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juniorgman187 · 4 years ago

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Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments.

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events.

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt.

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it.

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate.

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend.

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts.

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me.

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong.

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point.

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun.

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.”

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us.

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room.

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug.

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself.

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?”

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.”

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery.

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me.

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction.

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime.

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today

Grant: don’t need to.

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me.

“Who keeps texting you?”

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business.

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!”

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it.

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it.

“No one.”

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going.

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me.

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously.

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet.

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing.

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?”

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?”

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.”

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’”

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade.

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.”

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid.

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him.

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub.

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance.

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly.

“No, sir.”

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me.

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him.

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field.

“You are not going in without a gun,” Reid ordered.

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again.

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in.

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me.

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling.

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more.

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?”

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return.

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent.

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out.

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.”

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red.

This war was far from over.

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good.

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them.

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing.

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly.

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.”

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied.

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.”

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked.

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all.

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.”

What you feel.

I clung onto those words.

What was I really feeling?

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me?

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me.

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast.

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me.

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely.

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added.

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier.

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked.

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer.

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence.

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too.

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation.

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way.

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual.

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?”

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew.

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken.

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat.

“A dating app, actually.”

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this.

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?”

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.”

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.”

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now.

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung.

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed.

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice.

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though.

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?”

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling.

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead.

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face.

He felt sorry for me.

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book.

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.”

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.”

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.”

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words.

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t.

But I should’ve.

_ _ _

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being.

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end.

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat.

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would.

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative.

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?”

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it.

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction.

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.”

_ _ _

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however.

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it.

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this.

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were.

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now?

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me.

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them.

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones.

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head.

You deserve more than that. Much more.

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said.

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened.

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see.

“I asked you first.”

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.”

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before.

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know.

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me.

“What? What is it?” I urged.

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?”

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth.

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.”

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?”

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was.

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second.

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed.

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that.

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize.

That never came.

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust.

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments.

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness.

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.”

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).”

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either.

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up.

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too.

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I.

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well.

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field.

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room.

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?”

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet.

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer.

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it.

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.”

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?”

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart.

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat.

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.”

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here.

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?”

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes.

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least.

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity.

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though.

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something.

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.”

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar.

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me.

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me.

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again.

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again.

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.”

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image.

“Always, trouble.”

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know.

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help.

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.”

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation.

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her.

_ _ _

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left.

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied.

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety.

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D.

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful.

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright.

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened.

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?”

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?”

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.”

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before.

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?”

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before.

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit.

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority.

She was my priority.

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear.

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver.

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms.

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand.

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms.

She was so cold.

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute.

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again.

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all.

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.”

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car.

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way.

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly.

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible.

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there.

I need to be somewhere I feel safe.

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself.

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize.

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever.

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?”

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly.

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?”

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.”

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.”

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too.

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that.

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind.

“You’re smart. Figure it out.”

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence.

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?”

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?”

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point?

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt.

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?”

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth.

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never.

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him.

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything.

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us.

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet.

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting.

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

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#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid kiss #fighting fire with fire #juniorgman187 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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hopeamarsu · 3 years ago

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Of potions and myths - Chapter 3

William “Ironhead” Miller x f!reader

Word count 3,1k

Warnings: There is a visit to the police station and the officer isn’t the most accommodation but no words are changed. Other than that, I think none

A/N: I realize not a lot happens here, but I’m working my way to reveal more of this world, their connection and adding a dash of magical au in here somewhere.

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

Will insists on driving you to the precinct first, to file the complaint about the man from the previous night before heading out to meet his pack. You almost want to protest, the need and itch to solve the riddle of the connection and the pull between you much larger, but one look into his eyes tells you he will not budge. So with a sigh and a kiss, you untangle yourself from his embrace and slip into your bedroom to dress for the day.

When you come back to the kitchen, Will has already cleaned up your cups and your coffee maker and he takes your hand as you walk outside. The air is warmer now, the morning chill defeated as you step to the curb and back into his truck. The brush against your seatbelt seems almost unconscious as the blond man starts the truck and navigates into the morning traffic.

The drive is accompanied by shy glances and soft smiles and you speak of unimportant things, getting to know one another. Favorite bands, random titbits about food and restaurants you’ve recently tried, stuff that on the surface level seems shallow but reveal a lot of each of you as you trade questions and stories. As he pulls up behind the police station, Will almost takes your hand into his, remembering the tendrils at the last moment. It might not be best to flaunt them around until you get a better understanding, he thinks, so he guides you inside with his hand hovering beside your elbow.

You don’t notice it, but as soon as you step in, the man scans the exits and weak spots within the lobby and moves his body to best cover you as you walk to the counter. As you tell the officer manning the desk you want to report a crime, he cages you between him and the counter, one hand on your back and the other leaning over the wooden desk. Will might look relaxed and his posture easy, but he is anything but. The thrum in his chest has changed its tone and he can feel the wolf pace around as it tracks for any potential threats.

The report is thankfully done quickly, smoothed over by Will’s convenient flip of his wallet and credentials when the officer looks up and down at you with disinterest as you explain your issue. You wrinkle your nose in annoyance when he does it, but let it pass as it gets the officer moving, pulling up documents for you to fill. Your information is jotted down, the account of the date and parties involved and you give a description of the potion (corroborated by Will) and as soon as your signature dries on the paper, the Captain whisks you outside.

