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nethandrake · 3 years

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Blood In The Water

stevethortony. mcu. rated t. 1.8k words.

based on this fanart i commissioned from @justlous-art

also on ao3.

*****

Press conferences, in Clint’s opinion, are one of the worst things he has to experience.

Every time the Avengers has to host one (which is usually almost every fucking week), it’s always the same old reporters throwing accusations, the same old debates being tosses around, the same old headaches and boredom creeping into his mind. They always end with everyone in a shitty mood.

The only upside Clint could see is that he only needs to speak up if a question’s directed his way. Otherwise, it’d be their co-leaders’ job to fend the wolves off.

Their co-leaders who are currently and unfortunately answering another stupid question from the press.

“Yes, Stark Industries will be footing the bill,” Steve says tiredly.

“We always do,” Tony chimes in. “Now, you with the green-striped tie. You’re up.”

The journalist in question straightens, fixing his tie. Clint doesn’t remember seeing him at any of the conferences but he looks awfully familiar.

“He’s from Fox News,” Natasha supplies next to Clint.

It takes everything in Clint to not bash his smash his face against the conference table. “Shit.”

“Shit indeed.”

“It is no secret that Mr Stark is, to put it lightly,” Fox Man begins, his reedy voice making Clint’s skin crawl, “promiscuous—”

“What does this have to do with the giant squid we took down?” Steve interrupts.

“—and have been known to get into relationships with men, women—”

“What is the point of this?” Thor cuts in, his cool demeanor now turned irritated. “We are deviating from the—”

“My question to you, Captain,” Fox Man continues, unperturbed, “is, what are your thoughts regarding Mr Stark and Mr Odinson’s…relationship?”

Tony stills as murmurs begin to fill the room. Pepper immediately whips her tablet out.

It’s not the first time Clint’s heard of rumors of the Avengers dating amongst themselves but it’s never been brought up during their press conferences.

First time for everything, he supposes.

Thor jumps to his feet, slamming his hands on the table. Outside, thunder crackles.

“You dare—”

Steve isn’t doing much better to rein his temper in, leaning forward with a dangerous glint behind his eyes. “I’d be careful with what you say next. Rumors of the Avengers fraternizing isn’t new so—”

“Oh, this isn’t just a rumor,” Fox Man says coolly. He jumps to his feet, holding out his phone. “I happen to have…proof.”

In a flash, Happy strides over, most likely to block the man’s path like the good Head of Security he is. Steve waves him off, beckoning for the device to be handed over to Clint.

On the phone is a picture of Thor and Tony kissing in a dimly lit alleyway. Or at least, men who are supposedly Thor and Tony. It’s hard to tell since the quality’s crap.

Then again, they’re both bathed in a soft blue glow. A soft blue glow that Clint’s come to associate with the arc reactor.

“That isn’t photoshopped,” Fox Man claims. “If you swipe left, you’ll find a video.”

True enough, there is one of Thor pushing Tony against the wall and god, that’s so gross. Who knows what’s on that wall—

Natasha snatches the phone out of Clint’s grasp, giving it a long once-over.

“Thoughts?” Clint murmurs.

“It looks authentic,” she admits.

Well, then. Fuck.

When the phone ends up in Steve’s grasp, Clint swears cracks form on the screen.

“I would like to know if there have been…issues between you and Mr Stark,” Fox Man continues like the oblivious idiot he is. Clint’s ready to reach pluck an arrow from his quiver and pin the asshole to a wall. “You come from a different time, a time where traditional and wholesome American values are valued. Mr Stark isn’t known for possessing such values. And it is widely known that you and Mr Stark did not get along. And with this…alien—”

“I get it,” Steve growls. It’s been a while since Clint’s seen in this furious. He looks ready to pounce, if Tony hasn’t stilled him in place.

Steve’s features meld into something soft, a look that Clint’s privately coined as the ‘Tony Look’. Oddly, it’s the same look he flashes Thor. The three of them trade glances, glances that only a super soldier, a god, and a genius would know. Tony’s lips curl into a reassured smirk. The other follow suit.

Clint wonders if that’s how Natasha and him are like. Because damn, he gets why people think it’s eerie.

“First of all, let me be clear about this,” Steve begins, “I will not let you or anyone disrespect my friends like that ever again. This is a warning to the rest of you all as well. You, however, I’ll make sure you’ll be banned from the next conference. And don’t think I won’t remember your face. Because I will. I have a good memory. As for your question, I don’t have anything to say about that. But I do have something to show you.”

Without hesitation, Steve leans over to capture Tony’s lips in his.

Clint would’ve toppled over if Natasha hadn’t steadied his chair.

“That’s…”

“Bold?”

“I was gonna say unexpected,” Clint says. “But yeah, sure. Let’s go with that.”

It’s an open secret among the Avengers that Steve and Thor have been hopelessly pining for Tony for months, even going so far as trying to outdo each other with their efforts of wooing Tony.

Judging by the way Tony’s cupping Steve’s face as they make out and the shit-eating grin Thor has plastered on as he saunters over to the two, it seems like they’ve come to a mutual agreement. A silent mutual agreement.

How the fuck did this escape the rest of their notice? Of Clint’s notice? Steve and Thor are two of the least subtle people around. The fact that they and Tony could keep their relationship on the downlow is blowing Clint’s mind.

Steve and Tony part with a quiet smack. Tony turns in his seat to fist Thor’s shirt to give his own kiss.

“I think my brain’s short-circuiting.”

Natasha scoffs. “You’re acting as if you’ve never seen two men kiss in your life.”

“Well, I’ve never seen my friends kiss each other,” Clint hisses. “You gotta cut me some slack here. I mean, look at Bruce.”

“Bruce looks fine.”

“His eyebrows look like they’re gonna climb off his forehead.”

Steve’s cheeks are flaming red when he shyly turns back to the stunned crowd in front of him. His expression quickly turns icy when he meets Fox Man’s eyes, who looks torn between hiding in a hole or lighting the rest of them on fire.

“Does that answer your question?” he challenges. “Or do you need me to give you another demonstration?”

Thor doesn’t let Fox Man reply, smirking as he inches over to Steve. “I dare say we have not finished his question, my love.”

And with that, he seals Steve’s lips with his.

Clint almost passes out.

“Okay,” Natasha says. “Now, that? That I didn’t see coming.”

Tony’s all smiles as he watches his boyfriends (boyfriends!!!!!) make out in front of everyone. It’s the smuggest and proudest he’s ever seen him.

“Suck it,” he says into the microphone, casually flipping off Fox Man, who looks like he’s ready to explode.

For some unexplainable reason, the rest of the journalists zero in on Clint after that.

“Don’t look at me,” he says, hands held high. “I ain’t kissing them.”

Natasha smirks. Bruce covers his grin behind his sleeve.

Out of the corner of Clint’s eyes, Pepper rubs her temples and pops a pill.

*****

The next day, Clint and the rest of the Avengers pile into one of the stuffy conference rooms on the helicarrier because according to Tony, ‘Eye Patch is in the mood to ream their asses’. Which is so, so unfair since Clint wasn’t the one who made out with his boyfriends in front of the press. Why the hell did he need to face Fury’s wrath when he wasn’t the one to out himself to the press?

Much to no one’s surprise, said boyfriends don’t show up.

Fury’s scowl is much more steely than usual when he storms in, slamming a newspaper onto the table.

Emblazoned on the front page is a picture of Tony flipping the camera as Steve and Thor make out in the background. Avengers: Gay Orgy?!, its heading screams.

“Is there something you people wanna tell me?” Fury begins icily.

“There is no orgy going on between the six of us,” Natasha immediately answers.

“Or five,” Bruce adds.

Clint nods his head, gesturing towards the newspaper. “Yup, yup. The only Avengers having an orgy are them.”

Fury raises an eyebrow. “And what the hell do you call this, then?”

“A threesome,” Natasha replies.

Clint frowns at her. “But that’s not even a threesome. They weren’t even having sex.”

“Threesome could mean three people as a group,” Bruce offers.

“Ah.”

“Speaking of threesomes, where the hell are Stark and—”

A resounding crash cuts Fury off, jolting everyone in their seats.

Everyone hustles out and makes a beeline for the conference room next door. Clint gets into position, readying himself to let his arrow fly.

He expects AIM beekeepers, HYDRA goons, or even Doombots. Instead, they’re greeted by the sight of the conference table cracked, the room in disarray, and the other half of the Avengers in a tangle of limbs.

Tony has sandwiched himself between his boyfriends as he sucks the soul out of Steve. Next to them, Thor glances up at Clint and the rest, beaming and flashing them a thumbs-up before Tony drags him into a kiss.

Clint’s going to need bleach for his eyes when he gets home.

“Are you sure the squid didn’t spray them with sex pollen or something?” he begins tentatively.

“Nope,” Bruce replies. “We got checked over, remember?”

“Twice,” Natasha adds.

Steve has the decency to look ashamed when he catches sight of them. He pries his boyfriends apart before jumping to his feet in haste. “Director! I– We were just—”

“Late,” Tony continues for him. “Sorry about that but—”

“We were distracted,” Thor declares.

“I’ll pay for everything,” Tony adds.

Fury looks absolutely murderous.

Clint clasps his hands. “Well! I think it’s safe to say that we all need a break. Or bleach. How about we adjourn this meeting for a while and—”

“Three of you are dismissed. But you three,” Fury jabs his fingers at Steve, Thor, and Tony in turn, “stay. We need to talk.”

Steve’s cheeks darken. Thor puffs his chest. Tony grins lazily. Their hair is disarray, their clothes wrinkled, their lips red and puffy and— Clint is not going to think about that. Nope. Not at all. Not if he wants to sleep at night.

Natasha immediately makes a beeline for the door. Bruce wipes his glasses with his shirt, following after her.

Out of the corner of Clint’s eyes, Fury rubs his temples and pops a pill.

*****

True to his word, Tony ends up paying for all the damages incurred on the helicarrier. All twenty thousand dollars’ worth of damages.

Clint couldn’t look at Conference Room Three the same way ever again.

*****

also on ao3.

#stevethortony #stevetonythor #stevetony #thortony #stevethor #tony stark #steve rogers #thor odinson #steve x tony #steve x tony x thor #steve x thor x tony #thor x tony #steve x thor #*fic

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silverarmedassassin · 3 years

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Clandestine Meetings - One

Actor!Bucky x Reader | Word Count: 2488 | Warnings: None

A/N: Listen, I know I said this would be posted in "about an hour," but I have no self-control and it must be posted NOW.

Sorry for the delay in getting this out! I was having a bit of block. Thank you for reading and, if you feel so inclined, please let me know what you think!❤️ If you want to be tagged, please send me a message or enter your url here!

Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

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It’s 10:30 by the time your boss stumbles into the office. Pepper Potts is usually the embodiment of poised and put together - sleek strawberry blonde hair either falling over her shoulders in beautiful waves or tied in a high ponytail; black pencil skirts and white blouses tucked neatly inside. But not today.

While the ponytail still sits high on her head, dark circles taint her usually smooth, pristine complexion. She’s fisting a to-go mug in one hand and her office mug in the other, already steaming with a fresh round of caffeine.

You hated days like these; mornings after Tony keeps her out late - either business or pleasure, you never know as you prefer not to pry into your bosses’ personal lives - were always interesting, to say the least. Pepper was never mean, and you were almost positive there wasn’t an unkind bone in her body. She was just off. And if she was off, it means you were off, resulting in your job being about one hundred times harder as you often had to play the roles of both assistant and editor.

“Good morning, Ms. Potts,” you finally greet as she sits down at her desk. She’s rummaging through her bag, growing more irritable as the seconds pass. She sighs before stopping to look up at you.

“Y/N, please. It’s been six months. Just call me Pepper.” You internally scoff at the insistence of being anything less than professional towards one of the smartest women you’ve ever encountered in your life, and she turns back to her treasure hunt. “Don’t tell me I left my laptop at home,” she whines to herself as she slumps down into her large executive chair.

You clear your throat as you shuffle forward, computer in hand. “You had me take down to IT to get your files backed up, remember?” you smile as you deposit the device on the cherry-oak desk.

Pepper returns the smile and shakes her head. “Honestly, I don’t understand how I functioned before you.” She slides the laptop across the desk and opens it. While she waits for the software to boot up, she starts her typical morning rapid-fire session. “Did I miss any calls before I came in?”

“No, it’s been pretty q-word this morning.” You vowed never to say “quiet” while in the office. It somehow always jinxed your days, resulting in everyone and their mother calling within twenty minutes.

“E-mails?”

“The chef you’ve been in contact with sent over his schedule for the next few months. It’s looking like the best time to meet is early next month if you want to get the feature done in time for the winter edition.” Pepper opens her mouth to fire another question, but you’re one step ahead of her. “I’ve already blocked out a date in your calendar and sent the invite to his team.”

A soft smile graces the woman’s face as she scribbles notes in her daybook. “And what does my schedule look like for today?”

You sort through the mental files that contain minute-to-minute information regarding your boss’s workday. “You’re pretty booked. You have that photoshop with James Barnes at noon, and after-”

“Shit,” Pepper mummers, cutting you off. Panic quickly settles into her features. “Why does Tony do this? Barnes is impossible to book for anything. I can’t miss this….”

“Uh, no, you can’t,” you practically screech as you fix your boss with a wild look. “This photoshoot has been on your schedule since before I even started. And the time you have set up with him next week doesn’t allow for a full interview, photoshoot, and get material for the short online feature.” You try not to let the panic come out in your voice, but this is precisely the kind of incident you were hired to prevent.

Pepper gently closes her laptop and sets her features in a serious look. “Listen, I think you’re doing a great job here, and you’ve grown so much within the few months you’ve been on the team.” You eye her suspiciously, wondering if this was your ‘you’re fired’ speech. If so, it was definitely coming out of left field. “Why don’t you take my place at the shoot today? If Tony hadn’t promised I’d be in attendance for this investor meeting today, I’d have you go to that instead. But,” the blonde sighs deeply before continuing, “Tony has no regard for anyone’s schedule, and this is an important meeting.”

Your stomach drops from the 44th floor you’re currently on down to ground level. You’d never been on a set before, let alone one with someone as big as James. Plus, you’d only been on a handful of mid-sized interviews. How did she expect you to do this by yourself?

“Pepper, I…”

“I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to try and tell me that you’re not ready and that you can’t possibly clear your schedule for the afternoon. But if I didn’t think you were capable of holding your own, you wouldn’t even be sitting here with ‘assistant editor’ in front of your name. You have the skillset; you just need to show that you can use it. I know you don’t want to be an assistant forever.”

You anxiously bite your lip, feelings of inadequacy and anxiousness filling your senses.

“I don’t even know this James guy…” you say, defeated.

“Well, the car doesn’t arrive for another,” she looks down at her phone, “forty-five minutes. You better get reading.”

“We really need to bring you into the twenty-first century,” Natasha, Bucky’s manager, says as the first notes of My Funny Valentine start dancing through today’s set.

Following the too-bright flash of the camera, Bucky blinks the starbursts out of his eyes and tries to set the redhead with as stern of a look as possible. “Don’t you dare diss Mr. Sinatra. He’s a classic. A legend!” He watches as a stylist runs up and begins fussing with his hair.

Natasha just rolls her eyes and goes back to scrolling through her phone. As much as she acts annoyed with him - and his insistence of having at least two dozen 40’s songs on every photoshoot playlist - he knew she wouldn’t trade him for the world. They had a long history pre-dating the entertainment industry, and she was damn good at her job. If it wasn’t for Nat, Bucky’s not sure his current agency would have even signed him.

As the stylist finishes up her poking and prodding, the photographer - who Bucky has already forgotten the name of - begins shouting out directions from behind the camera. Pose this way. Turn that way. Make it look like you want to be here. It takes everything in Bucky not to grimace - both at the consistent reconfiguring he has to do to his body and the loud rumble that echoes through his stomach. The shirtless pictures they were shooting today caused him - against his better judgment - to forgo breakfast and, with nothing but too-weak black coffee in his system, Bucky couldn’t help but feel a little agitated.

“Just a few more shots, and then we can break for lunch,” he hears the man behind the camera shout before dragging the camera back up to his face.

Bucky contorts himself into a position that shows off the abs he’s worked incredibly hard to achieve and maintain and masks his face in the perfect moody smolder these magazines love so much. Three more pops of the shutter, some grumbling and direction by the photographer, and one more position change, and he’s finally free.

As he’s looking at the pictures and throwing a robe over his bare torso and boxer-clad bottom, Bucky’s attention is pulled from the camera’s tiny screen to the back of the spacious room by Natasha’s stern, Russian-lilted voice. The accent only came out when she was agitated, so the sound alone is often used as a warning sign to those closest to her to stay away.

“How did you even get up here? Is there no security in place? I swear-”

Bucky turns to find his manager - all five-foot-three inches of her - standing defensively in front of whomever she’s cornered by the elevator.

“As I said, I’m here in place of Ms. Potts.” Bucky perks up at the second voice; is almost positive he recognizes the sweet melody despite having only encountered it once several months before. “Here, look, I have my badge.”

Sure enough, as Bucky scurries over to the duo, he sees a familiar face anxiously looking at his manager. He might be terrible with names, but Bucky Barnes rarely forgets a face.

“Natasha, why do you insist on harassing every person who sets foot within a five-foot radius of me while on the job?” Bucky jokes as he approaches the women.

He watches as your attention shifts from the annoyed redhead to him; a look of shock and maybe a hint of mortification flashes across your face.

“I wasn’t harassing. This is a closed set, and randos from the street can’t just walk on up,” Natasha rolls her eyes. “And it’s not you I’m worried about. It’s...you. But you know what I mean!”

He does. After all, protecting his privacy and work is one of Bucky’s most significant concerns. That doesn't mean he isn’t going to tease Natasha any chance he gets. He playfully scoffs and turns his attention to you. “I see you got the job. I told you everything was going to work out.”

Bucky can’t help but preen at the way you anxiously tuck a non-existent stray hair behind your ear and bite your lip. “You were right. Mr. Stark isn’t as intimidating as I thought. Although,” you playfully roll your eyes, “he is a menace. He promised Pepper’s attendance at a meeting, so now you’re stuck with an inexperienced interviewer rather than the queen of journalism.”

“Bah!” Bucky exclaims. “I’m sure you’ll do great. Plus, you’re not the one half-naked in the situation. If anyone embarrasses themselves, it’ll be me.”

Natasha chortles at the comment, mumbling something the sounds a lot like, “ever the charmer,” before walking away. At the same time, Bucky doesn’t miss the way your gaze slowly skims down his cotton-clade body before snapping back up to his face.

“Come on. We just broke for lunch, and Stark spares no expense when it comes to the spreads.”

It’s well past six-thirty in the evening when you finally make it back to your building. Despite the exhaustion flowing through your veins and the grumble in your stomach reminding you every five minutes that you haven’t eaten since lunchtime, there’s a festive air to your being, a proverbial pep to your step that could only be the result of a successful first interview experience.

Yeah, you were a nervous wreck before and during the interview, but you walked away feeling amazing about yourself - and with three pages worth of phenomenal, touching, and personal quotes from the one and only Bucky Barnes.

You try to ignore the butterflies that erupt low in your belly at the thought of the blue-eyed god of a man. Despite having no other experience interviewing someone with as large of a celebrity as he, you’ve concluded that Bucky is an angel of an interviewee. He was polite, answered all of your questions, and flirted just a little. Or, at least that’s what you would call it if you were anyone but a lowly editorial assistant who still purchased from bargain bins because that’s all you could afford. In all reality, Bucky was a very smooth talker with the confidence to back it up. It explained the incomprehensible hype surrounding the man you had no idea was such a big deal less than twelve hours prior.

