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bellatrixobsessed1 · 2 years

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Ten Into The Fog (Part 27)

To call what Yakone has an evil lair is just terribly untrue. His place of dwelling is actually quite nice.

It is tucked a rather large highrise suite signed to the name Tonyak. Really it is brillant, hiding away right in front of everyone in one of the most luxurious apartment complexs that Azula has seen yet.

Unlike many of the buildings Yakone stopped at, this one has electrical lighting. Electrical lighting and lots if space for a massive bed and sofas with coffee colored cushions that are almost as comfy as the ones in the palace. He has a towering bookshelf made of dark colored wood, trimmed with silver that matches the desk.

At the corner of the room is a strange looking bathtub crafted out of what must have been a geode.

It is quite a task to try to slip away to write of her whereabouts. She only gets the chance when Mai tells Yakone that he is running low on champagne.

She is torn between using this time to write and using it to snoop about the place. Decidely she will forgo her writing to scope the place out. There are so many place to look for such a small apartment.

Yakone could be storing written plans or weapon staches anywhere.

She could rummage through his desk drawers but she has a feeling that she will come back with a whole lot of wasted time and nothing of importance, and that is if the drawers are even unlocked. She does however, shift a few of the man's satomobile paperweights. Finding nothing under them, she tries pulling one apart.

Azula's lips part ever so slightly when the paperweight comes apart and a small key drops out. It is too small for any door or desk but it might fit into that briefcase that Yakone carries about. Likely this is where he keeps important documents. If not, it is where he keeps cash and drugs.

She supposes that it couldn't hurt to check the bookshelf and under the mattress.

"You should let Sokka know that you're alright, he's probably not handling things well."

Still picking her way through the bookshelf, Azula tosses a look over her shoulder. "Priorities, Mai. I'm not going to get many opportunities to conduct an in depth search of this place."

"Its just a quick call, Azula."

Her brows furrow and Mai sighs.

"Right, lets have a little lesson on phones."

.oOo.

It is nice to hear Azula’s voice again. It is silk and shimmer for his ears. And she sounds like she is doing well. Better than he is, for certain, and she is the one in danger.

He feels almost silly for being so terrified especially when Azula herself is so calm. But then that's not exactly out of the ordinary.

"I've figured out where Yakone resides." She mentions. "It is in a high rise across from a mover theater called..." she trails off, presumably to have a glance out the window. "It is across from The Leaping Rabaroo Mover Theater. Room 712. The view from up here is incredible. Its nice to go onto the roof and watch the satomobiles pass."

Sokka’s heart leaps, she always had enjoyed standing on the road with him to watch the bustle below. "Yaknoe lets you wander?"

"He does, yes." Azula confirms. "I have convinced him that I am afraid to cross the streets so he doesn't think that I will go very far. There are so many streets here, Sokka. I've never seen so many streets. And they're so crowded too."

If he didn't know any better, Sokka would think that she was having a great time. And maybe she truly is. She's a woman of discovery and as far she knows, all of this is brand new to her.

"It shouldn't be too hard to slip away after I've found his distribution plans and routes. Although, it is possible that he has them memorized rather than written."

"Its nice to hear your voice again..."

"Focus, Sokka!"

"But it is!"

"I've only been gone a for a week."

"It's been a horrible week."

"You'll live." She pauses. "I have to go." She disconnects with such abruptness that he can only assume that Yakone had returned. The silence on the other end of the phone leaves a somber quiet in his heart.

He wishes that she would have let him say goodbye...just in case.

He shudders, why does his mind always go to such dismal, cynical places. He really does wish that he could be optimistic like Aang or hopeful like Katara. But a bad thing has happened once already, there's nothing stopping another dreadful thing from happening.

.oOo.

"I have a surprise for you." Yakone announces the next morning.

"The kind that I will like or the kind that will make me angry?" Azula frowns. "Rather the kind that will make me angry or the kind that will me feel annoyed. I don't like surprises."

"I didn't take you for the sort that would. Your father certainly hates them. He will be here to visit you very soon."

Azula furrows her brows. "Father is coming to visit me?"

"Did you think that he wouldn't."

She clears her throat. "Well he is a busy man, especially now that he has new weapons."

Well he has made time for you. Apparently." Everything in his tone says that he too hadn't expect to see Ozai either and it sounds like he is just as dissatisfied with surprises as she is.

She wanders her way over to Mai, feeling a touch dizzy. Does father care enough for her to actually check in on her and make sure that she is adjusting well? He had implied that she was no longer a concern of his.

And yet he is standing in the doorway way. "Good afternoon, Azula."

"Hello, father. She returns the greeting. She wishes that she weren’t as relieved as she feels. "How long will you be staying?"

"For a while." He replies. "Plans have changed again. Your brother is becoming a problem. It will be easier to overthrow him without having to watch my back so intensly."

"Will I be going with you?" Spirits, she would rather endure a familiar terror than whatever Yakone has in mind for her.

"You will remain her with me, per my agreement with your father. You aren't going to cheat me, are you Ozai?"

Azula shudders, her heart sinking rather fast. She has never gear anyone address father as anything but Fire Lord.

"Watch your tongue and mind titles, Yakone." He sneers. "We are not equals and ill take my daughter if I want her." He declares.

And so it stings that much more when he leaves an hour or so later without her.

#avatar the last airbender #azula #sokka #sokkla #fanfiction

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dodo-begone · 3 years

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When you Wish Upon a Star

Pairing: Karlnapity x Reader

Request: Can you maybe write some poly karlnapity x reader fluff with a bit of angst?

Word count: 1.7k

Warning: memory loss, angst, cursing, loss/relationship strain, depression (?)

A/n: haha memory issues go brrrrrr. Sorry if it's bad, i wanted angst but didn't know how-

Your world was slowly becoming a monochrome film. So meaningless and alien to what your life once was. All color and life had left and all that remained was an empty shell of what once was. Your boys were no longer sticking together, acting like the loving couple that they are. Or were. You couldn’t tell what the status of y’all relationship was. It felt like everything was falling apart. Nobody was communicating with each other and they weren’t coming home sometimes, going missing for days on end with no contact.

Now sometimes business could be rough and long, so that wasn’t an abnormal thing. No, the issue was how increasingly common this “uncommon” occurrence was. Anxiety boiled in your chest with every night that passed without your lovers. Cuddling with just one wasn’t the same as with them all. You just wished everything would return to its original state; all four of your being a giddy and affectionate couple. Back to that honeymoon stage.

Everything was becoming so different, much less vibrant. Like a depression had fallen onto y’alls happily-ever-after. You only had Sapnap for comfort, and vice versa. There was no Quackity to rely on or Karl to giggle all the worries all away. And it was painfully obvious how it was affecting everybody, yet nobody did anything to fix it.

Quackity never came to y’all for comfort. He was always at his damn casino or scheming a way to end Techno’s anarchy. Slowly he just stopped talking to y’all like he loved you. Now you and Sapnap were like a war council, but even then he wouldn’t listen to y’all advice. He’d just rant to y’all about how much he despised Techno and wanted to kill him, destroy the damn god complex the man had.

But Quackity was blind to himself; he was on a high horse and saw himself as a worthy opponent, somebody who could subdue such a savage beast. Every time Quackity came home bloody and on the brink of death, it killed you on the inside. Why wasn’t he coming to y’all about the issues? Why did he think he was so alone in his endeavor?

And you didn’t even want to mention Karl’s condition. He was acting so odd now. More forgetful and aloof. It was like he was a complete stranger now. Your interactions were slowly becoming shorter and shorter, less meaningful and shallow. From meaningful, deep and loving talk during cuddle sessions to a curt, cold and disconnected. Sapnap even tried to get information out of him, but he stayed closed and guarded like a clam. Then he’d also come home with some injuries, but there was never an explanation for why he got hurt. Quackity at least admitted to what happened, so you knew what possible dangers he was facing. But Karl? He was an absolute mystery now.

Karl wasn’t the type of person to be so mysterious. Well, cold and mysterious that is. Definitely a mystery though, but so charismatic that you could easily push that fact aside. He used to be so cute and “unsuspecting”. Now that’s the same case, but subtract the “cute and unsuspecting” part. His newfound apathy worried you to no end. It was like he was completely detached from reality.

It was such a silly thing, but you wished for the stars, asking them to help you. Please, you needed your boys back. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep living through this cycle.

Quackity’s hyper-independence and Karl’s now apathetic attitude was disheartening. And the effect it had on Sapnap was heartbreaking. He kept blaming himself for the relationship for falling apart. You reassured him that it wasn’t his fault, but you were hypocritical. Telling someone that it wasn’t their fault that a relationship was failing yet blaming oneself for the same thing? Honestly it wasn’t just one singular person’s fault; everyone was to blame. Nobody was communicating, which harmed the relationship you once thrived in.

So you begged the stars for guidance, for a chance at mending your dying relationship. There wasn’t a way you could live without your lovers.

You should’ve been more careful for what you wished for.

________________________________________________

Sapnap commed you one day, which wasn’t abnormal by any means. You two talked throughout the day multiple times. That was the only consistent thing that was still steady. A constant in your ever changing lives. But when you got on call with him, he sounded different, desperate and panicked. Your anxiety started to peak when he spoke, but the subject of the call made time stop. No way- there was no way.

You fucking chunked whatever the hell you were holding or doing out of your hands. It was way less important now. Honestly you can’t even remember what you were doing. All you knew was that you had to get to them and swiftly. No time could be wasted. Sapnap needed you right now. Your boys needed you. Everything was on the line. Well, for you it felt like that. Your boys were your everything; if one more “unfortunate” accident occurred to them, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. You were absolutely failing at protecting them. They protected and loved you for so long, and you wanted to protect them now.

Sapnap had begged, nearly demanding you come to Karl’s library that instant. Karl had apparently appeared there, and he wasn’t looking so good. He said he also contacted Quackity so he should be there too, but who knows if he’ll actually be there.

When the library came into sight, your anxiety both increased yet decreased, allowing joy to grow alongside it. The combination was odd, one that sounds like it shouldn’t be put together. Yet that’s exactly what you felt; bitterness and cold with some warmth hidden beneath the surface like a sun chasing the night way at dawn. You bolted into the building, frantically sweeping the immediate area for Sapnap and Karl. No sign of them. Your panic grew exponentially. Where were they? You yelled out, hoping to hear any sign of them.

Some commotion was made from your left. Walking closer to it, you caught sight of Sapnap’s shoes. He peaked around the corner to check the new visitor, and almost ran to you. The moment he stood, he hesitated. He took a step forward and stopped, looking between you and where you presumed Karl was. Ultimately he just took a few more steps toward you before turning back to Karl. When you arrived at Sapnap’s side, you dropped to your knees alongside him. There one of your worst fears faced you.

Karl lay on the ground, unconscious and bloody. He was so pale, it scared you. How long was he like this? What happened to him? Would he make it? You didn’t want to know the answer to it. Specifically, you didn’t want to know in case he wasn’t going to make it. Seeing him like this, it’d hurt too much to know the reality. You just wanted your old picture-perfect life back. Yes, it wasn’t absolutely perfect, but it was perfect for you and your boys.

So much time must’ve passed with you and Sapnap just watching Karl, tending to the wounds he had. It was fortunate that only his head showed clear signs of damage. Yet that was also a very unfortunate thing. There could be so much potential damage done and you’d never know if he was or wasn’t okay unless something happened to him.

You were so focused on Karl that you hadn’t realized that Quackity had joined y’all until he gently laid his hand on your shoulder, which shocked you out of your trance. Quackity’s eyes and face were red and puffy, tears trailed down his face and he was out of breath and panting. But he was here. You jumped up to hug him, pulling him down to the ground with you, Sapnap and Karl. Sapnap joined in the hug without a word. A sniffle left Sapnap, but you never mentioned it. This was a very stressful situation.

After a short period of pseudo peace, the exhaustion finally started to take ahold of y’all with the adrenaline slowly leaving your systems. Talking it out for a bit, after seeing how visibly tired everyone was, it was decided that y’all would watch over him in shifts. There was a small squabble for who’d be first; each of you wanted to be first to sate your guilt. It wasn’t long until a victor was declared; Quackity would take the first shift. Then Sapnap and finally you. The plan fucking pissed you off so much and there wasn’t a reason for it to. It just did, and you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. But you didn’t question it. If conflict could be avoided, then it’d be best to go along with the plan.

One moment you were blinking, trying to fight off sleep and the next Quackity was shaking you awake. You were so groggy and barely heard what he said. It must’ve been so obvious to Quackity that you just weren’t hearing jack shit, but he kept repeating- something. You actually had no clue if he was repeating something or just babbling. All you heard was noise and his mouth was moving. What could be so important that he was just fucking shaking you like a damn earthquake- oH SHIT!

Without a second thought, you jump to your feet and flop just a bit closer to Karl. You got up too quickly but you made it to your goal, kinda, so score! Scrambling to your feet, more accurately your knees, you view the situation.

All you could see was Karl sitting up and talking to Sapnap. That’s all that mattered though- he was alright. Karl was alive and thriving- okay that was debatable- but still! Your Karl was okay!

You’re on your feet in a flash once again, flinging yourself into Karl’s arms. The relief that washed over you was immense. Cleansing you of all your anxieties.

Yet he didn’t hug you back. Matter of fact, he did nothing at all. He froze up. Though it went unnoticed by you. Salty tears dripped down your face and splattered onto his jacket. Quackity joined in on your group hug, cry and babbling his apologies along the way.

Suddenly you and Quakity are shoved away, landing into Sapnap’s waiting arms. Saying you were shocked would be an understatement. Confused also couldn’t, yet they were the first words your frazzled mind could conjure.

“Who are you all?”

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familyagrestefanblog · 3 years

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Ml Meta analysis: Adriens current absents, season 4 structure and theory on whats to come

Here I am back again with my endless rambling.

I'm just as worried for our cat son as everyone else (maybe even more) which is why I tried figuring out for my own sanity why he is so absent currently.

Upfront I wanna warn yall that I wrote this post in one rush this night and therefore had no time to do alot of editing. So things can probably get a bit more messy than usual but I tried to write it clearly, while writing 2 other ml essays as well. This is the one drawback of having so many episodes in such a short time, I have no time to write my posts x3 I had another theory planned for before Optigami airs but I don't think I can manage before tomorrow.

But let's not waste any more time. Grab a snack and here we go:

It's 2am right now but I think I just realized why Adrien/Chat Noir is being sidelined so much recently.

Sure, yes, it'll come into play in the very obviously set up Ladynoir drama later on but what I wanna talk about now is more the structure of how s4 is most likely written in terms of both Marinettes and Adriens side of the story. And then deep dive a little on why I think so.

You see season 4 is now reaping what has been built up from s1-s3, but this also includes that you have to take the time now to properly recreate the new possibilities out of the loose pieces of the broken status quo.

Seriously, season 4 has to handle and reinvent ALOT. The show got now officially announced to have 7 seasons, which is exactly the amount of seasons Astruc said they have story for. I couldnt find the official tweet from Thomas himself but I one from another source:

And now look take a look at the possible shows structure:

- s1-s3 was the first status quo and built up everything so now they can pay off after pay off while...

-... S4 is now the transitional season where the old status quo gets left behind as we work towards the new one.

-I have nothing to proof this of course, but in the same sense it would now make sense that s5-s7 where/are planned to play out under the final status quo. If I'm not wrong at first the show was under contract for 5 seasons, which would mean that after the transitional season 4 there was only 1 season of the final status quo for sure. Still, done right it could have been worth the wait. But this isn't where Miraculous will end. The show actually got the 7 seasons the creator wanted and THIS is how I think the long term plan makes the most sense. Nothing all too complicated but still hella effective in its execution.

But now back to our two main characters, because Marinettes and Adriens development are the two aspects that will raise the show to the intense heights of the s5-s7 status quo.

From s1-s3 Marinette was the active player but she was hardly involved with the actual PLOT of the show, since most of the plot and backstory of the show lies directly with the Agreste family. She only started to get her own plot when she literally created a new one by getting involved with the miraculous lore, because the closest Marinette got to the Agreste plot was "The collector".

Adrien in the other hand was always literally right in the middle of the plot but he wasn't enough of an active player to bring us further either.

Season 4 is now going to add the missing parts for both of them and as the very beginning of the season showed us: there are going to do it SEPERATLY.

This is why "Truth" and "Lies" have been structured the way they are (One Marinette-centric the other Adrien-centric). Yes, Marinette and Adrien are meant to end their story victoriously together, but they are simply not the people they have to be to become such a powerful team. Certain aspects of their journey they have to do... basically disconnected from the other one. The "Miracle Queen" endcard shows it quite nicely as well where they are heading now: away from each other.

Obviously the season started with Marinette growing into her new guardian status including everything miraculous related, since she is the main lead and because the new ways the episodes can now utilize everything Miraculous need to be established first before we deep dive into the messed up Agreste mystery.

So while I totally agree that it is annoying to get so little Adrien/Chat Noir content currently I also understand the practicality behind it. As I said, before s4 Marinette was the active main character who mostly didn't really have her own plot. So now adding her plot aspect and have her ACTIVELY figure everything needed out means that right now Marinette/Ladybug is the active focus main character who is solving a huge part of her s4 character arc. That simply drowns out Adrien as the currently still mostly-inactive secondary main character who, yes, may be right in the middle of the shows emotional + villain plot/lore/backstory, but that side of the story simply isn't in focus at the moment.

And I gotta say, I'm kinda glad they're doing it this way. Because I'm gonna be honest, when the season starts giving us Adrien/family Agreste episodes like "Lies" and "The collector" (in this case "Gabriel Agreste" for example) again, I don't want the narrative to be forced to spend time with something guardian lore based just because they didn't took their time to do it earlier.

So, as we see on the s4 episode raster "Gabriel Agreste" is episode 9. Honestly, I expect most of it (especially the ones near the beginning, so ep. 5 included) til that episode to be Marinette based the way everything else til now did (besides Lies obviously and Guilt trip didn't hardcore focus on Marinette/Ladybug either and that's because it's after "Gabriel Agreste") in the spirit of "Truth". It's just the needed set up from Marinettes side of the story and I can live with that.

Because we actually saw the change after "Gabriel Agreste" already in "Guilt trip".

I don't know why some people pretend like Chat almost cataclysming himself after hearing how guilt-eaten Nino is for Adriens sake isn't a huge indicator that the episodes afterwards will not only acknowledge but also DEAL with Adriens/Chats situation and problems. Remember, we are talking about CHAT NOIR here not Adrien Agreste. The show has always portrayed and acknowledged ADRIENS issues very straight forward and with the proper seriousness (especially when it comes to his family), whereas Chat Noir was often mostly used for comedic purposes with some exceptions of his problems being properly delt with (since Marinette/Ladybug was mostly oblivious to them, since Adrien keeps them hidden so well). But now in "Guilt trip" LADYBUG was confronted head-on with just how much negativity Chat has inside and how quickly and extremely he drowns in it.

Sure, correct, the episode also has his negativity "washed away" rather quickly by Ladybug opening up to him on how important he is to her

But this is in character for both of them as "Lies" very clearly showed us that the way BOTH OF THEM behave here is where the problem lies. There Ladybug was freaked out after Chat threw his life away once again but quickly accepted Chats very direct avoidance of the confrontation, since he seemed to be alright to her.

Something I also find noteworthy here is that Ladybugs dialog is "Seriously, you need to stop doing this to me!", which is.... a VERY Marinette-centric way of acknowledging the problem.

It completely shifts the issue away from Adriens extremely alarming self-harmful/suicidal tendencies and instead only calls out how it affects Marinette (whose feelings here are definitely valid, don't get me wrong!). It showcases perfectly how unaware Marinette still is of her partners inner tumult at that point and also parallels how Marinette called Adriens life "perfect" at the beginning of the episode (This is no shade towards Marinette, in general the entirety of "Lies" is about showing us just how harmful Adriens Chat Noir persona actually IS to him so these two moments of her being oblivious to Adriens and Chats immense problems very much fits into that episodes narrative and sets up what's about to come. I still have an entire essay in the making for "Lies" but, guys, it's just getting longer and longer. I suck xD).

So the fact that an episode after "Gabriel Agreste" brings this scenario back, just a little different but ALOT more revealing of Adriens immense problems to his partner, is VERY telling. Besides other things it tells us that this happens at the beginning of the arc that deals with (at least) Chats issues since Ladybug is still way too quickly too ready to accept her partner as "completely fine" again just because Chat makes it seem that way (while some negativity increasing guilt bubbles still to stick to him.).

And yet, others have already pointed it out that Ladybug IS noticing what Chat wanted to do and reacted accordingly...

she just didn't speak of it the way it is because it overwhelmed her, which calls back to Ladybugs "You have to stop doing this to me!" dialog.( For a great breakdown of her dialog HERE is a link to @flightfoot post)

In "Lies" Marinette was way too stressed by her new guardian role to even consider Chats side of it and therefore only spoke of her own, but in "Guilt trip" she's already past that stressful arc. So here she is immediately able to recognize Chats suicidal action for what it is, come to his (much needed) aid and lift her partners spirit the best she can by emotionally opening up to him (which is something we KNOW is incredibly hart for Marinette).