“That was fast,” He comments as he guides you back to his truck, his hand radiating heat over your body. There is a non-committal hum from your pursed lips. You do not elaborate it further, but he catches the tone of it anyway. “Sweetheart, what is it?” Will grips your hand, forcing you to stop before you can step inside the car. He gently turns you around so you are face to face again.

His blue eyes are darker again, though not in arousal. There’s worry, apprehension and something else swimming in the depths and your heart squeezes a little as you catalogue them. Hesitantly Will lets go of your arm and the spot feels cold immediately. From the corner of your eye, you see the tendrils disappear from where he touched you. “Did I do something wrong there?”

You are quick to shake your head. “No, no! Absolutely not. It’s just… You know I was hesitant to do this in the first place and it’s because I knew this was going to happen. They would not believe me until you showed your credentials from Delta and it annoys me. Not you, the idea that just because I’m a mundane, I’m not to be believed. Like I don’t know a potion when I smell one. Just because I don’t have a neat little ID card that states I’m born into it, but have had to work my way through research to understand the intricacies. Might as well call me hysterical, you know?”

Will tugs you in immediately, strong arms wrapping around to envelop you in a hug. Hands run up and down your body as he curses under his breath. He should’ve known not to hijack the situation, he should’ve let you handle this particular battle but he didn’t. The need to make it all go away fast got away from him. Something fierce bleeds through from his mind to yours and you gasp involuntary as it shatters your shields. The power of it knocks the wind out of you and your knees buckle.

“Shit!” The curse is louder this time and Will reaches out behind you to open the door to the truck and he helps you sit down. “What happened, sweetheart?” His hands run across your face, your temple and your shoulders, worry etched into his features. But it's a different type of worry now, not like before when he was worried about what had happened in the precinct. This worry comes from somewhere deeper inside him, something more primal, and it rattles you as it bounces against your feeble shields, breaking them down further.

“I’m okay, I’m… alright. I promise,” you whisper, your voice hoarse as you gasp for air. “I can just, I can just feel your emotions. And they are loud and powerful.” Will curses again and all of the emotions vanish in a flash as his own shields slam shut. You take a shuddering breath, lifting your eyes to look at him. His eyes flash between beautiful blue and intense red as he tries to get himself under control.

“We need to go and see the elders now. If you can feel my emotions and they affect you like this, it’s not…” Will struggles for words, trying to piece it all together as he helps you get more settled on the seat. A water bottle is pushed into your hands and he urges you to sip from it. “This connection we feel, it’s growing and changing, becoming more powerful.” He finally finishes, scratching the back of his neck.

You nod weakly but remain silent, trying to gather your bearings as you grip the bottle tight. He holds your gaze, finding something that eases his worries, and Will jumps behind the wheel. He easily navigates out of the inner city, his hand brushing periodically at yours on the seat between you as he zig-zags the streets until the truck is on the freeway and he can grasp it in his palm.

You have a million questions running in your mind, trying to make some sort of mental list to ask the elders while building up the shields once more. You feel nervous, untethered and all over the place, wishing you had a better grip at your emotions. The analytical side of your brain is excited for the oncoming flood of information but the rest of you is scared you’ll be turned away once you reach his pack.

As you feel your shields slowly settle and become a little stable again, you send out a small prayer to whomever is listening that even if you are turned away, Will’s pack won’t turn on him. It’s been less than 24 hours of knowing him but you don’t want to see him hurt, ever. The gnarly feeling twists your gut and you think for a second to ask him to stop and leave you by the side of the road. The second the thought hits, another follows that tells you that he would never agree to it. It calms you a little and you twist on your seat to fully look at him.

He truly looks gorgeous, you muse. His large frame looks at home behind the wheel, the grey Henley accentuating his muscles tantalizingly. As your eyes drift lower, you take in the comfortable-looking jeans hiding powerful thighs and the black watch on his hand before you focus on his tattoos, wanting to trace them closely and learn all their secrets. All of his secrets really and make them yours too. It’s a sobering thought that you will guard whatever secret he lets you in on with your life if needed.

“We’re almost there. Just a few minutes more.” Will turns to look at you, eyes flashing red again and this time you latch onto it. You remember it happening previously at the precinct and yesterday at the pub. “Will, your eyes…”

“My inner wolf, he knows we’re close to the pack and wants out.” He offers while turning the truck from asphalt to gravel as he guides it towards a parking place, filled with trucks and bikes and cars of all sizes. He kills the engine and takes both of your hands to his. “I promise I’ll explain them in better detail later, but I need to warn…”

Will doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before the front door of his truck is wretched open and something large crowds it.

“William Arthur Miller! Where the fuck have you been? You better explain yourself!” A male voice booms and you can only watch as the man is dragged out of the seat by his shirt and a smaller, leaner version of him embraces him tightly. Two other men appear in front of the truck as well, moving closer to the couple and soon you watch all four men embracing together.

Carefully you step out of the truck too, leaning against it as you witness the men that are oblivious to the world for that moment. It’s endearing, the love that they have for one another, so clear in the gentle touches and noses burrowing into each other's skin to confirm that they are really all here.

