".

I hate hate hate that society is so fuckin brainwashed that this is the "better" way even when study after study shows that there are more health risks of being "under" weight to being the same amount "over" weight. That somehow being physically unable to eat is so good!

Just this week, I finished a costume I started making 6 months ago. I finally put it all on together. I had lost weight again and now I have to remake the skirt. I was so annoyed because I've been walking at lunch times to stop myself going stir crazy but otherwise not done anything. If anything I've been snacking more than ever. And my partner is ill at the moment, but I was encouraged to go out for a walk without him. "Remember how you felt when you tried on that costume and found you lost weight?" I was asked by his mum. I stared at her. She assumed that that feeling had been good. All I felt was frustration. If anything I had felt a desire to do things to make me gain weight again.

Fuck society. "You've lost weight" shouldn't be treated as a complement. You don't know who that phrase holds trauma for. Keep your observations to yourself.

[quicksilversquared]

The Wavering Peahen: Chapter 7

When Nathalie started feeling oddly ill again, both she and Gabriel were worried that the Peacock Miraculous might somehow (impossibly) be to blame again.

So naturally, they pick someone else to be the Peacock for a bit. You know, as a test subject. Except the new Peacock… doesn’t exactly know that.

links in the reblog

Marinette was really glad that the picnic broke up as soon as the ambulance vanished around the corner, because she couldn't get home fast enough.

Was the pin real? It had to be, since otherwise Tikki wouldn't have sensed it. But why on earth would Hawkmoth think that giving Lila a Miraculous would be a good idea?

And how did Lila's strange illness fit into it all?

"I suppose she could just be sick and that part could have nothing to do with Hawkmoth at all," Marinette told Tikki as she dug the Miracle Box out from under her bed. She had to talk to Wayzz right now and see if he could shed any insight on the absolutely astronomical levels of crazy that the past half-hour had been. "But she's been sick for most of the time that Pavona was out and about. Why would Hawkmoth let someone who was sick fight alongside him? If I were him, I would want someone healthy out with me. Whenever I'm sick, I don't do as good of a job fighting. Sneezing and coughing just throws me off and leaves me open to attacks. I mean, maybe he doesn't have any other choice, depending on what happened to Mayura, but still."

"Normally I would say that it's probably just a coincidence, but the Peacock's energy seems off again." Tikki was frowning. "I would have thought that Hawkmoth would have fixed the Miraculous once he got his hands on Master Fu's translations, and it certainly seemed like that was the case when Mayura started coming out to battles all the time. I might be wrong, since I'm not the expert, but my guess is that Lila got sick because of the Miraculous."

"I'd just ask- what was it, Duusu? But honestly, if his energy is off, I don't want to charge in headfirst. If I get sick like Lila, then I won't be able to fight as Ladybug." Marinette glanced over the box, then tapped the section for the Turtle. "So I want to talk to Wayzz first. He was the one who was always with Master Fu, so maybe they talked about whatever was going on with the Peacock." There was also the issue of whether it would even be safe to pull Duusu out when she wasn't transformed. If he felt any loyalty to his previous holders- which he might, after being with them for what was really a decent amount of time- then she might be running the risk of him seeing her identity and then escaping and bringing it back to Hawkmoth.

She wanted to believe that that wouldn't happen. That Duusu would be excited about being saved. But she had heard stories about kwamis getting attached to terrible holders before, when their viewpoint got warped around so that they thought their villainous holder was in the right, and as one-half of Paris's superhero team she just couldn't take any chances.

"Hopefully Wayzz and Master Fu discussed the Peacock," Tikki said as Marinette pulled the Turtle out. "If they didn't, we're going to be going in blind."

"Not completely blind. Wayzz is sensitive to what's going on with the other Miraculous and the auras around them. It should help." A green light flashed across the room, and Marinette grinned as Wayzz showed up. "Hey, buddy!"

"Marinette! I sensed a disturbance- a change in the aura around the Peacock- wait! It's close- very close- it's inactive!" Wayzz spun around in a wild circle, then made a beeline to the pile of fabric that was Lila's scarf, digging through it until the Peacock pin was exposed. "You have it! It's here! It's broken, but it's here! Duusu has been saved!"

"So it is broken again," Marinette confirmed. "How would it have gotten like that again? Are the Miraculous really so easy to damage?"