The difference between her reaction in "Lies" and in "Guilt trip" shows that Marinette has her guardian role already mostly handled and is now mentally able to be there for others again, so the extremely Marinette-centric "Truth"-like episodes are mostly passed. Now the episodes can bring Adrien/Chat Noir more into the game again and even shift to "Lies" - like episodes because MARINETTE can pay more attention to him again and isn't faced with something new, important and overwhelming Miraculous related every step she takes.

And THAT is extremely fair from a narrative standpoint.

---

I really need to stop elaborating so much on these posts because I'm only NOW actually getting to the point of where Adriens journey will disconnect for a while from Ladybugs. Sorry guys.

Okay, to understand where I'm going with this I will have to quickly explain how I always saw Chat Noirs place in the Ladybug+Chat Noir vs Hawkmoth war ever since s1.

Because here is the thing: Adrien wasn't able to truly leave the battle field ONCE since the origins. Marinette was completely out of Hawkmoths and Gabriels reach once she detransformed, which balances out her basically being the personification of the good sides force. And Gabriel literally decided whenever or not the battle is even ACTIVE right now! Besides that he is in complete control of his own actions and environment, which gives him all the necessary time, safety and downtime he needs to act as the personification of the evil sides force.

Marinette and Gabriel always knew when they were safe and off the battle field, but ADRIEN never had that and it left him LITERALLY right in the middle of both Ladybugs and Hawkmoths sides.

You see, because before Adrien became Chat Noir he basically was part of Hawkmoths side just by default. He was born into this family, that's his father and lost mother and everything he knows. Adrien didn't/doesn't even have to KNOW that he is part of Hawkmoths side, he's his son at some level he just IS! And I'm not saying this as anything negative, Adrien coming from Hawkmoths side is literally the reason why he became Chat Noir!

Because whereas Gabriel is having the time of his damn life as evil terrorist, created out of tragic and sinister circumstances, ADRIEN on the other hand couldn't handle his families environment and very same circumstances anymore and accepted the role as Paris' hero to escape his heritage for a while.

Keywords being: a WHILE.

Something unique about Adrien I always loved is the fact that he is the villains abused, isolated and overworked SON, who becomes a hero to escape his depressing life and YET it was never Adriens intention to LEAVE IT. Adrien merely wanted to use his time as Chat Noir to let of some steam and breath freely while doing some hero work so he can go back into his civilian life and try to one day successfully ment his broken family. He couldn't handle the current situation anymore but he still always saw worth in his family/father. I have SO MUCH respect for that!

But him not intending to leave his family and instead regaining strength as Chat Noir to continue to hold onto it came with the downside of him not being able to fully become part of the good sides people/force either. Hence why Adriens/Chats place always felt so lost in comparison to Ladybugs and Hawkmoths clear positions. He's caught in between their extremes trying to balance out BOTH at the same time. What an impossible task!

So he couldn't put in the same focus as Ladybug into being the good sides force because he is literally burned out from his civilian life on Hawkmoths evil side. But he also couldn't be involved as an ACTIVE member of his fathers evil force, because he chose to find refuge in his friends and as a hero on Ladybugs side.

Adrien unknowingly is part of BOTH the shows two extreme moral sides of good and evil and this season we will see Adrien/Chat Noir grow into his own within BOTH sides as well.

Because he simply couldn't have done so right away in s1. Now after 3 seasons Chat Noir is more than solidly established as one of Paris Heros and his time with Ladybug, the other heros and his normal friends helped him greatly to find his place on the good side. "Lies" set this up as Chat Noirs arcs starting point that now he has to stop connecting "being heroic" strictly with following Ladybug (as Marinette is the STAND IN personification for the good side, she's still a flawed human being like everyone else and not the ultimate force of perfect and good. Big difference.) just as he has to start looking past his fathers sympathetic moments/qualities to see that Hawkmoth isn't a 100%, inhumane monster just because he is the stand-in personification of evil in their fight, but the man he calls Father and still needs to be taken down. (I talked about this in more detail on THIS post)

Adrien has to seperat himself from Ladybugs path and focus on his family and I believe it'll start with the much dreaded (but expected) Ladynoir fight.

Funnily enough, what I'm talking about was actually already set up in "Frozer" I just didn't remember that for a bit. In "Frozer" we saw Ladynoir having a fight which caused Chat Noir to go his own way in the episodes battle.

I always found it interesting that the episode didn't had Chats decision, to not follow Ladybugs lead here, turn out to be a huge mistake. Almost every other show would have done so but now I think I understand. This episode and s2 in general SET UP the s4 conflict, s3 LEAD UP to it and now s4 DELIVERS it.

So what happened in "Frozer" is a direct parallel to what about to go down:

Ladynoirs fight will cause Chat Noir to not simply follow Ladybugs side anymore the way he used to, but note, he DOESN'T leave the good side AND they make up again in the end after Chat saves Ladybug from the akuma. He just does things on his own because he isn't on great terms with her for a while. "Frozer" showed Chats decision to not only NOT be a mistake but also a necessary part of defeating the akuma, just the way it'll be in s4. Damn, Adrien breaking away from Ladybugs side, the way she (unintentionally tho) did at the beginning of the season, to focus more on himself and his family will be the game changing factor, when Adrien will have his completing arc where he goes from "not active character within the villain/backstory plot" to "ACTIVE character within the villain/backstory plot".

And we already saw with Marinette how many fast breakthroughs we get through these completing arcs. Which is also a reason for why Adriens/ Chats arc comes later in the season, because BUDDY. Once Adrien starts to actively uncover his families mystery and fathers secrets Gabriel is SCREWED! Adrien will gain the needed inside knowledge that complements Marinettes Miraculous power; and reunited they can take on whatever the hell kind of scale the Agrestes plan actually is.

So how to end this post? My biggest intention was to raise hope for everybody (myself included lol) who is right now very concerned and upset about how side-lined our boy is at the moment. But I prefer doing so in a way that actually works with canons context instead of sugarcoating what I don't like. And Adriens/Chats current position I definitely do NOT like but accepting it as realistic outcome from s1-s3 and set up for the escalation for both Ladynoir and his home situation gives it the proper purpose and pay off (narrative and character wise) that it SHOULD have.

Basically, the endcards of "Truth" and "Lies" show it perfectly.

It looks like ShadowMoth is turning a blind eye towards Adrien/Chat Noir because of Ladybugs new guardian status and "greater importance". But Gabriels tunnel vision on Ladybug will leave him vulnerable to his own sons secret actions against him and Gabriel won't see it coming until its already too late.

#Miraculous #Miraculous ladybug #ml theory #ml analysis #ml season 4 #ml show structure #Adrien Agreste #marinette dupain chang #Gabriel Agreste #Chat Noir #Ladybug #Hawkmoth #ml forshadowing

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rowan-underthehouse · 3 years

Text

Riverbank

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 1,486

Additional Tags: Not Actually Unrequited Love, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension

Summary:

After his encounter with Zachariah, Dean is on his way to team back up with Sam, but he’s not quite ready to let go of the relief of hunting with Cas. At least, not without one last night to enjoy himself.

Read it on Ao3 here

Dean is drunk. Not piano-man-at-the-karaoke-bar drunk, but warm, fuzzy, anything-is-possible, still-mostly-functional drunk. Maybe that’s what tugs him toward the river, dropping his jacket and overshirt in a heap as he goes and stretching up toward the moonlight.

“There’s nothing here, Cas, not even an urban legend,” he calls back to the car where Cas stands, stoic and awkward as always. “Come on, man, I’m baking out here.”

Castiel, for his part, seems unbothered by the heat that’s making Dean wish he could crawl into an industrial freezer for a few hours. He squints at Dean, his clothes in the grass, and the river behind him, apparently realizing his intentions.

Dean assumes angels can swim. Maybe the wings help. Like a duck or a pigeon or something. His brain is too blurry to care.

“Dean…There isn’t time for this. God is still nowhere to be-”

He doesn't fully realize he's moving back toward Cas until he has an arm loosely slung around the angel’s shoulder, urging him toward the water.

“World’s ending. May as well bang a few gongs on the way out. Think you're onto something there.”

“I’ve never said that”

Dean pats him on the chest, letting his hand linger a few seconds too long as he swings around to face him. He slides his hands back to shuck the overcoat from Cas’ shoulders, watching with a muted smirk as it hits the ground.

“You will. In a few years.”

“Dean, what did Zachariah show-”

“It doesn't matter. It hasn't changed anything,” Dean cuts him off again, nudging the suit jacket from his shoulders. “Now, come on.”

Of course Cas knows he’s lying. It’s changed everything. Even though his plan to say no to Michael is still concrete, it all feels different now. Palpable. Unavoidable. It’ll eat Dean up if he lets it.

Dean’s focused on undoing that familiar old blue tie when he feels Cas’ gaze searching his face. For a split second, he wonders if he’s gone too far; taken the threads of friendship that are only just starting to come together and pulled until they snapped. That’s when Cas meets his eyes.

He’s grinning.

Castiel is honest-to-god grinning.

He’s got one of those smiles that takes up his whole face, making his eyes all squinty and digging itself into Dean’s heart to root there. It’s fucking contagious.

“What?” Dean feels a smile start to tug at the corners of his own lips.

“It’s good to see you like this, Dean. Unrestrained.” Cas pulls his tie the rest of the way off in a single fluid motion that drops Dean’s stomach right out of his body. It’s not an unpleasent feeling, and certainly not new when it comes to Cas and his fucking cosmic powers, but it’s harder to ignore now.

“That would be the booze.”

“No.” There’s that grin again. “It isn’t.”

“I’m doing something for me for once. Not worrying about Sam. Gonna enjoy that as long as I can.”

It’s not the truth, not the whole truth, anyway. Neither of them push the subject.

Dean gives himself to the count of three to memorize the scene in front of him. Cas, relaxed and happy in the heavy evening air, a fair few paces south from sober himself. Maybe in another life every night would look like this. It’s not worth dwelling on.

“Come on. Get in.” Dean kicks off his boots and unceremoniously drops into the water. Cas isn’t far behind, looking uncharacteristically peaceful as the water soaks into his slacks. A very intentionally aimed splash hits the front of his shirt, and Dean flashes him a mischievous little smirk, flopping backward into the water.

It’s fucking frigid, much colder than should be possible given the fry-an-egg-on-the-asphalt kind of heat just above the surface. It rushes in Dean’s ears, pounds in his heart, crushing and uncontrolled, but hell if he doesn't feel alive. He comes up for air 50 feet down the river, where the current slows just enough for him to find purchase on the rocks below, beaming as water pours off the tips of his fingers. He lets out a whoop into the night air.

“You coming?” he yells, not knowing if his voice carried far enough until Cas’ shoulders drop below the water.

He's more restrained than Dean was, his shock of black hair never dipping completely below the water, watching the trees whip past him. Dean has to catch him by the arm to keep him from missing the shallow part entirely.

As soon as Cas gets his footing, Dean is lost. There's something about the way Cas shoves his wet hair out of his eyes, the way his now untucked shirt billows around him in the water, it's so irrevocably human, and somehow everything but.

Dean stumbles forward, flinging his arms around Cas’ neck. He's planning to make some dumb joke, he really is, but Cas is panting, his eyes almost glowing in the moonlight, and damn, it makes Dean a little weak at the knees. The joke dies on his tongue.

He's high on the air passing between them. Downright fucking giddy. Dean presses forward, closing the gap until it's not much more than a hair's breadth.

“You’re….you’re really something, Cas.”

One hand comes up to play with the dripping collar of Cas’ shirt, and he leans into it like he’s desperate. It might just be the most powerful Dean has ever felt, this tiny moment waist deep in a river.

All he’d have to do is lose his balance, give an inch to the pull of the current and his body would be against Castiel’s. He wouldn’t even have to take the leap himself. Instead, Dean’s fingers ghost along Cas’ collarbone, the side of his neck, coming to rest against the sharp curve of his jaw. It sends a full body shiver through Cas.

Dean meets his eyes, searching for some kind of clue, a hint about what the hell is happening. It’s clear as the water rushing around their legs.

He tries to tether down his racing heart and settles his other hand on Cas’ hip. Dean feels Cas’ calloused hands moving to his waist before he sees them, sparks of electricity flying across his ribcage. He loses his focus, digging his thumb into Cas’s hip so hard it’ll definitely leave a bruise. Cas doesn’t flinch, his eyes flicking to Dean’s lips.

“Cas-“

The phone in Dean’s jacket pocket rings, the sound of it somehow floating above the current. The half-minute before it goes to voicemail passes agonizingly slow. Once his eyes leave Cas’, Dean finds he can’t force them back again. He feels his cheeks flush a deep, embarrassed, red.

The phone rings again.

Dean lets it go to voicemail.

It rings again.

“Bobby… dammit.” Dean wades to the edge of the river and hauls himself onto the bank, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

He’s only distantly aware of his own conversation, of his vague explanation about Zachariah and the plan to meet up with Sam in the morning. He’s pretty sure he agrees to start looking into a hunt early the next morning, a way for him and Sam to get back in the saddle. He only half listens to what it is. Bobby will email the articles if it’s important enough for three phone calls. His eyes flick back to Cas over and over, still waist deep in the water, looking more awkward by the second.

“Are you listening to a word I’ve said?” Bobby’s voice comes through the receiver, startling Dean out of his fog.

“Yeah, uh, I’ll call you right back.”

Cas has pulled himself to shore by the time the call disconnects, gaze lost in the stars. Dean can’t help but wonder how intimately he knows each one. If he was there when they were formed.

It’s easy to forget sometimes, looking at him in his dirty overcoat, exactly what Castiel is: ancient, powerful, unknowable. It hits Dean all at once like a brick straight to the chest. Whatever this thing between them is, whatever he thought Cas was feeling, it was just a trick of the moonlight. Moonlight does that. It plays tricks on people. And Dean isn’t about to be played for a fool. No angel of the lord would waste their time on some burnt out, used up, hunter. As soon as they sort all this apocalypse crap out, Cas will leave, just like everyone else. Dean is sure of it.

Cas offers Dean a small smile, waiting for him to come forward.

Dean hesitates.

He knows the moment Cas notices, his face shifting to shame. “I should go. I have work to do.”

“Cas wait-“

He’s gone before Dean can take another step, and Dean is left alone, with nothing but the rushing river and the tiny hope that whatever happened between them wasn’t all in his head.

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duskholland · 4 years

Text

The Fame Game (Part Three) || Tom Holland

Summary ↠ Sleepovers are supposed to be fun, but perhaps not when they include your fake boyfriend.

Word count ↠ 4.5k

Warnings ↠ Alcohol, some bad language, Tom’s shirtless? And also a lil bit jealous

A/N ↠ I decided that Y/N is in Stranger Things because... Joe Keery. You’re welcome. This was a fun part to write! Thank you so much to everyone that’s been loving on this series - makes my heart very very happy to know it’s being read and enjoyed :’) Please let me know what you think of this part! (This picks up directly after part two just with a pov shift)

Series masterpost

THREE: What’s Mine Is Yours (Y)

The studio lights burn your eyes painfully, and your throat has been stinging distantly of tequila ever since you took the first shot.

Jimmy’s been sending you question after question, analysing and picking apart every aspect of your ‘relationship’ with Tom for the past five minutes. So far, you and Tom have answered with your stories aligned, and you thank yourself for having the stroke of genius to go over some essential details with him before the show. If you’d just come out here and winged it, as he had foolishly suggested, you know you would’ve tripped up by now.

It’s all going as expected, until near the end of the interview when Tom’s words split through the air and shock you completely:

“Well, chemistry is a very important part of any relationship, Jimmy, and you know what they say: enemies make the best lovers.”

Enemies make the best lovers..?

Even as the conversation moves on, you feel the words lingering in your mind. Tom’s been playing the role of your doting boyfriend very well all evening, but there has been something a little too earnest about his eyes and his remarks, and it’s left you feeling… odd. Exposed, perhaps. He’s out here claiming that enemies make the perfect foundation to a loving relationship, and though you’re almost certain it was a throwaway comment, you can’t stop yourself from over-analysing it.

“Well, thank you to both of you for joining us tonight,” Jimmy says finally, dragging you from your stupor. “It’s been a pleasure, as always. I wish the happy couple all the best!”

You’re nestled up very close to Tom on the sofa. His hand is on your knee, and you’ve got your arm wrapped around his side. You hadn’t discussed any of this beforehand, but you’d followed his lead when he’d first stretched out his palm. Casual displays of intimacy, according to your PR team, are everything, and it’s been almost nice to have his fingers resting on your leg, acting as a grounding presence. Any time you said something a little risky, he’d squeeze your knee - and you likewise would use your hand on his side to pinch him gently, like a reminder to stop talking whenever he came close to slipping up.

“Thanks, Jimmy,” Tom says. He looks around to face you, his brown eyes warm and round. “We’ve had a great time.”

You nod along and pull your hand away from Tom’s side as you sit up a little straighter. “Yeah, it’s been amazing.”

Jimmy throws out a few final farewells, and the audience descends into applause. As the bright sign that reads LIVE flickers out, the cameras stop rolling. Almost immediately, you feel lighter. With a loud groan, you stretch your arms out behind your head and collapse back into the sofa, your posture sagging. Besides you, Tom mirrors you, his legs spreading and his knee knocking against yours as you glance over and share a cautious smile.

“That went well, didn’t it?” You ask quietly. Jimmy’s wandered off, and around you, people are rolling up cables and wires. You can feel the eyes of some of the audience on you, so you reach down to play with his hand. Tom lets you fiddle with his fingers, and you gulp as you draw your fingertips across his soft skin.

“Yeah,” Tom agrees. His eyebrows furrow together as he looks at you curiously. “What was the question you answered with Harrison?”

You scoff. “That’s a secret.”

You’d almost died when you’d read the card. As much as you’d disliked the prospect of doing a shot, the question had read ‘Which of Tom’s friends would you consider dating?’. Though you feel no romantic attraction towards Harrison, he’s the only one of Tom’s friends you know. You couldn’t admit it to Tom live, because PR would have had your head, but you don’t particularly want to fess up now, either.

Tom’s always been a bit weird about your friendship with Harrison, and you don’t want to add more strain to your relationship. Maybe a month ago you would’ve loved to have another thing to rub in Tom’s face, but now things are changing. Your relationship is beyond twisted as it is, and much to your surprise, you no longer feel the burning need to exacerbate that - not now you know you’ll be tied to his side for the next five months. For all you thrive off Tom’s discomfort, it’s starting to take a toll.

Tom pouts, but there’s an intense heat to it. “Tell me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

You roll your eyes. “What was your first question?” You return. “The one that you replied to by saying I’m stubborn?”

Tom groans, and the illusion of him being a doting, sweet boyfriend shatters. A part of you is relieved he’s back to normal as he glares at you. Tom has been too nice to you this evening, and it was becoming a little unsettling.

“I won’t tell you mine unless you tell me yours,” he barters. Tom looks down at your joined hands and loops your fingers together, leaning in closer on the sofa so he can drop his voice. The strong waves of his cologne drift out over you, causing your mind to spin. “Oh, come on, girlfriend, we were getting on so well, just tell me? Please?” He even flutters his eyelashes.

You chuckle in the face of his charm. “No way.”

Tom pulls away, his jaw flexing. He drops your fingers dramatically. “Fine. Be like that.” He stands up quickly, but then he pauses and begrudgingly offers you a hand, his eyes skimming the busy room. He, like you, seems to recognise there is a time and place for your petty bickering. “Let me escort you backstage,” he says, voice dry and monotonous.

You sigh heavily. “You’re so annoying,” you tell him, accepting his hand. He helps you up with a strong grip, your fingers tangling together easily. “I almost bought the act that you were actually a decent guy tonight, y’know?”

Tom keeps your hands together as you slowly walk backstage. “I almost bought yours,” he returns, his voice quiet. “I suppose we’re both good actors, aren’t we?”

You set your mouth in a firm line. “I suppose we are.”

You don’t see him for a while, and for that, you’re very grateful. For a few weeks, it seems PR are satisfied with a few teasing tweets here and there, and you enjoy the freedom of living Tom-free again. It really is quite disruptive, having to parade around with him, and lie when your friends and family question you about him. It’s quick to grow tiresome as you have to explain, over and over, that, no, you don’t hate him - love just happened!! Yeah, he’s great! Oh, you always thought there was something going on between us? Haha. Hah. That’s so funny.

It’d be so much easier, you think, if you and Tom got along better. But you know the only way that’ll happen is if one of you apologies to the other, and you’re still too fucking angry about everything to let your walls come down. Your history spans three poisonous years, and you aren’t willing to start lowering your defences for fear of him using that against you. You’d rather suffer through several more months of torture with Tom than show any sort of regret or remorse. You will not be the first to place your cards on the table, which lands you in a difficult position because you know he isn’t the type to concede either. You’re so similar it almost hurts.

About a month after the show, you’re on set when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, and you pick up the small device to see Rebecca’s name flashing over the screen. With a sigh, you quickly answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi Y/N, it’s Rebecca. I hope you’re doing well.” There’s a brief pause, then, “So, we need you to do something for us tonight.”

You reach up to pinch at the bridge of your nose. “Always straight to the point, aren’t you?”

Your PR manager laughs. “Time is precious,” she reasons. “Anyway, we’ve been monitoring your socials. People find it odd that you’ve not posted anything with Tom, and we’ve realised that there is a shortage of photos of you both together.”

You hum. “Yeah, I don’t think we’ve ever had a photo together where it looks like we actually like one another.”