It takes some time for the group hug to disperse, allowing you to study the minute movements and shifts and build up your own strength for what’s to come. But once they do separate, suddenly three pairs of eyes look at you curiously. You see two sets flash yellow and one bright electric blue as the men study you, but the colors are quickly hidden when they realize you are not a wolf yourself.

“Will, who is this?” The same voice speaks up again, the man looking at you with doubt in his eyes. The electric blue flashes in and out of his eyes and you wonder what it means and curse yourself for focusing more on other things than wolves. You can feel tension rise in the air as the men close ranks, form a sort of a wall in front of you and the truck, blocking all exits.

“Sweetheart, I would like you to meet my brothers. Ben,” Will feels the tension too and shifts to stand next to you and points at the man who has spoken. Ben’s eyebrows rise at the term of endearment but he only tips his head in acknowledgement as the man beside him nudges his ribs. “Frankie,” He nods towards the man next to Ben who is wearing a baseball cap and a grey T-shirt. Next to him, a shorter man with inquisitive eyes and salt-and-pepper curly hair steps forward and holds out his hand.

“Santiago, but you may call me Pope. And you are?” You grasp his hand, the firm and dry handshake, something you expect from a man who holds himself like a soldier. You introduce yourself, nodding to Ben and Frankie before dropping Pope’s hand. Will’s large hand comes to rest at the curve of your hip.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call or text last night, but something came up.” Will looks down at you, softness creeping up his features as he speaks. You answer him with a tiny smile and he squeezes your hip.

Ben is about to open his mouth, maybe to throw a joke or a barb but a quick grip of his wrist from Frankie stops him. He flashes his eyes at the younger man who snaps his mouth shut immediately. Santiago takes one look at the closeness between your and Will’s bodies and he nods, his eyes flashing yellow as he narrows them before adopting a neutral look quickly.

“Understandable. Maybe we could take this into a more calm place and we can talk?” It’s phrased as a question but you feel like it's more a command as the others all nod quickly and begin walking along the path leading away from the parking lot. Will guides you in front of him, taking up position right behind you and not letting his hand fall.

Up the path, you see several houses, most of them built so that the backyard leads into the forest surrounding you. After a few minutes of walking, you stop and turn to face one of the houses. It’s beautiful, full of warm wood tones and a beautiful garden. “Santi’s wife works as our healer, hence the full yard. There’s more in the back,” Will whispers in your ear, chuckling low at your interested look. “I’ll introduce you later, I think you and Yovanna would get along well.”

The inside of the house smells of herbs, cooking and love and it feels so homey that it makes your chest ache. You wish to soak all the scents and feelings deep into your bones, bask in the glow and allow it to centre you. This feels like everything you’ve ever wanted and you never want to leave the foyer, but that is not in the cards just yet. With a small tug Will guides you to the living room, gesturing you to sit down on the loveseat. Ben takes up the armchair and Frankie plops down on the couch, followed by Pope.

The energy in the room changes once more, becoming more charged as the men study you again. You brace yourself, upping your shields and unconsciously lean towards Will as you wait for someone to talk.

To your surprise, it’s Will. He speaks calmly, explaining what transpired in the pub and you see the men sit up straighter as they realize what could’ve happened had their brother not interfered. He then tells his brothers about the pull he felt as he took you home and how he was unable to leave the street, his need of protecting you outweighing everything. You watch Pope’s eyebrows raise in surprise as Will describes the warmth and the hunger he felt, still feels, as you are close.

Frankie rises up from his seat and mumbles something about making a call and you know that the elders will come here, soon. Your hands find Wills and you squeeze it between yours, drawing strength from your connection. As your skin touches his, the tendrils appear, dancing on your skins though they are more muted now and Ben gasps.

“Holy shit! What the fuck is that?!”

“That’s what we need to find out, Benny. All we know so far is that we are drawn to one another like magnets, these appear when we touch and as of this morning we can feel each other's emotions. They don’t affect me as much yet, but there is definitely potential for it to incapacitate.”

Pope remains silent, his eyes flitting between yours, your intertwined hands and Will. “What are you?” He questions finally, just as Frankie returns to the living room. Before you can answer, the man slaps Pope’s head. “You can’t go around just asking that, cabrón, you know that.”

“Well, this isn’t anything I’ve ever seen before. Either you are something very powerful and do this on purpose, or something nefarious is at play here,” Pope offers. Dark eyes study you, the tension in the room growing as seconds tick by. Your eyes move from his to Ben’s and to Frankie before you turn your head to look at Will. He gives you the tiniest of nods and you roll your shoulders before looking at Pope again.

“I was raised as a mundane, but I’ve been studying potions and spells for a long time. I work as a researcher at the museum's antique artefacts and extracts department. I know the basics but I promise you, any power that I possess is tiny compared to practising witches.”

You speak calmly, wanting to diffuse any malice before it takes root. You glance at Will again, your eyes betraying you as they are filled with worry and fear. He smiles reassuringly and cups the back of your neck, kissing you fast, unafraid.

It’s a possessive move as he devours your mouth, not caring an inch that his brothers are in the same room as you are. He pulls you in closer so that you are leaning towards his chest, hands on his pectorals and neck as he continues kissing you. You know the tendrils make another appearance as someone, maybe Frankie, gasps softly but you are lost to the kiss and in Will.