Wayzz shook his head, one paw stroking the Peacock pin as he talked. "Not at all! It's just that when it was fixed last time, it was not fixed correctly. Master Fu saw to that. When he was writing down the translation for that particular spell, he deliberately wrote down one step incorrectly. The spell would appear to fix the Miraculous, and then gradually wear off as time goes by. He did that just in case he lost the translation or it was stolen from him, since he knew that it would make things very difficult for you if the Peacock was fixed for good." Wayzz sighed. "I believe that he thought that the 'repair' would wear off a whole lot sooner, but those sorts of things are hard to control. I suppose it did end up doing what it was meant to, though."

"Eventually, yeah." Marinette grinned, then sobered a little. "Though I honestly would have preferred that it take out Mayura instead of Pavona. Then we would have at least gotten an insight to who Hawkmoth might be. With Lila, though, I just know that the only reason she's connected is because she doesn't like Ladybug."

There was a chance, of course- probably (hopefully) a really good chance- that Duusu would be willing to help and give them clues towards Hawkmoth's (and Mayura's) identity, but clues could only go so far. There were millions of people in Paris and the chance that she and Chat Noir would actually put together the supervillains' identities with only a few clues was pretty low. They could call up the police to help, of course, but even the police didn't know everyone in the city.

"I wonder how much manipulation went into getting Lila to go along with Hawkmoth," Wayzz commented. He raised an eyebrow at Marinette's dubious look. "...if any?"

Marinette shook her head. "I doubt that there was any manipulation. He probably offered up the Miraculous and she took it right away. And I'm definitely not going to let Lila get away with that. She's old enough to know that she shouldn't be working with a supervillain."

"I think even a little kid knows not to work with a supervillain!" Tikki agreed emphatically. "Remember that little kid that got akumatized a month after the attacks started and was super upset about it? He couldn't have been more than six or seven, but he knew that working with a supervillain was a bad thing and wouldn't calm down until you convinced him that being akumatized didn't count as working with Hawkmoth."

Marinette nodded. That had been pretty heartbreaking, actually, and she and Chat Noir had ended up running a whole publicity campaign affirming that akumas weren't responsible for their actions and that they were victims, not villains. No one chose to be akumatized, they had said- which wasn't strictly true, presumably Mayura had allowed herself to get akumatized to create Scarlet Moth and Marinette wouldn't be surprised if Lila had willingly and eagerly accepted a corrupted butterfly (or five) as well- and people shouldn't beat themselves up over it. People should try to avoid getting akumatized or causing akumatizations, of course, but they weren't the villains. Hawkmoth (and Mayura and Pavona, of course, but they hadn't been around at that time) was.

Of course, that was entirely beside the point at the moment. Lila hadn't been akumatized this time around, she had accepted a Miraculous from a supervillain willingly. That was different.

"I can probably say that a classmate of Lila's found the pin on her and alerted me at once," Marinette decided after a moment's pause. "So that's how we found it, and that's how we establish the first connection. Then we add on that the Miraculous has been broken and her symptoms are consistent with the use of a broken Miraculous, so we're positive that it wasn't planted. Or wait, no- I shouldn't mention planting at all, that would be dumb of me. I can just say that that's, uh..."

"Extra confirmation that she was indeed the one holding the Peacock most recently," Wayzz suggested. "Or that that makes it undeniable that she was Pavona, that way you're not suggesting that there was any uncertainty about Pavona's identity once the Peacock came to light."

Marinette jabbed her finger at him. "Yes! I like that. Hang on, I'll write that down. Now, next question- how soon should Chat Noir and I tell Paris about Lila? Right away, or do you think we might be able to catch Hawkmoth off guard if we don't publicize that Lila's identity was discovered?"

Tikki perked up. "Ooh, the second one! I would talk to the police and the hospital right away, though," she added. "To make sure that no news stories run about Lila's collapse. Maybe it's not likely, I don't know, but just in case."

"They probably wouldn't release names for several days anyway, but that's a good idea. The police will understand why we don't want to risk tipping Hawkmoth off, in case he doesn't already know somehow." Marinette pulled out her phone, opening the secure messaging app that she and Chat Noir used and shooting her partner a message. She wanted to let him know what was going on as soon as possible. If they could both be there when Duusu came out, that would be great. As she sent it, another thought hit her. "Wayzz, will it be dangerous for us to pull Duusu out considering that his Miraculous is broken? Will it affect us like it affected Lila?"

Wayzz shook his head. "It shouldn't. Lila got to the stage that she's now at by repetitive use of the Miraculous. Heavy repetitive use, and recent, from what I'm sensing around Duusu's aura. Which is odd, considering that Hawkmoth hasn't been active today...or this week at all."

Marinette gasped, stabbing one finger into the air as a revelation hit her. "That's how Lila got the photos! Today she had pictures of herself with all sorts of famous people, including Ladybug," she added to Wayzz when he looked confused. "To make her stories seem more true. I figured that she had just been using Photoshop, but I bet all of those celebrities were actually sentimonsters plus a poster behind her."