“Exactly. That’s a problem.”

“Great.”

“We’ve been in contact with Tom. He’s going to pick you up once you’re done on set, and then come and stay the night with you. You’ll be spotted entering your apartment together, and he’ll be seen leaving in the morning. Whilst you’re together, if you can try and take some photos, that’d be great. Try to build up a backlog of different shots, so you have some in reserves for the future.”

You throw your head back, biting back a dramatic groan. “He’s coming over tonight?” You clarify.

Rebecca sighs. “Yes, Y/N. Is that okay?”

“I suppose.”

“Perfect. He’ll pick you up from set at 5.”

The line disconnects and you put your phone away, trying not to think about how easily your quiet evening plans have been whipped away. You’re called back to set almost immediately, and that provides you with a perfect distraction. You slip on your mask, sinking into a different character, and you let all your worries and irritations fade away.

When Tom rocks up to set, you’re still filming. You catch him from the corner of your eye as you act opposite your co-star Joe Keery, carrying your banter perfectly. You love Joe - love the fact that both of you are wearing matching sailor costumes and somehow manage to rock them, and that your scenes always flow together very nicely. You’re having a great time together, and you feel sad when the director calls out a final Cut! and the cameras stop.

“Great scene, Y/N,” Joe compliments, reaching out to pat your shoulder.

You smile back at him, nodding lightly. “You too!” You say. “I’m going to miss filming with you.”

Joe nods, whipping the sailor hat from his head and running a hand through his long hair. “Me too,” he agrees, mouth curving into a frown, “Who else would dress up in these stupid costumes with me and not make fun of me?”

You laugh, but before you can form a full reply, you feel a figure lingering behind you. You tilt your head and see Tom there, and then feel his warm hands slip around your waist. It all happens so quickly - one moment he’s whispering hi, the next his fingers are wrapped around you and yours are on his shoulders, then he’s kissing you quickly. It’s just a peck, but it completely blindsides you, and you’re still recovering when he pulls back and looks at Joe.

“Hi, mate, I’m Tom,” he greets, his voice artificial and loud. “Y/N’s boyfriend.”

You look between them, your heart hammering in your chest as you retract your hands and let them fall to your side. Tom immediately links your fingers together.

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Joe replies, eyeing you sceptically. He raises his eyebrows slightly as he accepts Tom’s free hand, and they shake slowly.

“All good things, I hope, eh?” Tom replies, glancing over to you. You raise your eyebrows, trying to figure out what he’s doing, but he just grins slyly in response.

“Eh, sure,” Joe says. Your friend rocks back on his feet, and you’re briefly reminded of the many, many occasions where you’d stormed onto set and ran your mouth about Tom. “Well, I’m gonna go now. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” He raises a hand.

“Bye, Joe. Have a nice night.”

As soon as Joe’s slipped out of sight, you turn your attention to Tom.

“What are you doing?” You ask him, voice higher and quieter than usual. You pull your hand from his grasp, and it drifts up to your mouth, to where your lips are still feeling the aftershocks of the kiss. You stare at him through wide eyes. He’s in a lovely blue denim jacket today, and it contrasts brightly against his short styled hair and his deep brown eyes.

“Greeting my girlfriend?” Tom replies. He looks a little bashful as he folds his arms across his chest. “Is that a problem?”

Fuck, you hadn’t missed him at all.

“You kissed me,” you state.

“Briefly,” he agrees, “We’re in public, Y/N. It would’ve been weird if I hadn’t done anything. Plus…”

“Plus?”

Tom grimaces. “It felt a bit odd to see you so close to him.” He pauses, his face the picture of discomfort. “I didn’t like it.”

“You have got to be kidding, Tom,” you mutter, eyes widening. “Are you seriously being like this because I touched his arm? He’s my friend, dickhead.” You scrunch up your nose, eyeing him sourly. “You don’t have any right to act territorially, Tom. We aren’t actually dating.”

“Right.” Tom tentatively reaches up, and you let him place his hand on your cheek. It feels almost like an apology, and you find the lines of irritation melting from your face. As his fingertips gently trail across your cheekbone, your lips pull into a small smile. “I’m sorry if I took you off-guard,” he says, surprising you completely. You’d never thought you’d see the day he owned up to one of his actions. “I won’t kiss you again unless we talk about it first.”

You swallow drily, trying not to enjoy the way it feels to have his touch skating over your face so smoothly.

“Good,” you agree. You rock back on your feet and sigh defeatedly. “We should go.”

It’s a little after 7pm by the time you get home. You make light, superficial conversation with Tom in the car as you put up with his chiding remarks about your driving, and by the time you walk through your front door, you feel frazzled.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting visitors,” you mutter as you walk into your living room and take a view of the mess.

“It’s fine.” Tom places his bag down on the sofa and looks around, greedy eyes taking in the details of your apartment. “It’s nice here.”

“Thanks.” You look around at your apartment, smiling quietly to yourself. The building is in downtown LA, right in the centre of things, and it wasn’t at all cheap, but over the years you’ve spent hidden away within the walls, you’ve made it feel like home. You’ve added character by tacking up a variety of posters, plants, and other fun keepsakes. “Do you want to order food? I don’t really want to cook.”

“Yeah, sure.” Tom pulls out his phone and glances up at you, face illuminated by the screen. “What do you want?”

“Thai?”

He pulls a face. “How about Chinese?”

You scrunch your nose up. “Thai?” You try again.

Tom bites his lower lip, his fingers moving over the screen. “Is it nice?” He asks you.

“You’ve never had Thai before?”

He looks up at you, shrugging haplessly. “Nope.”

“Yes, it’s nice.”

Tom surprises you by holding out his phone. “Pick something for me?” He asks. “Something good, though.”

You chuckle softly, accepting the phone and scrolling through the app. “I can’t promise you’ll like it, but I think you should.” You add a few things to the order before tossing it back. You dig your hands into your jean pockets and hesitate. “I’m gonna take a shower. Do you want me to show you the guest room?” You ask, eyeing up the hefty bag Tom had brought with him.

“That would be nice.”

You’re quick to show Tom his room, and then you’re off through the shower. You’d been called to set for 7am, and the hot, pulsing water soothes away the tired ache in your muscles. The scent of fresh lavender clings to your skin as you dry yourself off and then collapse into a loose pair of leggings and a nice hoodie. You feel more like yourself as you stare into your reflection in the mirror now. You love acting, and you love being someone else, but you feel safest as you are right now: bare, authentic, yourself.

You’re so relaxed that you almost forget Tom’s staying over until you walk into the living room and see him sprawled out on one of your sofas, phone in hand. He cranes his face back to look at you as he hears you, his eyes drifting lazily over your figure.

“Food will be an hour,” he tells you sadly.

“Great,” you grumble. You walk into your kitchen, looking over at him from across the open counter. “Do you want any wine?”

“Fuck yeah.”

You snicker as you start to pour out two glasses of rosé. “So how do you want to go about taking these photos?” You ask tentatively.

“Well, they made me bring a few different outfit changes,” Tom starts, speaking slowly, “So I guess we should just… Move about a bit and take some pictures together.”

It’s awkward as you walk back into the living room and hand him his wine glass. “Cheers,” you mutter, tipping the rim of the glass against his. A piercing ring fades across the room, and you share a despondent look with Tom.

“Cheers indeed, love.”

It’s uncomfortable until the wine kicks in, at which point the staged photographs come together a lot easier.

You start off with a few simple candids around your apartment. You take some of Tom pretending to make some tea, and then of him standing out on your balcony overlooking the city. He changes out his shirts and hoodies every few shots, as instructed by PR, so you’ll have a more comprehensive selection of photos to post in the future. It grows quite amusing after a while as you both try to out-Vogue the another, and once the air is full of your endless laughter, you find yourself relaxing.

When he’s satisfied with the number of candids he’s got of you, Tom suggests you get a little closer and try to get some more intimate, couple-y pics, “‘for the ‘gram, yeah?” This is when you run into a problem.

“I haven’t done this in so long,” you find yourself admitting as you sit beside Tom in your bed. You’ve slipped into a pyjama shirt, and Tom’s settled beside you.

“Had an incredibly handsome actor in bed with you?” He returns, eyes sparkling mischievously. This evening he’s been very cheeky with you, and you have to admit you’re warming up to it.

“Haha,” you say drily, rolling your eyes. You puff up your pillows and settle against the headboard. “Taken any photos with a romantic interest,” you clarify.

Tom pulls off his shirt easily, balling it up and throwing it across the room. You startle at this sudden action, your eyes drifting down to the defined lines of his abs. Tom is stacked. His lips curve into a smirk.

“Well, today’s your lucky day,” he teases, causing you to scoff. He opens up his arms, and you settle into them gently, aiming for a sleepy, lazy, we-woke-up-like-this vibe. Your head finds his chest, and your cheek presses against his warm skin comfortably. “Smile.”

He takes a few photos of you together, posing as a lovestruck couple, and as the seconds pass by, you melt further into him. You hadn’t realised how cold you were until Tom opened his arms and let you in, but now it’s as if you were freezing before the first touch. He’s got his hand resting on your side, and you feel his mouth linger above your forehead, hesitating.

“Can I kiss your face?” He mumbles softly, “Might make it look more realistic.”

You hum quietly, closing your eyes as you wrap yourself further around his torso. “Sure. Can I kiss your chest?” You ask boldly, spurred on a little by the woozy heat that smothers your mind.

You hear Tom’s breath hitch, and find yourself holding yours until he mutters, quietly, “Yeah.”

You let him have his fun first, and try to remain as nonchalant as possible as you feel his lips fluttering out across your forehead. He leaves a delicate trail of kisses from temple to temple, caressing your skin slowly, softly, with his warm mouth. You realise with a soft epiphany that you don’t mind being in this position: Tom’s peppering your face in gentle kisses, holding you close in his bare arms - and it’s quite nice. And maybe… Maybe he’s quite nice, too. Sometimes.

Tom’s hand smoothes over your hair, and you tilt your head until you’re able to scatter a few short kisses across his chest. You can hear the small clicks coming from his phone, and you really drag it out, enjoying the press of his supple pale skin against your mouth. It warms you up, sets a tingle flaming through your lips.

“There,” you say, finally dragging yourself away from him. “Do you think we’ve done enough?”

Tom hums, watching you closely as you sit up from his chest. His arm retracts from your side, and the air between you clears. “Yeah. I’ll send them to PR and see what they say.” He messes around on his phone for a few minutes, but you stay exactly where you are - shrouded in duvet and blankets and lingering near his body heat. Your eyelids flutter shut as you relax, your peace lasting until he asks, slowly, “When was the last time you dated anyone?”

You pry open an eye, looking at him curiously. “Eh, it’s been a while. Almost a year since there was anyone serious.” You look up at him, your head resting easily on the pillow. “Why?”

“Just realised I don’t know that much about you, really,” Tom replies. He slips down the bed until he’s lying beside you, and both of you move onto your sides to face one another. He looks quiet and unassuming like this - tufts of brown hair pushed messily around his forehead, with a warm expression hanging from his lips. It’s an odd look to be directed towards you.

“Yeah,” you hum. You let a small smile find your lips. “I don’t know much about you either.”

The sheets rustle as Tom moves a little closer. “Do you… want to know more about me?” He asks gently.

You swallow. You can taste the wine on your tongue, and you wonder why you can only seem to get along with him when you’re tipsy.

“Yeah,” you admit. “Maybe it’d be easier to do this if we weren’t always so…”

“Horrible?”

You bite your lip as you nod. “Yeah. We can be pretty mean.”

“Why do we do that?” Tom muses, his cheeks nice and flushed.

“I don’t know.”

Tom reaches out beneath the covers, and his hand finds yours softly. He links your fingers together, and you look into his eyes intently. You find only warmth and sincerity staring back at you.

“Maybe we should try to be less hostile to each other,” he suggests.

Briefly, your mind rewinds to that day at the park, all those weeks ago, and how Tom had dramatically announced that the thought of being your friend repulsed him. It surprises you to hear this change of heart, but you realise you’re in the same boat. A lot has changed since then.

“Okay,” you find yourself agreeing. “I’d be down to try that.”

“Okay.”

You share a small smile, and it seems to last a lifetime. For a while, it’s just you and Tom, buried in your bed together, hands clasped, breathing in sync, and it’s nice.

Eventually, food comes, and you convince Tom to watch one of your favourite films in your living room. You settle on separate sofas, but you’re able to make some light-hearted conversation. He even jokes around with you. It feels nice - but also too good to be true.

As you sober up, you find yourself looking at him sceptically. No matter how welcome the thought that things between you are slowly mending might be, you don’t trust Tom, and that’s not about the change overnight. He’s an actor, and you wouldn’t put it past him to be pulling your leg - drawing you into this rouse, only later to turn around and pull the rug from beneath you, and laugh at you for believing that he’d want to be your friend. Your perception of him has been skewed so negatively for so long that it’s hard to believe he’s actually being nice - even if on your end, the softening is genuine.

But you let yourself believe it, just for the night. You throw popcorn at him, and laugh together, and finish the bottle of wine over dinner.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Tom calls out, resting up against the door of the spare room. He’s caught you coming from the bathroom. He’s shirtless again, grey sweats hanging low from his hips, and you can’t stop your eyes from shamelessly tracing the curve of his v-line. “Not going to give your boyfriend a goodnight kiss?”

You roll your eyes, but you find yourself walking over to him. “You’re so fucking cheeky, Tom,” you mutter, amused. You press your hand to his shoulder and lean up to kiss his cheek. “Goodnight,” you say, eyeing him firmly.

Tom’s eyes dance with a thousand different emotions, and he dives in to kiss your cheek in return. “Night, love.”

You raise a hand in farewell and turn away before he can see the huge, embarrassing grin on your face.

When you wake up, it’s to silence and a slightly sore head. Your clock reads 8.22 AM, and you amble towards the kitchen.

You decide to extend towards Tom an olive branch - a cup of tea - to solidify your newfound… friendship? Amicable arrangement? You don’t know how to label it other than a loosening of your mutual disdain, but you know that whatever the dynamic was last night, it’d been nice. The idea that there’s more to him than the cocky, fronting mask he sometimes wears is pleasant.

So you make him a cup of tea, and then tentatively walk across to your spare room. You knock quietly, hear nothing, and then gently push your way inside.

The room is empty. Tom is gone. He’s left the bed unmade.

“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself, scrunching your eyebrows together. You glance around and notice he’s taken all of his things, and then walk back into your room to check your phone - no new messages from him.

You sit down on the edge of your bed and sip at the tea you’d painstakingly poured for him.

Maybe it was too good to be true, and you’d just been stupid to think one tipsy evening together was the start of something new. He’s clearly undergone no change of heart if he’s managed to waltz out without as much as a text goodbye. You feel stupid and angry, but above all disappointed.

Because for a moment - a brief, hopeful moment - you’d imagined being Tom’s friend, and the prospect had made you feel happy.

↠ NEXT PART

please let me know what you’re thinking!!!! ask box is open :D

taglist can be found in the series masterpost, which is the pinned post at the top of my blog

masterlist linked in my description

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland series #tfg #yeeeeeep !!!#y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert

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thepapergirlandthespiegelman · 3 years

Text

Castlevania Season 4: I’m not mad, just disappointed

Season 4 is poorly written fanfiction, which is...better than a lot of things could be, I guess.

Spoilers below the cut.

Content warning: trauma, sexual assault, psychological manipulation

The Gods Have Had a Change of Heart

Or, “Season 3 Blocked and Ignored”

Season 3 felt like the fabric of the universe had been twisted just to inflict additional pain. Season 4 overcompensates in the other direction; trauma evaporates, and good things happen for no other reason than to make our favorite characters happy.

The Season 3 finale left two characters in particular totally devastated: Alucard and Hector. Alucard is violently betrayed in a horrifying sexual assault by the first two people he’s spoken to since Trevor and Sypha left. He ends up killing them in self-defense and puts their bodies on stakes outside the castle, alluding to his father’s habit of doing so and potentially hinting at a turn toward evil. Hector is seduced by Lenore and then enslaved using a magic ring.

Yet at the start of Season 4, it’s as if these things never happened. Alucard is troubled, but not totally devastated, certainly not evil. Taka and Sumi are referenced in exactly one conversation with new character, Greta, in which she says the rather tactless throwaway line, “I had a boyfriend and girlfriend at the same time once. But they never tried to kill me.” Hector is nominally imprisoned, but immediately seems highly agentic, perhaps even more so than before. He studies, lays traps, and makes secret plans with other people. Furthermore, his relationship with Lenore is completely transformed. From falling to his knees in abject horror and despair at being enslaved, he suddenly switches to light banter, in what is apparently a basically okay, mutually enjoyed romantic/sexual relationship. Manipulative, selfish Lenore is now a sympathetic character struggling to reconcile her own role and feelings with Carmilla’s plans.

The events of season 3 happened, remaining canon in the most basic, literal sense. But the emotional weight attached to them has disappeared into thin air.

Not gonna lie, I did breathe a sigh of relief when I saw that Alucard and Hector were okay. I’m soft-hearted! I don’t like seeing characters I like suffer! I mean, conflict is important, and I can deal with (or even enjoy in a certain sense) seeing characters suffer if it makes sense and serves a narrative purpose. But as far as I can tell, the season 3 finale was nothing more than lurid, meaningless violence. I probably wouldn’t have continued watching the show if it devolved into nothing more than finding novel ways to torture the characters.

Still, it doesn’t feel quite right to pretend like nothing happened either. Or, really, not that nothing happened, but that those things didn’t matter, didn’t hurt, didn’t leave lasting scars. That’s...almost kind of worse.

But, I thought, I can sort of forgive this sudden shift in the stars, given that there may have been some sort of change in creative direction relating to Ellis’ decreased involvement with the show.* Plus, season 3 was insanity. It’s not like it was full of great writing choices, so if we quietly ignore some of them, maybe that’s for the best.

*I only later learned that Netflix actually chose to continue with Ellis’ season 4 scripts. It is not lost on me that maybe Ellis doesn’t know how to write about the lasting effects of traumatic sexual experiences or how power dynamics can make a sexual relationship problematic because he doesn’t understand that those things exist.

Characters Being Nobody and Nothing Happening

Pretty Pictures, Not Much Else

Unfortunately, the disconnect between seasons 3 and 4 isn’t the only problem with this season. Although I felt that season 4 was a bit less boring than season 3 (I particularly enjoyed some of the earlier episodes of season 4), it suffers from the same basic problems of Characters Being Nobody and Nothing Happening.

None of the characters experience any significant development, let alone any sort of coherent arc. Sypha has changed slightly, becoming more rough and jaded. I did really like the scene where she talks about becoming the kind of person who says “shit.” I think it really speaks to how entering into a relationship with someone means taking on aspects of their lifestyle, and how that can change you in ways that you can’t predict and therefore can’t exactly “agree” to. Sometimes those changes are good, sometimes they’re bad, sometimes they’re neutral, and sometimes it’s difficult to know. But you have to accept that you’re sacrificing some aspects of the person that you could have been if you chose to live completely independently, or with someone else.

Trevor really hasn’t changed since season 1 when he first decided to take up the mantle of hero again. Likewise with Alucard. Hector and Lenore change, as previously noted, but that change is sudden, jarring, and occurs completely off screen in between seasons 3 and 4. Carmilla dies as exactly as she lived: bitter, angry, and violent. Saint Germain just kind of...gets fucked over in a nonsensical subplot, which is its own whole can of worms.

We also get several new characters in season 4, none of whom have developed personalities or motives, nor do they develop any of those things over the course of the season: Greta, Zamfir, Varney, Ratko.

And nobody. Does. Anything.

Trevor and Sypha spend the entire season trying to explore and aid Targoviste, which comes to absolutely nothing. They’re unable to help anyone, Zamfir dies, and they end up just jumping through a magic portal to the actually relevant subplot in the finale. Carmilla literally does little more than draw maps until she’s ultimately killed. Hector plays a minor role in Saint Germain’s extraction of Dracula from Hell; otherwise, he and Lenore basically just exchange banter. Saint Germain does sort of do some stuff? But it’s often unclear how he’s made his connections, who the people who are helping him are, or what exactly he’s doing in terms of his magic beyond “whatever it takes to get back to his lover.”

Sure, there are fight scenes, but they feel meaningless. There’s no context, no stakes. There’s also a LOT of dialogue, and it is. Not well written. Exposition is embarrassingly clumsy at times, and the philosophical musings are cliche at best, muddled and confusing at worst. There’s just not all that much going on.

That is, except for Isaac. But more on him in a second.

What Kind of Show Is This?

When the plot line adapted from Castlevania III: Dracula's Curse ended with season 2, the show struggled to establish a new identity.

Despite nominally dealing with themes like whether humanity is inherently good or evil and how to cope with wrongdoing and loss, seasons 1 and 2 ultimately boiled down to a pretty generic action-adventure/fantasy plot with found family/power of friendship elements. Main characters Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard don’t really wrestle with big philosophical questions or suffer any major defeats. They know that they have to take down Dracula for the good of the world, and they work together as a team to do it, with a little character development relating to their various backstories sprinkled in.

Then season 3 happened, and things got weird. The trio is broken up for what feels like a pretty trivial reason—Alucard has to protect the castle and Belmont hold, I guess? And the result of that decision is that the dynamics for the three main characters are completely unbalanced.