A cough finally separates you from one another but his large hand on your cheek doesn’t allow you to move far. “It’s going to be alright, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmurs to your lips before straightening himself to look at the other occupants of the room. There’s steel in his eyes, challenging any of his brothers to start anything, but none of them do. You watch intently as the men eye one another, the bond they share crackling in the room. Benny is the first to rip his gaze off, followed shortly by Frankie and Pope.

“Ironhead, we always have your back, you know that.” Frankie finally speaks in a calm tone as he takes the lead and diffuses the situation. “But .. You glow when you kiss. Literally glow in gold and silver. How is this happening?” He glances at Ben and Pope, both nodding in surprised agreement.

A knock on the door shuts up any explanation you want to give and all four men rise to their feet quickly. Following their example, you lift yourself up too and Will tucks you under his arm.

You can feel his emotions rush in his veins, mixing with yours but you are prepared this time and as they brush you, you embrace them and do not fight. You can feel your shields opening up minutely, the calming effect spreading through both of you as the connection sings in approval. You turn to face the door as Pope opens it.

The elders are here.

Of potions and myths taglist: @mylifeisactuallyamess @luxmundee @innerpaperexpertcloud

Everything taglist (I fully understand if you want to skip this one, please let me know and I’ll remove you!) @clydesducktape @wayward-rose @themuseic @miraclesabound @clydesfavoritegirl @a-true-janian-reply @10blurredsmoke10 @caillea @mariesackler

#william miller #will miller #will ironhead miller #will miller x f!reader #cw: mythical creatures #cw: werewolves #will miller fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #charlie hunnam fanfiction #my writing

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wildingrose · 3 years ago

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intrigued police

dark alley help part 6

part 5: diamond in the rough | part 7: refusal

word count: 1.9k

》 mild violence, riding

- ✿ -

You texted Raymond that you were waiting in the lobby of his hotel.

"Y/N?"

You spun around and found the man that you dreaded to see and were ready to run out the door if it weren't for Taeyong beside you, holding your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Hey Raymond," you greeted without much interest.

He glanced over to the man beside you. "Who's he?" he asked, almost snarling in disgust for someone other than him to be holding your hand.

"This is Taeyong. He’s going to take your place soon. Wait, what am I saying? He already did!"

Raymond didn't see that coming and was utterly shocked. "What?"

Meanwhile, Taeyong was amused by the way you introduced him to your... former future prospect.

"Okay then, Taeyoung-"

"It's Tae-YONG," you corrected with a glare.

He disregarded it and continued. "What do you do?"

Taeyong had been warned of this and kept his mouth shut. Instead, you spoke up. "That's none of your business."

"Yes, it is. Clearly, you're replacing me with him, so I need to know what he has that I don't."

You scoffed. "Something really big."

Raymond gaped. "You slept with him?"

Taeyong's eyes widened from the directness, yet you coolly retorted back with, "I meant heart but sure. We can consider that too even though I haven't seen yours."

Raymond laughed, almost sinister. "I thought I was the one doing you a favour to let you take the spot that other girls would die to have. Your mother really..." he muttered the last part real quiet, and something snapped in you with rage.

"I dare you to say that thing about my mom."

He rolled his eyes. "Your mom is the desperate one to have you married off to me. And look at you, next to another guy while standing in front of the one you're supposed to be with. Both mom and daughter are such..." he trailed of shaking his head in disgust.

Your blood boiled, knowing exactly what he was going to say but didn't want the filthy words to taint his mouth. You'd bear with it if it was only you, but if your mother was getting dragged into this, you weren't going to stand it.

"You fucking asshole! Don't you fucking say that about my mom!" you shouted.

He didn't listen to you, liking that he got you triggered and added, "There's that term. What's it called? Ah yes! Motherfucker. I can just imagine your mom-"

You didn't let him finish. In a blink of an eye, you slapped him hard. His head snapped to the side, fingers coming up to touch the stinging cheek. His eyes locked on you in shock as you fumed furiously.

Raymond clenched his teeth with seething anger. "I let it go when you called me an asshole, but this? You're such a slut- no, whore. Go have fun with your new-"

A yelp of pain came out of his mouth when Taeyong had enough of the shit he was witnessing, especially when Raymond called you names. Names that he couldn't fathom you being labeled as. You were an angel, his doll that did nothing wrong.

How dare he had the nerve to? Taeyong thought.

He couldn't stop himself from getting involved when you had strictly warned him from doing so. And so he yanked Raymond by the hair, hard, bending him backward till his arms were flaying around for something to grip onto. "Let me go, dude!"

Taeyong did, letting him go immediately and caused Raymond to fall to the ground. Humiliation burned throughout his body and he got to his feet right away to make an attack. But Taeyong's fists were ready to leave a nasty mark on his face. Taeyong swung it hard right in the center, making Raymond's head bumped backward and he screamed in pain as he clutched onto his nose.

Your hands covered your mouth in shock and fear. It wasn't because Taeyong had butted in for you and hit the jerk.

But for what Raymond was going to do next.

The constable on duty strolled in unhurriedly. "Kids these days always get into fights," he muttered under his breath. He sat down at his desk and finally looked up to the three people sitting across with you in the middle. Taeyong crossed his arms and was looking elsewhere while Raymond hissed, holding onto his broken nose.