"Somehow, I am not surprised." Wayzz let out a long sigh. "Fitting that that would be her downfall, really. She must have used the Peacock's powers a number of times in a very short timeframe to become as ill as she did at the end. You will simply be pulling Duusu out and not transforming or using his powers, which means that the broken magic from the Miraculous won't affect you at all."

"Good." Marinette let out a long breath- that was a load off of her shoulders- and then checked her phone as it buzzed. "Chat Noir is available now. I'm telling him to go to Master Fu's old parlor- Hawkmoth never found that, so it should be private and safe enough. We can pull Duusu out there, so both of us can talk to him at once." She slipped the Turtle bracelet onto her wrist. "Is there anything I should be bringing along other than the Miraculous, Wayzz?"

"Some fruit, if you have some to spare!" Wayzz told her. "Duusu loves fruit, and I'm sure that the lying girl didn't give him enough. She seems the sort to only give the bare minimum and then snap when asked for anything more, which- ironically- would have just sped up the rate at which she was affected by the Miraculous being broken. You don't have to take a ton, but a snack would be nice."

Marinette nodded, already headed for her trapdoor. "That's easy enough. We always have fruit sitting out for snacks. No one is going to think anything of it if an apple and a couple of bananas go missing, that's what they're there for."

It took almost no time at all to grab the fruit, gather up the pin (and the scarf) and then hightail her way over to Master Fu's old shop. Going in felt a little odd- she had to slip in a back window as Ladybug instead of going in the front door as Marinette, and the shop had a distinctly abandoned feel to it instead of feeling like a home- but it was the best place they had to work out of. Chat Noir was already there, waiting anxiously in what used to be the living room.

"What's going on?" Chat Noir wanted to know as soon as she came in. "You said it was urgent? There's not some sort of invisible akuma or something, is there?"

"No, no akuma," Ladybug told him, pulling a pillow and a box that sometimes served as a sort of table over next to him. "There was an, ah, incident at one of the local parks not very long ago. Lila Rossi- you know, the liar girl- she passed out and fainted. And when Marinette was checking her over, she found...this." Ladybug reached out, depositing the Peacock on their box-table. Chat Noir's eyes went wide. "And Tikki and Wayzz have confirmed that it's the real thing."

"No way! That's- but how was Lila- I mean, I guess it makes sense considering how Pavona acted, she always seemed to think that she was more of a threat than she actually was. But- wow." Chat Noir let out a long breath, still staring at the Peacock. "How lucky is it that she just happened to be sick and passed out right then? Now Hawkmoth is down an ally, and maybe we'll get some sort of lead."

"It's not entirely luck, really." Ladybug tapped the Miraculous. "You remember how we thought that it was broken before, right? And that Hawkmoth fixed it? Wayzz said that Master Fu didn't write down the correct translation of the spell. He altered one step so that it would look fixed and feel fixed for a short while and then wear off. So the Miraculous has been making Lila sick, and then she used it a bunch- that's what we're assuming, at least- to fake some photos with famous people, and that was enough to push her over the edge into- well, she hadn't woken up yet from what I heard, so who knows? Maybe she's in a coma."

"Oof, that's- well, honestly, that's well-deserved." Chat Noir let out another breath. "It's a good thing that we found that out with the supervillains, at least. Imagine if we had gotten the Peacock back somehow and tried to fix it ourselves! That could have been really dangerous."

"I wouldn't have done anything to it without consulting all of the kwamis first," Ladybug told him. "And then I would have made sure to have Wayzz keep an eye on it, since he's best with the auras. I wouldn't feel confident enough to fix a Miraculous myself without supervision to actually use it afterwards without triple- and quadruple-checking to make sure that things actually went the way they were meant to. And- and Master Fu would have known that."

Chat Noir nodded. "That makes me feel better. I'd be pretty lost if you got sick and then vanished off of the face of the earth."

"I'd stop way before getting to the coma stage, believe me. One cough, and that Miraculous would be retired to a corner until I could contact the Order." Ladybug took a deep breath, her eyes returning to the Miraculous. "I haven't talked to Duusu yet. I didn't think it would be safe to at home, and it made more sense than interviewing him by myself and then trying to remember everything to pass it along to you. Besides, if Duusu gives us a lead to who Hawkmoth is, we should both be here."

"Ooh, fingers crossed that we get a good lead." Chat Noir settled down, shifting anxiously on his heels. "Ready to talk to him now?"