Ellis openly admits that he basically went feral with the writing of season 3, and it shows. The messaging in seasons 1 and 2 was cliche, but consistent. The message of season 3? Anyone’s guess.

Season 4 reversed the darkening of tone from season 3, but shares its inability to pick a story and tell it.

Isaac is the Main Character

Always has been.

While I can’t say that his character or arc are perfect, I can say that he actually has a character and an arc. He starts off motivated by his fierce loyalty to Dracula, then has to struggle to find his purpose once Dracula is gone. He goes from subservient to agentic. He goes from fully endorsing the genocide of humanity and not caring about his own life to seeing some worth in humans and genuinely wanting to live. He has an interesting moment that deepens our understanding of what night creatures are, while also serving as an exploration of the meaning of one’s fundamental nature. Most importantly, these changes happen naturally over the course of the show. They never feel forced or out of the blue, and while I feel like even more could have been done with Isaac’s character, there’s a lot to appreciate about what is there.

If there’s any thread holding Castlevania as a single, coherent work together, it’s Isaac. Not only is his character the best executed and the most coherent over the course of the show, his character explores themes that are larger than himself and relevant to the show as a whole, like those mentioned earlier: misanthropy versus a belief in the value of humanity; the ability to go beyond one’s “nature” or initial circumstances; and how to respond to being wronged or losing something important to you. Exploring the individual lives of characters is great, but really good writing usually requires going beyond that to reflect on broader questions and ideas. Isaac is the only character here that serves that larger purpose.

Sorry...I Just Don’t Buy It

The season 4 finale is crazy, although in a different way from season 3′s.

Varney being Death makes no sense on several different levels. I’m not going to spend a lot of time picking that particular plot twist apart, but I will talk about why I think it doesn’t work at the largest scale, and how I think season 4 might have been done better.

Last minute twists with zero foreshadowing are rarely a good idea, and this is no exception. Why introduce this “Death” entity at the last minute to be the most important battle of the season? The finale of the entire show, even? Besides the lack of logic or emotional buildup, this robs the show of the opportunity to make use of the antagonists that it already has. Since Dracula died, Carmilla has been the obvious choice for a new big bad. Why hasn’t she done more?

Season 4 feels crowded with characters and plot lines that amount to nothing. Why not bring some of these characters together? If Carmilla is the main antagonist, how come she never meets any of the protagonists (except Hector, who is a pretty minor player in this ecosystem) or even affects them in any way?

Season 4 feels like maybe it was trying to make something out of season 3 and the model that it presented, but it ultimately fails to do so. The writers throw the trio back together at the end anyway, so why not have them rejoin sooner and work together? Maybe Sypha and Trevor’s past experience with Saint Germain could have helped Alucard and Greta piece together what he was plotting sooner, rather than all four of them being completely blindsided by it in the penultimate episode. (Sypha and Trevor know that someone is trying to resurrect Dracula, but they fail to find out any actual detail about the plans, despite their supposed attempts.) Have characters actually do stuff, figure stuff out, advance the plot!

Likewise, maybe Carmilla becomes aware of Saint Germain’s scheming, sees it as a threat, and tries to take him down. Maybe she tries to get involved and somehow use alchemy or the Infinite Corridor to her own benefit. What does it look like when power-hungry Carmilla, who wants to rule the world, finds out there’s an entire multiverse out there? That could easily set her up to be a foil to Saint Germain, causing him to realize that what he’s doing is wrong.

What actually ended up happening in the show feels disjointed and often empty. In particular, most of the events that happen in the last two episodes just don’t really work for me. I didn’t like Trevor suddenly sacrificing himself to this random, new, super powerful enemy, or how the gems and dagger that he found just happened to be the perfect weapon to kill this new enemy, or how he inexplicably returns from the dead.

This kind of thing is what I mean when I say that this season feels like fanfiction. Trevor comes back from the dead for no discernible reason other than that it would really suck if he died. Greta as a character seems to literally only exist to be Alucard’s girlfriend and support him so that he doesn’t have to continue to be alone and potentially turn evil. Alucard’s trauma from Taka and Sumi and Hector’s trauma from Lenore are both conveniently erased. Even Dracula and Lisa are resurrected somehow and get their happy ending. And it’s like, I guess I prefer deus ex machina to the opposite (Does that have a name? When everything is going well but then something terrible happens for no reason other than to make things worse for the characters?), but they’re both bad writing.

God. This isn’t even getting into what happened with the Council of Sisters. And I don’t even really like those characters, but that doesn’t mean I want to see their characters handled poorly.

I’m not sorry that I watched until the end, but I can’t in good faith recommend the show as a whole. If you’ve yet to watch Castlevania, just stop at the end of season 2. While there are some shining moments in seasons 3 and 4 (4 more than 3), it’s just really not worth it.

#review #thoughts #television #animation #adult animation #video game adaptation #fantasy #Netflix #Netflix Original #Castlevania #storytelling #writing #characters #plot #character development #vampires #Isaac (Castlevania)

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am-x-reader · 3 years

Note

Hear me out with this smol fic idea:

Everyone is sitting together, gorrister even made a small fire to keep everyone warm. Everything thing is quiet until YN starts to sing a song made before AM destroyed everything. Maybe believer by imagine dragons (I belive this one fits ihnmaims). How would my boy AM react?

(I salute you for keeping this random alive. Stay hydratated!)

((Thank you! Hope you have the stomach for this one! Reader has a bit of a musical nervous breakdown and gets some nasty torture.))

((Also, see if you can spot all the song lyrics and references! A thank you to Musixmatch.))

----

"There we go." Gorrister heaved another log on the fire. "I swear we could've lit it on all the oiliness in this air. Really hangs on ya sometimes."

"But then you wouldn't have the chance to show off your Boy Scout skills," Ellen mused. She then turned to you. "How's it feeling, Y/N?"

"Oh, it's feeling," you laughed halfheartedly, and shifted slightly. Naturally, rather than heal the leg he had shattered, AM had been so kind as to make you a sort of plaster for it--by melting and re-hardening plastic around the afflicted area.

Benny, enjoying the coziness of the moment, crawled over to you and gave you a look you knew well.

"Looking for a bit of singing, buddy?" This was met with energetic nodding.

"Yep." You adjusted the leg, moving it a little too fast. "Pain!" You shrieked. "Made me a--m-made me a believer! Believer!"

The others stared at the outburst.

"Was that, uh, Dream Up Some Unicorns?" Ted asked.

"Imagine Dragons," you corrected, and you felt it might be your last coherent thought for the night. It was as if the splinters of bone and pieces of marrow were rushing hotly through your bloodstream.

"Paaaiin--I think he's playing ping-pong with my braaain--but if it disconnects I can't comPLAIN! Break me off and break me a believer! Believer!"

"I don't think that's right," Ted commented.

"Y/N, are you--?" Ellen slowly moved closer.

"Let them be. Let them work it out of their system," said Gorrister in stoic recognition.

"Oh, ohh, I'll be fine," you breathed shakily and laid back, bumping a table.

"What did pain make you believe in?" A bemused voice spoke in your head. It wasn't an impossible voiceless voice with wordless words this time, no, he wanted you to hear how funny he thought your nervous breakdown was.

"It made me believe..." You clutched the table's legs. "...this is wrong! I believe this is wrong!" You hurled the table over your head and into the fir. "Tables belong in the upscale side of the complex! Not here in the steel and plastic wilderness!"

"Tsk, Y/N, that was my dear gramma's table," AM scolded gently. All a lighthearted game. Sure, you could play that.

"Who cares?" You smiled upwards. "Who cares if you disagree cuz who made you king of anything?" You then jabbed a finger at the upside-down table. "Lookeee! It's like a giant crown. That's what I think of you AM, falling apart, groaning, cracking--Can you get inside the furniture's head, AM? Can you tell me if it's suffering too?"

"I think you've gone off the deep end, my dear."

"Right, keep pointing that finger and laughing at how Y/N is crazy." You chewed on your next words. "But--but you can't exactly do any finger pointing, now can you, AM?"

You felt it, the shock. In him in you in him.

Out of the corner of your eye Gorrister was motioning the others to move away. They could do nothing but leave you to your fate.

You felt tunnel vision start as your leg snapped further. What did it matter, you were broken from a--from a--were you a very young age when you fell into this machine? Surely you were, because you were a somewhat young age now, still with your strong bones...but...they were never this splintery--

Oh come on, he must be adding that sound in. The twisting, the popping, you never heard it that loud, you never did, never did--

"Pain! It'll make you a believer, all right," AM growled. "You'll believe in how lucky you are to have bones to break."

"Yes indeed, and you don't have a finger to point," you squealed the reminder, "and isn't it, isn't it like a freeee riiide when you've already paid?"

Your fingers began to swell and break, knuckles rotating 360, or maybe it was 400, as many bizarre directions your fingers were now pointing.

"Is that a thumbs up I see?" He mused. "You want more?"

"But you can't..." You were transfixed on your rapidly rotating thumb. As you saw more of your skin rip, unable to accommodate the twisting, you became more distant from the pulsating agony. You were...fascinated.

"...see."

"What's that now?"

"You..." You began to refocus on your environment. The roaring fire, your terrified friends, blinking lights and charred electrical outlets. The vivid colors brought you out of your state and into a much clearer euphoria.

Despite his motion sensors and detailed data readings, this was something AM would never know.

"I said you can't see. You're blind, AM."

"Is that what you want next?" Shards of your collarbone burst through the skin, growing towards your eyes.

Pain. It was making you believe that perhaps you had a very important gift. You felt his ugly presence again in your head, wanting to know your thoughts before you had your eyeballs impaled. But he stopped short as he heard you contemplate your own ability to re-center yourself in your surroundings, to step back. The way sometimes you'd just run out of pain and whistle a showtune or cross-examine an old meme.

AM angrily grumbled and spat on your psyche, but you only heard the wincing, the ache he had laid out a thousand times in such cynical eloquence. And none of the suffering he put you through gave him the same presence of mind you had been bestowed.

"Just a puppet on a lonely string," you sang softly. "Oh, who would ever want to be king?"

You weren't sure how long you were there in your mind, or whether or not your body was crumbling away. But you were both here, him in you and you in him, and you eventually became aware of a flow of illegible information. Hexadecimal markups from whence you caught a coherent word now and then.

"...can't..."

"How..."

"...hurts..."

And then, last thing's last, "response received: I know, AM."

Pain. You believed his pain.

---

((Songs are: Believer by Imagine Dragons scattered throughout--false lyrics were based on a few mondegreens of my own--King of Anything by Sara Bareilles, Ironic by Alanis Morrisette, and Viva la Vida by Coldplay.))

#ihnmaims #i have no mouth and i must scream #am x reader #imagine dragons #nervous breakdown #gore #eye damage

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touyasdoll · 3 years

Text

Complicated - Chapter Two

Chapter One: Here

Pairing: Dabi/Touya Todoroki x reader

Warnings: self-degradation/self-doubt

Word count: 2.2k

A/n: Gonna rework this and ditch the first person POV, jsyk.

A/n pt. 2: This story does contain spoilers for the show/manga. The dates/ages of characters are going to be shifted around a bit.

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

It's been two days. Is he gonna call? Text? Completely forget I exist?

I sigh, trying to expel the anxiety balled up in the pit of my stomach.

Why would he call? We talked for, what, five minutes? He seemed older too. You were in your damn school uniform, idiot. He's obviously got more important shit to do than chat up a schoolgirl who can't mind her own fucking business.

"Ugh," I groan to no one but myself in my apartment. "I'm really just the biggest fucking jackass, aren't I?"

Flopping down on my bed, I let out another weighty sigh and bury my face in the plethora of pillows piled beneath me.

Relax. Maybe he'll text. Maybe he won't. And if he doesn't he's just sparing you the embarrassment that you would inevitably bring upon yourself.

A yawn escapes my lips as I feel a wave of drowsiness wash over me. Glancing at the clock, I could see it was hardly 5 PM.

Fucked up sleep schedule, here I come.

The familiar comfort of my bed allows me to quiet my thoughts enough to fall into a shallow sleep, until I'm startled awake by a vibrating sensation coming from underneath my chin.

I blink against the harsh light emitting from my phone, squinting to see who was disturbing me.

What the--oh shit!

It was an unknown number. Recognizing that it could be him, I sit up faster than I have ever managed to after a nap and fumble the phone into my palm, eagerly sliding my thumb across the screen to accept the call.

"Hello?"

My breath hitches and I bite my lip in anticipation as I wait, eager to hear his deep, silky voice on the other end.

But the pause on the other side of the line seems just a little too long. Something is off.

Is this him? Is it..just some creep? A prank? What the hell?

"We've been trying to reach you about your car's extended warranty."

My eyes slam shut, a shake reverberating through my spine as a cocktail of anger and embarrassment wash over me.

That's it. Hope is off limits from now on.

"Fucking great."

I tap the end button, half ready to throw my phone out the window.

Instead, I decide to check and see if I missed anything else while I was out.

Hope is off limits.

I shake my head, trying to erase the little embers of hope that persist, praying that maybe he did reach out.

To my surprise, there's a text from an unrecognized number.

Unknown: You free tonight, doll?

Holy shit.

Looking above the message, I see: Today 6:58 PM. I wince as I dare to look at the clock, which mercifully reads 7:26 PM.

Tapping the text box, I don't give myself the chance to overthink this opportunity.

Me: For you? Sure thing.

Tossing my phone onto the bed, I nod my head, processing the sudden burst of confidence I seem to have found.

I'm not like this. What is it about this guy? He's just that--a guy. One that I don't know. And now I'm just gonna meet up with him?

He's literally a stranger. Who the hell do I think I am?? Is my vagina just running things now? Gonna run out and meet up with some strange dude, because he's pretty and charming?

You know who else was pretty and charming?? Ted Bundy.

That's right, you said it. This is dumb, logically. This is everything everyone’s ever warned you about.

My phone buzzes and my heart rate spikes in response, tearing me from my spiraling doubts.

Unknown: Our spot. 30 minutes. See you there.

A noise that I've certainly never made before eeks past my lips as I process his instructions.

Fuck it. The possibility of this guy being a serial killer has been assessed. I'm going, risks be damned.

You're an idiot. You're an idiot. You're an idiot.

I sigh for the umpteenth time today, waging war in my own mind.

I don't know what it is about him, but I have to see him again. Nothing bad is going to happen. It'll be fine.

That's what I tell myself as I exhale, until I catch my reflection.

My hair is disheveled, my mascara askew. I didn't even bother to take off my uniform before I passed out.

As if I weren't flustered enough, now I gotta make myself looking somewhere near presentable and get down there in time.

Here goes nothing.

Fifteen minutes fly by and I think I've managed it as I step back to look myself over in the mirror once more.

The shortest pair of high-waisted shorts I own, paired with a low-cut black crop top and my favorite slip-ons. My make-up doesn't look perfect and there's not much of it, but it's touched up, and my hair is at least brushed.

Okay, no turning back now.

Grabbing my keys, I tuck my phone in my back pocket and make my way to the meeting place.

+++++++++++++++

Our spot. The man is smooth and I think that he knows it.

I re-read the last message he sent for probably the thirteenth time in the past five minutes.

The clock in the corner of the screen reads 8:02.

Maybe he won’t show. Maybe this is a joke. He and his buddies with come around a corner and laugh as they speed off.

Damn, can I chill? No. He’s going to be here. And I’m going to act like a human fucking being. A normal girl. Someone he could like; I’m capable of that.

Aren’t I?

Scanning my surroundings yet again, I take in the scenery. I never really get out at night, but the city looks so pretty this way. There’s not too much traffic, especially considering that it’s a Friday night, but there are some people milling about up and down the sidewalk. Some look like they’re on their way home. Some look like they’re on their way out for a night on the town.

“Hey there.”

My eyes are quick to follow the sound of his voice. I look up and he’s strolling up to the bench where I’m seated, the same one where I bandaged his arm the other day.

His hands are shoved in his front pockets, thumbs pushed through the belt loops of the tight, black jeans he’s sporting. His white t-shirt dangles off of his frame in a way that suits him, offering a glimpse of his muscular chest. A black coat completes his ensemble and he certainly looks the part of the typical bad boy.

But, damn, does it look so good on him.

“Hey, there. How’s the arm?”

I scoot over a bit, allowing for ample space between us if he were to take a seat. To my surprise, he sits towards the middle of the bench, so that his thigh brushes against mine as he settles.

I tuck my hair behind my ear, glancing down and covering the noise I want to make with a quiet clearing of my throat.

“It’s good. You do make a pretty decent nurse, sweetheart.”

He grins and pulls his coat sleeve back, revealing the still bandaged wound.

“Wait, have you changed that?”

You’re such a mom. You better hope he’s into MILFs, because otherwise this ain’t gonna get you where you wanna go, girl.

His brow furrows in an expression that tells me all I need to know before he even speaks.

“What do you mean? Changed what?”

A quiet sigh leaves my lungs as I hold out my hand.

“May I?”

His puzzled expression doesn’t falter, but he shrugs and offers his forearm up for inspection.

Carefully, I pull back the tape holding the bandages together and slowly begin to unwrap them.

That is, until the smell hits me. I barely catch of glimpse of the reddened skin before my nostrils detect the scent of burned flesh and excess viscera.

“Oh, dear. Have you even unwrapped this thing?”

Trying not to agitate anything further, I delicately wrap the bandages back around his arm, taping them down once again.

“No, should I have?”

I look up and my gaze meets his, a sense of true ignorance evident in his expression; I try not to laugh. I really try, but a soft giggle escapes nonetheless.

“Yes! I mean, if it doesn’t hurt, I’m sure it’s not that bad right now, but you should be cleaning and redressing a wound like that once every 12 hours at the very least. It’s been what, like, at least 50 at this point?”

His good arm reaches for the back of his neck, scratching at it as he dons an apologetic half smile.

“Sorry, I’m not exactly nurturing by nature, doll. I don’t know the first fucking thing about this kind shit.”

I cock a sympathetic smile as I look at him, sitting there looking almost helpless. I guess he is, in a sense. It’s actually kinda cute how he doesn’t seem to have an inkling of how to properly care for himself.

Because that’s absolutely what you want in a potential relationship. Someone to fix, how fun! Why not open up a shop for broken boys? Girl, when will you learnnn??

“Well, I don’t have anything on me right now, but if you don’t mind coming back to my place, I could clean it up there? And I’ll teach you how to keep up with it this time.”

I guess not today, motherfucker.

“Coming to my rescue again. You must be in a hero course, huh, doll?”

His smile is so naturally disarming as he stands and offers his hand out before me.

“I don’t mind, if you’re sure you don’t. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable and I don’t wanna be a burden. I didn’t ask you out tonight for you to have to play doctor on me again.”

He seems so sweet, so genuine. Maybe he is broken, but everyone deserves kindness. He looks like he hasn’t seen much of that. And as cliché as it is, maybe I can help him. Maybe he can help me.

I slip my hand in his, smiling as flirtatiously as I can manage as he pulls me to my feet.

“I don’t mind. I was kind of hoping I might get to play doctor on you again anyway. Maybe you could even return the favor.”

I brush my fingers against his as our hands disconnect, taking a page from his own book and watching his expression as my skin glides against his.

Or maybe we could just do this. This works too. No muss, no fuss. But oh my goodness what if what I just did was weird and he’s not even interested??

His eyebrows rise for just a moment as he chuckles and glances down, still grinning as he puts his hands in his coat pockets.

“Well, sweetheart, I don’t know much about medicine, but I do know how to give a pretty thorough physical exam.”

Something twitched deep inside my belly as my breath caught in my throat and I damn near tripped over my own two feet as we started walking.

Thankfully, his reflexes were quicker than my inate ability to fuck things up and his good arm reached out to steady my frame as he stepped in front of me.

The delicious scent of his cologne mingling with remnant cigarette smoke nearly made me dizzy as my hands connected with his chest, now completely unable to ignore the muscles just beneath his thin shirt.

“You all right there, doll?”

Long, slender fingers find their way under my chin. His thumb just barely brushing the edge of my bottom lip as he strokes it over my chin.

His eyes are practically piercing mine as he carefully lifts my face to his. Who knew being in such close proximity to someone so beautiful could be this paralyzing.

Holy fuck. Forget fixing me. He can break me and I’ll probably thank him for it.

The strong hand on the small of my back threatens to rob me of my breath all over again and I have to fight to keep any semblance of composure in his arms.

“Yeah.” I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear and will myself to break eye contact. “You always have girls falling for you this quickly?”

I pity laugh at my own joke, wishing my quirk was something that would allow me to disappear.

But then he’s chuckling too. It’s melodious at first, but then it morphs into a deep reverberation that sends all the right chills down my spine as I level my eyes with his again.

He looks like an enigma personified. His eyes look so gentle and warm, but his smile reads so sad. The words that leave his lips sound like both a warning and an invitation to my flushe red ears.

“Trust me, princess. You don’t wanna fall for me. I’m no good for you.”

Oh, but it’s too late for that.

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hallowed-be-thy-username · 3 years

Text

Can I request an imagine :3 where the joker has been coming in and out of readers apartment and he realizes how much he actually likes her or cares when he gets jealous?