The officer gasped. "Taeyong?"

Taeyong met his surprised eyes and mirrored it.

You frowned and asked, "You know Taeyong?"

He nodded. "I sometimes help out with the construction crew to manage the traffic so he's a familiar face. It's nice to see you, boy. But I wasn't expecting it to be like this."

Your heartrate picked up and warily glanced at Raymond. He looked like he was too much in pain to pick up on Taeyong's identity.

"Who are you two? Are you together?" The officer inquired when shifting his eyes onto you and the asshole.

You rolled your eyes. "No, thankfully. I'm with Taeyong. He was only defending me after this..." You sent Raymond a scowl. "...one attacked me. So please don't arrest Taeyong. If anything, it's him," you said, pointing to the injured one.

A smile tugged at Taeyong's lips, seeing you defend him. The officer raised his eyebrows, intrigued that Taeyong had a girl on his side and stood up for you.

Raymond snapped out of his pain and spoke up. "She's lying! I didn't even touch her! Plus, I'm the one needing medical attention!"

"Shut up! Just take the blame and end this. You have the money anyway for treatment," you argued.

"Have you always been this rude?"

"Now that I have an excuse to get you out of my life, yes."

Raymond huffed in annoyance. "I can do anything for you, buy you anything that you want, and this is how you treat me?"

Taeyong stiffened upon hearing the words. He couldn't do that for you. He couldn't buy you anything that you'd ask for. He didn't have the kind of money Raymond did.

Though that didn't affect you and replied, "Then, why don't you go get yourself a sugar baby?"

The officer stifled back a laugh as Taeyong was stunned by your response, touching his heart. He butted in once again and muttered, "While I might not have all the money, I definitely have the strength to snap your neck easily."

Raymond gasped loudly and shouted, "Arrest him, officer! He's threatening me right in front of you!"

The officer tutted calmly. "Nah, I would never on Taeyong."

"What? You're abusing your power to save someone you know? I'll get you fired!" All his yelling was hurting your head and you rubbed your temple in circles.

The officer clasped his hands on the table. "No, I'm not. I know that no matter how strong Taeyong is, he would never use violence under any circumstance, even if a fight breaks out onsite. Him using it on you shows that you were being extremely rude to this young lady and he had to intervene. This is my reasoning for not arresting him. You all are dismissed."

Stepping out of the station, Raymond started laughing hysterically. Your hands wrapped around Taeyong's bicep and gave him a silent signal to not say a word, to which he nodded.

Raymond pulled his phone out and began typing something on the phone. "Your mom is going to be so shocked to hear that her future son-in-law is a laborer."

Your heart got caught in your throat. So he did hear it. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I texted her. Think of it as payback for what he did," he sent you a wink. "May you have all the bad luck trying to get her permission, Taeyoung." With that, he walked to his car and drove away.

Taeyong felt your hands squeeze on his arm. You did your best to stay composed, reminding yourself of the plan that you had in mind. If that went well, then there was nothing else to worry about. Even if your mother knew about Taeyong's work.

"Y/N?" he called for you softly, placing a hand over yours.

The touch brought you to meet his worried gaze and gave your best 'don't worry' smile. "It'll be okay."

He let out a long sigh. "This happened cause of me. Sorry," he mumbled.

Your shook your head. "She would have found out eventually." Your phone began ringing and learned that it was from none other than the one you'd expect. You ignored it and said, "Let's go home."

Taeyong hummed. "I'll drop you off and come later."

Chuckling, you clarified, "I mean our home."

Taeyong's heart stopped beating before going completely erratic. Our home, he thought. He absolutely adored that.

You watched him quietly close the door behind him and take off his shoes. Taeyong hadn't uttered a single word on the way back to his place, making you worried when he refused to make eye contact with you. "Tae?" He finally did, meeting your concerned look. "What's wrong?"

He shifted his gaze to the floor and still kept quiet.

You huffed and mischievously narrowed your eyes on him, "Where's the confident stranger I asked help for the first time?"

That brought a very subtle tug at his lips. Success!

You cupped his face and lifted it, making him meet your eyes again. "Seeing you like this makes me sad," you said with a pout which made him chuckle softly. "Remember our deal in the car?"

That seemed to excite him as his eyes darkened rapidly. He licked his lips with half lidded eyes and asked, "Really?"

You nodded with a tender smile, glad to see him back to the version of Taeyong you were used to.

With quick feet, he led you by the hand into the bedroom and sat comfortably on the sheets, pulling you to sit on top of his lap. A loud gasp left your mouth when he flushed his face against the skin above your covered breasts, his hot breath fanning over your chest and your shoulders shook as a shiver crawled up your spine. You were confused with what he wanted in this position until he started grinding up into you, going slow and steady until his pants grew super tight and your core began to throb. You mirrored his action, grinding down onto the hard tent and a beautiful moan fell from his lips.

Taeyong's hands came to your hips and lifted you off briefly, enough to unbutton his pants and pull out his dick. He shoved your panties aside and slowly pushed in while you helped simultaneously by sinking down.

"Fuck, doll, so pretty." His brows were furrowed as he concentrated on the feeling of being enveloped by your paradise.