Yeah." Ladybug gave herself a shake, then straightened and turned her attention fully to the Miraculous, focusing on pulling Duusu out without actually touching the Miraculous. It took a minute, but then the Miraculous lit up with blue light. It glowed for a long moment, and then a blue bubble popped free. It glowed brighter and brighter, and then burst. Duusu yawned widely, then blinked blearily over at them. After a moment, his eyes widened and he shot up in the air.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Duusu exclaimed. "I've been saved! You would not believe the terrible people that I've had to put up with, it was awful!"

  As it turned out, Duusu was an absolute gold mine of information. Maybe he couldn't say the names of his former captors, but he could certainly talk and talk (and talk some more) on about them until there was absolutely no doubt in Ladybug and Chat Noir's minds about who Hawkmoth and Mayura were.

And then Duusu kept talking, on and on and on. He complained about Lila ("Such a little brat, and so full of herself!") and about Mayura ("I don't know why she's going after a married man, he's hardly a looker or kind or a good dad or anything, no redeeming qualities at all!") and about another, previous holder, who apparently had been kind, if perhaps a little manipulative sometimes, and who was currently in some sort of cursed coma related to her use of the Miraculous in Hawkmoth's sub-basement lair.

Ladybug had to roll her eyes at sub-basement lair. What kind of unnecessarily dramatic (and rich) villain needed two lairs in the same building? It was absolutely excessive and ridiculous.

"Okay, so Hawkmoth is Gabriel Agreste, Mayura is Nathalie Sancoeur, and Emilie Agreste isn't missing, but a former Peacock and is hidden under the house," Chat Noir summed up once Duusu finally stopped talking for a minute in favor of inhaling some of the fruit that Ladybug had brought along. Her partner looked more than a little shaken, his face so pale behind the mask that Ladybug was starting to wonder if she would have to call for another ambulance. "Uh, is there any way to- to get her out of the coma? To heal her, I mean?"

"Once my Miraculous is properly fixed, the energy that I sapped from my users should slowly return," Duusu told them. "Well, as long as the they have my Miraculous on them. It won't work without that contact. They might need a little medical attention and maybe a boost from a potion or two to get the process really going, but unless the damage runs deeper than I can sense, it should be a pretty straightforward process to fix everything!"

Ladybug nodded, part of her mind already combing through the potions and spells that she and Chat Noir had gone through together. There were a couple that might be of some use, though she would want to do a bit more digging through things and consulting with the kwamis before she gave anyone any potions.

There was also, of course, the question of how they were meant to heal Lila- and possibly Nathalie as well, depending on how she was doing- without running the risk of them taking the Miraculous and running with it. Handcuffs and 24-7 supervision could only go so far when magic was involved.

The other part of her mind was- well, it was mulling over the discovery of the supervillains' identities. After all, that was what she and Chat Noir had wanted to learn for months now.

She wasn't as surprised as she thought she would be, really.

Part of it was the fact that she had suspected Mr. Agreste before. He had had the Miracle Book and had a butterfly as his brand's logo. He had a motive with his missing wife. He had the money and job security needed to vanish for hours on end to somewhere secluded and safe to unleash his akumas on the world. And, to top it off, he wasn't a very nice person. It was pretty easy to imagine that he would think that the rules didn't apply to him and that causing other people suffering and fear and distress was just a minor inconvenience that could easily be ignored.

And then the other part... well, both she and Adrien had commented on how odd it was that Lila, Nathalie, and Mrs. Agreste had all come down with the same symptoms at separate times. Once Lila collapsed and Marinette found out that she had been Pavona and the Peacock Miraculous had been what had caused the odd illness, that oddness had been nagging her from the back of her mind, begging to be noticed.

Marinette hadn't paid it as much attention as she might have otherwise because there had been a lot going on that had also needed her attention, but if she had had a couple minutes to give it a proper think over, she probably would have come to the same conclusion that she had now. With that one piece of the puzzle it would have all snapped into place anyway, even without Duusu's helpful comments. He had just sped the process along and ensured that they were absolutely 100% positive about the supervillains' identities.

"I guess the most pressing question now- well, other than how to fix the Miraculous- is how to deal with defeating Hawkmoth and then approaching all of the stuff with Lila," Chat Noir said hesitantly after a few moments had passed. "Mr. Agreste is out of town at the moment, I've heard, though he's coming back- er, tomorrow, potentially? At least that's what I've heard."