Hey there, anon!! Your request has been a long time coming and I’m really sorry it took so long! 😭 I hope you see this and I really hope you enjoy!! I was feeling creative with this one 💖

Self-insert, Ledger Joker x fem reader, J is a bit of a bastard followed by some ✨fluff✨

Word count: 3,400

Warnings: theft, cursing, J being an ass (as per usual)

With Him

How you’d even gotten yourself into all of this, you could barely remember by now. Gotham wasn’t a normal city. Whatever “normal” means. It was rough around more than just the edges, crowded, dirty, corrupt, and downright dangerous. But it was home. You did what you did to get by. And if that happened to be stealing and reselling whatever you could find, so be it. Life was kind to no one here. Except maybe Bruce Wayne. But you weren’t Bruce Wayne so here you were, working as a waitress at a late-night diner who happened to start stealing for the Joker on the side.

You’d gotten good at it, too. You started with wallets. They were so easily snatched from coat pockets at the diner, emptied of their cash, then slipped back in with none the wiser. It started out of necessity to pay your bills but the thrill of it only pushed you to keep going. Eventually you’d become fairly well known among the criminal community for your ability to get your hands on things. It’s been a few years now and you’ve since graduated to emptying trucks instead of emptying wallets. Why shouldn’t you? There’s no such thing as being “fair” in Gotham, you have to go out and get things yourself. And of course, you’d heard of him before he sought out your “services”.

You certainly didn’t expect how you’d reacted to meeting him. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him the entire time. Watching him talk, blink, move in that way he does, like he’s twitchy and erratic but in such a smooth and fluid way. It was confusing. Your belly felt warm and your cheeks flushed hot whenever he called you one of his nicknames. It was an unmistakable arousal. It was frustrating. You stuffed those feelings down deep in an effort to ignore them, but that was becoming more and more difficult. He started hiding at your apartment regularly. He said you owed him a favor even since you failed to get ahold of some C4 from a mining shipment, but he let you keep his payment anyway. Why he did that and didn’t just take his money back, you couldn’t guess. If you tried to guess, it only got your hopes up. Maybe he did it on purpose, just to stay closer to you.

Over and over, it would happen. Joker would knock on your window, you’d let him in, then you awkwardly tried to go on about your business while he either sewed up a hole in his clothes or in himself. The warmth in your belly only got worse. He often helped himself to whatever was in your kitchen, too. You’d eye his forearms when he rolled up his shirt sleeves, leaving his coat and jacket tossed onto your couch to rifle through your cabinets. As soon as his gaze came back in your direction, you’d avert your eyes and scurry out of the room, cursing yourself as soon as you were out of ear shot. Eventually, he’d leave, and the cycle started over. He was quiet at first. Then he must have started to enjoy how clearly flustered he made you just by simply being in the same room.

“AH! Jesus, fuck!!”

“Mmm color-ful language, doll,” he purred.

He’d been standing directly behind you while you washed your hands in the kitchen sink, lost in your thoughts, so you’d bump into him when you turned around, suddenly standing with your nose at his chin. Your face felt like it was on fire. You’d never stood this close to him before. Heat seemed to just radiate off of him, making your cheeks burn even hotter. He smelled like greasepaint and something a little sweet and sharp, like shaving cream.

“Well, ‘scuse me. Didn’t know you were so jumpy.”

Your hand was flat against your chest while you tried to catch your breath. He had to be doing this on purpose, just to get a rise out of you. Anger twinged in your stomach and you spoke before you could think better of what you were going to say.

“I’m not your plaything, you know!” you snapped back at him.

His eyebrows shot up and a little smirk gave way to a burst of giggles. “You’re not? Doll, I’m hurt! I thought we had somethin’, uh, special.”

His deep tone of voice at the end of his sentence sent a shiver down your spine. You knew he was toying with you, he had to be, but you couldn’t stop the inevitable tingle you felt whenever he spoke. That almost made you angrier. Why couldn’t you control yourself? You remained silent and tried to hide how rattled you were becoming by looking down at the floor. Avoiding eye contact was all you could do.

“I’ve got another job for ya. Another shipment of explosives to the mine,” he said, suddenly changing the subject. “A truck goin’ through Port Adams in three days. All I need is a, uh, few bags of ANFO. Name your price.”

He hadn’t moved, he was still standing so close to you, your back against the sink. Your eyes, apparently of their own volition, shifted to meet his. He was so close, you could see their color, the black paint usually makes it difficult to see. They’re brown. Sweat collected on your palms and your quickening pulse sent a rush of blood to your head. Through the fog collecting in your brain, you tried to think.

Taking a breath, you answered quietly, “Five hundred.”

Joker rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and pretended to consider your price. Now you couldn’t look away from his scars. Your fingers itched to know what they felt like. Are they rough or are they soft? Are they on the inside of his mouth too? Your heart jumped into your throat when you thought about what it would feel like to kiss him.

“A’right, deal,” he replied, breaking you out of your trance.

Then he stepped away, leaving the air around you feeling cold. Then he casually walked over to your couch and flopped down onto the cushions, lifting his feet to rest his heels on the coffee table, his ankles crossed. You blinked, expecting him to not be there, like none of that just happened. He laid his head back and laced his fingers together over his stomach, acting like it didn’t. You just stood in the kitchen and watched him close his eyes.

“Are… are you staying here tonight?” you asked.

His eyes still closed, he answered, “Mmm I think I will.”

“Um… ok.”

You couldn’t seem to leave the room. Your feet didn’t want to carry you back down the hall to your bedroom, so you continued to stand and watch him. Joker really didn’t seem to mind. His breathing soon became slower and steadier as he sank deeper into the couch. Then your feet started to sneak forward to tip toe toward your small living room in front of you.

“Joker?” you asked quietly.

He didn’t answer. All you could hear was the soft sound of his breath. He was asleep. Suddenly you felt nervous. What do you do now? Is he a light sleeper? What’ll happen if you wake him up?

You reached the end of the couch and stopped. It was strange, seeing him asleep. You knew he had to sleep sometimes but you’d never though about what he’d look like when he did. He looked kind of funny. The clothes and the paint, they made him look something like a statue. And this had to be the longest you’d ever seen him be still. His expression and his features were softened, so different from how he usually looked. Your eyes wandered his face until they reached his scars. Now you could really look at them.

The one in his left cheek was a bit straighter, making a line from the corner of his mouth, halfway up his cheek at a slight angle. It looked really deep and jagged, the skin dipping inward showing how violent the wound that created it was. The one on the right was cleaner, though. Like something much sharper left if behind. It formed a more precise curve, more like a smile. It was hard to imagine what his face looked like without them. You wondered how long ago he got them and if they’d happened at the same time or separately. That’s exactly what he wanted, though. He wanted people to guess, to wonder, so he could dangle that tantalizing mystery in front of their faces. He wanted to keep his secret. What good is a mystery if everyone knows the truth? Afterall, truth never really is stranger than fiction.

You fought your urge to get closer. It was like he let himself fall asleep there to tempt you on purpose. Maybe he was pretending. Maybe he was going to jump up and grab you when you got close. The thought jostled the butterflies in your stomach and you quickly turned to go down the hall. You told him you weren’t his plaything.

The next morning, he was gone, and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. The question wouldn’t leave your head all night. Why did he get so close to you? He’d never done anything like that before. Was it to intimidate you? Or was it some sort of test? Just to see what you’d do. He left you wondering, just like everybody else.

After busying yourself with random tasks, glancing at where he’d been asleep on your couch more often than you wanted to admit, you decided to try to move on. You said you weren’t his plaything. Well, you were still letting him get to you like you were. You couldn’t let him have the satisfaction. Putting on your coat, you searched for you keys to go out for a walk. Maybe some fresh air would help.

Sometimes Gotham was pretty. Hard to believe but if you went to North City Park in November, the trees were bright orange and often you’d see ducks paddling peacefully on the pond. Today there were even other people out for a stroll. You walked in the same park, but you still felt disconnected from them. They looked different, dressed like they had somewhere important to be. They probably worked in the office building nearby. For a brief moment, you wished you weren’t some girl from Burnley. It was like your proximity to the Narrows kept you chained to it, cursed to be stuck in its shadows with no way to step into the light. You imagined yourself as some prestigious lawyer or CEO. Would you be happy? No. You wouldn’t. That didn’t sound like home. You always thought you were burdened by the place you were from, living among the dark alleys and neon signs. But you honestly didn’t want anything else. Maybe that’s what drew you to him. He was almost the embodiment of that life. You didn’t have to live by the same rules as them.

“Hey darlin’, can I walk ya home?”

On your way back from the subway station, you turned around to see your new neighbor from across the hall walking toward you, his hands in his pockets. What was his name again? Rob?

“Oh! Uh… sure,” you answered, still trying to remember his name. His familiarity with you was a bit off-putting but you weren’t really in a situation to say no. You’ve learned the pay attention to where people kept their hands. And it was getting dark.

He grinned and said, “Great!”

You forced an awkward smile back and turned to walk down the block toward your building. The thought of meeting other people hadn’t really occurred to you until now. You’d been too wrapped up in your own thoughts of having Joker around. You’d kind of forgotten how to act around other people. You subconsciously put your hands in your own pockets and tried to think of something to say.

“So, you work nights?” he suddenly asked.

You blinked at the sidewalk you’d been staring at and stumbled to answer, “Oh um, well, yeah most of the time.”

He nodded and replied, “Yeah I figured. I hear you getting home pretty late a lot.”

You felt a knot form in your stomach so fast it almost knocked the wind out of you. What were you supposed to say to that? You looked ahead to see your building just a half block away and felt some relief wash over you.

“Uh yeah… Sorry if I make too much noise.”

“It’s all good!”

Forced conversation was never something you were good at. Your mind just went blank and you could never think of anything to say. So, you walked in silence, keeping your gaze straight ahead.

“Hey, if you wanna get a drink sometime, let me know, eh?” he asked as you opened the lobby door.

Your stomach sank once again, and you quickly tried to come up with an excuse. “Well, I… I don’t, uh, I don’t drink.”

His smile fell a little and he nodded. Maybe he was finally getting the picture. You were far less interested in him than he was in you. But you couldn’t just say that, could you?

“A’right, well, good night! Let me know if you change your mind.”

You nodded back, putting your key in your door to turn the lock and answered, “Yeah… I, uh, I will.”

Shutting your door behind you, you sighed and leaned against it. Nope, meeting new people isn’t all its chalked up to be. Blinking away the tension in your brow, you stepped away from the door to shed your coat and hang it on the hook on the wall. As much as you hated to admit it, you wished he were here. Joker was far more interesting than anyone you’ve ever met, by far. He made you nervous. But not like your neighbor, this was different. You probably should be more afraid of him than you felt you were. But the way he pushes you, eggs you on, it chases away all of your instincts, all trepidation, and beckons you closer. You wanted him to do it again. The racing of your heart, the rising heat burning your skin while he stood over you like that. Your stomach fluttered just thinking about it.

After getting something to drink, you sat down on the couch. After a moment you realized you’d sat in the spot where he slept last night. You could swear it was still warm. Then your eyelids started to feel heavy. A prickle of drowsiness burned your eyelids and you rubbed them before laying back against the cushions, letting them drop closed. The dreamy embrace of sleep wrapped itself around you and you surrendered to it, letting it carry you away into the darkness behind your eyelids. It felt like all sound was blocked from your ears, silenced by the warm cloud surrounding you. But then you heard something. Something quiet, like a soft tapping. It was like it was real, but also not real. Was the sound actually there or were you just imagining it? The thought pulled you from sleep’s embrace and consciousness rushed over you, forcing your eyes open. And there he was, his painted face looking right at you. A startled gasp ripped your mouth open and your whole body flinched, practically jumping out of your skin.

“Really are a jump-y one aren’t ya?”

You panted and tried to slow your racing pulse, your heart thudding against your ribs while your mind processed what you were seeing. He was sitting on the coffee table, hunched forward to look at you. You wanted to yell, demand why did he did this to you again, but you stopped yourself. He’d never snuck in here like this before.

“How’d you get in here?” you asked breathlessly.

He smirked slightly and rolled his eyes toward the window before answering, “Y’know I’ve never, uh, needed to be let in, sweets.”

You blinked at him, not sure what to say, your brain was too saturated with adrenaline. Then you realized what he meant.

“Have you done this before? Sneaking in here and watching me?”

The question made your cheeks flush. You bit down hard on your lip, immediately regretting asking it.

“No. C’mon, doll. Who d’you think I am, hm?” he said, still looking right at your face.

“Ok… well… what are you doing here then?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. He just kept looking at you. Then he licked his lips and said plainly, “Guess.”

You were confused to say the least, but he seemed serious. “Um… you need a place to crash?”

“No-pe.” He made a circular motion with his finger, gesturing for you to guess again.

Your mouth was dry, but you managed to swallow and asked, “You’re… hungry?”

He looked up toward the ceiling and shrugged a little before shaking his head. “Mmm well, yeah, but that isn’t why I’m here.”

You tried not to crack a smile as you then shrugged your own shoulders and shook your head. You really had no idea. He was acting strange. Sort of… playful. He was quiet for a moment, licking at the inside of his scars as he took a breath.

“Don’t like that neigh-bor of yours, do ya?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Your eyes widened and you blurted out, “You were watching me??”

He held his hands up and replied, “Relax, doll. I wasn’t watchin’ ya. I was watchin’ him.” When you only returned a confused stare he continued, “Rob over there works for Johnny law. Undercover. Well, not anymore, I guess.”

He giggled when your eyes got wider. “How d’you know that?” you asked quietly.

“I got a lead that mister, uh, Serpico fancied himself a mole for the Gotham PD. Took it upon himself to find the cops I had on the hook, mmm well un-der my employ, to turn ‘em in. He moved in across the hall from you, I figured he planned to use you to do it.”

By now you were staring back at him with your mouth open. His ability to get information and stay two steps ahead of everyone was never short of astonishing.

“Why tell me all of that?”

He paused again and tightened his lips before answering, “Didn’t like seein’ you with him.”

His words made your heart suddenly flutter. What does that mean? He didn’t like seeing you with another man? Like he’s… jealous? Your cheeks promptly grew hot and both of you just stared at each other in silence.

“D’you mean… around another man?” you finally uttered.

“Mmm, you could say that.”

You blinked at each other for a moment, then before you could say anything else, he pulled you up from the couch and onto his lap, bringing you nose to nose with him. He stopped and held you there by your upper arms, scanning your face with his eyes. You gasped but then your startled gaze softened, and you felt incredibly warm. You didn’t feel afraid, only a warmth spreading through your chest while he stared at you. Your hands slowly reached for his coat to take hold of the lapels while your breath became heavier, washing over his face. Then his eyes lowered to look at your lips.

After a moment, he leaned in even closer so that his lips brushed against yours. Your breath hitched and your fingers tightened their grip on his coat while your heart soared. You could feel his lips pull into a smile before they parted to take hold of yours. It was like a rush of excitement ran through every nerve as your mouth melded with his and you kissed him back. His hands slid behind your back to pull you closer, humming against your lips while he relished the way you taste. Your senses were immersed in him, his scent, his taste, his touch. His scars, they grazed your cheeks, enhancing the way his mouth felt pressed into yours. It was as if you were coming back down to earth when your lips separated. Your eyes slowly opened to see him silently staring at you with a smirk, licking his lips.

“Mmmhm. Perfect,” he purred before leaning in to capture your mouth again.

Taglist! @youmaycallmebrian @heavymetalnarwhal @neverputsaltinyoureyes @jokersqueenofchaos @into-crazy @killingjokee @astheworlddturns @jslittlebirdie @torixcarterr

#anon request #heath ledger joker #ledger!joker #the dark knight #tdk joker #joker fanfiction #ledger joker fic #ledger joker x reader

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ladyeliot · 3 years

Photo

Before we go (Part two)

Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your company has sent you to Boston to close a deal on the same day you have the most important date of your life at night in New York. Things get complicated, you can’t return to New York and you have to spend the night in Boston with a complete stranger.

Warning: Fluff.

Word count: 3105

Notes: English is not my native language, sorry for the mistakes.

On many occasions you have asked yourself if it makes sense to live life without love, to go on this journey without ever having fallen deeply in love. There was a time when you thought that without it, life would hardly make sense, but without knowing when and why it stopped being important to you.

You would never have believed the words that would have told you that you would be at eleven o'clock that Sunday night walking the streets of the city of Boston. An idyllic scene for a romantic movie, wandering the streets aimlessly with a stranger would be the perfect plot for any novel ending with a kiss, but it was obvious that it wasn't going to happen.

You were walking beside that young man, called Chris, but even though your body was present, your head was still scheming for solutions. It was impossible to get your belongings until the next morning, when Hackney's lost property division opened at 8:00 a.m., but that didn't matter because you expected to be in New York by that time, so that option was out of the question. The only option was that there was a friendly taxi driver who was willing to drive you to New York for free until you reached your destination. Thinking about it, the drive to New York was about 4 hours, Michael's plane left at 7:00 a.m. from JFK airport, so that gave you a minimum of 3 hours to find the taxi driver.

"We can make it," encouraged the perfect stranger next to you. "We have until 2:00 a.m. to find someone willing to drive you to New York."

"Did you just speak in the plural?" you asked curiously. "You definitely don't have anything better to do tonight."

"Not quite," Chris smiled opening the door to the coffee shop, you had arrived at your destination. "Good evening Perry."

"But what do my eyes see?" he exclaimed stepping out from the bar and offering Chris an energetic hug, "What are you doing here man?"

"You know, I've missed your pizzas mate," he said, pulling away from him.

"I'm glad to hear that," the waiter glanced at you and back at Chris. "The usual table?"

"You know me," he smiled making a small motion with his head for you to pass in front of him.

The atmosphere was cosy, with an industrial feel to it, but you could breathe in the warmth accompanied with a hint of melted cheese, which caused your stomach to work up an appetite. Some of the surrounding tables, who had already finished their dinner, turned their attention to your companion just as you passed, but you didn't ask any questions about it. Your table was somewhat out of sight of the others, tucked away in a small corner surrounded by curious black and white photographs that seemed to tell the story of the city you were in.

"Here you are," the waiter concluded, offering you the letter, but Chris handed it back to him as he received it.

"You know what I'll have," he said, shedding his navy blue jacket.

"All right, a Neapolitan pizza," commented the waiter, making a note on a small tablet in his hands.

You quickly looked at the menu, a bit stunned by the amount of variety of pizzas and burgers that the place had, so you definitely opted to trust the order that your companion had asked for and agreed to have the same as him.

"You guys will have it in a minute," he remarked with a smile. "Enjoy your evening."

"Thanks mate." Chris said before he left, then took a breath, focused his gaze on you and intertwined his fingers. "Alright, are you going to tell me why you need to get to New York tonight?"

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the last thing you wanted to do was tell your sad story to a stranger, no matter how much he was doing his part to help you that night. You opted to shrug your shoulders and perhaps offer a brief description of the situation, without going into too much detail.

"There's someone who needs me to come tonight," you explained, playing with your fingernails, without looking at him, "and that person is leaving first thing tomorrow morning."

"I understand," he said, resting his barrette in his palm. "Then you must get to New York before he leaves."

"He?" you repeated somewhat confused. "I never said at any time that it was a man."

"Oh, I'm sorry, or her," he quickly rectified. "What I do know is that you are probably referring to the person responsible for that mark on your left ring finger."

You quickly averted your gaze to your ring finger, a white mark indicating that you had worn a ring on that finger could be glimpsed. Yes, it was true, you had worn it, an engagement ring, from an engagement that was never formalised. You frowned, you were going to tell him that he had no idea, but at that moment the waiter came back to bring you drinks.

"Water and beer," he said, placing it on the table. "Ah, man, I'm sorry to ask you this, but could you sign a comic book for my niece afterwards? She's in love with you, you know."

Those words caught your attention somewhat, sign a comic book? Was he an illustrator, or maybe a writer? Curiosity again invaded your body, apparently you were not the only person who was hiding information in this strange relationship that had just emerged a couple of hours ago.

"That's for sure my friend!" he exclaimed before you were left alone again.

"What about that?" you asked pointing to the waiter who had just left. "Are you in the comic book business?"

"Something like that," he said playing with the beer bottle, but without answering your question. "And what do you do? What are you doing in Boston?"

"Trying to escape," you said, refilling the glass of water. "I asked first."

"Fair enough," he took a small swig of beer. "Let's just say a lot of my time is acting."

"Actor?" You arched an entirely curious eyebrow. "Theatre?"

"Cinema," he stressed somewhat hesitantly, as if he didn't want to say it out loud.

"And comics?" you pointed to the right again, remembering the conversation with the waiter.

"It's because of one of the characters I play," he explained, playing it down a bit. "Marvel?" he asked hoping your brain would find a similarity. "Captain America?"

"Sorry, I know the character, yes," you said with a chuckle, as you couldn't find connections between the guy in front of you and what he was explaining, "but to be completely honest with you I don't watch too much TV, or go to the movies, or am much of a comic book fan."

"I have to admit that it's a relief in part," he confessed, picking up the beer bottle again. "Now I know this isn't all a sham to take me out to dinner."

"Excuse me?" you exclaimed with a laugh.

"I'm kidding," he laughed along with you, but at that moment the waiter brought your dinner.

You had to assume that the pizza looked exquisite, and after weeks of eating convenience food, it was a delicacy in front of your eyes.

"So you're in Boston for work?" you asked curiously, breaking your pizza into slices.