You set a pace, steadying yourself with hands on his shoulder as you bounced on his cock. He rolled his hips up to meet you perfectly and you cried out quietly at how heavenly he felt deep in your womanhood. You mewled when he tugged one strap of your dress over your shoulder, letting it fall and expose your breast to the air. His mouth attached to suck on your nipple, your hands coming around to hold his head close to your chest.

When he got close, his pace slowed before stopping altogether and came hard into you, your pace not slowing to draw out his release and shortly after, you came.

tag list: @cosmiclatte28 @mel-yjh @johnnysuhisnotmyproblem @kttyongie @chantellsievert

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #taeyong smut #taeyong x reader #taeyong imagines #taeyong scenarios #nct imagines #nct scenarios

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fatefulfaerie · 3 years ago

Text

Once Upon A Time

Long one shot under the cut. Every once in a while I obsess over Gelato (Roman x Neo) so...yeah...

Spoilers for RWBY: Roman Holiday (read it if you haven’t it’s so good!!)

He didn’t know how to treat it like anything but a heist.

Roman had definitely kissed a girl before, Bleu Berry at the orphanage when he was twelve, Crimsen Blank when he was fifteen, Verd Webster when he was seventeen, and then of course the off and on thing with Chameleon while he worked for Lil’ Miss.

But something about kissing Neo was special, something not to be messed up or done lightly like every other young woman he had kissed. He had to do it right.

It had seemed like a lifetime ago since Roman had planned a heist without Neo, and he found himself at a loss because of it. She really was the brains of their partnership...and the brawn…

Why was he even here?

Neo gave him a distinct look. She snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“Sorry.”

He was staring again, at her instead of the television. His cover story was that he stared into space when he was really tired.

Lie.

It was really him taking glances from under her nose, like pickpocketing a stranger’s wallet.

Steal.

Cheat.

Survive

Love.

When did that get in there?

Normally when they sat down together to watch the large, holographic screen that emitted from Neo’s facedown scroll -- Roman still hadn’t gotten his hands on a new scroll. He was perfectly able to steal one of course, especially since the Vale City Mall had the most pathetic security. He just kept straight up forgetting -- they were watching themselves on TV, laughing about the coverage of their recent ridiculous robbery and eating spicy hot wings from the Cuckoo Crazy Chicken Shack.

This was the first time that Roman was thinking about someone else while watching his own name flash across the screen.

He was catching feelings for her, and there was no doubt about it. He had been catching feelings ever since she saved his life in the alley where she first showed off her semblance, and then more and more as they spent time together.

Roman pinpointed the moment she showed him the fabulous outfit she had made for him as that oh moment that you read about in romance novels.

Not that he read. He accidentally stole a book once. Once. Neo was the reader. He could hardly summon the patience. When Neo gave him a book to read, he skipped to the end. Roman didn’t see the point in all the rest.

But for some reason with this conundrum, this real-life conundrum, he couldn’t bring himself to skip to the end, to just kiss her like it meant just as much as any other kiss.

He tried to plan it like a heist, watching Neo, memorizing her routine, figuring the best moment of the day to perform the act, but it didn’t work. Neo was too unpredictable. She wasn’t like a bank or a warehouse that had their security guards on the same schedule every day. Her chaos was part of her charm, always doing the unexpected, but Roman was absolutely lost as to when he should make his move, if at all. They had a good thing going here, after all, and for all he knew he could kiss her one second and be knocked out cold the next.

Roman felt a slap on his shoulder and he looked over.

What the hell?

Neo was mute yet Roman could hear her say it. She must have been doing airplane arms before she slapped him.

She pointed at him and then her right ear, her forehead creased with inquisition.

“No, I am not going deaf,” Roman said.

She must have been clapping and snapping to get his attention.

“I’m just thinking,” he explained, the words spilling out just as he realized he might have to come up with an answer for what he was thinking.

But Neo nodded in understanding. What a wonderful human being. She mimed sleep, resting her head on hands that touched palms.

“Yeah,” Roman agreed. “Sleep. Good idea.”

Since his fancy condo was ambushed by Lil’ Miss, the two partners in crime had settled in an abandoned building that had gone from being a restaurant to a convenience store to a nail salon in the span of three months, before being abandoned for a year now. This street was a terrible place for an above-board business and even the Vale Government had let it rot, too small and inconsequential to be made into a factory or a warehouse of any sort.

Neo and Roman found it a week after the skirmish at the Vanille mansion. It was dilapidated and falling apart but it was only as broken as each of them were before they found each other. They quickly saw it as home.

So Roman stood up in order to head towards his bedroll in the corner. Neo watched him with a suspicious eye.

“Now that we’ve done as much damage as we could with the information from Mr. Vanille’s computer…”

Neo had already noticed that Roman never referred to the late Jimmy Vanille as her dad. Biologically he was her dad but he never treated her like a daughter.

“We may as well start on this dust business,” he continued. “Dust Till Dawn seems like the easiest target to me but I’d rather start bigger, something more fun.”

He turned around in case Neo had anything to add but she only stood up and paced towards him, using her semblance to change into Roman Torchwick himself. Roman looked at the mirrored version of himself as Neo made fun of the way he had been acting, staring with a blank expression, losing his train of thought. She then changed back into herself and shrugged her shoulders with her hands up as if to ask him why.

“I…I don’t know.”

He stammered. He rarely stammered.

She crossed her hands over her heart, then offered her hands to him. He knew what that meant.

Can I help?