Ladybug blinked at that, puzzled, before giving herself a shake to refocus. How and why Chat Noir knew Mr. Agreste's schedule off of the top of his head was anyone's guess, but it also wasn't immediately important. If she remembered, maybe she could ask him about it later. "I got to talk to Tikki and Wayzz about that before coming here, actually. We thought it would be a good idea to go to the police and catch them up on what is going on, and then they could restrict what information gets released so that we don't tip Hawkmoth off about Lila collapsing and us getting the Peacock back ahead of time."

"And should we tell them about who Hawkmoth and Mayura are, or just Lila's identity?"

Ladybug let out a long breath. Honestly, she wanted to talk to Tikki about that to really feel good about her decision. After all, she was just a teenager with experience fighting akumas and pretty much all she had talked about with Master Fu was in regard to their battles, not what she should do once they had figured out who Hawkmoth was. "I mean...maybe? I don't- I don't know if I want to risk them trying to take over now, but I'm coming up a bit blank on ideas."

"Right." Chat Noir leaned back on his pillow, clearly deep in thought. "Well, if we want to surprise Hawkmoth- Mr. Agreste- then we want to get him before he has the chance to find out about Lila. So I think we should find out when he's going to be back for sure, and catch him coming off of the plane."

"Hopefully Mrs. Rossi hasn't contacted him already." Presumably she wouldn't have- after all, with Lila likely in a coma, Mrs. Rossi was probably too overwhelmed to think of doing anything like contacting Lila's employer- but it never hurt to shut down those possibilities before their advantage could get spoiled.

...honestly, it was a bit questionable as to if Mrs. Rossi knew about Lila's modeling at all. Somehow Ladybug doubted it.

Chat Noir frowned. "I hadn't considered that. But assuming that she hasn't yet, maybe we could ask the police to ask her not to spread any news about Lila? Then Mr. Agreste would come back unprepared, and we could catch him and Na- er, Mayura at the airport. If he tries transforming there, everyone will see him and he'll know it."

"If he knows that we already know, it might not matter," Ladybug pointed out, but she could see his point. "I think that's a good idea."

"If it helps, Mrs. Rossi doesn't know about Lila's modeling!" Duusu chirped helpfully, finally emerging from the slowly shrinking pile of fruit. "It was all a secret! I'm not sure if she would have allowed it or not if she had known, but Lila didn't really tell her mom anything. She can't stop it if she doesn't know about it, right?"

"I feel like Lila took that approach with most things," Ladybug sighed. She looked over at Chat Noir. "I feel like we probably thought about everything. Ready to go talk to the police?"

"In a minute?" Chat Noir had curled up on himself, his eyes on Duusu. "I'm just... I know we have to work fast, but everything is still sinking in. I just can't believe that everything is coming together and finishing so quickly."

Ladybug nodded, re-settling on her cushion. Honestly, they could use a few extra minutes before they headed out, just to decide what they wanted to say. "I know what you mean. I never imagined that we would learn Hawkmoth's identity this way. It feels really strange to be planning his defeat instead of just beating him during a battle."

"Mm-hmm." Chat Noir had a rather funny look on his face. "...yeah. But I- I'm glad that we did find out this way, instead of during a battle. Now we can, uh, prepare."

"Exactly!" Ladybug smiled over at him. There was a fair amount of trepidation creeping in- now that the shock was starting to recede, there were a whole lot of possible problems and things to consider that were threatening to overwhelm her. The takedown wouldn't be terribly complicated, but how they wanted to deal with the fallout, and getting Duusu help, and what should or shouldn't become public, and- and-

But that could all wait. Right now, there was finally- finally- an end to all of the endless battles in sight, and she wanted to focus on that.

  Gabriel Agreste was pleasantly surprised when he woke up on the last day of his business trip to a continued lack of news about any sort of superhero-supervillain activity in Paris.

If he was being entirely honest, he hadn't been completely positive that Lila would follow his instructions to not go out with the Peacock, even with his threats. Her ego was big enough to fill a mansion, and she had proven time and time again during her time as Pavona that she thought that her strategic planning was eons better than anyone else's, even though that was nowhere close to being true. He had had to whack her and her ego back down to make her into an even remotely competent partner, and he had worried that she would just bounce back and act out again without him there to issue corrections immediately.

Perhaps he would have had a more restful week had he collected the Miraculous from her before heading out on his trip and simply returned it afterwards, but his worries about if Lila would disregard his orders hadn't really surfaced until it was far too late to do anything about it.

"I do wonder how we should approach using the- the bird," Gabriel murmured to Nathalie, letting his voice drop into a whisper so that none of the other passengers in first class would overhear. "Like how much longer we should allow the girl to use it. We're not going to get any closer to the jewels with her assistance, but you seem to be feeling better now that you've had a break from using the pe- using the bird."