The rumble of your stomach pulls you back to reality as you unlock your apartment door. You push the thoughts of Bucky to the back of your mind, settle for finishing unpacking the day for when you’re unwinding for bed. Right now, all you want to focus on is fo-

“Uh, hello!” your roommate Wanda screeches as you push open the door. The redhead is standing, arms crossed, in your entry, a look of disdain on her face. “When were you going to tell me, your best friend and roommate, who pays half the rent and utilities, mind you, that Bucky Barnes followed you on Instagram. James Bucky Barnes, Y/N!”

You freeze at the mention of the man who has taken up every inch of your mind since you left the shoot earlier that day. You deposit your keys onto the small table next to the door and try to act as nonchalant as possible. “What are you talking about, Wanda?”

Your roommate starts wagging her phone in front of your face before pulling it back so she can read off her screen. “Well, I follow these gossip blogs - just for fun, of course. I like to stay up-to-date with all the celebrity goings-on.” You fix Wanda with an unamused look as you pass by on the way to the kitchen. “And I was scrolling through, catching up on today’s gossip, and all of a sudden, I see a screenshot of your Instagram account!”

You freeze mid-reach for a saucepan and turn to look at her. “What?”

“Yea, see,” Wanda holds her phone out so you can see the screen. Low and behold, there your account is; questionably composed landscape shots of the city and poorly-lit food pics in all their glory. “It started to circulate this afternoon after someone saw he followed you! Why did he follow you?”

You slowly resume your task of reheating last night’s spaghetti as you answer her. “I...I don’t know? I met him at work this afternoon. He probably just followed me because of Stark.” You shrug despite the thrill that runs through your body.

You halfheartedly listen as Wanda blabs on about the crush she’s apparently had for years despite never having once mentioned it to you, too focused on running through the day’s events to care much about how she’s seen every single one of his films at least a dozen times.

Maybe he had been flirting with you? His manager did mention he flirts with anything with a heartbeat, so it was most likely just part of his personality. Or at least the role he played in public. You weren’t naive enough to think that who Bucky presented himself as to the media, fans, and others not in his inner circle was the real Bucky. After all, he was likely just trying to win you over so you’d write something good about him.

Still, you can’t help the giddy smile that creeps across your face as, when you finally lie down for the night, you open the Instagram app to find Bucky’s name and verified status among the several notifications awaiting you.

@redbarn1995 @juenenfeu

#bucky x reader #actor!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #actor au #bucky barnes au #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic

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ilooklikeaburntchickenugget · 3 years

Note

Hi, I love your writing. I really want to make a request where the readers have eating disorder but works in the modeling industries. She is like dating Gerard, but they were in a super big fight because of her eating disorder, as well as her constant traveling for fashion weeks, and at the end, they make up, and Gerard is helping her getting better, and stuff like that. I really love your writing, can you please write one? THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!

Title: Poisons A/N: I actually got two requests for something like these. The endings for both requests were slightly different, but here’s the first one. I didn’t really edit it, just because I haven’t updated much content in forever, but here you go! Pairing: Gerard Way (probably late Black Parade era) x Model!F!Reader Word count: 3,170 Warnings: Eating disorder, swearing, angst, drama, there’s just a lot.

Okay, so this was not what Gerard expected to come home to.

The man expected to go back to his New York apartment, shared with his gorgeous girlfriend, and for everything to be perfect. Well maybe not perfect, but perfect in Gerard’s mind.

He wanted nothing more than to just eat some chips, not having eaten in 16 hours due to his flight and partial distaste to airplane food, and curl up with his girlfriend, hugging every inch of her curves.

Instead he came home to a house that was nearly empty of any food, only a few protein shakes resided in the large fridge. This was already a huge warning sign Gerard looked out for. His mind attempted to justify itself, thinking that maybe he was jumping to the worst of the worst conclusions. No, you were probably just traveling so much that you weren’t at home enough to actually buy food.

He sighed, moving to one of the cabinets he knew the take out menus were hidden in. Opening it up, he picked up one of the cheap paper menus covered in dust, shaking it with his hand to get it off. Great, these hadn’t been touched in months.

After debating mentally between Chinese and Italian, he moved to your bedroom, in hopes to finally see the love of his life after months of being absent on tour. There you were, peacefully sleeping in bed. Jetlag, he knew.

He carefully removed his shoes, moving to his closet to change his airplane clothes to more comfortable ones. Climbing into the warm bed beside you, he placed his hands on your hips as he always had. His initial smile soon turned into a frown.

Even under the large hoodie you were wearing he could feel the painful outlines of your ribs. Grimacing to himself, he heard a small sigh fall from your lips. “Gee?” You coarsely called out.

“Mhm,” He hummed back, kissing the top of your head despite the pure disappointment towards you that coarse through his veins.

“What’re you doing? Weren’t you supposed to be gone for another week?” You asked again, still half asleep.

“The guys and I decided to cancel the last week where we were just supposed to travel, I missed you too much.” He smiled lightly, moving your hair to the side to kiss your neck.

“Mmm,” You hummed quietly, your consciousness growing back. Within seconds realization hit you, your eyes internally going wide, not wanting to show anything to Gerard, and you pulled away from him slightly.

“Babe,” He sighed, “We’re not doing this again.” “Doing what again?” You tried to pretend to not understand what he was saying.

“You’re a gorgeous, talented model,” He began with a soft smile, “But don’t go into acting, you’re not good at it.” “Gee, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You fired back.

“Take off your hoodie,” He insisted, “Now.” “Gerard, what the fuck?” You scoffed, “Take off my hoodie?” “You heard me,” He stated, “Take it off.” “Why would I take it off?” You scrowled.

“So I can confirm that you haven’t been eating like you’re supposed to.”

“Gerard, please-” You begged, now falling off your pedestal of lies. He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes.

“Why haven’t you?” He asked, looking at you, “What has caused you not to eat again? I thought we were over this.”

“I don’t think that’s your problem.” You snapped. You rarely if ever did so, but this was only further confirmation that you hadn’t eaten in a couple of days. You were cranky.

“Damn right it is my problem.” He sat up next to you, his face had gone completely serious. There were traces of anger in his eyes, his pulsing veins along his muscular arms told you all you needed to know. He wasn’t only infuriated with your habit, he was disappointed.

A word you hated. You absolutely hated. The way it sounded, the meaning, how it made you feel. “Please,” You begged him, your once bright eyes gray from the torture you had put yourself through. “Please what?” He asked, his tone still somewhat harsh.

“Just don’t be mad.” You pleaded. You could see his eyes scan over your face, looking for any signs that you were lying. He found none.

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes to clear his head he nodded lightly. “Alright,” He said barely letting out a breath, “But you need to tell me everything.”

And you did. Most of it at least. You explained how your insecurities resettled themselves in your mind, starting the moment he left for Tour. You talked about how you were getting more gigs and all due to your tinier size. You explained how skin and bones was basically the new trend.

He sat and listened to you. And he believed it, because he knew it was true. But naturally, he also was a human lie detector. Especially with you.

“Okay,” He began, “And what else?” So maybe that one small part your left out was something that you really didn’t want to admit. Gerard had this strong distaste for most of your model “friends”, ya know, the ones who are naturally tiny and eat salads 24/7, never genuinely enjoying a single meal. The one’s who flashed their designer shit everywhere they went, who posted bikini photos every other day and managed to somehow photoshop themselves into complete Barbie dolls. It made Gerard’s blood boil, he never liked you hanging out with them. Because are them you were not Y/N, you couldn’t be. And that made you even more secure.

“There’s nothing else.” You lied. He looked you in the eyes, waiting another moment.

“I’m gonna give you one more chance to tell me the truth,” He sighed, “What else?” “I said nothing.” Your tone was adamant. He rolled his eyes in disbelief.

“You lied to me,” He began, “You just fucking lied to me. We’ve been over this how many times?” “I didn’t fucking lie to you,” You stuck up for yourself, moving further away from him.

“Another lie, damn Y/N.” He sighed, “We’ve been dating for three years, and you still can’t trust me.” “I do trust you, Gerard.” “Then why are you lying to me?” He asked, his tone going to a much harsher pitch.

“Ya know what?” You said, grabbing your pillow violently, getting up from the bed, Gerard looking at you with no emotion. “Fuck you.” You stated.

“Are you seriously gonna leave?” He asked, rolling his eyes, “Immature.” “No, I’m going to the fucking couch where I don’t have to sleep next to a complete dick.” You fired back, going into your closet and grabbing a spare blanket. “You didn’t mean that.” He scoffed.

“Then why the fuck did I say it?” You marched out of the bedroom, flipping him off to which you heard a sarcastic laugh.

This was far from how you had planned his return. You were gonna stock the fridge and pantry, ya know, not give him a chance to think you weren’t eating, and probably have dinner made. You would eat a small portion, making the excuse you had a big lunch with your friends, and bam! Everything would be okay.

But naturally, shit didn’t work out and after numerous insults thrown at each other you found yourself on the couch silently sobbing. You and Gerard had never gone that far, ever. This fight was beyond messy, it was a complete dumpster fire.

You wanted no more than to apologize to him, but you also wanted an apology from him. You should’ve told him everything, that was on you. But he pushed your buttons and he knew what he was doing. It only took 15 minutes, before you heard his soft footsteps coming from the bedroom, and his warm arms wrapping around you, to which his shoulder became one to cry on. His slow and soft coos calming you down, as he began apologizing over and over again, clearly more mad at himself at this point. “Sugar, I’m so so sorry,” He apologized, “I was just really upset.” “I know,” You sniffled, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have called you a dick.” You looked up at him. “Well, I was kinda being one.” He lightly smiled, to which you giggled in his chest. “Just promise me, you’ll start eating again.” “Gee-” You were about to make an excuse when you were interrupted.

“Babe, you have to.” He began, “Remember what your manager said last time?” You sighed, remembering. Yep, they would place you right in a psych ward. “So here’s what’s gonna happen. We’re not gonna tell anyone, but I need you to start eating, okay? We’ll go gradually, start small and build up. Together, okay?” You nodded, placing you head on his shoulder.

“I love you,” You smiled, looking up at him. “I love you too.” He smiled right back down.

-Six months later-

"Gee, that’s too much salt!” You scolded as he put a tablespoon of salt not a teaspoon into the cookie dough you were making.

“Oops.” He looked down to which you smiled lightly. You took a chunk of it placing it into your mouth, and he did the same. You couldn’t help but gag at how much salt was in it. “Salty.” He admitted, and you lightly nudged him.

“Yeah, ya dork.” You smiled. “That’s what happens when you add too much salt.” He lightly laughed, wrapping his hands around your waist from behind and placing his head on your shoulder.

“So what’re we gonna do to fix it.” “Nothing,” You said, “We could like, triple the batch, but that would be way too much.”

“Don’t forget we’re seeing the guys tonight,” He smiled, “They’re gonna eat this shit up.” You sighed, nodding.

“Maybe it isn’t such a bad idea after all.” The two of you spent the next half hour adding more of every ingredient, thankful that your apartment was stocked with food to use.

Carefully, you placed as many trays as you could into the oven, closing it and setting the timer. Giving Gerard a quick peck on the lips, he went off to review some emails as you checked your phone. Of course, the group chat was buzzing.

You sighed as you open the text chain reluctantly, scrolling through only to see your name pop up numerous times. “Y/N, where have you been?” “Yeah, fr, we have been out to lunch with you in forever.” “Why are you ignoring us?” “Really? Now you’re being a fake friend.” “Guys, I’m okay.” You simply responded, “Just really busy.”

“Uh huh, you’ve been doing boutique stuff for months.” “Literally nothing even big.” “Not since that Prada show.” “It’s Gerard, isn’t it.”

And just like that, you were about to light these girls up. Gerard was the only one willing, and quite frankly able, to get you out of the huge hole you had dug yourself into. And damn, now these bitches (I hate misogynistic terms against women, but I think it may fit here) were really gonna act like the good guys. “Don’t bring Gerard into this.” You simply responded. “It has to be him.” “He’s not even worth it.” “You could have any guy in the world, and you chose him.” “He’s way out of your league, and you’re still on your knees for him. Smh.” You knew damn well they were trying to get to you. None of these girls had had any true romance, only summer flings with football players, actors, and singers. Granted, Gerard was a singer, but he made good music. He was an artist at his core, singing was just apart of that art. It didn’t take you more than a moment to remove yourself from the group chat, and block all those girls. The real fake friends. The timer went off, which startled you a bit, but placing your phone down with a heavy sigh, you turned it off, to check out the cookies. The top row was done, which you were going to take out. Naturally, the tsunami of inappropriate texts from who you would once call your “girlfriends” was still flooded in your mind, and like a complete idiot, you reached in, touching and grabbing the sheet. With you bare hands.

“Shit!” You yelped, dropping the pan on the open oven and rushing to put your hand under cold water.

“Y/N?” You heard Gerard rush in. You looked up at him, and judging your hand under water, and the cookie sheet which had clearly gone through it, he took a slight sigh, first going to examine your hand. “You alright?” You nodded despite the tears forming in your eyes.

It wasn’t even the burn that hurt. It was the fact that you knew you let those girls get to you so easily, and the just embarrassed yourself in front of Gerard. You knew he didn’t find it embarrassing at all, it was an honest mistake. But still, it embarrassed the shit out of you. “Baby,” He cooed, moving your head up with his fingers under your chin to see the tears that were now slowly cascading down your red cheeks, “It’s okay.” He said lightly. You nodded, placing your head into his chest and sniffling a bit. “What happened.” “I was just distracted,” You admitted, “Forgot the oven mitt.” He nodded, holding you for a moment longer before he knew you were okay, and going to pick up the mess. “Gee, I can clean it up, I made it-” “No, no, please, just worry about your hand, okay, sugar?” You nodded, attending back to it.

The bright red mark across your hand didn’t want to budge, which you were fine with, considering it didn’t hurt as much, just stung a bit. He managed to clean up all the cookies pretty fast, putting them on the stove top to cool, and quickly going back to you. Giving you a kiss on the top of your head, it was his way of messaging he didn’t want to push the topic. But if you wanted to talk he’d be there to listen. It wasn’t but a few hours later that the guys came over. The mistake from earlier was long forgotten, other than the mark on your hand.

The guys were honestly some of your best friends, just like they were Gerard’s. They truly cared about you, just as much if not more than you cared about them. All of them knew about your struggles, and they were honestly your number one cheerleaders.

So the looks on their faces when they saw you healthy again was one that you could not pay for. It was definitely a lot of pride in you for doing it, and it made you feel even better about your decision to get healthy again.

Honestly, you loved the relaxes atmosphere of just hanging out. Sitting next to Gerard with some water, as he drank a Diet Coke, and some of the guys had beers, some opted otherwise. You could theoretically drink as well, but you didn’t want your boyfriend to ever feel alone or strange not drinking alcohol, considering his rough past with it. So you typically opted for a non alcoholic beverage.

It wasn’t until after the guys were gone and you were in the shower that Gerard figured out what was wrong. Your phone kept buzzing, going off constantly. He had never once checked your phone without your permission. There was a huge element of trust in your relationship, and he never felt that there was a reason to. He knew your passcode, you two had openly shared each others in the case one of you needed to use the others phone, but when he picked up yours and saw all those girls name pop up he scoffed.

He knew he probably shouldn’t have done it, but he opened your phone, scrolling through the messages. Some of them you had yet to block, and they were obnoxious. He went into the group chat where the messages were flooding, reading from the beginning of the day until now.

Pissed was an absolute understatement. If it wasn’t for the sound of the shower you were in keeping him aware of his surrounding, he probably would have smashed your phone. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he placed it face down on the counter right where it was, resorting back to your bedroom in some hope of calming down before you got out, not making anything too obvious.

Everything was fine, completely normal. The two of you laying in bed together, doing your typical night time routine of reading a bit, maybe watching something, it really depended. You could feel how tense Gerard was, even by your head just leaning on his shoulder. His muscles flexed together, twisted into tight knots. You weren’t sure what had him so stressed, there wasn’t a need for him to be, right? “Babe?” You asked, to which he quietly hummed, “Are you alright?” You had caught on quickly, like you always had. And now he had cursed himself for looking at those messages. Transparency, he remembered, transparency.

“Honestly,” He sighed putting his book down, “I- I- I saw those messages.” He stumbled on his own words. You gave him a confused look, “The ones the girls sent.” You let out a sigh. Oh shit, he thought, thinking the worst of the worst. “Please don’t listen to them,” You insisted, “You know you’re not the reason for any problem in my life?” “Of course not,” He scoffed, “You’re totally fine. It’s just, how they treated you that bothered me.” “Gee-” “Y/N, we’ve talked about this.” He turned to you, “I’m not a controlling person, I try my hardest not to be. But damn, those girls are complete poisons. They’re hurting you, they’re doing far more harm than good. And I hope that doesn’t make me sound like a manipulator or anything, but even you’ve admitted you’re a lot different around them.” You sighed and nodded.

“I know, I just-” You began, “I’ve spent so many years of my life surrounding myself with people like them that it’s hard for me to know what to do without that, ya know?” He nodded.

“You don’t need a bunch of model friends thought to still be a great model.” You nodded.

“I’ll cut everything off with them in the morning, okay?” “Babe, you don’t need to rush it,” He said, “I mean, sure, the sooner the better, but this is your timing okay?” You nodded.

“Do you think everything will be okay?” You asked him next.

“Well, after they very possibly blame you for everything over text and try to put you down a psychological spiral, because that’s what they do, then yes, everything should be okay.” He smiled to which you nudged him. “You’re making this so much easier.” You sarcastically said, “I don’t even know why I ask you.” “Because you love me.”

#gerard way #gerard way fanfiction #gerard way x reader #gerard way x y/n #gerard way x you #gee way #my chemical romance #my chemical gerard #My Chem #my chemical gee #my chemical romance x reader

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sleeperswakewriting · 3 years

Text

fire alarm

Thank you to @nicolanoodles for the prompt: “the fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear AU”

AO3

Rating: G

Pairing: Levi x Petra

Petra groaned and rubbed her eyes as she slid into her slippers. Not again…She thought, throwing on her robe and grabbing her phone. She padded to her front door with not nearly as much haste as she probably should have, but she was tired. For the third time this week, her building’s fire alarm had gone off, and each time had been a false alarm. Something related to a new system, is what management told everyone, but it still didn’t make up for the fact that this was now the third night this week that she had woken up at 3 AM. By the time the firetrucks were called and the all clear was given, she barely fell back asleep before waking up at a prompt 5:30 AM to get ready for work.

Her coworkers and students commented on her ragged appearance, which made her all the more frustrated since she was usually known for her sunny disposition, but even she had her limits, and she was someone who valued her sleep. It didn’t help that she recently moved into the building so she had nearly another year before her lease was up, and she was so sure that this apartment would be the perfect fit for her modest salary and being a single woman.

Skirting down the stairs, Petra noticed her neighbors also lazily making their way back down, each of them with the same annoyed and dazed look. Petra knew most of the people on her floor, an elderly couple three doors down, a single mom and son across from her, and a young couple with an adorable Pomeranian that she often saw in the afternoons when she returned from work. There were a couple neighbors unaccounted for, and Petra assumed that their schedules never aligned, but she never had any noise complaints, which was the plus side to her floor.

The summer breeze hit her as she made her way onto the grass, the moistness catching her fluffy slippers and she grumbled, wondering if the apartment complex would reimburse her for physical and emotional damage. If anything, her students will be suffering tomorrow since Ms. Ral had been at the end of her rope all week, and one more student on the red zone would take away Friday’s movie afternoon. Clearly, lack of sleep made her heartless, but at this point she didn’t care, she wanted to get back into her bed.