She was always so thoughtful.

“It, umm…”

He had to be confident about this, he absolutely had to. He was Roman Torchwick, after all, the fabulous, the famous. He was fearless. He was clever and could get any girl he wanted, even the best of the best that stood in front of him. He could do this.

“Roman Torchwick this is the VPD,” a voice bellowed. Roman closed and opened his eyes.

“Why is it never you?” He asked Neo quietly, who was smirking. She stuck out her tongue.

“Come out with your hands up,” the loud voice continued. “We’ve got you surrounded.”

Neo turned back into Roman.

“Meet you at Forever Fall?” He asked.

Neo nodded and ran off to get caught by the police. Roman pocketed Neo’s scroll and grabbed Melodic Cudger and Hush, the two hooks of which clinked in his grasp.

“Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Torchwick,” he heard as he was halfway out the window in the back. Roman froze and listened. He dared to let his vanity doom him. “But I’m afraid it doesn’t do you justice.”

Roman turned his head.

What was that supposed to mean?

He could see the scene barely, through a gap in one of the distant boarded windows. Neo, in his image of course, stood with her hands in surrender.

“A volatile jokester,” the policeman continued, circling around Neo. “Always has something to remark. Doesn’t seem to want to shut up.” He stopped his spherical pacing and turned on his heel. “Do you know where I got these phrases?”

Neo shook her head.

“Vale Police Department records,” he said. “It’s how they describe you, and it’s how I know you aren’t really in front of me right now, are you Torchwick?”

He felt the panic in his heart, he tried to slip out the window but his forehead met a gun as it cocked with a click.

Their strategy had worked twice already, a disguised Neo getting arrested as Roman fled to a rendezvous location. Neo would use her semblance to escape captivity easily and they would have cheated the system. But it seems the police caught on.

Roman was almost impressed as he bumped shoulders with Neo in the back of the cop car, their weapons confiscated and Neo’s scroll slammed in half by the heel of one of the officers. Their hands were literally tied and Roman might have found a way to fight his way out of this but hey, he had never seen the interior of the Vale Police Department before. He figured it was time for a grand tour of the rathole’s rat hole.

“What’s that?” were the next words out of his mouth twenty minutes later. The VPD building was disappointing. Roman regretted wanting a look inside within a couple steps.

“Semblance inhibitor,” the officer replied, latching a second pair of handcuffs onto Neo’s wrists and only Neo’s wrists. “New tech from Atlas. It drains aura.”

Neo looked at Roman with a flash of panic in her eyes. She was always so confident in her chaos that it was a rare sight to see her scared.

“It’s okay,” he managed softly.

“We’re submitting her for questioning,” the officer continued, nearly interrupted as if Roman hadn’t said anything. “And we’re sending you back to Mistral. Lil’ Miss will be elated to learn that you are alive.”

They began to pull them away along two different hallways.

“No,” Roman said, struggling. “No!”

He lurched for Neo with all his might and caught her lips. That one moment of vulnerability where she tried to keep him with her cost him his better sense as he was very nearly yanked away, only seeing Neo’s face in shock.

“She’s mute, you idiots!” Neo heard Roman exclaim. “She couldn’t answer even if she wanted to. You lay a hand on her and so help me gods I’ll--”

A door slammed shut. Neo didn’t get to hear that last bit.

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

Trivia Vanille a.k.a. “Neopolitan”

Height: 4’10”

Age: 19

Prisoner ID Number: 827338

It was the first time in several years that she genuinely smiled in a picture, and it was a mugshot. Although she could see in her file the name that was dead to her, they referred to her verbally only as Neopolitan. The respect made Neo over the moon with happiness, made her almost forget her concern to get out of this without her semblance. The lock on her normal handcuffs were simple enough to pick once she was left alone but the one that shone blue and drained her energy even now would take a bit more creativity.

Roman Torchwick

Height: 5’11”

Age: 27

Prisoner ID Number: 827299

How many times did he have to tell them? He was six foot three. Six. Feet. Three. Inches. They never listened to him and it bothered him that it was on his permanent record that he didn’t measure up to at least six feet. For goodness sake, he was a celebrity. Any dunce on the street knows that he has orange hair, a white jacket, a grey scarf tied around his neck, and dashing emerald eyes. Everyone knows that he gave himself the birthday of October 31st (the mother who abandoned him at the orphanage didn’t care to specify the day that he had an excuse to steal cake) and that he was six foot three. It was on his mugshot and everything. He pleaded until he had two hands on the bars of his temporary holding cell. He was on his knees.

“Lights out.”

He sighed.

“Fine.”

He heard a foot stomp behind him. His cellmate was standing against the barred window that let in only streaks of moonlight, only fractions of nightlife and remnants of an already crumbled world.

He was a quite heavyset man and Roman’s heart skipped a beat. Roman was good in a fight but he wasn’t sure about these odds as he slowly stood up. This guy looked to have the strength of ten men and his arms were crossed.

Descending pink triangles dispelled the illusion and Roman choked a sigh of relief when the burly man turned into the small silhouette of Neo herself. Her hip cocked to the side and Roman knew, although he couldn’t see it, that she was smirking.

Roman rushed forth and hugged her, embraced her desperately like he never had before. He must have really thought they weren’t getting out of this one together.

“How?” he asked when they separated, his eyes searching her moonlit face.