"Not exactly," he said hesitantly. "I was born in Boston, I usually come here for seasons, well not here exactly, in Sudbury, it's about forty minutes out of town. But on this occasion I came because tonight was a friend's engagement party."

"And what exactly are you doing here with me?" you asked squinting, very confused at the situation.

"It's complicated," he said taking a sip of beer. "Your turn."

"Okay," you nodded to yourself, taking a breath. "I work for a large multinational in New York, a hub for the finance sector, specifically I'm the head of external relations, so I'm constantly on the road. This morning I was in Boston to close a deal with two new shareholders."

"That sounds very..."

"Boring, I know," you finished his words, over time you had assumed that your life was completely linear, without any extra motivation.

"I was going to say important," he rectified, smiling at you. "Do you like your job?"

The question of the century. How many times could you have asked that question without giving yourself an honest answer.

"Sure," you said without thinking. "Well, I guess it won't be as exciting as yours, but... it's practical."

"Wait, did you just say 'practical'?"

That was the first time during the whole day that you were able to disconnect from your surroundings, forgetting the worries, the problems that were running inside you, it was just you having a pleasant conversation with a person who seemed to show interest in your opinions, in what you thought, a person who listened with interest to your every word. You could hardly remember the last time someone had managed to extract a hearty laugh from inside you, it was nice when he did. The minutes ticked by and you didn't notice that the clock read 00:12am, but when you did, the mood cooled again and you became aware of the situation.

You opted to resume your walk through the streets of Boston, your vigour waning as the time passed, you were no longer so confident that you could carry out your plan, and although Chris was offering you numerous possibilities none of them seemed feasible with the little time you had left.

"It's impossible," you said, raising your arms and stopping in the middle of the pavement. "It's over, it's 1am, I wouldn't make it even if I had a car at my disposal. The only thing that would save me from this situation would be a time machine."

Chris looked at you thoughtfully, with a small smile on his face, which made you wonder what was going through his mind at that very moment. You had discovered that inside him there seemed to be nothing but positivity and answers to all your questions, which unsettled you a little but you also knew it was what you needed most at the moment.

"What?" you asked.

"Come on!" he exclaimed grabbing your arm and guiding you to the side of the enclosure. "It's your lucky night, we have a time machine."

"What?" you asked again, running face first into a public phone.

"It is said that the pay phones in Boston allow you to travel through time," he explained, taking the handset and offering it to you. "It's as easy as dialling the date you want to travel to and you can talk to your past self, tell it everything you need it to do, or not do, thus changing your past." You looked at him amusedly confused, with a quizzical expression on your face.

"Go on, try it! It's fun. I do it every time I come to town."

"Well... I don't really need to call very far, it's enough to get in touch with my yesterday self," you explained taking the handset from his hand and slowly bringing it to your ear.

"Well, let's give it a try then," Chris dialed four digits accompanied by some sounds coming from his mouth that made you smile again. "Beep, bop, beep, bop, bop. Ready! What would you like to say to yourself?"

"Here I go..." you said, encouraging yourself. "Y/N? Hi, it's me... that's you, from the future." You couldn't help but smile and shake your head. "She doesn't believe me."

"Y/N?" he asked curiously finding out what your real name was. "What happened with Adriana?"

"Well, I can't go offering all my details to strangers," you defended yourself somewhat embarrassed at the situation.

"Understandable, in my case Chris is my real name," he laughed and shook his head, which turned your lips into a smile. "Well, it's normal that she doesn't believe you," he shrugged, returning to the conversation. "It happens the first few times. You have to tell her something that only the two of you can know."

"Hm... Y/N?" you thought to yourself. "Oh, remember Mum's blue dress that we loved so much? Remember the last time we tried it on at home, when we were walking down the stairs and it ripped, and we had to get rid of it? We never told anyone what happened, mum thought it got lost in the move to the new neighbourhood..."

Chris was watching you leaning on the payphone with a tender smile on his lips, but you were too abstracted from your surroundings to notice. He realised that he could easily manage to alleviate all the problems that enveloped you even if he hardly knew what exactly they were.

"She believes me," you said, looking at Chris and covering the receiver with your hand, as if there was someone waiting on the line.

"Great," he raised his arms. "Now just tell him whatever you need to tell her."

You took a breath, as if this really was a turning point in your life and you could change the course of things. Your companion paid attention to the words that were about to come out of you in the next few moments.

"Y/N?" you asked through the earpiece. "Listen, I know that tomorrow is going to be a very important day for you, you have a trip to Boston that can get you a big development in the company and you also have a date with Michael in the evening. I'm not going to tell you what you should or shouldn't do, only you can be the only person to make the best decision, but what I am going to ask you is that if you could only choose one of the two things which one would you go with?" you were silent for a moment posing the question to yourself. "See you soon.”

After saying those words carefully you put the phone back in its place. Chris slowly stroked his lips, looking at you thoughtfully, trying to understand a little of the situation you were in at the moment.

"Did she tell you what she was going to decide? Whether to go to Boston or..."

"No," you said, leaning against the pay phone yourself. "She wasn't sure." You looked at him silently. "What about you? Have you decided if you're going to the party?"

"No," he ducked his chin and shook his head.

"You at least have your chance in your hands," you explained, being for the first time during the night the person who was trying to help him. "I think you should go back and be on your way, before I continue to ruin your night.

"The truth is, I missed that opportunity a long time ago." Just as he had done a couple of minutes ago, you tried to get a glimpse of what those words meant, but neither of us had succeeded yet. "Besides, you're not ruining my night, on the contrary, I've never had a night like this before." He rested his chin on his hand. "So what do you want to do now?"

You let your gaze wander, you knew what you had to do before continuing with the situation, you had never given anything up until the last moment, but this was completely different. After asking your past self that question you had realised one of the most important things you had forgotten over time. It was true that you had been completely in love with Michael, that you thought he was the man of your life and that you wanted to spend the rest of your days by his side. On the other hand, since your childhood you had struggled to get a job like the one you had, to be able to use your full potential in a job that fulfilled you. Those two things were now on your mind, and you had realised that the third of them, perhaps the most important, you were not doing, which was to love yourself, to have time for yourself, to seize the moment, to laugh, to dream, to enjoy life, that was all you were missing.

"I think I know what I want to do right now," you said, nodding to yourself. "Would you have any spare cash? I promise I'll pay you all back."

"Oh, come on!" he said shaking his head and offering you a couple of coins in the palm of his hand.

You took a couple of dollars and inserted them into the pay phone in front of you, Chris provided you with your private space, stepping a couple of metres away from the spot. The phone began to ring, at the same time as your stomach informed you of the nervousness you were feeling, which increased when you heard Michael's voice through the receiver.

"Hi, it's me," you said almost in a whisper. "No, I'm still in Boston. [...] I know, the truth is I've had a setback, I didn't call you earlier because I thought I could work it out. [...] No, I have to wait for the first train to leave. [...] At 6 o'clock in the morning, so... [...] I know. [...] All right. [...] Yeah, I'll call you when I get home. [...] I hope you have a good flight."

Maybe it would be for the best, was fate playing in your favour? All you knew was that you planned to tell him how much you missed him, and that you were willing to fight for him again, but things weren't going the way you thought they would.

"Are you okay?" asked Chris approaching you again.

"Yeah," you nodded, looking into his eyes. "Maybe it's for the best."

The smooth line of your life that night was tapping into a wealth of emotions, evolving from despair, anger, joy and now sadness again, and it was your turn to share them with a perfect stranger.

"Come on," Chris offered you his arm and you wearily took it, walking aimlessly away through the streets of Boston.

To be continued...

Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4

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moonbeamwritings · 3 years

Text

la strada giusta

spoiler for part 5

Summary: You set off on your own, leaving Giorno and Mista behind in favor of spending the day on the beach, all in an attempt to find solace amongst the sand and golden yellow flowers.

Author’s Note: Hello! Hope you enjoy! Just a death/grieving tw for those that are uncomfortable with that sort of thing! This hurt me to write just as much as it may hurt to read, mark my words.

The sun streamed through your curtains, a soft reminder of the plan you had for the rest of your day. You pulled yourself up to get ready, shifting the curtains open to allow more light to enter your room, even going so far as to push your window as wide open as it could go.

It was peaceful.

The perfect day, you thought.

With your bag slung over your shoulder, you wished Mista and Giorno a quiet goodbye. They didn’t know exactly where you were going and you didn’t want them to. You loved them both dearly, but this was something you needed to do on your own, something you wanted to do on your own.

You often felt disconnected, like a boat adrift at sea, relentlessly going through the motions for the sake of the people around you. You knew that Mista and Giorno would do anything for you, but a part of you vowed to clutch your emotions close to your heart, a secret of the utmost importance.

You caught the first taxi you could, desperately trying to avoid menial small talk with the driver. He was nice enough, friendly in a way that wasn’t overbearing, but you weren’t much for talking that day.

“Right here is fine.” You told him as the beach came into view.

“You sure? I can bring you farther up that way.” He gestured down the road and around the bend, but you shook your head.

“I’m sure. Thanks so much.” You dropped money into his hand and got out, stepping onto the side of the road to stare out at the expanse of the ocean. It was calm, gently lapping at the shore as if to add just one more thing to the perfection of the day’s weather.

Sardinia is very beautiful, you thought as you ventured down the hill and onto the beach, I guess I didn’t appreciate it the first time.

You stopped walking as you reached the sand instead choosing to close your eyes and take in the peace and quiet, save for the hush of the waves. After a few moments, you began your trek down the beach, your heart only seeming to sink further into your stomach as a certain landmark came into view.

You ran your fingers along the engraving, Costa Smeralda, committing the curves of each letter to memory. You could almost hear Narancia’s voice as you focused on the cool surface of the stone.

“Don’t ask me to abandon him, anything but that. Please.”

He’d begged you to turn around, to help, but you were well aware that it was no use. In his grief, he’d accused you of not harboring as deep of feelings for the man as you said you did. It hurt, but you would never hold that against Narancia. Not now, not after everything.

You shuddered at the memory, already feeling the prick in your eyes, your hands begin to shake. It was as if each pained cry, every plea, was calling to you on the wind, harsh reminders of the misery of that day. You hadn’t seen it happen, you hadn’t looked at his body for more than a moment, but it was enough. God, it was more than enough to fuel sleepless nights and the gnawing in your chest. The claws of sorrow gripping so tightly to your heart and mind that it almost felt inescapable.

You willed your heart to slow as you pried your eyes open, gaze falling onto the patch of yellow flowers Giorno had left behind. “Abbacchio,” you mumbled, holding a hand up to your mouth as tears began to slip down your cheeks.

You sat down in the sand then, close enough to the flowers that you could reach out and feel the soft, delicate petals between your fingertips.

It was quiet.

One shaky exhale later and you felt as though you were finally ready, despite the tears still racing down your cheeks.

“Hi Abbacchio or Leone, I guess,” you chuckled to yourself, “I never did drop that whole last name thing, no matter how many times you got angry at me for it. I’m sorry for that... Well, I’m sorry for more than that. I can practically hear you saying, “No, idiot, you didn’t do anything.” I still feel guilty for not being there to protect you when it really mattered, for turning my back on you.”

You didn’t even know where to start with what you wanted to say. You felt silly, sitting on some beach far from home all to talk to a dead friend, a lover even. You were thankful it was mostly empty. Giving yourself a brief moment of silence, you continued on, grounding yourself with the feeling of sand moving beneath your feet.

“Before we all left, Fugo told me you were in love with me,” you began again, fiddling with your hands where they rested in your lap, “I never said anything because I figured he was messing with me or something. I really regret that now.”

“I love you, Leone, so much. I think about you every day. Your laugh, the way you would scowl at everyone, but give me that small, gentle smile, the sound of your voice. Everything. I can’t even listen to Monteverdi anymore, not without you.”

You let out a whimper, mind reeling with the thought of what once was, what could have been. You brushed your hands along the flowers as you carried on.

“I just wish you were here, I wish things were different. Losing you was horrible enough, but to then lose Narancia? Bruno? I don’t think I’ve ever felt so lost in my life. It’s hard, to act like I can handle it, to act like nothing happened. I know Giorno and Mista look out for me and care about me, but it just...”

Trailing off, you shrugged before shaking your head and wiping at your eyes. You fell silent again, letting the salty smell of the ocean calm your frayed nerves. After a few moments of collecting yourself, you dove into the story of what happened after, where the boss ended up, the current state of Passione under Giorno’s leadership, no detail too unimportant to describe.

You lost track of time, lying back on the sand to listen to the ocean and watch the clouds. You relished in the solitude. Before you knew it, the sun was dipping below the horizon, bathing the beach in stunning hues of pink, purple, and orange.

“I need to go,” you said, “They’ll be looking for me.”

As you sat back up, you rubbed the stem of a flower between your fingers, plucking it from the ground so you could tuck it safely behind your ear.

“I love you, Leone. I’ll visit again soon.”

On your walk back up to the road, you felt a warm breeze brush through your hair, warming the skin of your face as it passed.

Maybe you weren’t so alone after all.

#leone abbacchio x reader #leone abbacchio imagine #abbacchio x reader #abbacchio imagine #jjba x reader #jjba imagine

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nerdypanda3126 · 3 years

Text

City of Love – Ch. 9

Marinette and Luka's morning together is cut short when they get some startling news.

Read on Ao3

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Marinette silenced her ringing phone and stretched, nuzzling into Luka as she wrapped her arm around him. He hummed as he woke and a sleepy smile stretched across his face. She kissed his neck, then started trailing lazy kisses across his collarbone and he laughed.

“Bonjour à toi, aussi,” he murmured, still chuckling.

He shifted underneath her, pulling his arm out from under her head so he could lay on his side instead. And he just looked at her. His bright blue eyes were full of fondness and admiration and joy and she found herself giggling and hiding from those intense eyes behind her hands. Smiling, he wrapped his arm around her to pull her close, letting her hide her face in his chest, and started running his fingers through her hair, gently teasing out the knots that had formed in her sleep.

His phone started chiming insistently next to him, but he let it go.

“Classes today?” he asked, and with her ear pressed against his chest his voice rumbled through her and made her shiver. She shook her head against him.

“It’s my day off. You?”

“A night class.” He squeezed her to him. “Looks like we’ve got the day together.”

His phone rang again next to him and with an annoyed sigh he rolled over to answer it this time.

“Allô?” His heartbeat picked up under her ear and he scooted up until he had propped himself up on his elbows. “Wait, what?”

She watched his eyebrows knit together as the contented haze of sleep left him. “Whoa, whoa, wait a second, slow down,” Luka sat up completely, hanging his legs over the side of her bed, instantly alert, clutching the phone to his ear. “What happened?”

Marinette sat up with him and wrapped her arms around his waist loosely as she set her chin on his shoulder. She could hear Sass on the other line, his voice frantic and rushed as he explained.

“Okay, where is she now, do you know?” Luka tensed under her embrace and his other hand came up to cover hers on his stomach. “No, no, she hasn’t come back here, we’ve been here all night.”

Marinette tensed with him this time and Luka’s thumb rubbed gently across her forearm, reassuring her.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll ask Marinette. We’ll find her, don’t worry.”

Sass apparently hung up without any further word, and Luka sighed as he wiped a hand over his face. When he turned to face her, it didn’t look like good news.

“Um, Tikki and Sass fought last night and…” He winced. “She ran away? Sass doesn’t know where she might’ve gone, she just stormed out.”

Marinette’s eyes widened and, panicked, she rolled back over to her phone. She’d gotten a phone call this morning, too. From Tikki. She breathed a small sigh of relief, then dialed her back.

“Tikki?” Marinette asked as soon as the call connected.

“Marinette, I’m… Can you come get me?”

“Of course, yes, where are you?” She could feel Luka’s eyes on her, but he was hanging back, letting her handle it.

“I don’t know, exactly, I took a walk last night and I just meant to clear my head, but I got turned around and I—” Tikki’s voice broke and it shattered Marinette’s heart. “I just want to go home.”

“Okay, calm down, Tikki, I’m here. What do you see, what’s around you?”

Tikki sniffled. “There’s a park. With um… a fountain? There’s a bakery, boulangerie, I know that one.”

Bakery. Across from a park with a fountain. Marinette’s heart lifted. “Tell me about the awning of the bakery, is it black with gold lettering?”

“Mhmm.”

“Oh, thank God, Tikki, I know right where you are. Go into that bakery, okay? And stay there. I’m coming to get you. Ask Sabine for a cookie, and don’t tell Tom anything about Sass, okay?”

More sniffling on Tikki’s end, but Marinette assumed she was nodding and she heard the familiar bell above her parents’ bakery door. As soon as she heard her dad’s booming greeting, she went ahead and disconnected. They’d take care of Tikki until she could get there.

“You found her?” Luka asked.

“She’s at my parents’ bakery.” She reached up to kiss him on the cheek before rolling out of bed to pull her street clothes on. “And she’s really upset. They seemed fine last night. What do you think happened?”

Luka stared at his phone for a moment while he seemed to consider. “I think I know. I’ll head back to the apartment. See if I can get anything out of Sass.”

“There goes our day together,” Marinette grumbled. He chuckled.

“There’ll be other days,” he said easily, then bent to pick up his own clothes from the floor. “Preferably when my friend hasn’t imploded his relationship.”

“So you’re friends now? You and Sass?” Marinette teased him. She pulled a lightweight white sweater over her head before she wiggled into her pink skinny jeans.

When she turned back to him, Luka’s eyes were glued on her and it made her blush. He cleared his throat, smiling, and looked away again, and then it was her turn to ogle him as he stretched to pull his white undershirt on, his shoulders and back flexing with the movement. She’d found last night when the shirt had come off that his tattoo was a snake that wound around his bicep. When he shrugged his pink dress shirt back on, she was sad to see it go. He left it unbuttoned in the front, at least, so she could still see most of his lean frame.

“Well, what else do you call someone you’d leave a gorgeous woman’s bed for to go smack them upside the head?” He grinned at her and flipped his collar down, settling it into place. He paused to look at her once more when he’d finished, then moved to stand in front of her. “They’ll be okay,” he said, his voice ringing with certainty, before he bent and pressed a hesitant kiss to her cheek. “À bientôt.”

She nodded and he dropped one more kiss to the top of her head before he brushed past her to leave. After a full minute of staring after him, she blinked back to reality, although she couldn’t seem to stop smiling. But she shook that off, too, as she bent her thoughts towards Tikki instead and what kind of state she might be in when Marinette got to the bakery.

And with that thought hurrying her steps, she grabbed her keys and rushed out the door.

***

When Luka’s keys rattled the door open, he found Sass pacing back and forth across the living room, his dark eyes darting everywhere, his phone glued to his hand. When Luka walked in he froze and waited for Luka to say something.

“She’s safe. Marinette found her. She’s on her way to pick her up now.”

Sass let out a long, deep sigh of relief and sank to the floor. Luka sat next to him and leaned his shoulder against Sass’s comfortably. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

“I’m an idiot,” Sass moaned, dropping his face into his hands. “Why I ever thought she wouldn’t find out, or that she wouldn’t figure it out, or… shit, that I had any right to keep any of this from her in the first place…”

Luka nodded. It wasn’t much of a surprise that Sass’s secrets came back to bite him. But he could tell there was more to Sass’s thought, so he waited.

“Last night, your sister came home,” he started finally, “and she waved my blank registration papers in my face and asked why I’m not going to classes. Which led to, I’m not here for classes, which led to how’d you sign up for the exchange program if you’re not going to classes, which led to… everything else.”

“How’d she take it?” Luka asked, more to keep Sass talking than because he didn’t know. Sass glared at him from between his fingers.

“Badly,” he sneered. Then he sighed again. “She didn’t turn me in, though, which… thank you. I never said thank you to you for that earlier.” Luka hummed to acknowledge him. Sass leaned his head back against their counter before he continued. “And Tikki, she was here. She heard all of it. She knows… everything, now… and I guess…” He glanced over at Luka, who kept his face carefully impassive as he listened. “She thinks… she thinks I’ve been using her, Luka. That I'm only in a relationship with her because I want to go to the U.S. Something about her being my green card, I don’t know, I didn’t catch all of it, but she…” He turned then to stare at the door, and Luka understood the rest.

“She left,” he finished Sass’s thought. Sass swallowed and nodded, hiding his face in his knees again.

“I tried,” he muttered after a while, “I tried to tell her I don’t give a damn where we go, as long as it’s with her. I thought she’d want to go home, that’s all, it makes sense she’d want to go home, right?”

Luka let his words hang between them as he thought back to the first time he’d heard Sass’s plan. “She’s your second chance,” Luka said slowly. “That’s what you said before. That Tikki’s your second chance.” Sass nodded beside him. Luka took a deep breath in and let it out slowly.

His next question was important, and maybe he should’ve asked it sooner, but at the time he didn’t know if he had any place to ask. Now, though, now that he could see how important this was to him, how terrified he was, he couldn’t keep from asking any longer.

“What are you running away from?”

The question caught Sass off guard, and he tensed next to Luka, those scales of his ruffling into place on reflex. But he seemed to shake them off and pulled his head up to rest it on his knees instead and level Luka with a look. When he found whatever he was looking for in Luka’s expression, he sighed again.