Petra pulled up her Snapchat to show her friends that yet again, she would be in a bad mood all day. As she raised her phone to the apartment complex to snap a picture of the screeching disaster, she immediately noticed a man standing a few feet in front of her in his underwear. Well, his black boxer’s to be exact. He had flip flops on, and he wore a scowl equal to the people around him. His eyes focused in on her, and his grimace darkened.

They made eye contact and Petra yelped, immediately turning around and slapping her phone to the side of her leg and out of sight. Oh my god, he must think I’m such a perv. Don’t turn around, Petra. Even if he is hot and has a six pack, you were not taking a picture of him in his underwear!

“Oi,” a man said, tapping her shoulder, and she went hot.

Slowly turning around to meet her judgement, Petra went crimson as the man in the boxers stood in front of her. He was glaring (as he should, Petra thought) and pointed to her phone in her hand. He was only a few inches taller than her, maybe a just bit older too, with grey eyes and an undercut.

“What the hell?” He asked, and Petra found it very hard to breathe. The last time she was this close to a near naked man was her ex-boyfriend, and that was someone she knew very well. This was a stranger! A very sexy, are-his-muscles-photoshopped stranger.

Petra took a step back, squishing further into wet grass and she stuttered, “I-I wasn’t taking a picture of you. I was just taking a Snapchat to show my friends to complain. I would show you, but you know, Snapchat.”

The main raised an eyebrow, not buying her story, and she groaned. “I promise I’m not a pervert. You’re really attractive, but I’m not the type to snap pictures of random guys.”

He raised his eyebrows even further, the annoyance disappearing and his expression softened to something closer to amusement.

Realizing what she just said, hung over from lack of sleep, Petra clamped her mouth shut and took a deep sigh.

“Let me start over. Hi, my name is Petra. I live in 34C.” She extended her hand, hoping to get into the stranger’s good graces before he reported her for harassment.

The man shook her hand. “Levi. 34B.”

God, could this day get any worse? He was her freaking neighbor too?! One of the nameless ones that apparently worked opposite hours. Feeling lightheaded, Petra released his hand and stared at the ground in embarrassment.

Seemingly uncomfortable with their silence, Levi coughed. “This shit sucks,” he said, pointing his thumb at the firetrucks that started to pour in. They were a good 100 feet away from the building, but the noise was enough to give her a headache.

“Yeah,” Petra agreed lamely, her silk robe suddenly feeling too tight.

“How long have you been living here?” He asked.

“Just two months, I got a job in the area over the summer. You?”

“A year.”

“Oh, so are these things common? I’ve been meaning to ask around but I’m always so tired when they go off, but I’m not sure how much longer I can take it.”

“Not really, but it’s still fucking annoying. Not like we have work or anything,” he mumbled sarcastically, running his fingers through his hair.

Since the conversation had mellowed out and he didn’t seem as agitated at her, she allowed herself to peek at him, admiring his muscular features. Maybe he was a personal trainer? Or in the military?

“I know, right? I have to deal with so many brats in the morning, this week has been killing me,” she commiserated.

Levi seemed to smirk as she spoke, and she amended, “Not that I don’t like my students or anything! They can be a handful, but I usually really do like them when I’m not sleep deprived.”

“You’re a teacher?”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Third grade.”

“Wow,” he replied sincerely. “I couldn’t do that, too much noise.”

“What do you do?” She asked, feeling braver.

He crossed his arms, and Petra swallowed as the action highlighted his chest and biceps. “I’m a lawyer.”

“Oh! Like defense attorney stuff?”

“Child welfare,” he replied, looking to the side, and Petra’s heart melted. Hot and chivalrous? She had to tell Nanaba about him later.

“That’s amazing!” She said enthusiastically, nearly forgetting about his unclothed state, and she stepped closer to him. His eyes widened as the side of her robe brushed against his stomach, and she caught herself, giggling.

“Aha, sorry!” She pulled the straps tighter against her. “Can I ask why you’re in your underwear?” Don’t look near his groin, Petra. Don’t try to guess how big—

“I was asleep,” Levi deadpanned, as if it were obvious. Petra looked around them, wondering if anyone else was in a similar state of disarray, but most people were in their robes or threw on a jacket to cover themselves up. Seemingly, as if Levi could read her mind, “I never know if one of these things are real or not, so I just gun for it. I guess I should know by now, but it’s a pretty knee jerk reaction.”

“Do you want my robe?” She asked suddenly, feeling bad for him and maybe he was feeling self-conscious.

“Hell no. I’d rather be like this than be caught dead in your pink lingerie.”

Petra blushed furiously. “It is not lingerie! It’s a robe!”

He nodded, and with a teasing lilt to his tone, “Sure. With a v-neck cut out to show off your cleavage. Just a robe.”

She looked down at herself for the first time since putting on the ensemble, and she grew hotter noticing the lacy and thin tank top she was wearing. It was obvious to anyone looking at her up close that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and her sleep shorts cut off before her robe, making her look pants-less.

“Do you want to sit in my car and make out until the trucks leave?”

“W-What?!” Petra gaped, and she looked up to see Levi’s face lined in amusement, holding up his car keys.

“I’m kidding. I was actually going to sit in there before I saw you taking a picture of me. We’ve already seen each other half naked, so it isn’t too weird to sit in a car together.”

Not seeing how her night could get any more embarrassing, Petra nodded and found herself following Levi to his car in the adjacent lot. Maybe I should call out of work tomorrow…

“For the record, I definitely was not taking a photo of you.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did, though.” He said, opening the door to his black sports car, and Petra’s heart thrummed in her chest, inhaling the leather.

Maybe the fire alarm going off wasn’t so bad.

#rivetra #Levi x petra #petra ral #rivetra fanfiction

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nalgenewhore · 3 years

Text

masterlist - ao3 - next chapter

☽ ☼ ☾

As he sat at his gate, he watched the other people. Something about airports had always intrigued him, so many people in their own lives, on their own paths all converging to this one place before jetting off once more.

Lorcan was restless. On the arm of the uncomfortable chair, his fingers tapped out a furious beat. The monotonous drone of the phone line ringing in his ear didn’t help. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. I miss your voice and I need you to pick up so I don’t lose my fucking–

“What, the fuck , do you want?”

He chuckled, “Good morning to you too, princess.” Inside his chest, his heart fluttered. Fuck, he missed her. He missed both his girls. The minute they’d dropped him off at the airport eight weeks ago, he’d been itching to go home.

“I told you not to call me that.” There wasn’t any bite to her words and Lorcan knew - hoped - that she was wearing that soft, sleepy smile of hers.

He hummed, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankle, “Tell me to stop without smiling and I’ll stop. Easy-peasy, Lochan.”

Elide just muttered a curse in Blackbeak and sighed as if talking to him was some sort of divine torture, “Why are you calling? It’s not even three yet, Lor.” Instantly, remorse flooded through him. He’d forgotten completely about the time difference and told her as much. “Mmm, it’s fine. Did something happen?”

“Nah, I just wanted to say hey before my flight. I’m sorry for waking you up,” he said. Lorcan ran his tongue over his teeth. “I’ve… I miss you two.”

The teasing, light mood dropped a bit. Lorcan could hear her breathing slowly and then she answered, her voice weaker than normal, “I know, Lor.” Her swallow was audible. “We miss you too.” Before he could respond, before he could offer her any sort of fleeting comfort, Elide spoke again, “Hold on one second, ok?”

She was gone before he could respond. Lorcan could hear something rustling, like someone slipping out of a bed. He froze, hardly daring to breathe. She wouldn’t- Elide and Lorcan both knew better than to have someone over when they had the kid with them.

There was soft murmuring he couldn’t quite make out and the unmistakable whine of their daughter. Lorcan slumped down in relief, cursing himself for this… jealousy. It wasn’t fair. “Hello?” snapped Stella Luna.

He chuckled, delighted by his child’s greeting, “Hey, Tiny.”

She gasped and that innocent sound, filled with childlike wonder and elation, soothed his aching heart. “Daddy?”

“Hi, Stella. I’m sorry I woke you up so early, I wanted to say hey before I get on the plane,” Lorcan explained with a smile. Thinking about Elide that summer had been painful enough, knowing he was so far from her, but it was nothing compared to the agony of missing his daughter.

“Are you coming home today? ‘Cause I got kindergarten tomorrow, Daddy. Mama said you would take me,” Stella said.

“Yes, I’m coming home today. I’ll take you to school tomorrow, ok?”

“Ok, Daddy. I’ve been very busy, you know. Yesterday we went shopping and at Mintage, mama found me a Wednesday Addams lunch box,” Stella regaled, her words dripping with wonder and awe. “I’m so excited ‘acause I love Wednesday Addams, Daddy, did you know? We watched it last night at Fenny’s house ‘acause he let me choose. He said he was sick of the Addams family and that’s why I called him a dummy.”

He laughed, pausing for a moment to listen to the PA. “Passengers boarding Flight 1203 to Varese, please make your way to gate C49. Passengers in zone one, please line up at the boarding desk.”

“What was that? It sounded funny, Daddy, like a robot,” Stella said.

“My plane’s getting ready to take off, Stel, they want everyone to come to the gate,” Lorcan explained. “How was Fen’s?”

“Oh,” she started, “it was very good, Daddy. After the movie, he taked me to his show an’ I wanted to bring Salem but it’s too loud for him so I sat with Essar and she got me a juice box when I was thirsty. I think it was a secret ‘acause they only give them to me. It was grape which is my favourite, but I didn’t want to finish all of it so Vee drinked it after his show. Then Fenny and me and Con and Vee went to Grampy’s and I fell asleep so Fenny took me home.”

“Passengers in zone two, please line up at the front desk.”

Lorcan checked his boarding pass, “Kid, I have to get on my plane now, ok?”

“Ok,” Stella replied, a little sadly. “I miss you.”

The corners of his lips turned down. Lorcan hung his head, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he tried to think of what he could say to comfort his child. Eventually, he said, “I know, Stella Luna. I miss you too. I promise - once I’m home, no more tours, ok? I love you.”

“Love you too, Daddy,” she chirped, already his happy, bubbly little baby again. “Bye-bye!”

“Bye, Tiny. Put your mother on for me,” Lorcan said, laughing through the sentence. He could hear Stella Luna hand the phone over to Elide.

“Yes , you can sleep now,” Elide said with a kiss smacked on Stella’s head. “Lor, you still there?”

“Yeah, ‘m here. I have to get on the plane now.”

“Ok. Do you want us to pick you up from the airport?”

Though it pained him to say it and further delay their reunion, Lorcan said, “No, don’t bother. I’ll be tired and I’ll probably just crash when I get home. I’ll see you tomorrow, though.”

“Can’t wait, Salvaterre.”

He smiled a small smile, one that was only ever for Elide, “Me neither, Lochan.”

☽ ☼ ☾

He woke up somewhere high above the Cambrian Mountains. For a few moments, Lorcan stared out the small window, groggy and confused.

It took him a second to remember what was happening and why he was on a plane. When he finally did recall, Lorcan pulled his laptop out of his camera bag and placed it on the desk. The band he’d been working with over the summer had bought him a seat in business class for both his flights home.

Lorcan shifted in his seat and absentmindedly toyed with the curved barbell that pierced the delicate skin connecting his upper lip to his gum as he waited for his computer to turn on. He leaned down, searching through his bag for the USB that carried every shot he’d taken in concert that summer.

He found it and sat up straight. A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he saw the background of his laptop. He hadn’t changed it in the three years since the photo of Elide tattooing Stella’s name in Ozuye on the outside of his right thumb while he held a sleeping Stella Luna to his chest with his free arm had been taken. The tattoo was his favourite, though it probably tied for first place with the cartoon-inspired Wednesday Addams on his inner left wrist.

The placement of both designs had been purposeful, so when he was shooting something, he could see them clearly and think about his daughter. He had never met anyone who loved the Addams family more than Stella.

Lorcan put his headphones on and played a playlist at random. Pink + White played as he opened Photoshop and uploaded a file he hadn’t even looked at yet. The photos weren’t needed for another month, but he would rather get them done now so he could focus on the upcoming studio show.

He still hadn’t decided what or who his subject would be. Maybe he would take a break from concerts and focus on something else.

For the rest of the flight, he worked to distract himself from the fact that he’d be seeing Elide again. It hardly made any difference, his mind on her like always. Lorcan had been in love with Elide for… forever. He finally realised it, though, a couple weeks before she had their daughter.

He had wanted… he had wanted a family with her. A real one, where Stella wouldn’t be perpetually split between two homes, but Elide hadn’t wanted that and Lorcan respected her wishes. Maybe it was foolish, but six years seemed like long enough to be pining for someone.

As Lorcan got lost in the thoughts he spent most of his waking hours repressing, a hissing voice that sounded suspiciously like his mother snapped, Elide Lochan is not ‘someone’ and she is certainly not someone you get over. Ever. Stupid boy.

His lips twisted with a rueful smile, though the memory of his mother ached and stung. Lorcan swallowed past the painful tightening of his throat and saved what he was working on, electing to watch something he’d downloaded on Netflix until they’d landed in Varese.

The air in Varese was balmy and he couldn’t stand it. Lorcan was seconds away from trying to peel his skin off. He had always hated the heat, but this steaming humidity was his hell.

When his zone was called to board the flight, Lorcan could hardly keep the grin from his face. The thought of seeing his family, no matter how it hurt him to know Stella would come home with him tomorrow and Elide would stay in her apartment, was a joy nothing else had ever replicated.

His heart seemed to beat a frantic timpani, each pat-pat saying, wait for me, wait for me, wait for me .

☽ ☼ ☾

There was a crick in her neck. Elide muttered a curse with her eyes shut and reached out to her bedside table, only to feel nothing and hear an innocently delighted giggle.

She smiled and kept her eyes closed. Slowly, Elide reached out, “I wonder who could be laughing right now. And where could they be!”

There was that little laugh again, though Elide knew her child was doing her absolute best to stay silent. She heard Salem’s meow of protest and Stella’s sweet shushing.

Staying silent had never been Stella’s strong suit. Elide continued on, now patting the blankets. “Hmm, I do wonder if they could be hiding beneath these blankets!” As she said ‘blankets’, Elide opened her eyes and ripped the covers away. A quick blur of orange and black flashed past as Stella’s fluffy cat was freed and Salem bounded away.

Stella Luna’s shrieking laughter filled the room, gloomy from the rain that poured steadily against the large, paned windows. Elide laughed too as she grabbed her daughter and pulled her into her lap, her fingers digging into the soft part between Stella’s ribcage and hip bone. Stella squirmed away, begging her to stop, “No, please, mama, it tickles!”

Elide chuckled softly and relented, choosing instead to gather Stella up in a long hug. “Oh, good morning, little one. How did you sleep, hmm?” She pulled back and brushed her hand through Stella’s hair.

“Um, I slept good, mama, but I’m really hungry now, so I would like to have breakfast.”

“We can do that. What do you want to eat?”

Stella flicked her eyes up to the ceiling. Though her shape was Elide’s ethereal monolid, the colour of rich browns and deep blacks was all Lorcan. “Pancakes, mama. Can we make them look like bats?”

Elide snorted and nodded, “Of course we can. Why don’t you go wash your hands and we can make them, ok?”

The four-year old was off before she could even say yes, hurriedly careening into the bathroom. Her mother laughed again, but the care-free sound bled into a pained groan as she stood up and stretched. Elide really needed to stop crashing in her daughter’s bed.

Stella hollered back from the toilet, “Mama, can we have chocolate chips in the pancakes?”

Elide smiled as she walked through Stella’s room. On the floor, one of Stella’s toys obstructed her path and Elide jammed her toe into a wooden box. She gritted her teeth against the pain and asked, “Will you clean your room today?”

“Uhhh,” Stella contemplated, “I guess. I dunno why , mama, I don’t care if it’s messy, why do you care?”

“Because your room is messy and you might hurt yourself if you don’t know where something is,” Elide replied steadily. As she pulled on a pair of shorts, she heard little feet race into the kitchen. Elide twisted her hair up and clamped it into place with a hair clip. When she padded into the kitchen, Stella Luna was standing obediently on her stool, her hands clasped like a perfect little child. Elide hooted at the sight, “Oh, you little demon.”

Stella grinned proudly at the nickname and pushed her wild hair back with both hands. She sighed in annoyance, “Mama, help please. It’s too much.”

“Of course, witchling,” Elide said. Stella clambered up onto the counter to sit patiently. Elide hummed something soft as she parted her daughter’s hair and weaved two simple pigtails. As she braided, Salem gracefully leapt onto the counter and made himself comfortable in the fruit bowl, resting his chin on his crossed paws like a proper gent. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Stella chirped as she climbed down and ran to the pantry. She flung the door open, “Mama, is Daddy coming home today?”

“He is. Remember, he called last night, baby,” Elide replied as she pulled out eggs and milk from the fridge.

“Oh, I thought that was a dream ,” explained Stella. She lugged over the large container of flour, carrying it with both arms and almost tipped over. She decided to put it on the floor and push it to the counter. “I wanna play music!”

Elide laughed as she picked the flour up and began measuring out the dry ingredients, “Go for it, Stella.” She watched in delight as Stella ran to the record player and sat on the floor in front of it to peruse the stack of records.

A couple moments later, Stella had decided and put the vinyl on. She pranced back over to her stool as music played. “Mama, can I crack a egg, please?”

When I met you in the restaurant, you could tell I was no debutante

“Yes, ma’am,” Elide passed her an egg, “Be careful, you remember what to do, right?”

“Yup!” Stella delicately cracked the egg on the side of the liquid measuring cup and used her thumbs to open it. The yolk and egg white plopped perfectly into the milk and vanilla. She picked up the whisk and mixed it all up.

Dreaming, dreaming is free

Stella was soon bored and trailed over to the living room. She sat down and started to dance with her frog stuffie, singing along, “I don’t want to live on charity, pleasure’s real or is it fantasy…” Elide grinned at the sight and found the silicone mold in the top drawer.

A few minutes later, Elide slid a stack of bat wing pancakes onto a plate. “Stella? Food’s ready.”

“Ok, mama,” Stella said. She skipped to the table and climbed onto her chair. “Can I have maple syrup too?”

Elide had already grabbed the bottle and grabbed a pair of forks drying in the dish rack. She put the plate down and sat, passing Stella her fork. Stella doused the pancakes in maple syrup and attacked viciously, stuffing an entire pancake into her mouth. Elide laughed loudly, “Baby, eat your food properly. C’mon, you know better.”

Stella grinned around the sticky-sweet mess and chewed thoroughly before swallowing. Elide took the plate and cut the food up into bite-sized pieces before passing it back. The four-year old abandoned her fork in favour of her wee hands and stuffed as many chocolatey-mapley-buttery pieces as she could into her mouth.

“Good gods, child,” her mother said. “You’ll choke.” Delight surged through her at the sound of Stella’s gleeful laughter, albeit muffled. She grabbed a napkin and reached out, holding her daughter’s chin hostage as she wiped the mess away. “I am so happy your father is coming back, he’ll finally take you off my hands, you gremlin.”

Stella gasped loudly and wrenched her chin free, “Mama, can we go to the airplane place? I want to surprise Daddy. Pretty please?”

She made her eyes big and wide, sticking her bottom lip out. Elide cracked immediately, “I think he’d like that, wouldn’t he?” Stella nodded with such vigour Elide half-thought her head would fly off. “We’ll do that later, Stel. Why don’t you finish your breakfast?”

Stella needed no further prompting.

☽ ☼ ☾

His bag was the second bag out. Lorcan easily slung the black duffel over his shoulder. He made his way out of the baggage claim and around fellow passengers numbly awaiting their belongings.