"I'm inclined to believe that my illness was a coincidence, given the fact that Ms. Rossi has not complained about feeling sick despite the rigorous pace you've set," Nathalie told him. "And I've been thinking about my return as well, and came up with a potential approach. If you bring her back out onto the battlefield for a couple of fights- let me finish, Gabriel, do not interrupt- and then reclaim the- the bird. I will use it and look just like her, atrocious outfit and all, and then we can take them off guard. They will be expecting a weak opponent and an easy monster and instead, come face-to-face with- well, me."

Gabriel hmmmed, stroking his chin. "Ah, yes. I like that idea. You might have to tr- to use her form before," he added, glancing around to make sure that no one was listening in. Thankfully, it seemed as though everyone in the rows around them either had headphones on or was asleep. "To get used to the difference in height and the, ah, outfit." He had to shudder at the thought. Pavona's outfit was one of the most garish and tasteless things that he had ever seen. Frankly, it was a bit concerning that Lila was spending so much time around fashion and had still managed to come up with that. "Speaking of Ms. Rossi and her health, I think it might be prudent to call her up for a shoot before you return, just so that we can see her in person and ensure that she isn't hiding an illness."

Nathalie tapped at her tablet. "Of course, sir. How soon should the shoot be?"

"After several attacks. She has gotten some time off from them, after all." Gabriel tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair, a sharp staccato as he thought. "Let's allow for three or four in quick succession. That way, if she has any symptoms, they should be at a detectable level."

"A solid plan, sir."

Gabriel only nodded in acknowledgement.

The remainder of their flight passed quickly. Gabriel sipped away at the wine that he had bought earlier in the flight- enough to take the edge off of the mind-numbing dullness of travel, not so much that he would appear remotely incapacitated once he had to get off the plane- and sketched while Nathalie took advantage of the airplane Wi-Fi to take care of her emails and plan out both his and Adrien's schedules for the next two weeks.

It wouldn't do to return behind schedule, after all. There was a lot of work that went into running a company like Gabriel, and it was getting harder and harder to fit everything in around their increased number of akumatizations without anyone noticing. Every spare minute had to used wisely.

Hopefully everything would be sorted out soon. With Nathalie's suggested plan, Gabriel figured that they should have the Miraculous in their hands by the end of the following week. Then they would have Emilie back, so there would be no need to continue the time-consuming akuma attacks, and she would be able to help both him and Nathalie with their work. They could get caught up, and then Gabriel would be able to expand several of the fashion lines and use his extra time to continue growing the business into a few new countries.

Emilie would probably insist on them going to a few of Adrien's fencing tournaments or basketball games or something, but Gabriel could always bring along his tablet so that he could continue working and wouldn't be wasting so much time on such frivolities.

"We got an email from Adrien's school yesterday afternoon," Nathalie commented as the plane started its descent, swiping at something on her tablet and then setting it aside as the announcement to put electronics away came over the intercom. "I hadn't looked at it before, since it wasn't marked as urgent, but it sounds like there was some sort of incident during one of their class outings. It doesn't go into details, but I suppose we should ask Adrien about it."

"I imagine that it's just some schoolyard drama, but yes, I suppose." There was, of course, the off chance that something moderately interesting had happened, but based on prior emails the school had sent out, it was far more likely that someone had tripped and scraped their knee and then someone else had felt faint at the sight of the blood or something ridiculous like that. "I do wish that the school was a bit more discriminating about what they bother parents about. If I wanted to know about every inconsequential detail about what is going on at school, I would ask Adrien."

Nathalie nodded. "Precisely. I suppose that they had to deal with complaints from overly-involved parents who wanted to know every detail about what their kids were doing and that's why they felt the need to send something out- and for something that didn't even happen on school grounds or during school hours, either."

"Ridiculous."

Nathalie nodded, and they fell silent as the plane finished its descent and landed. As soon as they were stopped at the gate, Nathalie was up and pulling their carry-ons down from overhead. They were almost the first people off, striding up the jetway towards the airport. It would mean a longer wait for their luggage, but Gabriel much preferred that over sitting in the plane for any longer.

"Do you think that you'll be checking in on Ms. Rossi tonight?" Nathalie asked. "To update her on the plan?"

Gabriel shook his head. "No, for several reasons. Since she's Adrien's classmate, she's likely to be aware that I was gone as well, and she's likely find out that I returned today. That's the problem with us including her at all. She's too high-maintenance and spoiled. I worry that if I tell her that I'm going to be taking the pin back ahead of time, she'll try to stab me in the back and run off with it. I'll give the attacks a break for another day or two, then do an attack and visit her afterwards. I think that would be best."