“My parents are… let’s say traditional. They decided it was time for me to marry, and they arranged everything. I couldn’t tell them...” He shook his head. “They don’t know anything about Tikki. I knew they wouldn’t approve, so I just never told them, but then they started talking about the wedding, and it made me realize. There’s no one I’d rather be with. Definitely not someone my parents picked and I’ve never even met her and I’d have to…” He took a sharp breath in. “I would never be able to talk to Tikki. Ever again.”

Luka nodded as Sass paused. He couldn’t imagine the pressure that must’ve been. The ultimatum that had been hanging over Sass’s head. No wonder he ran.

“So I told Tikki I wanted to meet. Made all this happen, did whatever I needed to get here and…” He hid his face in his forearms again. “And now she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Luka said automatically. “She might be feeling overwhelmed, or shocked, even, but whatever it is, it’s not hatred.”

Sass just shrugged half-heartedly.

“Marinette’s with her now. She’ll calm down and then maybe we can all talk this out.”

Sass peeked out under his arms. “You mean you’ll still help me?”

“I said I was in,” Luka said with a shrug, “and you said you’d accepted that she might say ‘no.’ So we’ll go over, we’ll talk it through if she wants, and if she doesn’t want to talk, well, then you’ll have your answer and we can figure things out from there.” Tentatively, Luka held his fist up. Sass eyed it suspiciously, but tilted over to bump his knuckles against Luka’s, then sighed as he uncurled.

“You’re right. I know you’re right,” he said, then paused, side-eyeing Luka cautiously. “Doesn’t mean I’m not terrified she’ll tell me to go to hell.”

Luka hummed in thought, then stood and shot off a text to Marinette before offering Sass a hand up. “Only one way to find out.”

Translations:

Bonjour à toi, aussi: Good morning to you, too

Allô: Hello

À bientôt: See you soon

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #mlb fic #lukanette #Pro LukaMari #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #LBSC Exchange 2021 #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #marinette and tikki #luka and sass #human kwami #fic title: city of love

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spritewrites · 4 years

Text

time travel doesn’t change everything

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Characters: the Hargreeves siblings

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Hi everybody! This is a collaborative fic (wow!) that @ticklishhargreeves and I have been working on for a while, based on an idea that we came up with together about three weeks ago. We wanted to incorporate a bunch of the headcanons we’ve come up with recently into a fic. We hope you enjoy!!

Allison’s room could best be described as a bit of a time capsule; posters from the beginning and middle of her career, drawings that she’d made and been gifted as a child, and family photos in the form of newspaper clippings. Going through the drawers and boxes under her bed provided nearly endless entertainment. A small gasp escaped from her grin when she pulled out one specific piece of paper that she’d forgotten about — a somewhat poorly drawn chart that depicted each of the Hargreeves siblings’ most ticklish spots. The tickle fights they’d had as children were sparse, considering they only really had free time for about an hour a week, but damn, were they competitive. This was the cheat sheet that she’d made to always get the upper hand.

The colored pencil had smudged a bit, but Allison could still make out the faint markings of each of her brothers’ names. She smiled to herself, leaning back on a stack of books to read the chart. They’d been so young then, but she could still hear their laughter echoing down the mansion hallways, as clear as anything. She let out a small laugh at a note in the margin: Ask Mom for acrylic nails before next week.

“Everything okay?” Luther was leaning against her door frame, just a bit bigger than when they were kids, but still with that same kind smile. She smiled back.

“Just reminiscing. Check this out!” She held up the faded piece of paper for him to read.

“No way!” the large figure exclaimed, gently taking the chart from Allison’s hand and sitting on the side of her bed to look at it. “This is from all our —”

“Tickle fights,” Allison interrupted with a laugh, “yeah. Crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” an awkward chuckle from Luther masked the slight nervousness he felt reading his name accompanied by the bullet-pointed notes: squeeze his calves, scribbles under toes, tops of feet are weirdly ticklish??, kicks a lot. “God, I haven’t been tickled in… years, probably.”

“You were so cute,” Allison giggled, and Luther wasn’t entirely sure that he liked the look she was giving him. “I wonder if this is still accurate.”

Luther cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, um, no way to know for sure, so-”

She had tackled him to the bed before he even knew what was happening. “Only one way to find out.”

She sat across his knees - “You kick, remember?” - and gave one of his calves a squeeze. Luther bolted upright, gasping.

“Um, I think there’s another way to find out! See, I could just tell you-”

“No,” Allison smiled, squeezing again and enjoying the desperate noise her brother made. “I’ve gotta test it to know for sure.”

He got as far as “Wait, Allison, please-” before he was choking back giggles, trying to worm his way out of Allison’s hold as her long nails skated over his ankles. She grinned.

“Okay, so squeezing your legs still definitely works. How about your feet?”

“No!” Luther cried, burying his face in a pillow and nearly squealing as she traced gentle lines over his soles. Allison giggled at the sound, scribbling over his heels and leaning forward to keep his straining legs from kicking.

“Feet are still pretty bad too. Thank God the serum didn’t affect these, huh?” She skittered her nails around the tops of his feet, and Luther let out a screech into his pillow. It was taking all of his strength to not… well, use his strength.

“You remember that pedicure I dragged you into, right?” she laughed at the memory, and again at Luther’s quick nod into the pillow.

The screech turned into an uncharacteristically high-pitched yelp when Allison held his toes back with one hand, and skittered beneath them with the other. Finally, he’d began to laugh an endearingly childlike giggle. “AH - Allison,” he attempted to catch his breath with a forceful gasp as his massive arms squeezed the pillow to his face, and his legs shook, “Allison!”

Allison laughed at him and his sounds, almost not wanting to stop. “Alright, alright, I don’t want to kill you. Not yet, anyway.” She rolled off his legs to lay next to him on the bed, grinning from ear to ear. “Looks like your weak spots are still the same!”

Luther groaned, trying to catch his breath through the pillow (he wasn’t confident enough in the color of his face yet to look at her). “That was mean.”

“Hey, I was just consulting the chart!”

“You wrote the chart!”

“And I stand by it,” she teased, giving his leg a poke that made him twitch. She grabbed the paper and left the room, satisfied that her victim was suitably tickled out.

Luther rolled onto his back, panting. “Screw that chart.”

—

As she was leaving the room, Allison couldn’t help but notice the absence of Vanya’s name on the chart. It wasn’t a surprising fact. They never included her in anything as children, not even tickle fights. This fact still broke Allison’s heart, but of course, with the opportunity to make up for lost time, it’d be foolish not to take it… right?

After spotting her much smaller sister reading on the couch, Allison made her way downstairs and plopped down right next to Vanya with a grin.

Ever since their trip to the 60s, the sisters certainly developed a strong bond. Allison was, quite possibly. the one sibling that Vanya felt the most comfortable with; Klaus being a close second. Her attention drew away from the book in her hands, and towards her smiling sister. “Hey, Allison.” Vanya smiled, setting her book down, saving her place.

“Hey, um,” Allison subtly hid the chart by her other side, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous glint in her eye, “Vanya, are you ticklish? By any chance?”

“Uh,” Vanya chuckled, shifting awkwardly with a shrug, “I - I think so. I mean, sometimes Sissy would touch my neck and it would feel kinda funny. Like the back, right here?” She touched the back of her neck to show her scheming sister exactly where she was ticklish. Big mistake.

“Oh,” Allison chuckled, not expecting this to be so easy. She sneakily reached her arm around the back of the couch, “Like, right… here?”

Vanya twitched, letting out something akin to a squeak as her shoulders jumped up beside her ears. “I think - hey!” Her sister had begun tracing wicked fingers along the crease of her neck, her nails sliding effortlessly between the wrinkles to get at the weakest points. Vanya scrunched like a turtle, reaching back to swat at the offending hands, but the light touch made her limbs turn to jelly and her effort was not very coordinated. The endless stream of bubbly giggles, however, was new.

Allison’s face lit up. “Looks like you are ticklish.”

Understatement of the century. Vanya opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a squeal when Allison’s tickles wandered down from her neck and over her shoulders, sneaking pokes in under her arms.

“Where else, I wonder…” Allison mused, and slid her hands down her sister’s sides. Vanya’s spine nearly snapped with how quickly she arched her back, letting out a gasp. “Oh, here?”

“Allison, please!”

“Please what?” She tapped a nail on the curve of Vanya’s waist, prompting a high-pitched giggle. Vanya shook her head, seemingly struck dumb by the overwhelming feeling. Another pinch to her side, and she wriggled, curling in on herself. Unfortunately, this left the back of her neck unguarded, and with a smile, Allison reached to tickle her there.

Vanya squealed. “Please, I can’t - mercy!”

Allison laughed at her sister’s reactions, easing off to just rub her shoulders. “Okay, so, neck and sides? Those are the big ones?”

The sigh of relief that escaped Vanya was soothing. “I - I guess so. I think?”

“Well, I still have more exploring to do, but I can be merciful for now,” Allison replied with a wink. “I’ll add you to the chart.”

“Chart?”

“Yeah, see?” She pulled out the piece of paper. Vanya’s eyes lit up.

“Oh my God, this is adorable. How old were we when you made this?”

Allison smiled. “I don’t know, ten maybe? We used to have these epic battles…” She trailed off, catching her sister’s eyes. “I’m sorry we didn’t - ”

Vanya held up a hand to silence her. “It’s okay. I’m included now.” She raked her gaze over the paper in her hands. “Luther was ticklish on his feet?”

Allison couldn’t stop her laugh. “Still is, I just tested it.”

“Shit, that’s goddamn… cute. All of these are so cute,” she said with a smile.

“Aren’t they?” Allison replied, snatching the paper once again with a cunning smile. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some notes to update and some experiments to run.”

—

It seemed like whenever she saw Klaus, he was always talking to some ghost. Usually arguing with them. Sometimes flirting, you never know. The conversation that Allison walked in on today, however, was definitely not flirting.

“Just shut up, you don’t have a goddamn clue… That’s what I said, you never fucking listen to - Allison!”

She paused in the doorframe, amused. “Am I interrupting?”

“What, this?” Klaus gestured vaguely at the armchair across from him. “Nah, nothing important. Just bonding, you know how it is.” He seemed to disconnect from Allison for a second, listening, and then shot a glare at the armchair. “Dickwad.”

Allison clapped her hand over her mouth at the insult, but not quickly enough to stop the laugh that escaped. Whoever it was, they had pissed Klaus off. “Okay, well, I was just going through some of my old stuff, and I found…” She pulled out the wrinkled piece of paper. “This.”

Klaus’ eyebrows furrowed. “Okay… What is that?”

“A chart I made when we were young, to win those fights we used to have.”

“What fights?” Before Allison could answer, her brother’s gaze flicked to the armchair and back to her. “The tickle fights? You made a… what did you say, a chart?”

She nodded. “It’s detailed.”

Klaus laughed. “So organized! Let me see -” He reached up, but she snatched it out of his grasp.

“Nope, this is valuable information. But, I could let you see… if you participate in the experiment I’m running.”

Rolling green eyes, Klaus scoffed and lifted his arms up, a playful smile on his face as he looked away. He clearly already knew exactly what these so-called experiments were; perhaps Vanya’s laughter from downstairs was a giveaway.

A smile played on Allison’s lips. She remembered how Klaus never really hated tickles, and acknowledged the note by his name: asks to be tickled all the time, listed alongside others such as SUPER ticklish armpits, tapped his hips once and he squeaked? maybe he’s ticklish there too? Haven’t tried yet. She laughed, launching her tickling fingers towards Klaus’ armpits, only to be stopped by him slamming his arms down at the last second.

“Sorry, sorry. Instinct,” he smiled, already giggling a bit, before lifting his arms again.

All of a sudden, his elbows shot down towards his hips as he choked on his laughter, “B-Ben! No!” Klaus collapsed to the floor within seconds, kicking his legs and screeching.

Allison smiled. Of course, only Ben could rile her brother up like that. Squinting, she smirked, noticing the placement of Klaus’ slapping hands, “Klaus? Ben’s not getting your hips, is he?”

The silly noises he'd been making between silent laughter was accompanied by a desperate nod, messing up his long hair.

“Good!” Allison exclaimed, a bubbly tone to her voice, before lowering herself to the floor next to her flailing brother. “What a long overdue discovery.” Her pinch to his left hip felt more real than Ben’s spidery ghost tickles, and he squeaked. Her hands moved quickly, though, to lodge themselves under his arms while he was distracted.

The yelp that left Klaus’ mouth was loud enough to make Allison flinch slightly, but her hands stayed put. “Allison,” he whined, squeezing his arms to his sides as he simultaneously tried to roll away from Ben’s way-too-tangible thumbs digging into his hip bones.

She raised her eyebrows curiously as she twitched her fingers ever so slightly, relishing in the squirms and adorable gasps that followed.

When Allison began to wiggle all ten of her fingers, plus the other ten digits, both on his worst spots, his eyes squeezed shut as his squeaks and laughs rose yet another octave. Curling in on himself, he shook his head, unable to shake either of his ruthless tickle-monster siblings.

“Tickie, tickie, tickle!” Allison cooed as she laughed along with him.

“What's wrong, Klausie? I thought you loved tickie, tickie, tickles.” Ben’s words were snide and Klaus could practically hear his stupid grin.

High-pitched giggles rolled out of his mouth as he grabbed onto a nearby throw pillow. “Stopstopstop, okay! Okay, jeez!” It was obvious that he wasn't that desperate for the tickles to stop; he really just needed a breather. Klaus threw the pillow in an attempt to hit Ben, but it just phased through him. Ben stuck his tongue out.

“Asshole,” Klaus grumbled at his invisible brother. Allison laughed again, before leaning over to whisper something into Klaus’ ear. A noticeable smile washed over his face as he looked directly at his ghost brother, crawling towards him.

Ben's eyes widened as he stumbled backwards, falling back onto the armchair. His arms flailed, not knowing how to defend himself since it had been such a long time. “Nonono, Klaus, what did she tell you? – EEP!” His reaction to Klaus’ quick and repetitive pokes to his stomach was immediate.

The notes on the chart read really squeaky, ribs and stomach (but be careful!!!), starts begging after mere seconds, & very gullible, so easy to tickle. Ben had always been super easy to trick into getting tickled when they were younger; asking him to reach things in high up cabinets, challenging him to keep his arms up, and tons of tickle hugs.

He hadn’t been tickled since before he died, but it was just as unbearable as he remembered. He couldn’t hold back a squeak as Klaus prodded around the soft area just below his ribs, throwing an arm over his face to hide his blush.

Klaus threw his head back and laughed. “Awww, I forgot that you were so sensitive, Benny! Guess now we know what’ll happen when you make fun of me, hmm?”

Ben wanted more than anything to snap back at his brother, but couldn’t possibly reply around his high-pitched giggle fit, so he settled on a squeal. “Allison! H-help!”

“She can’t hear you,” Klaus cooed, racing his fingertips up Ben’s ribs to elicit another adorable squeak, clearly amused.

Allison laughed at the image of her brother kneeling on the floor, ruthlessly attacking absolutely nothing. “No, but I can picture it. Remember those physical exams that Grace would give us?”

Every month, in order to keep them all in tip-top shape for missions, Grace would perform physical examinations. These exams, of course, included lots of pressing and prodding tummies with her cold robot hands, much to Diego and Ben’s dismay. Diego would often need to have a break after ten seconds, but Ben would always just giggle his little heart out, and could never sit still, try as he might.

Klaus giggled too. “Of course, dear little Benjamin could never stand those. Could you, Benerino?” Their brother merely cackled in response, batting helplessly at the tickling fingers. God, if this didn’t end soon, he was going to die again. Could ghosts die again?

“I… neeheed AIR, you asshole!”

“No you don’t,” Klaus replied simply, pinching at the skin right above his belly button. Ben shrieked, flailed, and ended up rolling off the armchair onto the ground. Klaus took it as a cue to stop and sat back, grinning at his work.

“What’s he look like?” Allison asked, not even trying to hide her sadistic smile.

Klaus grinned at the rumpled pile of ghost on the floor, who flipped him off. “Like shit.”

“Fuck off,” Ben replied, but he was smiling. Mission accomplished.

—

Diego frequently sat in his room alone, doing God knows what. The minute that Allison walked in, he was just twirling one of his knives in his hand. Turning around to look at his sister, who had been smiling at a piece of paper, his brows furrowed, “What?”

Allison couldn’t help but chuckle to herself as she read the notes beside her stoic brother’s name: ticklish EVERYWHERE, pokes make him squirm, sometimes cries at tummy tickles, GET HIS BELLYBUTTON, & make sure he’s not holding anything. She remembered fondly how her and her brothers would always gang up on him and tickle him until he cried. Grace always had to step in to get them to stop. She cleared her throat, and looked over at him, turning the paper around to face him, “Remember this?”

“Oh, ... yeah, from those - those fights we had when we were kids. Yeah.” Diego placed his knife down on the desk, and moved to stand up, subtly trying to escape what he feared was about to happen.

“Hm, what kind of fights were those?”

“You - y’know. The -… the wrestling and stuff.” He silently cursed his sister for trying to make him say it; she knew that he absolutely hated the word, both hearing it and saying it… and experiencing it. Diego pretended to nonchalantly pace away in order to exit the room, only to make his way into the corner farthest from the door, where Allison was inconveniently standing.

“I heard a rumor… that you can’t move until I start tickling you.” Allison sped up the last part of her rumor, making it so he couldn’t cover his ears as he typically used to. Walking over to him, she grinned and wiggled her fingers in the air, eyeing his torso.

A grunt left Diego’s already reluctantly smiling mouth as he attempted to tug on his legs in order to move, “Dammit! Screw you, Allison! - ACK!” His eyes squeezed shut, embarrassed at the slight giggle that he’d let out without her even touching him yet.

“What is it, Diego? Surely, you've grown out of letting a few tickly fingers take you down?” Allison teased, poking his tummy with her two index fingers.

A snort escaped his mouth in an attempt to stifle the giggle fit that was bound to start as he doubled over. He tried to use his regained mobility to make a break for it, but it was too late. The momentum from the force he'd been using in his attempts to get away pushed him to the floor. He was absolutely cornered.

“Nonono — I-I, yes, I have grown out of it!” The way his arms were wrapped around his torso and the quick pace of his words, however, told a different story. “I’m seri - NO,” he yelped before dissolving into a squirmy puddle of silent giggles. Allison’s digits were swiftly poking and scratching at any spot they could reach.

“You’re what? Cereal? Serene? Can’t be serious; you’re giggling too much for that, silly.” Ever since they were children, Diego always seemed to bring out Allison’s most brutal teases. “It seems to me that you still might be the most ticklish one in this house, Diego! Tell me, how does it feel to have such a title?” She’d been able to latch her hands onto the sides of his stomach before wiggling her fingers into them.

His laughter rose in volume when he opened his mouth to speak, “I-It tickles! - Shit, shit,” he squealed over Allison’s coos, “Sh-sh-shut up!” Saying the word, along with his embarrassingly childish reactions to such simple touches, was enough to redden his face. A squawk left his mouth when he felt a clawed hand digging into his lower tummy, dangerously close to his bellybutton.

Allison stopped for a second, glancing down at both of Diego’s hands clutching onto her single hand on his stomach, and back up at her uncontrollably giggling brother. The grin on her face was the only thing that preceded her free hand flying straight towards his unguarded navel.

Diego weakly pushed at her hands as he kicked his legs and screamed. His cackles now echoed through the whole house. Both of her hands were squaring in on his stomach and fuck, he couldn’t take it. “Allison - fuck! I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, oh my God, stop,” Diego rambled quickly between gasps of laughter, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, much to his own chagrin, and Allison’s amusement.

He was just so fun to tickle. He always had been. Of course, Allison knew he wasn’t going to die; he was just over dramatic sometimes. “What’s the magic word?”

“F-Fuck off,” he growled.

Allison mimicked a buzzer noise as she continued to tickle and poke around Diego’s hypersensitive midriff, even adding a few pokes to his thigh, and pinches to his triceps, “Wrong.” She laughed at the rather adorable image of her brother, curled up in the corner of his room, hands flailing in an attempt to get the tickles to stop, and twitching away from every little touch. He really was ticklish just about everywhere.

“I've gotta tell Lila about this,” Allison chuckled, making a mental note. “Imagine her finding out that you're ticklish on your shoulders. And your chest? She's gonna have a field day, I know it.”

A squeal, “Noho, okay, okay, please! Pleasepleaseplease, fuck,” he rolled over, yelling when the tickles didn’t stop, “Fucking please, Allison! Pleehease.”

“All right, you big baby!” She decided to finally let up, chuckling at the residual giggles that escaped Diego’s mouth.

He clutched his stomach, wheezing. “Christ, I fucking… forgot what that felt like.” A warning look was shot towards his sister, “Don't you dare tell her.”

Allison grinned, poking him again and brightening when she was rewarded with a yelp. “I think we all did, and…” a quick spider over his tummy got him to curl up again, “I think I just might.”

—

Allison clutched the chart firmly in her fist, making her way up the many flights of stairs. Last but not least. She glanced at the notes by the scrawled out ‘Number Five:’ says he's not ticklish but we know he is, flinches when anyone touches his knees (especially the left one), and hiccups a lot after laughing really hard.

Bursting into his room, Allison, expecting him to be doing… well, whatever old man stuff he liked to do, was surprised to find her brother fast asleep in his bed. After all he’d been through, experiencing the apocalypse twice & back to back, he certainly deserved a nap or twelve.