Lorcan thought about pausing, his fingers twitching to grab his camera and freeze the moment. There was something slightly surreal about it all. A voice told him to stop, to do it, but the sweet, pure voice of his baby calling him home was louder.

He was still listening to miss star’s jamzzz and clicked the ball of the piercing in his tongue against his teeth to the beats. I’m Not A Loser by the Descendents’ played at maximum volume as he strode across the scuffed and dingy linoleum.

Vaguely, he thought he might’ve heard someone calling for him. Pausing, Lorcan half-pulled a headphone off his ear. He looked around, narrowing his eyes in confusion at the sea of strangers.

“Daddy!”

“Kid?”

A wee one shot out through the passing crowd. Her hair, jet black and thick, curled out of her assumedly once-tight and neat braids. Her eyes were thin and dark, so rich and depthless, framed by long lashes. The little lass seemed to have a piece of the sun setting her warm, coppery complexion aglow from beneath. “ *Até , hi-hi!”

Stella launched herself up and Lorcan dropped his bag to catch her. He held her tight to his chest, one hand cupping the back of her head. “Tiny, Creator above. I missed you so much, my darling moon.”

“Hi, Daddy,” Stella whispered, her arms tightly wrapped around his neck. “It’s nice to see you.”

Lorcan laughed raspily at her formal greeting, “Wow, so fancy, miss Star. ‘It’s nice to see you’, really? You’re killing me, Tiny.”

She giggled, shaking her head as she pulled back, “No, I’m not fancy, Daddy. I’m tough ,” she snarled, baring her teeth intimidatingly.

Lorcan laughed again, his head tipping back, “The toughest .”

Stella beamed and abruptly stopped, an outraged gasp escaping her. She grabbed his face and pulled his head back down. When she felt his stubble, Stella Luna pulled a face, “Daddy, you have to shave. It’s scratchy.”

“What, I thought I looked nice like this, babe,” he said, shifting her to his side. “It’s that bad?”

She stared at him for a while before slowly shaking her head, “No… it’s ok, Daddy. Mama likes it like that.” Stella laid her head on his shoulder. Lorcan smiled and held her tightly again, his eyes closed.

For a long moment, neither said a word, until Stella became restless and started peering out around her. “There’s so many people, Daddy.”

“There is,” he agreed. Lorcan brushed something from her cheek and Stella batted his hand away. “So, you learn to drive while I was away, or something?”

“No! I’m still little , Daddy,” Stella Luna corrected him with a giggle. “Mama drived me.” She pointed vaguely towards the entrance, “Mama’s over there and she said, ‘Stella, hold my hand and stay close ‘till we see your dad, ok?’ but you’re so tall and I sawed your head so I ran and didn’t listen to Mama.” Gasping softly, Stella put her hands over her mouth, “Oh no. Mama! Mama, hello? I am here,” she curled her arm over his shoulder as she craned her head to look around. “Where she go?”

Lorcan looked around as well, loving and hating the way his pulse sped up at the prospect of seeing her . “I don’t know where your ma is, maybe she- oh,” Lorcan cut himself off as he saw a familiar flash of long black hair through the crowd. “There she is.”

Through the throngs of passengers and travelers, Lorcan saw a fair skinned, petite woman. Her hair was dark, streaked with purple, and fell to her hips. She left it be in its natural waves, but had it cut into a blunt, pointed fringe that framed her heart-shaped face. Her round, plush lips were painted deep, nearly black, red. They curled into a teasing grin, “Hey, Salvaterre, I see you’ve finally decided to rejoin the rabble! Was the tour too preppy for you, what with all the first class flights and champagne?”

He laughed and reached out to flick her nose, “Shut your mouth, Lochan. I’m common folk for life.” Elide laughed and Lorcan smiled, “Fuck, I can’t believe that you two came to pick me up.” He pulled Elide into a hug, something finally settling inside him as he held his girls for the first time in two months.

“No, no swearing, Daddy,” Stella chastised him, her frown disapproving, “Fuck is a bad word. A very bad word and we’re only allowed to say it when we listen to music.”

Elide laughed and slipped her arm around his waist, “A wretched word, really. It’s like you want our daughter to become a menace to society.”

“Oh, really? And what if our daughter wants to be a menace to society?”

Stella Luna nodded, sticking her chin out, “Yeah, what if I want to be a menace to society, mama?”

Elide shook her head at the two of them and narrowed her eyes at him, “This is your doing, you know, Lorcan.” Oh… how his heart stopped as his name tumbled from her lips. Lorcan struggled to breathe for a moment and Elide’s warm grin faltered. “Lor? You alright?”

“Y-yeah, just jet-lag,” he said quickly. Lorcan averted his eyes from Elide’s concerned gaze. Stella Luna wiggled, whining slightly. When she was set down on her feet, she grabbed Lorcan’s hand in one of hers and Elide’s in the other.

“Let’s go!” she shouted, tugging them along with all her might. At fifteen kilos and a solid one-hundred centimetres, it wasn’t much, but her determination made up for it. Over her head, Elide shot Lorcan a smile and a wink.

Lorcan rolled his eyes and chuckled. Stella skipped and hopped along to Elide’s car. Lorcan tossed his duffel in the trunk as Elide helped Stella into her booster seat and he walked over to the passenger seat. “Daddy,” Stella said, “did you know my birthday is in two months? That means I’m gonna be five whole years.”

“Wow, you’re going to be so old ,” he said dramatically, smiling in the rearview mirror when Stelle’s jaw dropped open and her eyes widened.

“I don’t want to be old. Old people are yucky. Like you and mom.” Elide and Lorcan looked at each other and burst into gutsy laughter at their daughter’s words. Stella sniffed primly and turned her face to the side, “It’s not funny to be old. Being old means you die. Do you want to die, Daddy?”

“If I die, I become a ghost and I’ll haunt people,” he said.

“Would you haunt me ?” the girl asked, her eyes filled with morbid curiosity.

Elide huffed a laugh. She turned the car on and smoothly pulled out of her parking spot to the freeway that would take them back to Orynth. “You two are ridiculous. Stella, baby, no one’s haunting you.”

“Yeah, except for me,” Lorcan ever-so-helpfully stated.

As Elide exclaimed in annoyance, Stella giggled uncontrollably. The dark haired woman couldn’t help but laugh along and the sound of their laughter soothed the dull ache of missing them.

☽ ☼ ☾

“ Até, ‘m tired,” said Stella, trailing up to Lorcan. She was all ready for bed, dressed in her Jack Skellington pyjamas. Her dinner of tomato soup and grilled cheese had been devoured an hour ago. Lorcan was in Elide’s kitchen, washing the dishes as Elide worked on a sketch and Stella checked her backpack over and over and over again. She was not going to be caught unprepared for her first day of kindergarten.

He rinsed off the iron skillet and placed it in the dish rack. Lorcan dried his hands and turned to his daughter, who held her hands up expectantly. With a fond smile, Lorcan scooped her up and asked, “Time for bed? Did you brush your teeth yet?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded and dropped her head onto his shoulder. “Daddy, don’t forgot Mr. Ribbit.” Stella said softly, already falling asleep. She clutched at his shoulders, a yawn splitting her little face in half.

His grin softened and he kissed the top of her head, “Can’t forget your frog, now, can we?” There came a low chuckle from the living room. Elide walked over to them, her pencil stuck in her hair and carrying the fuzzy green animal. She passed the animal to Stella and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Lorcan offered her his hand, “Come with us?”

Elide nodded and slipped her hand in his. They walked to Stella's room together. She breathed evenly and deeply, her eyes closed. Her lashes brushed the tops of her rosy cheeks. Lorcan set her down with care and tucked her blankets around her. “Good night, my darling moon,” he said softly - in his native tongue - and brushed her hair back before it could tickle the tip of her button nose.

“Night-night,” Stella whispered, her eyes cracking open. “Are you gonna come drive me with mama tomorrow to school?” She snuggled into her pile of pillows and held her blanket up for Salem to settle in beside her. The cat curled up against her and purred softly as he flicked his fluffy tail over her protectively.

“Yes, I am.”

She nodded, “Good. That’s good, Daddy.”

“Alright, Tiny,” he laughed softly, “go to sleep, yeah? You’ve had a big day.” He kissed her forehead and stood up to let Elide say good night.

Elide sat down on the edge of the mattress and cupped Stella’s face in her hand, her words soft and too low for Lorcan to hear. She too chuckled and kissed Stella Luna’s cheek, then got up and stepped over to Lorcan.

They closed the door and silently walked back to the living room. Lorcan sat down on the couch and rubbed his eyes. Elide curled up in the opposite corner and smiled, “Tired?”

“Yeah,” he said, dropping his head back against the couch. “Fuck me, I have to go home.”

“Why don’t you just stay here tonight? You’ll have to come back tomorrow anyway,” Elide said, her voice measured.

Lorcan looked at her, but her face was turned to the side. “Are you sure, El? I honestly don’t mind and I haven’t been to my place in a while.”

She glanced over at him, “No, c’mon, it’s fine. It’s not like we’ve never done it.”

“Done what?”

Elide shot him a flat look, “Slept in the same bed.”

Lorcan choked and his eyes widened, “El- what? I was just going to take the–”

“I swear to Anneith if you say ‘couch’, I’ll strangle you. I’m not making you sleep on my couch when you’ve been gone all summer.” Elide stood up and walked to her bedroom, her hips swinging enticingly. Lorcan quickly looked away. “Besides, my bed is big. I promise I won’t give you my cooties.”

He snapped his teeth and crossed the room to join her. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

Elide crossed her arms over her chest and smiled cockily, “I knew you would.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lorcan said, pulling her into his arms. Her body melted into his. They fit perfectly together. They always had. “You’re always right, aren’t you, princess?”

Elide hid her smile and slipped her arms around his waist, her cheek pressed above his heart. For a long moment, neither said a word. Then, Elide pressed her forehead against him and whispered. She couldn’t speak any louder, fearing that the tears she’d held back for years would finally spill over. “It’s nice to have you home, Lor.”

“It’s nice to be home,” he murmured, gently rubbing her back.

“It wasn’t the same without you.” It’s never the same without you.

He closed his eyes, hating the tears that blurred his vision. “Wasn’t the same without you, either, Lochan.”

☽ ☼ ☾

an: ahh ! it’s here ! a few things will b different for this wip, so i just want to let u all kno:

- chapters will b posted once a week on mondays, at 8pm pacific standard time

- there will b flashback chapters !!

- there will b depictions of recreational drug (marijuana) and alcohol consumption - i will put warnings for these n if there r any other triggers u would like me to warn, pls let me know

- if u want to b added/removed from the tag list, just send me an ask - it is rlly no trouble at all <3

translation: *Até: Father/Dad in Lakota (i headcanon lorcan to be native american - speficially Oglala Lakota. this will b more apparent/relevant in future chapters. i call his tribe 'the ozuye'. 'ozuye' means war-party in lakota)

songs played in chapter: (by order of appearance) 1. Pink + White - Frank Ocean 2. Dreaming - Blondie 3. I'm Not A Loser - Descendents

@mythicaitt @werewolffprince @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @ladyverena @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss @superspiritfestival @sanakapoor @ireallyshouldsleeprn @spyofthenightcourt @thegoddessofyou @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @claralady @neonhellas @darlinminds @readingismyonlyhobby @autophobiaxx @silversprings28 @myshadowsingeraz @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @elriel4life @always-in-a-daydream @jlinez @ladywitchling @mariamuses @darklesmylove @adelzd-bookblr

#star-crossed & moon drunk #sc&md chapter one #all the stars rewrite #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #stella luna salvaterre lochan #isa writes #nalgenewhore #whoo hoo we're in for it now buds #this is a slooowwww burn

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quinncupine · 3 years

Text

Taken Chapter Seven: Home (not so) Sweet Home

Chapter Word Count: 4,691

Link: A03

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Previous Chapter: Six

Next Chapter: Eight

MASTERLIST

...

The warehouse was dark and the windows were boarded up. It was abandoned a few years prior after an explosion killed three workers. The company would've lost more money rebuilding and no one wanted to deal with the fallout so they cut their losses and abandoned the place. This wasn't the best part of town anyway, many of the other buildings were in various states of disrepair. Most people kept to themselves or turned the other way when something bad happened, the perfect place to commit a crime. The two main doors were cracked open slightly, creaking in the breeze. It was strange to be sneaking around in the middle of the day, but here he was, slipping through into the darkness of the depot.

He quieted his breath as he listened for any sounds. It was amazing that no light peeked through anywhere, it must have gone through some heavy repairs. Behind him, a metal barricade slammed down over the doors, effectively sealing him in. A faint buzz echoed above, growing louder as a giant light slowly flickered on. He squinted as he looked up at it, it was like looking into the sun, and when he looked around, he realized it was supposed to resemble the sun.

The entire interior had been redone to look like a lot with a house and yard, but not just any house... his house. Your house. It looked so similar, he wasn’t sure if Tatsuya didn’t just take his house and figure out a way to transport it here. He would have been impressed if he wasn’t so disturbed.

In the driveway sat Tatsuya’s car, he'd memorized the license plate number. Tatsuya was here just like he said he’d be, which meant that you were most likely somewhere inside. The only question now was what kind of trap he had set.

As Deku neared, he noticed the smaller details; the little luminaries and cranes that you had placed around the koi pond. The stone steps leading up to the door that even had both your handprints from when you had set them all those years ago. Even the misshapen bust of a kappa, when you thought sculpting was your thing (it was not), that you proudly displayed like a trophy on the porch. Everything just got creepier the more he stared at them.

Slowly he picked his way up to the door, mindful of any traps, he had to play this one safe. The door was unlocked and he couldn’t help but feel that same sense of trepidation he had felt the first time he had done this exact same thing. With slow movements, he pushed open the door, ready for anything.

No one was in the entryway, if that was a good or bad sign, he couldn’t tell. As quietly as he could, he tip-toed into the living room, taking in every detail. It was scarily accurate, from the furniture right down to the small hole in the wall that Izuku had sneakily tried to cover with a picture frame after he was practicing one of his newer quirks in the house. You’d banned quirk usage in the house after that mishap.

If the entire house was this detailed, then that meant he’d snuck into your home, on more than one occasion. How long had he been obsessed? This amount of detail would equate to months of dedicated, time-consuming work.

He passed the entertainment center and froze, the picture frame that held one of his favorite moments with you, on one of your disguise dates as you called them, was there, well sort of. It was the same picture but instead of Izuku’s face, Tatsuya had photoshopped his own face in. He glanced at all the other pictures in the room, they all had received the same treatment. Now that was just all sorts of wrong.

The house was so quiet and for a moment, he feared that this was the trick all along, distracting him here while he had yet another chance to get away with you. That was not going to happen a third time, he swore his life on it.

He crept into the kitchen. On the counter was the same Kappa stuffed animal that he’d left there, well at the original house, yesterday as a gift for you. Next to it were two glasses filled with a dark liquid, he assumed was some sort of liquor.

“Deku!” Tatsuya beamed as he stepped into the room on the opposite side. “You’re early!” He sounded genuinely happy to see him.

Deku froze as Tatsuya casually strolled into the room as if everything was right with the world. The first thing he felt was absolute hatred for this man, there was nothing he despised more in the world at that moment than Tatsuya. The second thing was shock. Tatsuya had dyed his hair green, the same shade of green as Deku's. He was even wearing what looked to be a homemade version of Deku's costume.

“Tatsuya,” Deku had to suppress every cell in his body screaming at him to smash this guy's face in. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Oh, she’s resting at the moment.” He waved the question off. “Come, have a drink with me.”

Deku didn’t move. He could easily take him out now and search the house for you. But there was no guarantee that you were even here or that he didn’t have a failsafe plan in case Deku did try to attack. Too many variables to account for, better to play it out and wait for the extraction team. He had to keep him busy, distracted.

“Come.” Tatsuya patted the counter with his good hand as he hopped on one of the bar stools.

One wrist was wrapped up tightly and he kept it close to his chest. His nose looked almost crooked and very bruised, the darkness spreading underneath his eyes. For a moment, he wondered if Kagome did that or if that was your work. He hoped it was you.

“Now.” Tatsuya's voice was layered with ice.

Deku stood rigid, analyzing the situation. If he could get this guy to talk, tell you where you were, then he could act. That was the safest bet at the moment. He slowly sat on the stool and took the glass that Tatsuya handed him. It was quite a strange feeling to sit in his house that wasn’t actually his house. It felt so cruel to attempt playing nice and he had to mentally tell himself not to squeeze the glass too tight, not to glare murderously at this man, not to strike him down with the vengeance of a thousand All Might's. But he was unstable, unstable meant unpredictable and he couldn’t have unpredictable.

“You have no idea how happy I am.” Tatsuya said after he took a sip of his drink. “Everything is finally in place.”

Deku remained silent, not trusting his tongue.

“Everything is finally perfect, well, almost.” He grinned at Deku. “Did I ever tell you how I met Y/N?”

He wasn’t seriously trying to tell stories was he? Deku glanced around the room, looking for any telltale signs that you were here, but found none. He needed a game plan but it was so hard to come up with one when all he could think of was the horrible things you were going through. Maybe they were right, maybe he was too close to this case, but that didn’t mean he was leaving it to someone else.

“There I was, a simple programmer,” he began. “On the ground with a broken arm if you can believe it. It wasn’t even a tall ladder, one of those three-step ones!” He laughed. “I went to the nearest hospital which happened to be the one Y/N worked at.”

Tatsuya set his glass down, leaning his elbows behind him on the counter, careful to avoid touching his wrist. Deku was sitting straight, his hands angled for a quick defense if he needed it, but Tatsuya only continued on with his story.

“She was so kind and so beautiful, I just couldn’t take my eyes off her. There was just something special about her, something amazing. Come to find out that she didn’t even have a quirk, yet there she was, still finding ways to help people, just like a real hero. Naturally, I needed to see her again.” He looked into Deku's eyes with a calmness that held back a tidal wave of insanity. “Do you know what I did?”

Deku knew exactly what he did, he’d seen the hospital records.

“I broke my finger,” He winked at Deku. “You know how that goes, right Deku? It wasn’t enough though, I had to keep coming back, to hear her voice. “

Hearing the story from him only grew more twisted as the images rolled around in his mind. Did he even care if he broke his limbs or did he feel nothing at all?

“Have you ever been in love?” He sighed. “It was love at first sight, I knew I needed her and that she needed me. I had to find a way to have her.”

Have her. It wasn’t love, more like a demented idea of possession.

“She was so beautiful but I just couldn’t get it right.” He frowned and picked up a spoon. Deku tensed, ready to attack but Tatsuya simply tapped his glass with it. The chime that echoed off it seemed to swirl around them until the air turned hazy as if it wasn’t sure what to do and then you appeared in front of them in your scrubs, smiling without a care in the world.

“Y/N!” Deku leaped off his chair, reaching out to pull you close, but as soon as his hand touched yours, your image wavered and disappeared.

“See, they never turn out right and they, of course, can’t talk.” He pouted. “That was the one thing I could never make them do. I wanted to hear her voice.” he stared sadly at the spot you vanished from.

Deku still had his hand outstretched, realizing it was a quirk, it wasn’t the real you. He only created an illusion of you. How exactly did his quirk work? It was created by the sharp noise, did any noise do it or just specific frequencies? Or did certain sounds and frequencies mean stronger illusions? He’d faced the illusions on the rooftop but those felt so real, he felt every punch, yet thinking back on it now, he didn’t have any bruises and he didn’t feel sore after the fight, just mentally exhausted.