"And then when you want to take the pin back, just do it the day of," Nathalie agreed as they stepped into the airport. "Wise choice. I'm looking forward to not having to deal with her anymore. Or, well, not having to deal with her on that side of our lives. I suppose she still serves a purpose as a spy at the school."

Gabriel sighed. Honestly, he would rather not have to deal with such an unpleasant child, but she was a mildly useful tool. "Yes, at least for a while longer. As soon as we get-" he lowered his voice "-the Miraculous, then we can drop her like a hot potato. She's a pain in the rear at photoshoots, she's been holding up the entire proce-"

He never got to finish his sentence. Out of nowhere, Nathalie got sent flying as a black pole slammed into her back, and Gabriel found himself hog-tied and dragged sideways abruptly, with no chance to defend himself. His face hit the floor with a smack and his nose started stinging as he was yanked across the cheap airport carpet, fibers and dirt and stray tiny stones scraping across his skin. The sensation- along with the tearing noise that was almost definitely coming from either his jacket or his pants or both- was a distant concern, though, behind the absolute panic that was welling up in Gabriel. He thrashed frantically, trying to catch sight of who had roped him, but there were too many people around. There were shouts of surprise and panic from the crowds as people started running away, tripping over luggage and other people as they did.

Gabriel was yanked across another few meters of carpet before coming to an abrupt stop, still face-down on the carpet. There was something uncomfortably sticky across his cheek, and now-

Now there was definitely a foot pressing down on his back, holding him down. It didn't feel that big, so Gabriel tried to thrash.

The foot pressed down harder, clearly stronger than its small size indicated.

"Look at what came off!" a male voice called, and Gabriel twisted his head just enough to see Carapace straightening up, a scrap of fabric in hand. Just a little further back- where smooth floor switched to rough carpet- Gabriel's red and white-striped clip-on ascot lay on the floor, having apparently popped off-

-wait. Carapace?

No. No no no no no no no-

"One butterfly-themed brooch!" Carapace announced, waving the scrap of cloth around. "That was easy!"

"Nice!" a female voice cheered, and Gabriel's eyes shot over to where Rena Rouge and Chat Noir were handcuffing Nathalie, who... well, it looked like she might have been thrown into the coffee shop area when she was initially hit by what must have been Chat Noir's baton. "No last-ditch transformation attempts!"

"What-" Gabriel croaked, his mind spinning as he tried to piece together what was going on. It sounded like they knew that he was Hawkmoth and Nathalie was Mayura, but how was that even possible? They had been careful! They had made sure to not go in and out of the mansion from as Hawkmoth and Mayura- well, at least not from any visible entrances or ones that could be connected to the mansion- and they had never been unmasked in front of anyone. They made to detransform in hidden spots that didn't have any cameras, if they decided to detransform somewhere that wasn't in the mansion. "No, I'd like that back, it- it has a picture of my wife in it, it's very special to me-"

Carapace snorted. "Yeah, I bet it's special to you, Mr. Supervillain."

"Welcome back to Paris," Ladybug said cheerfully from where she stood on top of him, her friendly smile a little too wide, a little too toothy, just on the edge of dangerous. "By the way, you're under arrest."

  Paris flew into an uproar as soon as the news of Hawkmoth's defeat reached the public, shock and joy filling the streets. The police wasted no time in releasing the official story that Ladybug and Chat Noir had fed them, which was that a classmate found the Peacock Miraculous on the civilian Pavona while administering first aid following Pavona's collapse. She had grabbed it to give to Ladybug and from there, the superheroes had been able to piece together the clues that led them to Mr. Agreste and Ms. Sancoeur.

Hawkmoth and Mayura's identities had been known as soon as the arrest was made, of course. People in the airport had seen the superheroes making an arrest and waving a pin around, and it was easy enough to put two and two together. The police had initially declined to confirm the reason for the arrest, but it hadn't been long before it was obvious that no one was buying it.

The public then turned to the next question: Gabriel Agreste was Hawkmoth and Nathalie Sancoeur was Mayura, but who was Pavona? Perhaps she hadn't been on the battlefield as much as Hawkmoth or Mayura, or for as long, and really she had been more or a minor annoyance for the superheroes (and a source of amusement for the rest of Paris, who rather enjoyed seeing the supervillain constantly getting beaten up), but she had joined the supervillains and needed to face the consequences.

This time, the police declined to release any names right away. They might have confirmed- with Duusu's help and with the recording of Hawkmoth recruiting Lila that they had found at the Agreste mansion- that Lila's participation was 100% voluntary, but since Lila was underage, they wanted to be more careful.