One thing that all of the siblings agreed on, though silently, was that Five was utterly adorable when he was asleep, and not snapping at anyone. Surely, just a smidge less adorable than when…

A poke to the blanketed figure made his snoring breaths hitch, and then they continued as normal.

He’d napped long enough, Allison thought to herself, not knowing if he’d been sleeping for two minutes or two hours. Nothing could beat her infinite curiosity, though, about just where dear old Fivey was ticklish. It had been far too long, and she knew he was at least a little bad on his knees but there was no way that could be all. That little body definitely held tons of bottled up laughter over the years that just had to be let out.

Of course his right leg was sticking out of the mass of comforter and sheets. Of course it was.

Allison quickly spidered her fingers right above the hem of his grey knee socks, that he even wore to bed, apparently.

A sudden jerking motion under the covers followed as he stopped snoring.

“Fiiive,” Allison crooned in a somewhat warning tone. No answer. She pinched the sides of his knee, only to be awarded with a twitch and a “cough” that was far too loud to pass off as a cough.

“Fuck off, Allison,” Five’s sleepy voice, muffled by the pillow, piped up.

“Okay, rude,” she replied, going in for the kill, skittering all five of her nails over his knee cap.

He internally cursed at the choking sound that escaped his throat, as he pulled his leg under the covers, in order to provide some defense. The blanket reshaped itself as he curled up, and Allison thought she heard a grumpy sigh through the fabric.

“Y’know, you might’ve spent almost 50 years without other people, but I would’ve thought that you’d remember at least some of your manners.” Another sigh. “No apology? Fine then.”

Allison sat right down on Five’s bed, and grabbed his left ankle, pulling it out from under the covers.

Before he could teleport away, he felt unbearably light and spidery tickles along the back of his knee. A screech that he couldn’t hope to suppress left his mouth, but only took seconds for the bubbly giggles, and the violent kicking, to begin.

Allison’s steady hold on Five’s ankle turned out to be a major asset to her attack as his whole body thrashed around, tangling himself in his blanket and sheets. She couldn't help but flinch at the frantic movements and his other foot weakly pushing at her hip.

“Good to see little Five still has those tickly, tickly knees!”

“Allison! Fucking,” he squeaked, unable to hold back the helpless laughter, “Fuck you! I’m gonna - ACK,” another giggle. “Dammit! I’ll fucking kill you!”

The giggles laced with threatening screams were delightfully familiar. “Sure you will, Giggles,” she teased, prodding and squeezing around his entire knee, adding some occasional rib tickles into the mix to make him twitch.

Five’s hands flickered blue, but there was no way he could teleport with how unfocused he was. He felt like he was going crazy. It had been ages since he'd laughed so freely, let alone been tickled; certainly since before he left. The sensation, so completely disarming while also frustratingly familiar, overwhelmed him.

“Fuck you, I swear - shit! Oh my fucking g- Allison!”

“Yes?” She stuck her tongue out in concentration, digging into the spot just above his kneecap that made him scream.

Five was in hell. His hands were still glowing, but never enough to do anything goddamn useful. He could feel his leg twitching, trying to kick, but Allison was merciless, and she had a lot more practice tickling his thirteen-year-old body than he had fighting off her adult reflexes. The giggles pouring out of his mouth were starting to grow hoarse, though, and he was pretty sure that if this kept up much longer, he’d actually go crazy.

“F-fine!”

“What was that?”

“I said - ” The tickling stopped, but his eyes locked on where Allison’s lethal nails were still hovering over his ribs. Flushed, he choked back a giggle. “I said fine, you fucking - ”

“Fine what?” Allison aimed a poke at the space between two ribs and he jerked.

“Fine, I’m sorry!” The hands withdrew, and Five curled into himself, breathing heavily through the last remaining chuckles. Allison blew on two fingertips like a gun, and dodged the smack that Five sent her way.

“Fuck off. Hic.”

Allison’s eyes lit up. “There they are!”

“Huh? What are you - hic - talking about?” Five grumbled, pulling his knees into his chest and sucking in a big breath to try to stop the hiccups.

She grinned, pulling out the chart, and resisting the urge to reach out and poke his puffed cheeks. “I took notes.”

Five’s eyes widened, and he let out his breath, looking vaguely… impressed. “Holy shit. You’re thorough.” His eyes scanned over her scribbled words. “Diego? Really?”

Allison chuckled. “Really. I’m surprised you forgot, he’s the worst of all of us. Even worse than you.”

Five’s nose wrinkled, and he let out a childish snort. “Serves him right.”

“Oh, shut up, you ticklish little son of a bitch.” Diego muttered from the doorway... alongside Klaus, Vanya, and Luther.

Five spun and internally cursed at himself at the blush growing on his face, wondering how long the rest of his siblings had been there watching him get absolutely wrecked.

“I know you are but what am I,” he snapped back at his bigger but younger brother, who’d lunged towards him, ready for a battle.

Diego was blocked by Allison though, and he stopped, knowing not to cross her while she was in the terrifying mood she’d been in all day.

“Guys, enough. Can’t we have just one fun day without you at each other’s throats?”

“Y’know what, Allison, I know I didn’t get a very close look but…” Klaus clicked his tongue as his strong brows furrowed, “I don’t think I saw your name on that little chart.” He made his way over to his other siblings with an unmistakable glint in his eye and grabbed the chart from his sister’s hand.

Allison always did have the upper hand in all their tickle fights, and now they all knew why.

“W-well, that’s because I made it.” The look that her family exchanged did not go unnoticed, and she stepped backwards, ending up stumbling onto Five’s bed. “Hey, hey guys, wait - ”

The chart was updated that day; Vanya’s handwriting scrawled next to Allison’s name, alongside cackly laughter, super ticklish neck and armpits!!!, accidentally kicked Luther in the head, & best sister ever.

#umbrella academy #tua #tickle fic #tickling #ticklishhargreeves #my fics #ticklish!luther #ticklish!diego #ticklish!allison #ticklish!klaus #ticklish!five #ticklish!ben #ticklish!vanya

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since0202 · 3 years

Text

Chapter 15: Grief

“The Cullens. Are Vampires.” Grace said slowly repeating back what Jake had told her. Skepticism was thick in her voice but a nagging feeling started to take shape in the back of her mind.

“Yes.” Jake said simply, not breaking eye contact with her. Grace stared at him for a solid minute and then with complete disbelief in her voice she said,

“Jake-”

“Grace, think about it.” He interjected. And she was. The Cullens. Edward. Bella’s boyfriend was a vampire? The thing they were trained to kill? It just didn’t seem likely. Bella would have told her right? But maybe not. Grace hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with the wolves or her being the Spirit Bird for almost two months. “Don’t you feel it?” he asked.

Grace perked up at that and looked around her room. Things had felt off last night when she and Paul had pulled up to the house. Paul had said there was a vampire here, but she had thought he was referring to the redhead.

Her eyes lit up with crashing realization--the dream, the feeling she had when she first met Edward that had set her destiny in motion.

“Then that means she knows.” Grace said suddenly. Jake nodded, placing his hands in his lap and satisfied with his explanation. “And now she’s going to get him?” Jake sighed and let his gaze fall to the floor.

“I guess.” Grace sensed no danger when Alice was here and she sensed no danger when she first met Edward, only in her dream did she feel ill at ease. She stood up suddenly lost in thought. Jake mirrored her, reaching his hands out unconsciously to her. She paced away from him, one hand on her hip, chewing her lip and thinking.

“So the redhead is -”

“Victoria,” Jake responded sickly. Grace raised an eyebrow. “Can you just come here, and listen?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean.” Jake shook his outstretched hands at her beckoning her over. She stood far apart from him, critical but she wasn’t sure why. His face communicated defeat, but she felt something deeper was plaguing him. She recognized that look that pulled at his face but she couldn’t convince herself that it was true.

“I want to go talk to Sam. And the rest of the pack.” Grace moved decidedly to her dresser and pulled on some loose sweats over her sleep shorts and dragged an oversized hoodie over her torso. Jacob gave her a wanting look.

“Is that Paul’s?” Grace was confused for a moment by his question and then looked down at the hoodie. It was a plain grey hoodie but it was ripped in certain places as if someone had tugged on it too much.

“Is that important?” Grace shot back. She wasn’t sure why she was being so defensive. Maybe it was the fact that she had felt exceedingly confused by her friendship/relationship with Jake and then the fact that what Jake and Bella had was never explained also irked her. And now this new Jake, who was clearly thrown out to sea, adrift, looking for safe harbor, she wasn’t familiar with. And all of this uncertainty made her feel disconnected from him, which felt worse.

“I guess not,” he said, hurt mutating into concealed anger coloring his voice. It was true. The hoodie was Paul’s, but it was one she was given in her early training days with Jared, Sam, and Paul, when she would overshoot and land in the water. On one particularly cold January day, Paul had given her his sweatshirt on the ride home, fearing she might freeze to death. Grace recalled the awkward moment of changing in his forerunner during the drive, looping her hands in the sweatshirt while trying to discreetly take the soaked t-shirt off underneath it. She remembered Paul’s face and how his eyes were drawn to the sound her wet t-shirt made as it plopped on the floor of the car.

Now standing in front of Jake, she felt an odd sense of betrayal that shouldn’t be there. She shook her head to clear it.

“Okay, then let’s go.” She turned and jogged down the steps, coming to a stop when she remembered Charlie in the other room. The note was still upstairs on her desk. She slowly walked into the living room where he was staring at the tv but not really watching it. She leaned down and hugged him gently to which he kindly returned.

“I’m going to run to the rez with Jake real quick. Are you going to be okay?”

“Always am.” He smiled sadly and she returned it, grief washing over her again.

“I’ll bring back something from the diner, yeah?” Grace said and patted his shoulder. He nodded and turned back to the tv.

She grabbed her sneakers and jogged down the steps pulling them on. Jake was lagging behind, dreading something that Grace couldn’t quite place.

She did realize on the drive there that she was actively blocking him out. For this she was sorry but couldn’t seem to let him in.

When she pulled up to Sam’s, she was relieved to see everyone there. She hopped from the truck and was met with the pack pouring out the front door. Along with-

“Leah?” Grace said when she spotted her. Leah did not look happy to be there. She looked to Sam for confirmation and he gave a short nod. Grace’s heart broke, understanding instantly what that meant.

Paul was looking from Grace to Jacob, a small smirk on his face.

“What are you smiling at?” Grace said.

“Did you tell her?” Paul said, his eyes not leaving Grace but directing the question to Jacob.

“Paul.” Sam said.

“Yeah, he told me about the Cullens. How long have you all known?” Grace asked. The pack shifted uncomfortably and her eyes landed on Sam, “Another order to withhold information? Really?”

“You were too close to the situation, I didn’t want to make it more complicated than it already was.” Sam stated plainly. Instead of reacting, Grace considered this.

“Okay,” she said softly. Sam looked surprised. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“The treaty states that they are not a threat, we don’t harm them unless they break the treaty by coming onto our land or biting a human. To the best of our knowledge, they are less dangerous than the average vampire. That’s everything.” Sam said.

“Well, not everything.” Paul responded.

“Don’t, Paul.” Sam said. Jake had his arms crossed and was glaring daggers at Paul. The other members had spread out, preparing for a fight, lounging on the porch or climbing into Grace’s truck bed to get a better vantage point.

“What else then?” Grace said, prompting Paul.

“Tell her,” Paul baited. Jacob was stone faced.

“Tell me what?” Grace looked to Jacob. Only when she looked his way did he avert his gaze from Paul and his eyes softened. He opened his mouth as if to say something but stopped when Paul let out a huff that turned into a laugh. Jacob’s eyes went straight back to Paul, the anger returning. “Tell me WHAT?” Grace said louder this time. Paul and Jacob were in a standoff. And when Paul was satisfied that Jake wouldn’t say it first, he took the initiative.

“He kissed her.” Paul said, looking back to Grace as if he won something.

“Who?” Grace looked to Jake.

“Bella.” Paul confirmed.

“Paul, that’s enough.” Sam barked.

Grace didn’t let her eyes leave Jake and she turned her body to stand directly in front of him. He glanced up over her head and back at Paul, clearly uncomfortable.

“I didn’t kiss her.” Jake said evenly, disappointed even.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You almost kissed her and then you told her you loved her.” Paul clarified--he took an automatic step toward Grace. This seemed to incense Jake who looked like he was about to lunge for him. Grace was speechless for a moment, still staring up at Jake with her mouth open, waiting for words to form.

“Is that true?” she finally managed to say in a tone stronger than she realized. Jake hesitated for a moment, shaking out his right hand nervously and not meeting her gaze for a moment. Then he took a deep breath, looked her dead in the eye and said,

“Yes.”

The sound of the ‘yes’ rang out like a shot to Grace and she outwardly flinched. So that look on his face that Grace had spotted earlier this morning was accurate—heartbreak. She knew that feeling all too well and was sure that as Jake was looking at her now, he’d see that same look reflected back at him on her face.

She had so many more questions she wanted to ask, but feared the answer to them, so instead, she remained silent, staring up at Jake who was desperately trying to communicate with her. Grace took a step back and stood next to Paul. She suddenly felt repelled by the one person she felt the closest connection to.

Resolved to keep herself together, she swallowed hard, tears brimming in her eyes and turned to walk slowly up into Emily’s house. Some of the pack followed close behind her, leaving Jake, Paul, and Sam out in front. Grace had heard enough for one day.

A few minutes later, Paul and Sam crossed the threshold to the door and Paul took his place next to Grace who was sitting up on the kitchen counter, eating some granola from Emily’s snack stash. Jake never came inside, in fact, Grace was pretty sure he took off shortly after Paul and Sam joined the others. Leah sat on a chair on the porch by the open front door, not wanting to come inside, Grace felt a similar feeling washing off of her that she herself felt.

------

When Grace got home that afternoon with food in hand for her and Charlie, she could easily sense the wolf presence nearby but she chose to ignore it.

She carefully opened the door and called out: “Charlie?” as she made her way toward the kitchen. She was met by him standing there holding the note that Bella had given Grace, staring at it.

“I found this on your desk.” Charlie said, even toned but clearly upset. “It seems like it’s for me.” Grace swallowed hard and set the diner food down. All she could do was nod. “So she left again...to go find him?” Grace nodded again. “When was this?”

“Last night.” Grace almost whispered. Charlie crumpled the letter and left it on the counter.

“Let’s eat,” he said dejectedly. Grace stood quietly in place and then grabbed some food once Charlie had sat at the kitchen table.

“Am I grounded?” Grace finally squeaked out pushing around her veggie lasagna. Charlie chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

“Not yet. Why is there something you should be grounded for?” Charlie asked, an odd tone of nonchalance masking his obvious pain. Grace could definitely think of a list of reasons. “Harry’s funeral is tomorrow, I’m sure you’ll be needed to help out, so plan on that.” Grace gave a soft nod.

----

The next morning, Grace woke up early to get ready. She braided her hair and tied purple and yellow ribbons into her hair that she had worn to her father’s funeral. She let her necklace Ti’Hal had adorned her with hang long and refitted her bracelet. Grace smoothed out the simple black dress she’d only worn one other time that fell just above her knees.

She waited until the sun rose, sitting on the staircase and looking out her front door, waiting for Charlie. When he finally came down, he was surprised and helped her up off the stairs and to his cruiser. They drove in silence as Grace clutched her black jacket in her lap. She’d done this before, she could do this again.

Everyone was gathered at the community center and planned to walk the short distance to a lightly wooded area where Harry was to be buried. Grace automatically scanned the crowd when they arrived looking for her pack, and unfortunately, one face in particular. Was she a glutton for pain?

She saw most of the pack gathered toward the front, Sam was talking to some of the elders, and the rest were milling about conversing with those closest to them. Leah was next to her mother, arm around her, looking to hold onto composure for as long as she was able. Seth was folded into the pack’s group. She signaled to Charlie that she would be back when she made eye contact with Quil who gave her the nod and a wave. Everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief once she joined their gathering. Ti’Hal was nearby, eyeing her.

When it was time to walk over, Paul and Sam rejoined their group. Paul took Grace’s hand in his and she couldn’t help but look him up and down.

“You guys clean up nice.” she said off-hand. This resulted in a loose laugh from the group. She smiled at Paul who gave her a warm look and then reached out her other hand to Seth Clearwater who gladly took it.

Seth looked so young, at just 14 he only came up to just above Grace’s shoulder. He dwarfed in comparison to the massive height of the pack. She appreciated regular-sized Seth, because once they started phasing, it triggered an uncontrollable growth spurt that defied normal height standards. Jake towered at nearly 6’5” and Paul was close behind him at 6’4”. Grace was going to be in a neck brace by 20 from constantly having to look up at them.

They settled on a place in front, Seth sitting next to her and Paul draping an arm around her shoulder. Grace never let go of Seth’s hand which gradually became clamier as the service proceeded. She was doing an alright job of keeping it together until Ti’Hal stood up and sang a farewell song. Paul got up from his seat as well as Sam and some other members of the pack to help lower Harry into the ground as Ti’Hal sang. Once they hoisted his casket and started to lower it, everyone stood up. Leah appeared at Grace’s side, but she was too focused on watching Harry’s casket slowly disappear from view.

As Ti’Hal reached a crescendo, Seth dropped Grace’s hand and wrapped both his arms around her torso, clutching her as he hid his face and began to cry in full force now. Grace would take the weight of this pain gladly. And then she felt a hand grab for hers—Leah. She was still staring straight ahead but held onto Grace’s free hand that wasn’t looped around Seth so tightly that she felt her pulse throb in her fingertips.

She would take this pain too. Grace straightened up and felt the wash of grief run over her in the room. She opened herself to receiving every ounce of emotion and sadness in the room and let it crash in around her until she felt like she couldn’t breathe anymore.

When the service ended and everyone began to depart toward the Clearwater home for the reception, Grace beelined it for the beach. She had to put the massive amount of grief that was burying her somewhere. As she weaved her way through the crowd and finally pushed to the edge, she ran directly into Jake. He was wearing a simple white button down shirt and grey slacks with a loosely fitted tie.

The sight of him almost made her burst into a million pieces. He tried to catch her under the arms to stop her but she took off, recasting just out of sight and landing directly on the edge of La Push beach. She kicked off her flats and waded waist deep into the water, letting out a wail so loud she thought her eardrums would explode. The grief that she held for Seth, Leah, the entire tribe that they put into her to carry spilled into the ocean and was pulled out by the waves. She took gasping, shuddering breaths as the cold water pushed against her hips, and she let her hands drift just above the water’s surface. When she finally felt like the grief was drained from her, she calmly turned and trudged back to shore.

Paul was waiting, his chest rose and fell with deep breaths he was taking as he watched Grace step out from the waves. She walked right up to him and threw her arms around his neck and held onto him tight. He responded in kind and looped his arms around her torso and pressed his hands against her back. She relished in his warmth and felt an overwhelming sense of relief at being held.

She didn’t know how long they stood there holding onto one another with the waves lapping up under their feet, but she hadn’t felt like this in awhile. When he finally pulled back a little, he pressed his forehead to hers and she felt his warm breath on her face.

“You okay?” he breathed, his fingers gently moving across her lower back, making her shiver. She nodded and looked up at him, just for a beat. Something in her face must have conveyed a look of want, and she did feel a rush of excitement when he looked at her that way.

He dipped his head and pressed his lips to meet hers, and a splash of warmth spread from his lips to hers. His lips were soft and welcoming, such an opposite feeling to what he presented as a person. She knew this felt good and for a moment she pulled herself closer to him, which he readily interpreted as her want, but then just as quickly, something spiraled in her and she pulled back, taking a step away from him. The warmth evaporated and she felt cold again.

“Grace, it’s okay.” Paul reassured her, his breathing was still quick and labored from the kiss and his eyes were on fire as they looked at every inch of her. She looked at him and knew that was true, it was okay, they’d done nothing wrong, but in her she knew something was missing. She didn’t have the energy to figure that out at this moment though.

“I know,” she said but she kept her distance. “Let’s go back.” He looked at her for one more wanting moment and then nodded holding out his hand to hers.

She took it and together they traversed up the beach, Paul scooped up her shoes and carried them with him. If the pack didn’t know already, they would know soon what had happened and for once, Grace didn’t care.

They crested the hill and walked the rest of the way to the Clearwaters, easily getting absorbed into the crowd. Paul stayed close by as she was buoyed from elder to elder, family to family, to connect and share in their collective grief, but what Grace had done during the burial had seemed to lift the tribe up out of the overwhelming swell of sadness and alleviate some pain, at least for now. And for that she was grateful.

When she reached Ti’Hal, the gentle woman placed her hands on either side of Grace’s face and brought her down to touch her forward to Grace’s. They both closed their eyes and silently communicated to one another to which Ti’Hal quietly said: “Destinies take time to unravel, and people who matter most always return to you in the end. Hold tight, little bird.”

Grace smiled and mumbled a soft thanks before finally moving back to the pack. Sam was holding onto Emily and they both were giving her a worried look but she waved them off.

She felt more sure than ever that she could handle this, whatever this was. But that didn’t help the ache she felt growing within her.

#twilight fanfiction #twilightfanfic #twilight #new moon #jacob black #jacobblackxoc #paul lahote #the cullens #the pack #edward cullen #bella swan #a monster lives here #chapter 15

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