The details of the quirk on the registry form were minimal at best. Figment was able to create mental images specific to a person using sound, but they shouldn’t have been physical. Could Trace alter a quirk like that? No, that couldn’t be it. Maybe the drug enhanced the quirk’s power, tricking the brain into believing the quirk was physical? Using a drug like Trace could make you seem ultra-powerful, but it has many drawbacks on the user, specifically their own health.

He was so lost in thought he almost missed when Tatsuya stood up, a smile back on his face. “But no matter, I have the real Y/N now.”

“Bring her here then.” Deku said.

“No,” He shook his head. “That’s not why I called you here. I couldn’t face her again, not without this first.”

That didn’t sound good. “Without what?”

“Your quirk.” He sounded so casual like he was asking to borrow a cup of sugar.

“My-” Deku faltered, did he know?

No, he couldn’t possibly, that was one of the most closely guarded secrets of this world. Only a handful of the people Deku trusted with his life knew this information, there was no way someone like Tatsuya could figure it out. Of course, he'd faced criticism trying to work out how all his new quirks fit into his supposed "superpower" quirk, but his mentors have helped him work that one out. Besides, at this point it was a baseless claim, better to play dumb.

“Yes, you can only willingly give it up, right?” Tatsuya shattered his hopes.

He knew.

Somehow, he had figured it out. Did someone tell him? Could it have been someone connected to All for One? All for One had gone underground again, maybe he was trying to start a second wave of rebellion? No, Deku was keeping tight tabs on anything that had to do with him, that couldn’t be it. How did this man, of all people, figure this out?

This new revelation had Deku lost so deep in thought he almost didn’t hear Tatsuya's next words.

“One for All is the name, right? Must have been terrible to be quirkless as a child. I can’t imagine, but look at you now.” He gestured to Deku. “That’s why you’re my favorite hero.”

Deku was once again at a loss for words. This guy was throwing earth-shattering bombs left and right, he had no idea how to counter. All the thoughts were crashing together in his head as he tried to think of the right thing to say. Is it too late to still play dumb?

“Once I have your power, everything will be perfect, we can live our lives happily again. Nothing can stop us.” He said proudly.

He was trying to become Deku.

“No.” He heard himself say it and it probably wasn’t the best thing to say, but he was so shocked that that was all he could muster.

“No?” Tatsuya didn’t like the taste of that word.

“No.” Deku narrowed his eyes and stood up. “I’ll give you one more chance to tell me where she is.” He was done playing games, this had to end, now.

“But...I need it.” He sounded confused, completely ignoring Deku’s demand.

“That was your last chance.” He felt the power surge through every fiber of his body, he was so tense that electricity flickered over his form.

Tatsuya watched in awe as Deku’s whole demeanor took on a new level of rage. Even some of the heroes would admit that while working with Deku was always amazing, even they were sometimes stunned by his intensity in a fight. No one dared get in his way when he was like this, they were all just glad that he was on their side.

It dawned on Tatsuya that Deku was about to hit him a second too late. He went flying across the room, crashing hard into the wall. Tatsuya slumped over, clutching his chest, gasping for air.

“What are you doing?” He cried out, looking at him in fear. “You’re supposed to be a hero!”

Deku hesitated. Why was he still trying to play innocent, after everything he’d done, this man deserved much worse. But his face was pleading with him to stand down, tears found their way into his eyes like he was genuinely disappointed in Deku. He’d never fought a villain that admired him like this, it was disconcerting, to say the least.

He tried to push that aside and walked over to him, fists held out in defense. “Stay down.”

Tatsuya leaned against the wall and sucked in a deep breath. Before Deku could react, he let out a deafening wail that could rival Present Mic. It was horrible and tinny, like a robot that met a grisly fate in a wood chipper. No one should have been able to make such an inhuman sound.

The force of the cry blew Deku’s hair back and he had to ground himself to keep upright. It felt like someone dropped little chainsaws in his ears and he squeezed his eyes shut to block the pain out. Once it died down, he looked up, but Tatsuya wasn’t there anymore. Instead, you were sitting against the wall in his place, clutching your ears, staring at Deku in fear.

“Y/N?” Deku’s voice sounded far away, a side effect of the tinnitus he was now experiencing.

His head felt strange like someone inflated it with helium and he had to concentrate to keep himself from floating away. Your form was wavering, but that might have been because of his blurry vision. It was hard to think things through clearly, all he knew was that you were in front of him, terrified, and he would do everything in his power to keep you safe.

He knelt down next to you, reaching his hand out, but behind him, a blast shook the house. It came from the foyer. He whipped around, smoke drifted through the living room and a small army of masked men stepped into the hall, all pointing their guns at the both of you.

The lead man stepped forward, holding a large grenade launcher. He took aim at Deku, but Deku was faster. He was in front of the man in a second, knocking the gun aside just as he pulled the trigger. The blast was closer than Deku was expecting and they both were knocked to the ground. Deku could barely hear anything, the ringing was so intense in his ears that he was having trouble focusing. His head felt like it was going to split open any minute. Maybe he had a concussion too? Could you get a concussion from a noise? He shook his head but it only seemed to make it worse.

The masked villains rushed him, but Deku was ready, he ducked as one tried to punch him and rolled out of the way as another attempted to tackle him. Two more rushed past him, towards where you were still crouched against the wall, rubbing the smoke from your eyes.

“No!” He screamed, jumping at them.

He landed on top of one of the runners, using his body weight to twist around and slam them into the ground. The man in a ski mask went still underneath him, bringing his attention to the second runner. He was fast. Deku summoned black whip, the dark tendril wrapped around the man's leg and pulled him back. The man slammed hard into the ground and was sent flying straight towards Deku’s fist. He went out like a light.

Just as Deku recoiled black whip and stood up, the leader had picked up the grenade launcher and fired two shots at him. He covered his face at the first blast, but the second one knocked him off his feet. He went tumbling through the kitchen and pulled up just in time to see the leader almost on top of him, ready to strike again.

Deku kicked up his leg at the last minute, using the air pressure to force his opponent back. He flew back alright, but so did the roof of the house. He had to be careful not to use too much power or he could bring the house down. Where were the others, surely they would have noticed an entire assault force entering the building.

“Y/N!” He yelled, turning back to you, but someone else had reached you first.

A woman in the same black mask everyone else was wearing, had you pinned against the wall, your hands tugged sharply behind your back while an arm dug into the base of your neck. Deku jumped to help you, but the leader with the grenade launcher was suddenly back, taking up his attention.

Deku jumped to the side to avoid another direct hit, they were strong blasts with enough heat to sizzle his skin. Two more shots on either side of him boxed him in. How was he firing off so many shots at once? He took up a defensive position as the man pummeled into him with a barrage of fists. Whoever this guy was, he seemed to know just when to counter, like he could read Deku's moves. This guy really knew how to fight. Deku needed to end this quickly.

He propelled himself straight at the leader, taking the brunt force of another attack, but he made it through and slammed into him. They both crashed through a wall, into one of the bathrooms. The toilet exploded, drenching them both but that didn’t deter either of them.

Deku grabbed the man by his arm, but the man just as quickly grabbed his own. For a moment, it looked like some strange handshake, but then the man launched another grenade blast and propelled them both through the ceiling of the house, into the yard.

Deku crashed into one of the cement cranes by the koi pond while the man splashed directly into the pond, scaring all the fish. Deku hauled himself up and looked down into the pond. Before he got a good look, the water exploded. Deku didn’t have time to dodge and a fist pounded straight into his stomach so violently that he was sent flying across the turf. That was a lot more power than Deku thought this guy had. It almost reminded him of someone else, but the ringing in his ears was making it hard to think clearly. He shook his head again and pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the protest of his ribs. He wasn’t done yet.

The man launched himself towards Deku yet again. Deku jumped, preparing to kick, but at the last second changed directory and punched him across the face. The man didn’t even seem phased, instead, he grabbed Deku’s fist and used an explosion to turn them around midair before slamming back into the ground.

Deku sucked in a breath as his back broke the concrete beneath him. Who was this guy? He fought just like-no that couldn't be right, he wasn't with the backup squad.

Deku blinked, staring at the masked man. He stopped fighting too now that Deku was pinned beneath him, but he didn’t let up on his grip.

He tried to focus, but the ringing in his ears was making it hard.

The ringing.

This was because of Tatsuya’s quirk, which meant that this guy was just an illusion. It really didn’t feel like an illusion though. He tried to escape bone-crushing grip but was slammed back into the ground, another explosion kept him in place. It sure felt real enough.

Deku glanced back at the house, the entire front porch seemed to be blasted away and some of the house was on fire, but one important detail caught his eye. How could it not, there was a giant shard of ice sticking out of the house. That was definitely Shoto, which meant his backup was here.

He summoned his power again with renewed strength, even if this thing was an illusion, he was still a problem. Deku flicked his fingers with enough power to at least loosen the man’s grip. Once he could move his arm he punched out with all his strength, shoving the man off him. Well, he was supposed to. Instead, the man had curled around his hand, pulling it back so hard that it threatened to crack.

“Stop fucking around!” A distant voice yelled over the ringing.

Deku stopped struggling long enough to look around. He didn’t see anyone, but the voice sounded familiar. The ringing was slowly going away, not quickly enough, but at least his hearing was coming back little by little. Now, he just needed to deal with this guy.

He grunted as he used his legs to entangle the man’s and used all his power to twist them around so he was on top. He didn’t waste time, hitting him with his own barrage of punches. An explosion came out of nowhere, strong enough to throw Deku off of him.

“Get it together you fucking nerd!” He only knew one person who spoke to him like that.

“Kacchan?” Deku looked around, momentarily unfocused.

The man took the advantage and punched Deku. He stumbled back, but the air was shimmering around the man. No, it couldn’t be, he wasn't supposed to be here.

“Kacchan?” Deku asked the man.

The man stopped, still in a defensive position but he didn’t seem so inclined to attack now. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Deku blinked, rubbing his eyes. The form of the man in the mask wavered like a mirage and he could sort of make out the all-too-familiar spiky hair and angry red eyes underneath. It was like two images were spliced together, extremely disorienting to look at.

He squinted. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to help dumbass!" He said. "Why the hell are you attacking everyone!"

Deku chose to look back at the house, it was far easier on his eyes than the flickering form that was Ground Zero. That was one powerful quirk; Tatsuya managed to turn him against his allies without Deku even realizing it. Who else did he accidentally take out?

"The others? Did I-" Deku was cut off.

“Get it together. If you’re done playing around, then we’ve got work to do.” Ground Zero growled out.

“I’m sorry,” Deku rubbed his eyes again, trying to get rid of the illusion, but it seemed it was only going to melt away in its own time. “Y/N! Was that her in the house?”

“I didn’t see much before you decided to attack me.” He crossed his arms. “You had the stalker bastard pinned down though.”

Deku rubbed his head. “It was him the whole time, he tricked me.”

Ground Zero rolled his eyes and took off towards the house. “If you have time to cry, you have time to fight!”

The two ran back to the house just as another icy spike destroyed another part of the house. Deku could only guess that Tatsuya had managed to turn the others on each other as well by now.

“Wait!” He stopped, grabbing Ground Zero’s arm. “If we run back in, we could turn against each other again, we need a way to counter his quirk.”

Ground Zero ripped Deku off his arm but looked at him like he was ready to listen. Deku looked around, muttering to himself. This was always the thing that irritated Ground Zero the most, even now as adults, Deku still kept the habit much to Ground Zero’s chagrin.

“Come on!” He grumbled. “I’m not going to wait all day!”

Deku stopped and finally looked at him. “Right, so his quirk uses sound to manipulate the brain. We need a way to either cancel out the sound or stop him from using it altogether.” He glanced at the half-destroyed house. “The problem with that, we need to get close enough to stop him without getting hit with his quirk again.”

“Get to the point.” Ground Zero crossed his arms.

“Do you have extra earplugs?” He asked.

Ground Zero scoffed. “Course I do, I deal with explosions all day.”

Deku nodded. “Okay, we seal our ears, but I don’t know how effective it’ll be with his power output. We need to neutralize him as quickly as possible. The other problem is our teammates. I think they might have also been hit with it as well, they might try to attack us when we go in.”

Ground Zero searched through his belt for extra earplugs. “You distract him, I’ll take him out.”

Deku nodded. “No big explosions, Y/N might be somewhere inside.”

“Yeah yeah.” He waved him off. “Hurry up, I want to kick some ass already.”

“Okay, here’s the plan-”

A shriek came from the house, one that was distinctly a woman's.

Deku didn't even wait for the earplugs or to explain his plan. He jumped into the air, heading for the house as fast as his quirk would let him. He was sure this time.

That was your scream.

Tag List! @awilddreamerwrites @hmm-cats @thecindy @miriobaby @sailorstupidsblog @kehlaniwwe

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#midoriya izuku x reader #Deku #Pro Hero Deku #Izuku x reader #Deku x reader #bnha #mha #midoriya izuku #katsuki bakugo #pro hero bakugo #kidnapping #reader insert #izuku x y/n #Deku is having a bad day #fighting #violence

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brywrites · 4 years

Text

Partners in Crime

A/N: This is one of the earliest Reid x Reader stories I wrote and never published, and I figured, why not? Reid and the Reader often go undercover as a couple to bait an unsub, and this time things don’t quite go as planned. CW: for non-consensual behavior, mild physical abuse, reference to rape

It’s always the two of them. She figures it’s because they’re so close in age, and such good friends. After months of working together, and plenty of free time spent hanging out, the chemistry comes naturally. Whenever there’s a case involving couples, and the profile alone isn’t enough, she and Reid end up masquerading as boyfriend and girlfriend, husband and wife, all varieties of people madly in love with each other. Sometimes it’s enough to just lure out an unsub, twice they’ve been kidnapped, but never for long. They do good work together. Garcia has even taking to calling them Partners in Crime, or The Dream Team.

Deep down she knows it’s not just her profiling abilities or friendship with Spencer that allows her to play the part so well. That chemistry has become absolutely natural, too much so. Long after the game is done, she finds herself stealing glances at him, staying up late at night wondering what it would be like to really be in love with him. It’s an impossible dream. Reid is brilliant, handsome, and her co-worker. Strictly off limits. And yet those fantasies continue with every smile he gives her, and a part of her hopes that maybe, maybe…

“Baltimore PD have requested our help with a serial killer,” Hotch announces in the conference room. “Over the last six months, six people have kidnapped and murdered. There’s evidence of torture and sexual sadism, though preliminary ME reports don’t indicate any sign of rape.”

“Why would they think it’s consensual?” JJ asks, skeptical. They’ve encountered incompetent medical examiners before.

“Because of the victims he chooses,” the unit chief says, nodding at Garcia to move to the next slide. Six photos pop up on screen, in groups of two. “Jeremy and Renee Lagher, Tyrone and Nina Davenport, and Louisa and Ryan Sheffield.”

From across the room, Y/N catches Reid’s eye, the two of them realizing where this is likely headed. “He’s using married couples,” Rossi observes. “Is there any indication to how he finds his victims?”

“Social networking,” Garcia chimes in. The internet has made it all too easy for predators to hunt. Oversharing can be fatal. “The couples all used Instagram, had no privacy settings, and shared photos that made it clear they were married. Their last posts were just before they went missing, and all of them used the location feature to check-in at a local restaurant.” The team throws out ideas and questions, possibilities about how he finds them and why he chooses them. It seems to be the general consensus that he must stake out the restaurant, and wait for the couple to leave after dinner.

Y/N is distracted through the discussion, unable to ignore the feeling that there’s something Hotch is keeping from them. Sure enough, the chief has one last thing to add before they get ready to head out. “Given the lack of evidence and how this unsub targets his victims, I’ve spoken with the Baltimore PD and we’ve come to the conclusion that the best way to find him is bait him. Reid, Y/L/N, are you up for this?”

The question is less of a request, more rhetorical in nature. What choice do they have? It’s their job to hunt down criminals, no matter what it takes to find them. And so they agree. On the plane, once the briefing is complete, the go about preparing for the undercover work. Garcia has worked some Photoshop magic, pulling stock photos and personal pictures alike to create two different accounts for Spencer and Y/N Fitzgerald. Over time they’ve gotten into the habit of choosing last names inspired by famous literary and scientific couples. Scrolling through the one created for her, she tries to memorize the details. They’ve been married for two years, they live just west of Baltimore in a studio apartment, they have a cat. She is a librarian, he’s a high school chemistry teacher.

Since no other couples have been reported missing, the police want them to get to work as soon as possible. That evening, she slips on a black dress and a pair of heels, her hair and makeup done much nicer than she would typically take the time for. If this is going to work, she needs to look the part. Reid is waiting for her in the lobby of their hotel, wearing a simple suit and a smile that widens at the sight of her. “You look beautiful,” he tells her.

“Thanks.” She can feel herself blushing, and reminds herself that this is all a part of the game, of the job. None of this is real. Still, when he holds out his hand for her to take, she can’t push back the happiness that bursts in her chest. They walk the few blocks to the restaurant that way, close enough that their shoulders touch. Once he’s put in a reservation, they stand in the dim light of the waiting area to take a photo. Reid wraps his arm around her, holding her close to his side. At the last second, he presses a kiss to her temple just as she snaps a photo on her phone.

“How was that?” he asks. Too good, she thinks. In the picture they look just like a couple, very much in love. It’s soon posted to Instagram, documented along with the rest of their fake relationship. She adds their location just as a waiter comes to whisk them away to a table. Dinner is wonderful, filled with long gazes and laughter and moments where his knee will bump hers, or her fingers will rest over his hand just a little too long. This is just a show, just in case the unsub is lying in wait somewhere inside. It’s a damn good performance, more convincing than it needs to be. Does she really need to look at him that way? Does he really need to give her that devastating grin? They steal all these small moments for themselves, lingering in a soft state of bliss.

It’s only temporary, and soon enough they’re on their way out the door once more. “I’m surprised you weren’t able to meet with your friend,” he says, trying to sound casual. Every so often his eyes dart along the sidewalk, trying to check their surroundings without making it obvious he’s looking.

“Me too, but I suppose plans can always change.”

Reid starts to respond, but the words never come. Instead, a hand clamps over her mouth, and something cold presses hard against her head. Metal, round. The barrel of a gun. “Do what I say,” a voice growls. “Or she dies.” Neither of them are armed, and he has no choice but to comply. A man in a ski mask leads them to a dark colored sedan, yanking open the door of the backseat. Before shoving them inside, he reaches into the pocket of Reid’s suit jacket to extract his cell phone. The device, along with her purse, is tossed onto the sidewalk, leaving them no way to contact the team as the car speeds away.

It’s hard to say for sure how much time has passed since they’ve arrived in the dingy cellar. Hours at least, though not a whole day. The room is dirty and cold, and Reid insists on giving her his jacket. He holds her hand still, and that small amount of physical contact is a silent promise between them that everything is going to be okay. They haven’t heard from their captor since the abduction. Does the team know they’re missing? Is Garcia trying to track them down? What’s going to happen to them?

The metal door swings open, and the man enters. His mask is gone, revealing a middle-aged white man. He is balding with a cruel sneer and empty eyes. One hand holds a gun, the other a bag surely full of the tools he tortures his victims with. Their profile was spot on. “Here’s how this is going to go,” he says. “I’m going to give you instructions. You will comply exactly. If you refuse, or mess up, I’ll kill you. If you try to escape, I’ll kill you. Do you understand?” They both nod. “Good. Kiss your husband, Mrs. Fitzgerald.”

“How do you know our name?” Reid demands, though they already know the answer. It’s like chess, all about making the right moves.

“No questions,” the man growls. “Do as I say.” Tentatively, Y/N stands on her toes to close the distance between them, kissing him gently. Chaste, soft, nothing that requires too much of either of them. But that isn’t good enough for their abductor. “Do it like you mean it.”