Needless to say, the superheroes were not thrilled about that, particularly once Lila's estranged father appeared and looked like he might be moving to use his connections- connections that did exist, unlike the ones that Lila claimed- to keep Lila's involvement on the down-low. She would still go to jail- no connections could make the evidence go away- but no one would know. Everyone in her class- in the whole school, really- would remember her as the super-cool, super-nice student who was going to save the world, only to be suddenly felled by an illness and then vanish.

Lila didn't deserve that. She had been a supervillain by choice, and that made her fake everyday-superhero persona an insult to everyone who actually dedicated their lives to helping others.

And so the superheroes tipped the scales, so to speak. All it took was them mentioning in the ex-supervillains' hearing range why Lila had taken ill so suddenly and intensely that she had collapsed and spilled the beans. Gabriel Agreste had been so thoroughly infuriated about the fact that Lila had gotten sick from her own entirely selfish use of the Miraculous instead of just by using the Peacock for his cause that he had told reporters who Pavona had been himself during a press conference several weeks after his arrest.

Once upon a time Adrien might have felt a little bad about manipulating his father to do his dirty work for him, but not anymore. After all, Lila deserved to be exposed, and Mr. Agreste really couldn't get in any more trouble than he was already in.

Besides, Mr. Agreste had made Adrien put up with Lila during photoshoots and study sessions that Adrien had objected to, so if he looked at it that way, his father owed it to him to ensure that Adrien wouldn't have to listen to his classmates gushing about and worrying over Lila for who-knew-how-long going forward.

As was to be expected, the truthfulness of the story was questioned when it first broke, but it didn't take people long to figure out that there was no point in Mr. Agreste lying. In fact, since his identity had been figured out due to Pavona's collapse, he was bound to be pretty motivated to take her down with him.

Besides, Lila had, in fact, passed out at a park and was still in the hospital. All of the details fit, and Paris was convinced.

After that, it wasn't long before the police confirmed Pavona's identity. Lila's father had raged, but at that point, there was no point in denying it any longer. Everyone knew the truth, and it wasn't long before all of Lila's other lies came to light, too.

Lila's reputation was in the trash and- well, no one could say that it wasn't very well deserved.

"Well, at least one good thing came out of Lila being here," Adrien commented as he and Marinette watched the latest news coverage on the upcoming supervillain trials in her family's apartment. Ever since they revealed their identities to each other, they had been practically attached at the hip as Adrien came to terms with his father's betrayal and anxiously waited for news about his mother's condition. It had been hard at first, but now that Mrs. Agreste was definitely on the mend- as the only non-villainous Peacock holder, it had been a unanimous decision to let her use the Miraculous to heal first while they figured out security measures for healing Lila and possibly Nathalie- he had been much more cheerful. "After all, she sort of caused Hawkmoth's downfall, even if it was sort of indirectly and very much by accident."

Marinette giggled, curling closer to his side. "Ooh, imagine her face when she realizes that. She joined Hawkmoth to try to cause my downfall, and it completely backfired on her."

"D'you think it would be rude if we sent her a thank-you card as superheroes once she finally gets healed?" Adrien mused, and then immediately shook his head. "No, never mind, that would be rubbing it in. Not a very good look for superheroes."

"I think that there will be plenty of people reminding her of that without us chiming in." Onscreen, the news gave way to a commercial break and Marinette muted the TV so that they didn't have to listen before turning all of her attention to Adrien. "I'm glad that everything worked out in the end, at least. It'll be nice to have our class go back to normal."

"It will be," Adrien agreed. He smiled over at Marinette, reaching over to take her hands. "Though I wouldn't mind there being a few changes to our old normal, Buginette."

Marinette's answering smile was shy. "Oh? I don't suppose the changes that you're thinking of just have to do with the fact that we won't be skipping class all of the time to fight akumas?"

"That'll be a bonus, sure, but it wasn't what I was thinking of." Adrien flashed a smile at her before his eyes dropped down to their joined hands. "My Lady, I was wondering- well, you know that I like you and, uh, I was kind of maybe getting the impression that, uh..."

Marinette couldn't hold back her grin as her poor kitty floundered. She let him try to recover for another second or two, then leaned forward and cut him off with a kiss. Adrien startled, then immediately melted into the kiss, his smile so wide that she could feel it.

The last couple of weeks had been tough, what with Adrien's father getting arrested and then immediately having to deal with getting the Peacock fixed so that they could start healing Mrs. Agreste (and eventually Lila), but they were past the worst of it now. Now they could start moving on and settle in to a new normal.

And honestly, neither of them could wait.