So she kisses him harder, deeper. If she closes her eyes, it’s easy to pretend that they aren’t here at gunpoint, that it’s just the two of them, that this kiss really does mean something. That this is the moment she’s been imagining a thousand times. He returns it, his hands settling on the small of her back in order to pull her closer. “Now, hit her.” At the sound of the bald man’s voice, Reid freezes, then pulls away. An apology is written on his face, and she braces herself for the slap that stings her cheek and sends her stumbling backwards a few steps. This isn’t going to be a romantic fantasy, apparently.

“Take off her dress, Mr. Fitzgerald.” On his tongue, their names are taunts and not identifiers.

Reid hesitates, but she gives him the slightest of nods. If they’re going to get out of this, they have to play along. It’s their only hope of staying alive long enough for the team to find them. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. His hands reach up her back, unzipping her dress in one fluid motion before easing it down her body. The black fabric falls in a pile at her feet, and she shivers. Standing in only her bra and underwear, the air is colder on her skin now, but it’s terribly unnerving for him to see her so exposed like this.

It isn’t supposed to be like this. This isn’t supposed to be the first time he kisses her or sees her undress. This isn’t the fantasy she replays on the jet each time they close a case and stop pretending to be a couple.

“Touch her,” the man commands, pointing at her chest. This is easily the most humiliating experience they’ve been put through since Hotch first started pairing them up for assignments like this, and it’s quickly devolving into the most humiliating thing they’ve been through, period. Any chance she has hoped for at some future relationship is dashed away. After something like this, how will they ever be able to look at each other the same way?

She sends a silent prayer to the team to find them soon, then meets Reid’s eyes. “It’s okay,” she says quietly. “Spencer, it’s okay.”

The pained look on his face cuts her deep. Is he repulsed by the situation? Or by her? She tries to keep as still as she can, tense under the scrutiny of the bald man. Reid’s hand covers her breast and she oscillates between trying to pretend she’s not in this body, and trying to pretend that she is but it’s just the two of them here. Every so often they are directed in new ways, as if this is just a play and they’ve become actors in some sort of twisted production. It’s quite possible this is reminiscent of an event that occurred in the unsub’s life at some point. Reid is instructed to nibble her ear, she to grope at his backside. Every so often an interruption demanding a hit or a punch. His commands become increasingly more rough, Y/N receiving most of the abuse while Reid tries to be as careful as he can with her, touching her gently, trying to make it look like a slap is harder than it is.

“Remove her bra, then take off your pants.” No no no no no. She knows where this is going. She knows how this scene is supposed to end. They both balk for a brief moment, until the click of the gun cocking jolts them back to their senses.

Reid is shaking his head, but she squeezes his hand. He can feel how badly she’s trembling. This isn’t pleasant for either of them, but her voice is firm. “Do what he says. Just do what he says Spencer. We’re going to get out of here.”

Just as he reaches towards her, there’s a loud bang from somewhere beyond the open door. “Ronald Horton, FBI!” Morgan’s voice echoes down to them. As the man – Horton – turns away to see what’s happening, Y/N bends down to pull her dress back on, Reid pulling his jacket back over her shoulders so she won’t have to waste time fiddling with the zipper. She’s grateful that he’s looking out for her, trying to save her any embarrassment. It’s hard to recall if she has ever been more relieved to see her team storming down a flight of stairs.

Hotch and Morgan drag Horton away in handcuffs, and Rossi turns to the couple who stand together, visibly shaken by the turn of events. “Everything okay?” he asks.

“It is now,” Y/N sighs.

Ronald Horton is violent sociopath whose marriage broke apart two months before the killings began. Oddly enough, his ex-wife was the more dominant one in the relationship. To keep up appearances, he relented to her physicality, though didn’t spare her the emotional abuse he was so apt at causing. The murders were a fantasy of his, using surrogates the enact the revenge he never had the chance to. He is booked downtown, and after a long day all of the agents are relieved when Hotch informs them they’ll be staying in Baltimore one more night to catch up on sleep.

She tosses and turns in her bed. Her mind races through everything that happened, and everything that could’ve. If the team hadn’t arrived then, what was he going to force them to do? How far would they have to go? She tries to untangle the violation, the awfulness of it, from the fact that the romantic actions were things she had wanted from Reid. But not like that. Never like that.

Her skin doesn’t feel like her own. She still feels exposed, wrapped under two blankets. She wants to forget it, but she doesn’t want to forget him.

There is a knock on the door late that night. At this hotel, sets of two rooms are connected by a door in the wall, and she knows who is on the other side before she opens it. “Hi,” Reid says softly. “Did I wake you up?”

“Not at all,” she replies. “I couldn’t sleep.” She motions for him to come in, and he does so somewhat reluctantly.

“Um, listen, Y/L/N, I just wanted to apologize for everything that happened before. That must’ve been… uncomfortable for you, and I’m really sorry.” His pause makes it clear that uncomfortable is an understatement, but neither of them knows what word to place there.

She tries to brush it off. “It’s fine, Reid. Really, it is. This isn’t the first time we’ve done something like this.” It is however, the first time they’ve had to be quite so physical with each other. There’s no reason for him to come apologizing though, it wasn’t his fault. The blame belongs solely to Ronald Horton.

“It’s not fine, though. What happened wasn’t okay. And I am so sorry for hurting you.”

“I had to hurt you too,” she says. Not as much. But neither of them were able to consent to what was done to them.

“I just… I feel bad.” He sighs and looks down at the floor. Conversation between them has never felt so strained. “Doing this, it’s embarrassing,” Reid mumbles.

The awkwardness she feels turns to anger, to hurt. Perhaps it was her that he had a problem with before, not the situation itself. After months of friendship, the idea of being with her is somehow abhorrent to him, and when she likes him so much, that knowledge is like a punch to the face. “If you’re so embarrassed by me, maybe you should stop agreeing to go undercover with me,” she retorts, starting to storm away from him. She’s too tired to deal with this.

“Y/L/N!” he cries. When she doesn’t stop, a strong hand grabs her wrist, pulling her back. “Y/N. Please, wait. That’s not what I meant. There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s me. You always have to pair up with me, and I don’t want to embarrass you. I’m sorry I-” He’s cut off by her mouth on his, kissing him hard. Like she means it. Because she does.

“That’s how you think I feel about you?” she gasps, when he pulls away. “Why do you think it’s so easy for me to pretend? Why do you think I never complain about the assignment? I like being with you. And I really like you.”

“You do?” Positively astonished, he is.

“Spencer, I love you. God, I love you so much. How can you not see that? If anything, you should be the one embarrassed by me.” He’s so smart, so good-looking.

“That would be impossible,” he says. Reid takes her hands in his, taking half a step towards her. He’s so tall, looming over practically, but his eyes are kind. Then he leans down to kiss her again. The depth of it surprises her, when he slips his tongue into her mouth. In response she bites his bottom lip gently, enticing a sigh from him.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

“I want to feel like I have a choice again in who touches me and how,” she answers. “And I want it to be you.”

It occurs to her they could be moving too fast, but when he moves his hands to her hips and she tangles her fingers in his hair, she decides she doesn’t care. After all, they’ve been dating for months. Fake-dating albeit, but every lie has a bit of the truth in it. And besides, it just feels too good to stop.

“I don’t think it’s quite fair,” she manages to find the air to say, “that you’ve seen me undress, but I haven’t seen you.” Her words give him pause, and Y/N reaches up to loosen his tie, pulling it away before starting on his shirt. The row of buttons is slowly undone, slower than is necessary. She wants to savor this, steadily revealing more of him as she goes. Reid shrugs out of his shirt, and she trails a hand down his torso, his skin warm beneath her fingertips. Feeling a little bolder, she places her lips on his neck, working her way down to his collarbone. Every soft moan spurs her on, until he captures her lips once more. It’s so good to finally touch him this way, to be touched by him. No instructions or unsubs or commands here. There’s only a warm room, dim light, and movements making up for lost time.

He’s pressed so close to her, close enough that she can feel him, hard against her. This has been so long in the making, she’s not surprised it doesn’t take long before he’s aroused. Especially not after all of the early physical stimulation between them. She’s feeling quite excited herself, the room too warm, her heart beating too fast, falling faster than she can keep up with. This man before her is like no one she’s ever met before, and she can’t remember loving someone as much as him. Needing someone as much as him. Reid’s hands slide up her sides until they find hold on the zipper of her dress. “Let’s get you out of that dress,” he murmurs.

This is how it was always supposed to be. Nothing about this is rough or difficult. In this hotel room, he is incredibly gentle with her, though his previous hesitation is gone. He knows what he wants now, they both do, and they’ve both given permission for it to happen. In a way, it’s like they are reclaiming every gesture they were forced to perform. These touches, theses feelings don’t belong to Ronald Horton. They belong to the two of them, tangled up together as they slowly explore the geography of the body. The fear is gone, wholly absent from their frantic exchanges. Love, desire, need, fills the place of that uncertainty and awkwardness.

He hurries to undo his belt, step out of his trousers. Taking full advantage of the opportunity, she teases the bulge in his boxers as he continues to find new places on her skin to place his lips, his tongue, his teeth. She tries to bite back a groan, knowing that walls are never quite as thick as they appear. Eventually she pulls him down the bed with her, and it takes only seconds before there’s no layers left between them. Just him, just her, just now.

It is even better than she’d imagined it would be. Spencer proves that he excels in every endeavor, this being no exception to the rule. It’s beautiful, the way he looks at her. How she wishes she had his eidetic memory, so as not to forget a single sensation. And when she calls out his name, when he answers with her own, nothing in the world has ever sounded so right. It seems over too soon, but they find themselves both breathless between the sheets, utterly delirious with joy. His hair is messier than usual, her face is flushed, but neither can stop staring at the other. Like stars in the night sky, it’s so hard to look away from something so wonderful.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he tells her. “I have been since the day it snowed in October, and you started a snowball fight with me on our way out of the office.”

“You lost horribly,” she says, laughing at the memory. Reid had been stunned by the unseasonably cold weather, and after hearing that he’d never had snow days growing up in Vegas, she promptly lobbed a snowball at his back. The ensuing war had been short, marked by short ceasefires so she could attempt to demonstrate proper snow packing techniques. As a term of surrender, he’d bought her hot chocolate, and the day was among her favorite memories of their friendship. This night would certainly have its own place in the rankings.

Spencer simply brushes her hair back, smiling at her. “I think I won, in the end.”

“Isn’t this technically against the rules?” she asks, thinking she should’ve read those fraternization policies a bit more closely.

“Mmm, probably. I suppose that makes us… what is it Garcia always calls us?”

“Partners in crime,” Y/N laughs. “I never thought that would be so true.” It’s absolutely worth it, she decides, because, “I love you, too.”

At breakfast the next day, Spencer seems visibly happier, and she can’t help but feel delighted at well. Once or twice she swears she catches Morgan looking at them funny, but she brushes it off. The older agent walks over to Reid and whispers something to him that makes their resident genius turn as pink as a pair of Garcia’s heels. Y/N is hoping things are still okay, until Morgan catches her on her way out the SUVs.

“Congratulations on finally breaking all that sexual tension. I thought you two were never going to get a clue. But hey, I guess life imitates art?” She’s tempted to slap the smirk off his face, but then Derek adds, “Thin walls, Y/L/N. But don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

#fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #brywrites #partners in crime

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callboxkat · 4 years

Text

Just Your Average Ghost Hunt

Author’s note: I felt like writing a one-shot today, taking a break from my longer WIPs, and here’s the result! I hope you all enjoy.

Summary: Virgil has a YouTube channel where he talks about cryptids and conspiracy theories. Tonight, he sets out with his friend Roman on a ghost hunt.

Warnings: ghosts, talk of death and murder, some crude humor, fear, Remus

Word Count: 1818

Writing Masterpost!

...

“You remembered the camera, right?”

“Wha—of course I remembered the camera! Come on, give me a little credit.”

“And it’s charged?”

Roman pouted at him, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Virgil smirked, hopping out of the car. “Just checking.”

“It’s your camera, isn’t charging it your job?”

“Knowing you, you’d happily run down the battery before we even got here, with all those selfies you take.”

“That’s what my phone’s for,” Roman claimed, jutting out his chin. He slung the camera strap around his neck, double checking that it was secure.

“Oh, I see.”

“We’re not going to get in trouble for coming here, are we?” Roman asked, following after his friend and staring up the road.

“What, are you scared, Princey?”

“No, I just—”

“Because if you’re scared,” Virgil sighed dramatically, “we can go, I guess, but you have to be the one to tell Logan we still haven’t gotten his proof of ghosts. It’s your fault if he thinks we just couldn’t find it.”

Roman huffed. “What is it with you and proving to him that ghosts are real, anyway, Winnie the Boo? Isn’t talking about cryptids and conspiracies more your usual gig?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Is that really the best nickname you can come up with? Wow, you really must be scared.”

“What, we’re on a ghost hunt, aren’t we? And don’t avoid the question!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, closing the car door. He took out a flashlight and switched it on, casting their surroundings in high relief. “I wasn’t, calm down. I just want to see the look on the dude’s face when we show him actual video of a ghost.”

The pair’s boots crunched on gravel, twigs, and assorted debris as they began the trek up the long-disused road towards their destination. “So,” Roman asked as they clambered over a fallen tree, “what are you going to do if we can’t find one?”

“I have Photoshop.”

“Well—then why are we even out here? Just photoshop yourself up a ghost and be done with it, Wail-E!”

“That nickname was even worse. And besides—” Virgil hopped down, reaching up to help Roman, whose jacket had gotten caught on a snapped branch— “this is way more fun.”

“Speak for yourself,” Roman grumbled, inspecting his coat for damage.

“Come on, it’s not that far now.” Virgil started forward, flashlight held high. Roman scrambled after, not about to be left behind.

“I don’t like this.” Roman peered around at the surrounding trees, whose shapes and shadows seemed to warp as they passed, reaching towards the pair like spindly arms ready to drag them into the dark.

“I didn’t ask you to come. I’ve done plenty of these without you.”

“You’ve done plenty of these with Janus,” Roman corrected. “In our friends’ houses. Not in the middle of nowhere.”

“I wasn’t going to put this off just because he’s got a stomach bug. It’s supposed to rain all next week.”

Roman swallowed. “And I wasn’t about to let you come to some old abandoned house alone.”

Virgil turned, putting a hand on his chest and grinning. “My hero. Now turn on the camera, I see the house up there.”

Roman squinted, and saw that, in fact, he could make out the shape of some kind of structure ahead. It looked like it was practically part of the forest now, trees grown around it and nearly obscuring the shape in the darkness.

“Welcome to Virgil and Roman’s final moments,” Roman said, turning on the camera slung around his neck, “documented for all those who want to see us torn apart by crazy woods people, or bears, or wolves, or, possibly, ghosts.”

“Very funny,” Virgil said.

“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” Roman said. “I don’t know, set the scene.”

“Kind of hard to do that when you keep talking, isn’t it?”

Roman stuck his tongue out.

Virgil turned to face the camera. “My name is Virgil, and the lug behind the camera is my friend Roman. Tonight, we’ve got a treat. We’re visiting an abandoned house, deep in the woods.”

Roman silently shook his head, amused at the exaggeration. The nearest major road was only a ten minute walk away.

“Legend says it’s been abandoned since the 50’s—”

“Is Wikipedia where you heard this “legend”?”

“Shut up, Princey. And no, it’s not, actually. Will you let me continue?”

Roman held up his free hand in surrender.

“Legend says it’s been abandoned since the 50’s, but no one had been able to stay in the house for more than a few months at a time even before that. Apparently, there was a murder here decades earlier, and the ghost of that person has haunted the place ever since.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Roman and I are here to get the first solid proof of this ghost, and share its existence with all of you.”

“I’m sure YouTube will love it.”

“I am so glad I can edit out all your dumb comments.”

“You know you love them, Count Woe-laf.”

“You’re going to make me wish I’d waited to come with J, I just know it. Just make sure you’re holding the camera steady.”

Roman smiled innocently, then turned the camera up to focus on the house.

“We’ve just arrived,” Virgil said, “And are about to head inside. Wish us luck.”

“Virge, you know this isn’t live, right?”

“Yes, Roman, I know that,” Virgil said. “Let me put in a little flair, okay?”

“I must be rubbing off on you.”

Virgil ignored this comment and approached the house, peering around the crumbling façade of the dilapidated structure. “It looks like the front door is padlocked, but this window is broken. We can put one of our jackets on the sill and climb in.”

“Wait—whose jacket, Virge?” Roman stepped back, clutching his own protectively.

“Oh, relax,” he said, rolling his eyes as he shrugged off his own jacket.. “Some of us thought better than to bring our favorite jacket on a ghost hunt.”

“If that roof collapses on us, I don’t want cheap plastic all that’s protecting me.”

“I’m pretty sure a jacket won’t save you if the roof collapses; but go off, I guess.”

“Thank you; I will.”

Virgil laid his jacket over the window sill and hopped inside. Roman climbed in after him, turning on his own smaller flashlight and looking around warily.

Dust motes hung in the air, which smelled of mildew. A few pieces of furniture remained in the house, each covered in a sheet that might have once been white. The space had not been spared from the elements. Weeds even grew between some of the rotting floor boards.

“I know this is where I’d want to live, if I were a ghost,” Roman commented dryly, eyeing a grimy puddle that had collected in a fold of one of the sheets.

“Ghosts are tied to places where they died, or to objects that were important to them. Or their body. Odds are, this ghost has no choice but to live here.”

Roman sighed. “Okay, anyway. How are we proving there’s a ghost here?”

Virgil slung off his backpack and pulled out a wooden board. “We’ll start with this. It’s a Ouija board.”

“A Ouija board?”

“Yeah. It channels spiritual energy and lets them talk to us.”

“I know what a Ouija board is,” Roman sighed. “I was just… I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you brought one.”

Virgil sat down on the floor, beginning to set up the board. “Set up the tripod, so it can see both of us and the board. You sit across from me.”

Roman did as Virgil asked, then sat across from him. Each perched his fingertips atop the small, triangular piece of wood with a hole in it, which Virgil said was called a planchette. They slowly brought the planchette around in a circle, with Virgil narrating what they were doing and why, probably for the less supernatural-versed Youtube fans. Then Virgil said some mumbo-jumbo words about positive energy and communication, whatever; and then they finally they got to the questions.

“Is there a spirit with us in this house?”

There was a long pause, long enough that Roman started to think that maybe Logan had the right idea, before the planchette slid over to Yes.

That was you, wasn’t it, Virgil?

Virgil was trying to hide a grin. “How many spirits are here with us?”

“What’s your name?”

The planchette slid over to B.

“Brandon? Bethany? Bella? Benjamin?”

“…Buford? Bucky?”

Virgil frowned. “Butler?”

Roman bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“Roman, stop messing with the planchette,” Virgil snapped.

Roman made an indignant noise. “I didn’t!”

“Spirit, I apologize for my friend. What is your name?”

B-U-T-T-H-O-L-E.

“Maybe it doesn’t want to tell us,” Roman said, shrugging and trying not to laugh.

Virgil was starting to look exasperated.

“Maybe it’s a kid. How old are you?” he asked.

“You’re six years old?” Virgil’s mouth opened. “That’s so y…”

The planchette moved again, interrupting him.

“69,” Virgil repeated. “Okay, maybe not a kid.” He glanced at Roman, looking suspicious, as if wondering whether he’d changed the results again. Roman pouted at him in response.

“How did you die?”

“Wow, that’s pretty personal, isn’t it?” Roman asked. “Ask it how it’s doing, at least.”

Virgil sighed. “They don’t usually stick around for long, Roman.” Then seemingly deciding to humor him, he asked, “Spirit, how are you?”

Yes.

“Well, that’s… an answer,” Roman said. Maybe the Ouija board was broken or something.

“How did you die?” Virgil asked, repeating his earlier question.

The planchette hovered for a few seconds.

K-N-I-V-E-S.

Roman swallowed.

“Oh.” Virgil shifted. “What year did that happen?”

4-2-0.

“Roman, seriously, stop.”

“I swear, it’s not me.”

“Fine, then let’s try again. What year did you die?”

D-E-A-D.

“Yes, you died,” Virgil said. “Do you remember what year that happened?”

Y-O-U A-R-E D-E-A-D.

Roman’s eyes widened. Virgil wouldn’t have done that, would he? “Um, Virge? I think maybe we should leave.”

“Are… are you a good spirit?” Virgil asked, his voice uncertain.

No.

The lights above flared into life, far, far too bright, like small suns. They shouldn’t have worked, even if they were still connected to power, or had the bulbs replaced in the past decade. Wind rushed through the room from an invisible source, the temperature dropping.

POP!

The light above them burst, sending sparks falling around them. The rest of the lights followed in rapid succession. The tripod fell over as if pushed, crashing to the ground between the pair and sending up a cloud of dust.

Roman and Virgil screamed, scrambling for the exit, pushing each other through the window, back into the woods. They raced back towards the car, both the camera and Virgil’s jacket forgotten.

Hysterical, cackling laughter followed them through the trees.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #ts sides #ts roman #ts virgil #ts remus #ts fanfic #ts fic #fanfiction #sanders sides fan fiction #just your average ghost hunt fic

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quicksilversquared · 3 years

Text

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.

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #The Wavering Peahen #marinette dupain cheng

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kumoriyami-xiuzhen · 4 years

Text

Hakuoki Tsukikage no Shou - Kazama Final Chapter Translation

So. [im going to swear.]

I tried doing something truly fucking insane. I wrote and copied out almost every single stupid shitty word in Chinese from the CH subbed video for this (99% of everything of this was done w/o freaking copy and pasting since it was too fucking hard to locate every stupid duplicated word that i wrote) with my mouse onto google translate (I don't have any other way to input words cuz i don't have a damn input device) before i went and translated this.

at the time i did this, writing out every stupid shitty word was a lot fucking faster than using an ocr text extractor at the time since i kept having problems with the one i was using... and my fucking gawd did this feel soooo freaking tedious and it really did hurt my hand and arm for a while.... to the point that i’ll still complain about it despite how that was done back around the time i did the tsukikage countdown video....

i fucking demand that everyone who reads this thank me for hurting myself for the sake of getting this stupid chapter translated lol... all in all, i wrote out over 4600 stupid fucking Chinese characters of this in one sitting....

oh and i think i might have forgotten about copying some of the punctuation but idfcrn.

some words/phrases i don’t wanna write in excess ever again: 1) 知道 2) 就 3) 然 4) 一族 5) 着 6) 这 7) 在 8) 我 9) 萨摩 10) 里

you guys better fucking enjoy this lol. or im going to flip a fucking table. or ten. hahaha lol. seriously (not really lol).

on that note, i also found the Hakuoki stage play with Chinese subs but I refuse to do anything with it as long as those words aren't in text since that's more than 2 hours long, and i’m not that masochistic or insane xD. if anyone wants to volunteer as tribute though to copy/isolate the text though that’s another matter.

also i had to go read up on more damn history than i'd have liked to in order to translate this damn thing cuz i couldn't understand several words in Chinese since they were Japanese terms which made doing this even annoying since that meant extra work for me to do... and omfg i hated writing this out despite the fact that doing so did save me a significant amount of time cuz I was still pretty bad at using photoshop when i did this... though I can definitely say that this will be the absolute fucking first and last chapter of anything that i’ll ever write out again since i can say that my photoshop skills have improved enough so that i can extract text at a significantly faster pace and with more accuracy...

images used in this post were snips of the some video of the chapter aside from the last 2 which were from the cgs i posted a loooong while back.

if someone decides to repost this elsewhere, i will seriously stop posting my translations publicly (also i will curse you) :D

(p.s. i don’t have the chapter intro since that wasn’t translated for any of the final chapter tls that were posted online, and as always, edits will be done later)

Hakuoki Tsukikage no Shou - Kazama Chikage - Final Chapter

Translation by KumoriYami

Eighth year of Meiji 7th month

Six years later after what later generations would refer to the "Boshin War." Chikage-san took me away to live at his village within the Satsuma Domain. This is a story of what happened 5 years after I married into the Kazama family.

Eighth year of Meiji, 7th month

My eyes were unfocused.

I was quietly mending something——

Kazama Chizuru: That hurt......!

I accidentally hit my finger with the needle.

Kazama Chizuru:......Messed up again.

This type of housework, would usually be finished quickly.... But today my concentration, from the start until just now, wasn't here.

I know the reason why.

Kazama Chizuru: Ah......

I stopped/lowered my hand and softly sighed. Recently, Chikgae-san has been increasing his visits to human villages.

It seems that Amagiri-san has also been frequently rushing around to collect information. The oni in this village saw this, and one after another, they began talking about

——Soon, there will be no more war with humans.

The female oni were especially scared of war.

However I didn't think it wasn't improbable......

But there was no way to say that war wouldn't happen again.

It's hard to think that the world's become so peaceful.

When I was thinking about these things. (door slides)

There was the sound of a door opening.

I didn't need to confirm who this person was——

Kazama Chikage: I didn't see you, so this is where you were.

Kazama Chizuru: Chikage-san......

The instant I saw him, I immdiately felt relieved...... I couldn't help but smile.

Kazama Chikage: What is it? Is there something funny?

Kazama Chizuru: No, That's......

Kazama Chizuru: I always think it's unimaginable in how I am able to recognize you by your breathing, Chikage-san.

Presumably my answer probably surprised him since Chikage-san's eyes widened......

Kazama Chikage: Of course I am also able to recognize you by your breathing, you and I are husband and wife.

If this had been before, I probably would have immediately denied Chikage-san's words.......

Kazama Chizuru:......That's right/Is that so.

There's no need to deny anything now.

Because Chikage-san and I have already had our marriage ceremony in the Kazama village to become husband and wife.

Kazama Chikage: What are you doing here?

Kazama Chizuru: Sewing clothes.

Kazama Chizuru: If the children's clothes aren't taken care of, they might get torn when caught on a branch or from falling down.

Kazama Chikage: this sort of housework, you can just give it someone else to do.

Kazama Chizuru: But, I have happen to have time......

Kazama Chikage: Accompany me for a walk.

Chikage-san raise his chin, and spoke with an indisputable tone of voice.

Kazama Chizuru: Wait a moment, let me tie this knot......

Kazama Chikage: That thing can wait and be done later, come with me for a walk first.

Really......

Chikage-san's unyielding personality hasn't changed since [even before] we married.

Kazama Chizuru:......I understand, I'll come with you.

Anyway fighting is useless, so I followed him.

It was slightly hot when we reached the forest.

As small birds could clearly be heard chirping nearby, Chikage-san and I walked together.

Kazama Chizuru:......You seem to be so busy lately, have things calmed down yet?

I spoke to him in this way......

Kazama Chikage:............ [he sighs/breathes out here]

Not hearing my words, Chikage-san showed a distressed expression, and was silent.

Kazama Chizuru: Chikage-san....... Chikage-san.

After using a slightly heavier tone, he finally stopped.

Kazama Chikage:......What's wrong?

Kazama Chizuru: To ask me what's wrong......

Kazama Chizuru: Just now I called you several times just now and you didn't respond, it's very concerning

Kazama Chikage: So it's like that, I apologize.

Kazama Chizuru: No, I'm not upset......

Kazama Chizuru: What's bothering you?

Kazama Chizuru: If it's alright, you can talk about it with me.

Kazama Chikage:............ [he sighs/breathes again here... this one sounds more like a sigh imo]

Kazama Chizuru: If there's anything that's difficult to talk about, I won't force you to say anything.......

Kazama Chikage: No.......it's not something that cannot be said.

Kazama Chikage: As the leader's wife, I think you should know about this matter.

It felt like there was a different weight to the way he was saying "the leader's wife."

After moving to this village, Chikage-san has told me those words [in that manner] several times...... The subjects that followed afterwards, were matters that directly concerned the village.

As I nervously waited for his next words, Chikage-san spoke in a solemn and careful tone.

Kazama Chikage:......There are rumours, that the Satsuma shizoku has been engaging in suspicious activities. [check audio]

Kazama Chizuru: Shizoku......?

After entering the Meiji era, former samurai are now referred to as "shizoku"...... No longer able to receive an official's salary, I've heard that they have had difficulties in securing their livelihoods.

Kazama Chikage: After last year's "conscription notice," it is said that official talks to forbid carrying of blades were given with the "conscription notice."

Kazama Chizuru: Forbidding the carrying of blades? That is to say......

Before I asked my question, Chikage-san nodded.

Kazama Chikage: Banning the wearing of katana

Kazama Chikage: [Meaning] Depriving warriors of the rights associated with them.

Kazama Chizuru: Doing that sort of thing...... aren't the Satsuma shizoku unlikely to accept that?

The Satsuma shizoku were [perhaps: had been] proud to be part of the Meiji Restoration, and before I heard that it was their greatest pride. They had overthrown the Shogunate with great difficulty, but they [however it seems that they] haven't received a decent reward [pay-off is prob more accurate]......

If they are deprived of their privileges that they had and are again forced into having difficult lives, it is obvious that there will be resentment.

Kazama Chikage:......Last year, reportedly Saigo's defeat at the central government and his return to the Satsuma, appeared to be the cause of riots breeaking out in human villages. [refers to Seikanron]

Chikage-san's words caused me to let out a cold breath.

I've heard that Saigo is the Satsuma's most powerful individual.

If indignant warriors gather assemble together under his banner——

Kazama Chizuru: Then, where are you going [probably planning?]?

Kazama Chikage: Come on...... let's walk for a while.

Speaking like that, Chikage-san urged me......

No mater what, I wanted to confirm this matter.

Kazama Chizuru: Chikage-san......

Kazama Chikage:......Nn?

Kazama Chizuru: Will Chikage-san have no choice, but to once again move for the Satsuma?

Kazama Chizuru: Just like when the Shogunate was destroyed......

Because there is a sense of righteousness and companionship with the Satsuma [i'd assume this is more sense of gratitude and debt based on Kyoto Winds/Edo Blossoms], there's nothing to be done on the matter......

If that’s the case, I don't want Chikage-san to once again be dragged into humanity's wars.

He is my beloved husband—— we have many precious things to protect now.

Kazama Chikage:......Do not worry, our Kazama family/clan has promised to help the Shimazu clan.

Kazama Chikage: There is no involvement in the Satsuma right now. I have no plans to be involved in wars between humans.

Kazama Chizuru: Really?

Kazama Chikage: Have I [ever] lied to you?

Kazama Chizuru:.......No

Kazama Chizuru: Chikage-san, thank you. Hearing what you said just now, I can be at ease.

Even so I felt that nothing was stronger than the promise he made just now.

Chikage-san will certainly use all of his strength to protect us.

Kazama Chikage:......Perhaps, in the near future, war may occur in the Satsuma. [the Satsuma may go to war is likely more accurate given the Satsuma Rebellion]

Kazama Chikage: In order to prepare for such a situation, [we] must consider temporarily moving into hiding elsewhere.

Kazama Chizuru:......Yes

The oni of the Kazama village...... everything must be done to protect them. In the past my clan——the disaster that befell the Yukimura clan's oni must not be repeated.

(scene changes to ocean) ~3100 words by now

Afterwards, Chikage-san and I arrived at place....... a place outside the village and near the beach.

The deep blue sea could clearly be seen in the distant horizon, as well as the rolling waves. It's was a symbol and scene of peace and stability.

............However.

Kazama Chizuru:......Is war really going to erupt again?

It seemed as if war would break this sea of tranquility.

Kazama Chikage: I am afraid that it will.

Kazama Chikage: But do not worry. I will certainly protect you all

Kazama Chizuru:......Nn, I believe you.

Our conversation drew to a close once more, but it didn't feel out of sorts.

The sound of the tide carried away all of my worries.

In this way, looking out towards the majestic sea......

Kazama Chizuru:......This reminds me of when the two of us disembarked back then.

Chikage-san was quiet as he turned towards me.

His pair of red eyes looked at me, almost as if to ask for the truth of what I meant just now.

Kazama Chikage: The people [or officials?] from the Satsuma fled, similarly to how the warriors of Aizu did.

Kazama Chikage: It wasn't only the Aizu. The former Shogunate who fought the Sat-cho probably also hated the Satsuma and wanted to go to war with them.

Kazama Chikage: They were pardoned, no longer are they an enemy seeking revenge......

Kazama Chikage: For what reason would they need to repeat a disastrous policy/the same mistake......

Kazama Chizuru:......Yes. I also......don't understand

Kazama Chizru:......However it's already...... fighting between humans, oni must not participate again.

Kazama Chizuru: That's what I think, ever since I chose to live here as an oni.

Kazama Chizuru:.....Yes. Even though——

Kazama Chizuru: Even if there's a new battle, the surviving members of the Shinsengumi might take part in it, as will others who are the same——

Among them, I heard that some of them had been pardoned.

That possibility of that is entirely possible.

But——

I've truly observed the conclusion to the Shinsengumi's existence.

They cannot be involved, they can no longer live while fighting against the trajectory [of history? alt:against the flow/tide]/ They can't——it's not possible for them to get involved again, and they can no longer survive against the tide.

Right, though it's difficult to say that/sorry/sad to admit to that.

Kazama Chikage: In front of me, you don't need to be strong [put up a brave front]

Kazama Chizuru:......It's alright. I'm not trying to be strong.

Kazama Chizuru: It's true that I have nothing to do with the Shinsengumi anymore——

Kazama Chizuru: Because of that, there have been things [that I have] obtained.

Kazama Chikage: Oh? Such as?

Kazama Chizuru: Yes......

Options

(Choosing to live together with you)<--- (Understanding how samurai/warriors chose to live)

Kazama Chizuru: Your...... being at Chikage-san's side, it was my choice.

Kazama Chikage: Usually you're only complaining, today you're being quite frank.

Kazama Chizuru: Com-complaining......! I didn't say [anything like] that.

Kazama Chizuru: You and the children never listen and don't even know it......!

I tried to argue——

Kazama Chikage: No need to speak. Come. He took me by my arms then held me tightly.

Kazama Chizuru: Ah......!

There wasn't enough time to respond since I was confused, and he grabbed my chin [face/cheek looks to be more accurate] with his fingers.

(Kazama's kiss with Chizuru cg 1)

Kazama Chizuru: Nn......

It was like saying that everything I was belonged to him, as he gave me a fierce kiss.

I also used my lips to respond to his warmth.

Kazama Chikage:......You don't need to be worried.

Kazama Chikage: Even if the Satsuma ['s lands/domain] becomes a battlefield......

Kazama Chikage: I will do everything to protect you, the children, as well as the village's oni.

Although he spoke in a natural tone......

He however was shouldering the fates of me and the children, and of the entire clan.

[To be the one] dealing with this huge amount of pressure, I couldn't imagine it.

Kazama Chizuru:......I will support you.

While living as a human, then recalling the everyone from the Shinsengumi, I feel sad, although there are times [Although there are times I feel sad when I think of when I lived as a human, and recall everyone from the Shinsengumi......]

But I, have chosen to to support him on this path.

Kazama Chizuru: As a wife...... as an oni, I will do everything to support you......

So, as long as I'm alive, I will always support him.

Kazama Chizuru: Ah. Please stay at my side. You absolutely will not regret it.

(kiss cg 1 again) ——He never broke his promise.

Chikage-san will stay with never go against this agreement, and will stay with me for a lifetime.

So I shall make a promise to him here.

Kazama Chizuru: I will forever be at your side......

——This is the promise of an oni.

——Tsukikage no Shou Kazama Final Chapter End——

maybe i’ll go translate yamazaki’s final tsukikage no shou chapter... in like 2 years. or something. if someone hasn’t done it by then. lol. unfortunately, tsukikage is not on my priority list since 95% of what CH TL I’ve seen is only available as videos... and while I’d very much prefer to translate Saito’s ginse no shou route, the only thing that I’ve found with CH TL so far is a short clip from the 2nd common route chapter.... plus, i still have ssl to worry about... and even then, there are some dramas that i really wanted translated along with the rest of kyoka-roku...

final edits will be done when i start caring about them... later.

also this is chapter 8 for kazama’s route. each route in tsukikage and ginsei no shou has their own unique ending music.

p.s.s. i always love to complain about unnecessary extra free labour.

#hakuoki #hakuouki #Hakuoki Game Translation #Kazama Chikage #Hakuoki Tsukikage #Yukimura Chizuru

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elderkale · 3 years

Text

chapter six

tell me we’ll never get used to it - chapter six

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Theta missed the ball on the last bounce. She twisted around to watch as it went over her shoulder and into the corner. She stared at it for a moment then sighed and got to her feet.

She brushed the dust clinging to the rubber surface off and wrinkled her nose. It was something new to look at, at least.

She glanced over her shoulder. The empty whiteboard stared accusingly back at her.

Well. Almost empty.

She flung the ball at it again. It knocked off a magnet before bouncing off in the other direction. A photograph fluttered loose and slid across the floor, finally coming to a stop under the toe of Theta’s boot.

Annie Hopkins. That had been her name, the girl on the wall. Her mother had confirmed it.

She grimaced as she crouched to pick it up, and shuddered when her nails scraped against the plasticky surface of the photo paper.

She tossed the picture onto her desk and snatched up a scrap sheet of paper (at least, she hoped it was scrap). She wandered around the desk in a circle, tilting her head up to stare at the ceiling.

Had it taken her this long, before, to figure things out?

She threw herself into her seat. It jolted and she kicked the desk, sending herself spinning across the room. Her elbow slammed into the wall with a bang and she winced. The chair squeaked in protest.

No, it hadn’t. At least, she didn’t think so. It was hard to remember. Hard to put into perspective, at least. Time was fickle like that.

She balled up the paper in her hands and tossed it between her hands. Everyone has off days, she reasoned. Nothing to be ashamed of. She clenched the ball tighter in her hands and kicked off the wall, spinning back towards her desk.

She grabbed it with her free hand as she passed, dragging herself to a stop.

Off days. That’s what this was, then. An off day. Off month. Months, if you would (she wouldn’t).

Of course, most peoples’ off days didn’t involve giving funeral homes more business.

She tossed her rudimentary ball at the board. It more flopped than bounced off, crinkling as it drifted to the ground. She sighed and tossed her feet onto her desk.

It hadn’t taken her this long before. That, she was certain of.

So why the hell was it taking her this long now?

She could hardly be out of practice. That just wasn’t something that happened. Not like this, not with her. She scowled and snatched the marker pen off the table, twisting its cap on and snapping it back on again. Pop, click, pop, click, squeak, click, pop.

She bit down on the end of the cap and twirled the pen between her fingers. There was, she admitted to herself with a small grimace, always the possibility of the copycat being better than her. Small, though. Very small. Miniscule, even, if you liked the word, which she did. Not one that she was willing to entertain, though.

He wasn’t. Not the type.

It was stifling. She tugged her jacket off and tossed it to the side of the room.

Motive. There was always motive. Even when the motive was nothing, there was always a reason. She knew that better than anyone.

Chewing gum too loud. Unfortunate resemblance to an old enemy. Stupid hair.

Convenience.

Who, her? Projecting? Pshaw.

It could, suggested a small, traitorous voice at the corner of her mind sounding suspiciously like a certain bearded psychiatrist, be that, though, couldn’t it? Maybe, it suggested. Maybe. Just maybe. Maybe you’re sympathetic? Empathetic, even? Could that be possible? Maybe you don’t want to catch him. Maybe you’re on his side, just a bit, or maybe you’re worried about what comes next, or that—

She threw the marker at the board. It left a streak of black in its wake and rolled away to join the ball.

What had she done before?

The subconscious was a funny thing.

She slid off her seat and flopped to the ground. She quinted up at the ceiling, a frown tugging at her eyebrows.

She’d talked to people, she was fairly sure. Nothing door-to-door, but she had. Watched interrogations from behind the glass. Joined in, sometimes (very sometimes) (as in once).

She grimaced and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes until she felt like they were going to burst.

Not mainly, though. Nothing as inactive as that.

No.

It must have been her second year, or maybe late in her first. Before her third, for sure. Between August and November, maybe?

Disembowelment. That, she remembered. Disembowelment. Disembowelment and bone-robbing, which hadn’t been a term before that day, and for good reason, too.

A doctor, John had said. A surgeon, Mike had corrected. A fucking sicko, Owen had grumbled. That doesn’t help, Jack had snapped.

(And that’s the thing: how do you know? How do they—how does she—fit so perfectly into the mold, this archetype, this machine, and how do they make it work?

And here’s the other thing: it doesn’t always have to be that complicated.)

Anyone who’s ever cooked a chicken can figure out how to break out a spine. Anyone with half a brain can figure out how to use a knife. But who’s going to need that many bones?

Ah. There’s the question.

It wasn’t the sort of question to be answered in an office, or at home, or in front of a board. It wasn’t the sort of question to be answered, period.

(The term ‘liquid courage’ truly wasn’t any sort of exaggeration. It had burned going down, and had burned coming up again the next morning, but, in the moment, head spinning, blood rushing, heart beating like the drums of war, she’d felt weightless, and weightless she’d stayed.)

The femur, she’d remembered, somewhat hazily, hands buried in dying, withered heat. The tear of skin and a crack like splitting wood—

Wood.

There’s the answer.

(The chairs really hadn’t been too comfortable, though she supposed they fit a certain aesthetic. Theta had left it to Jack to suggest burying the furniture to the families.)

Her phone rang and she all but dove for it, sending papers flying. “She’s a bitch,” said Martha before it had even finished ringing.

“What?”

She heard a shuffling on the other end of the line. Her phone buzzed against her ear. “Messages,” said Martha bitterly.

Theta flicked the call to speaker and dropped the phone on the desk, leaning over it and squinting down at the screen.

Her stomach turned.

“Just a gossip column, but Jack’s losing it,” Martha informed her. Her voice sounded oddly thin over the speakers, like she was whispering into a tin can. Or was that just her?

Theta waited for her to say something else. “Did you read it?” she asked when she didn’t.

“No.” Lie. Theta pursed her lips and flicked her finger up the screen. The words whipped by in a blur of black on shocking pink, like ants smudged across a page. What she did catch made her nauseous. “Any luck, it’ll be down soon.”

“Won’t be,” Theta grumbled, grimacing and pinching the bridge of her nose. Her head was pounding. “Free press.”

Martha made a concerting noise over the line. “Ask Jake to hack it?” she suggested.

Theta shook her head, then remembered that Martha couldn’t see her. “Nah,” she said lightly. “Nah,” she repeated. Her tongue felt like sandpaper.

“Fine.” Martha didn’t sound upset, Theta didn’t think. And then she wondered why she thought she would be. “You alright?”

“Hm.” Her fingertips were tingling, buzzing with something that wasn’t quite warmth, but couldn’t reasonably be called anything else, either. “Yeah,” she forced herself to say, biting out a tight grin, despite the fact that Martha couldn’t see her. “Yep. Right.”

She hung up and threw her phone across the desk. Her hands shook when she flexed them, palms stinging with pins and needles.

Fuck.

Really, Theta didn’t know why she was so surprised. After all, it had only been a matter of time.

Cases dragged on. It happened. It wasn’t like there was much they could do about it. Asking nicely never seemed to help.

(Theta had been asked to give an interview, once. It had gone horribly, and she was fairly certain that, had the microphone not been mysteriously unplugged, it would have been a disaster.)

She drummed her fist against the table, staring at her screen. The computer had switched itself off ages ago, but she didn’t need to see the article to quote it.

Scandalous, the writer (Claire Rook, her name had been Claire Rook. Like a side character in a children’s adventure novel.) had said. Well, if you were looking for it, maybe.

She squeezed her eyes shut and dragged her hands down her face, elbows grinding against the desk.

It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t. They’d all been dragged by the press at some point or another (Some more than others; Martha had a Google Alert set up for Jack, and Mickey had taken out subscriptions to at least three tabloids. He didn’t seem to mind—rather, he seemed to thrive on the attention).

It was a gossip rag. A gossip rag that had clearly stolen pictures from The Guardian. They were running hentai ads alongside the front page, for God’s sake.

A gossip rag that had gotten ahold of her school records what the fuck.

She hit the space bar and the screen blinked back to life.

913 hits, because this was the kind of website that counted hits. One each for Jack, Martha, and Mickey, and another nine for her. 901, then.

She leaned back in her seat, squeezing her eyes shut.

Troubled past. She scoffed. The whole thing was one badly-Photoshopped cover from being a supermarket pulp novel.

I’m not angry.

What word would you prefer?

She opened her eyes a crack and peered at the screen.

915. Fuck her.

She could, she supposed, call Koschei, if only to let him know.

Koschei.

Koschei, who had been in the article too.

There is reason to call into question the ethics of the investigation, especially when considering the presence of famed psychiatrist Koschei Oakdown in the lives of the senior investigators—

Famed. She scoffed. She could almost see Koschei’s head swelling. Hardly the word she’d use. Inobscure, maybe.

—a hidden past shared with the notorious Theta Lungbarrow herself—

She gagged and slammed the laptop shut.

Her legs were itching. She leapt to her feet and began pacing.

Bullshit. Bullshit smeared across a server and tagged as news. She scoffed and dragged her fingers over her scalp. A strand of hair got caught beneath a nail and she shuddered as she tugged it free.

Abruptly, she threw herself to the ground, then got up again, then sat back down.

The infamous raid on Satellite and Fifth—

There was hair on the carpet, too, and eraser shavings, and a bit of a broken branch she’d tracked in on her boots. She twisted it beneath her fingers until it snapped, then did it again, and again.

—in the perfect true crime setup, with Lungbarrow set to lead; but as the villain, or the hero?

She snorted, brushing her hands clean on her knees. It was almost—no, it was—laughable.

Her keys were still in her pocket. She supposed she’d forgotten to take them out.

She dragged her fingers through her hair again. Her scalp was oily; she hadn’t showered.

She jiggled her leg, heel beating the ground.

It’s the moments in between, Rose used to believe, that are the most important. Nothing planned really happens, she used to tell her. It’s the stuff before and after that decides everything.

Failure drives success. Grief drives rage.

She vaulted to her feet and marched out the door.

#masterversary #tmwnguti #convenientarticle.blogspot.com/forplotiguess/eeby-deeby #doctor who #dw #doctor who fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #the doctor #thirteenth doctor #thoschei #spydoc #au #fanfiction update

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marueonmain · 4 years

Text

WINDFLOWER

part eight ~ the chance to pipe ~

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six) (part seven) (part eight)

A/N: We are in it now; thank you for sticking around. Messages/Asks are open and greatly appreciated.

Summary: Alex seeks Will’s support and advice for how best to shoot his shot with Y/N. He also takes his first shower in 72 hours.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Language.

Word Count: 2.6k

He arrived at Will's apartment, still wearing the mindless grin that Y/N coaxed out of him. Alex walked through the unlocked front door and straight to his friend's bedroom. It was bright, not near as cave-like as his own, and there was the lingering scent of a candle burned recently. Will sat at his desk: a second chair set-up next to him: scrolling through the youtube analytics for his most recent video.

It seemed that CPM was up – good news for the video and its one-million views. Will cleared his throat, causing Alex to freeze just two steps inside. Without lifting his head or dragging his attention from his screen, Will said with a flat and ominous tone, "I warned yous."

"What?"

"About being late." Spinning his chair, Will revealed the blue spray-painted plastic bat sitting in his lap. He kept his stern face for another five seconds before breaking into his usual toothy smile and laugh.

Rather than scrambling together a witty remark in return, Alex chuckled along. To that gag as well as the other usual playful abuse about his laziness and tardiness. Will finished the last one-liner he had prepared in the extra time he was made to wait for Alex to arrive, and his expression faltered. Not that he did not appear cheerful anymore – the smile remained – but it relaxed as a single eyebrow raised.

Will asked, "What's got you all giddy?"

Looking down at his hands, Alex chuckled again, though it sounded more akin to a humorous scoff, and gave no answer. He buried his hands in his pockets and took the seat next to his friend.

"What is it?" Will pestered on. "James Charles unblocked you, did he?"

Alex punched him in the arm as hard as he could (not hard). "Fuck off."

Will rolled his eyes before turning to the camera. He hit record and, putting on his boisterous presentation voice, shouted, "Right! Hello, welcome back to the second channel – welcome back to oddly satisfying. It's been a..."

Top posts for that month included photos of symmetrical flower arrangements, videos of tape-peelings from miniature canvases, woodworking gifs, beautiful block calligraphy, slow-motion capture of a sewing machine, and animation to fulfill the desire to sharpen a pencil to a perfect point every time. Alex gave out ratings of nines and tens like he had a quota to fill. As the video continued, Will argued the scores with him more and more. None so much as he did with the seven Alex gave to a real shit submission of ping-pong trick shots.

It was not an average filming session (unbeknownst to Will); it was a game where with each passing minute, Alex was building up his courage for what he wanted to talk about after the video was over. George had been the one person in the friend group he told about his feelings for Y/N, and that had not gone over well. But Alex thought he might now be able to explain it better – explain himself better – and be supported. Will was, after all, behind the act of snakelike behaviour, a very caring person who had held Alex's hand while he fixed himself several times over.

"What do you give the paw-print painting then, Alex?"

"Hm?" Torn from the bed of his subconscious thoughts into the waking world, Alex darted his eyes to the screen and to the camera. "Uh, ten. Definitely a ten."

"Right. Anyway, we'll end on a good note. Be sure to hit that like button for more reddit videos and go subscribe to Alex's channel—"

"It's really epic!"

"—link will be in the description. And we'll see you guys later!" Will gave a terse salute to the camera and, once the outro was finished, dropped his voice to normal and asked, "Care to do a second one while we're here?"

"Why not?"

Springing from his chair to his feet, Will crossed the bedroom to his cupboard and began to change. Giving the illusion of there being a more significant passage of time between filming. Taking off his beanie revealed his dark unruly hair, which he covered again with his 'crisis actor' hat.

"I was wondering if I could get your advice on something?" Alex began not moving from his seat at the desk. Neither did he turn his attention much from the screen, to give Will some privacy.

"What's that?"

"There's this girl— Well, um, this woman rather, that I am interested in approaching – romantically – and—"

"Why you talking like an android?" Will stripped himself of his black and green shirt. Interestingly enough, the same black and green shirt as Ethan wore when he last had the sidemen member over for a video. "Could you be normal for a minute?"

"I like her. Ok? What now?"

He pulled on a shovel hoodie and grabbing another turned to Alex. Gesturing to the pink zip-up jacket, he asked, "You have a decent shirt under there or want to borrow one of these?"

"I'm fine. But about the girl. Should I even bother?"

"How do you mean? If there's the chance to pipe – you got to take it."

"No. Like if I just end up fucking it up, why—?"

"Stop thinking about the end. We're at the beginning, alright? You're a good-looking lad, even got a decent trim for once in your life." Will ruffled Alex's hair as he returned to the seat beside him. "You're verified. All you got to do is slide into the lass' twitter DMs, and you're in."

"I'm not verified," he said with a bit of a huff. "You're verified."

Will shrugged. Pulling his phone from his pocket to check messages. "Whatever. You ready to record?"

"Not yet. What if she has a boyfriend?"

"Chin him."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I. If there's not a ring and a date...well...it isn't really all that important, is it?" Will scrolled through the next ten posts on r/oddlysatisfying, before changing his mind, scrolling back up, and switching to another subreddit. Adding to his previous comment, "Unless it's Mia we're talking about."

Alex sucked his teeth. "Unfortunately, it is."

"Shut it. I'm having none of that." He pushed Alex's shoulder with one hand and wagged a jokingly accusatory finger. "Let's get back to it."

"Alright. Alright."

Will turned to the camera and, as quickly as he had dropped it, picked up his presentation voice, shouting, "Right! Hello, welcome back to this incredibly ad-friendly youtube channel. Instead of rating sand-cutting and slime, today we're gonna be rating dogs again. So this, welcome to r/aww. There should be some decent content here..."

It was nice sifting through the top posts of the week: a golden retriever taking care of baby bunnies, deer fawns sleeping under lawn furniture, an albino skunk, and a lot more ducklings and birds in general than Alex remembered being popular on the subreddit. Their last filming was full of constant challenges and debates, but when Alex gave nine and ten ratings for animals Will agreed whole-heartedly – save for a single dispute over a cat picture. It was cute; Will just was not terribly fond of cats.

Alex simultaneously commentated for the video and pondered – now that he had his friend's blessing – how best to shoot his shot with Y/N. He beamed with excitement and energy, and the evidence was in the light blush of his cheeks. It was not soft happiness like he felt when sitting on the rooftop of his apartment building, with a sausage roll in his stomach and a decent buzz. It was sharp happiness like the entire world had been dragged into photoshop and had the contrast shot right up to one hundred. All the dust from the corners of his mind was gathered, swept up, dumped in a bin, and set ablaze.

Before Alex could think of anything, it was the end of the video.

"Thank you very much for watching! Hope you enjoyed. Check-out Alex's channel and the WillNE main channel, links in the description, and we'll see you guys later." Will stopped the recording, dropped the act, and pulled out his phone again. There were dozens of messages; his fingers flew across the keyboard, shooting off response after response. "Thanks for helping out the cause."

Alex returned Will's fist-bump. He stood from his chair just to walk the single step and sit on the edge of Will's bed. Any distance would do in helping him ease into the details of his situation; after all, it was not just any woman that he was after.

He started, attempting to sound casual, as if the topic was organic, "What do you think about Re—?"

"Red and Sammy?" Will asked distractedly. Believing he had finished the question how Alex meant to, he took it upon himself to answer it as well, "Haven't met Red to be fair, but Sammy is a solid bloke."

"You think?"

"Yeah, Gee wanted to rearrange some furniture, and Josh and I were useless. I rang Sammy, he came round, practically moved everything himself – even brought beers. You did well good picking him, Lex."

At what was likely intended to be a genuine compliment, Alex felt himself shifting a single step closer to his internal self-destruct button. Of course, Alex knew. He knew that it was not healthy for his mind or mood to be so fragile or rather so easily swayed, but there he was – fuming with misplaced anger.

How could he tell Will? How could he explain he wanted a chance with one of their mates’ girlfriends without coming off as a bad person? Was he a bad person?

Did he care? When he came into the world running a race where he was made to wear sandals while everyone else got trainers. Alex stood from the bed and readied to leave.

Attempting to lighten the mood despite likely not knowing why it dimmed, Will added, standing to throw an arm around Alex's shoulders, "And who said you have no friends?"

"You do."

Will chuckled. "Huh, I must be dead smart me."

"Alright, well..." He intentionally trailed off, ducking from under his friend's arm.

"Are you off?"

"Yeah, I'll sees you later." Alex left the bedroom with quicker and heavier steps than was his usual gait; the difference, however, was not enough for someone outside himself to notice. It was frustration. It was: a set jaw. : an unnatural heat rising from his core to all his extremities. : and a mouth pinched smaller than what seems humanely possible.

If he were a 2D cartoon character, as comments under all his videos would suggest, his irises would be redrawn in the shape of flames. Steam might have even come from his ears.

George likes Sammy. Will likes Sammy. James (or at least drunk James who met him) likes Sammy.

And Alex wanted to steal his girlfriend. Fuck.

He raced through the flat to the front door; just through the threshold and into the hall, he stopped. Waiting to hear the latch bolt behind him. Like the clap of a hypnotherapist bringing their patient back from a breakthrough session – the sound drained him of his anger.

It was not helpful to him to be angry at the situation: angry with himself.

Alex walked the hall to the lift and stepped in. During his descent, he looked at the warped reflection of himself in the metal doors: the prickle of hair on his upper lip, the trim which was different but somehow identical to all his previous, a picture in pink – and also red.

It was the reflection of a man. Despite how his followers portrayed him in collages and fanfics, he was an adult man. Confronting that distorted image altered his perception: what he knew himself to look like: his conscious image.

How interesting he must look in the strange light of an average person's perception. How confused. How tired.

DING of the sliding doors opening, ripped his warped reflection in half. Alex exited half-expecting for Y/N to be there on the other side, considering she was everywhere recently. Luckily, she was not. But that fleeting thought of Y/N snowballed as he walked the hall to his apartment. Outside the door, he stopped and stood Blair Witch style facing it but not moving to unlock it or get the key from his pocket just yet.

Y/N. Alex thought of Y/N. Thought of first meeting her with her cute ears and flushed face. How she doted on Sammy. Thought of speaking with her in the foyer with her calm aurora and chin-hugging top. How he wanted nothing more than to be cute with her – for them to have a song.

Thought of when she was making waffles with shaking hands and a little wrinkle between her eyebrows. How she dodged his questions. Thought of ~the dream~ and how different he would act if it were real.

He rummaged through his pockets to find his key. When he did, he shoved it in and pulled it out the lock with an equal amount of unnecessary force.

It was late.

Alex had been awake over twenty-four hours, and he wanted – needed – he just needed it to stop. Unable to handle consciousness much longer, he dragged his feet along the straight shot to his bedroom. And into his bathroom.

Not particularly a nighttime shower type of person, Nor a morning shower type of person, Alex was more a when-I-want-to-or-remember-to-shower type of person.

During slight depressive slumps, however, the more accurate category for him would be a once-the-grease-starts-to-drip-off-my-hair-that-is-when-I-will-shower type of person.

Stepping under the showerhead, the warm water wrapped around him. Pelted down on the pale skin of his shoulders and back, relaxing the muscles there. Slender fingers racked shampoo through his tangled hair: it smelled like almonds. Like artificial almonds designed by chemists who had never seen or smelt an almond before. It was nice.

He ducked his head to rinse out the suds and lost his balance, falling forward a bit. Catching himself with his hands on the wall in front of him; it jolted him out from under his somnambulism spell.

Hopping out of the shower, he dried off and wrapped his single towel around his waist. There in the mirror above the sink were those little prickles of a moustache. Alex stepped up, took his razor in his right hand, grabbed the shaving foam off the counter with the left, and looked to his right again to find he had dropped the razor in the sink. His brain was too exhausted to focus on more than one thought – more than one task at a time.

With less than six flicks of the wrist, his upper lip was clean-shaven, and he was trudging along to his bedroom. Alex let his towel drop to the floor; he tugged on a clean pair of pajama bottoms and pitched himself from the other side of the room onto his bed.

"Ow," he muttered to his aching bones. Alex closed his eyes, and for the first time since ~the dream~ appreciated the contemplative silence of his bedroom – and of his head.

Taglist: (message to join!) @angelbabyivy

#imallexx #imallexx imagine #imallexx x reader #alex elmslie #alex elmslie imagine #alex elmslie x reader #eboys #commentary crew #internet sensation #willne

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