Neo mimed picking a lock but then shook her head. She then mimed smashing her heel into an invisible pair of handcuffs between her two wrists and gave Roman a thumbs up.

“Good to know Atlas technology goes so fancy on design that brute force is the solution to breaking it. Would you like to pick the cell lock or shall I?”

Neo nodded and skipped to do just that, as if that were the easy part. Neo plucked pins from her mess of brown and pink hair and got to work kneeling before the lock and snaking her arms around the other side of the bars. Roman leaned on the bedpost and ignored his actual cellmate, the actual burly, wideset man who was knocked out on the bottom bunk and had a gnarly bruise the resembled Neo’s heeled boots across his face.

“About earlier, I…” Roman hesitated. “I guess I just wanted to apologize if I took you by surprise. It’s something I’ve been wanting to do, don’t get me wrong, I just…”

After several clicks, the door swung open and Neo turned around to face Roman, approaching him. Roman wondered if she had even heard him until she grasped his tied gray scarf and pulled him into her lips. It was all the answer Roman needed as they explored each other’s mouths, Neo slowly backing up and Roman chasing her, walking forward. When she let loose his lips they were out of the cell. She smiled. Roman was absolutely smitten.

She turned into a security guard, one they had seen earlier and she took his hand, Roman giggling under his breath as they fled from the Vale Police Department and into the wild night they had claimed as their own.

The memory became foggy, as it always did. It turned into a million other nights of chaos with him, all melding into a single lifetime that was now deceased. Trivia Vanille once died in the burning rubble of the Vanille Estate and left Neopolitan in her stead, but the moment Neo saw a blinding “X” over Roman’s aura gage a different Neopolitan had emerged. This one wasn’t languishing in her new sense of identity, wasn’t happy beyond belief in her friendship with this Torchwick guy. No, this Neopolitan was in pain, deep soulful, cutthroat, bleeding pain. When she threw a parasol and made her dad bleed she felt nothing. When her parents died because of the dust her dad harbored, she felt free. But when Roman died, she felt grief for the very first time, felt loss and lost in this world that didn’t understand her, would never understand her like he did.

Neo blinked her eyes open.

She liked when her dreams dipped into her memories up until the point where she woke up, where reality reminded her what was past and what was present.

It smelled like blood here. Neo had started to wonder if this is what it was like to be in the womb, gestating, trapped, waiting to be reborn in Salem’s image. The thought made Neo gag. This was the last place she wanted to be, seen as a mere chess piece in Salem’s game. She grew up as a chess piece that had been discarded, then used, then discarded again, like a dirty towel her parents kept forgetting about. What once liberated her was her newfound knowledge that her decisions could be her own but now she was CInder’s helper? beneficiary?

She would have to stomach it until Cinder upheld her end of the deal and got her to Ruby Rose.

Neo pushed against the bed she was assigned and sat up, although she would use the term bed extremely loosely. It was a hunk of red rock and the small room looked like the maw of a Grimm more than anything else. Neo would quantify it to a torture chamber if there wasn’t a small young man literally being tortured a few rooms over. She at least had it better off than him, but that didn’t say much.

Neo steadied her breath and closed her eyes. She thought of him, not the boy who screamed in anguish down the hallway but him. Roman. She thought of his brown, leather slip-on shoes and how much he hated the hassle of tying laces. She thought of his dark grey pants and how they collected around his ankles. She thought of his white coat and remembered tailoring it to his size, remembered thinking of the moment she would surprise him with it. She remembered his gloves and how it felt to be held by those hands. She remember his grey scarf and tried not to think about how it was on her neck instead of his. She tried to think of his piercing green eyes and his pumpkin orange hair, his bowler hat that had a red ribbon and a grey feather. She tried to remember his voice.

She opened her eyes and stood up slowly, pacing towards the illusion she had created, feeling tears sting in her eyes, feeling her heart beat with relief she tried to subdue.

“Neo,” he said softly.

She bawled, tears streaming down her face. She took the hat off her head and put it on her doll. She cupped his face with her hands and found herself missing having to go on her tippy toes like this.

Neo thought she could hold the illusion long enough to at least hug him, to at least derive some comfort from her memories and what her semblance was able to do with them. Yet, the illusion just as soon shattered, crumbling into shards of glass. Neo’s gasp was shaky as she looked down into her palms. Her breaths matched no rhythm and her soul bled as if she had lost him all over again. She looked up.

Cinder.

Her lip quivered. Neo couldn’t help it. Her brow furrowed in anger despite her sadness. The pink and the brown were like flames. And yet Cinder couldn’t even see her hate. No one could see anything of her.

“Salem wants everyone on the bridge,” Cinder said. “Welcome to reality.”

She walked off without a care and Neo fell to her knees, gathering the glass shards. She seethed with anger as she held them delicately in her hands. Her panting increased as balled her hands into fists, not caring in the slightest the sharp pain in her palms or the blood staining her white gloves.

She made a silent promise to Roman then, not to live for herself like she once did but to survive long enough to give Ruby Rose everything she deserved.

#gelato #neo x roman #roman holiday #rwby roman holiday #rwby #rwby fanfiction #roman torchwick #neopolitan #trivia vanille #neo my beloved #am I ec Myers yet?

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flippin-fins · 3 years ago

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Guilt

LadyNoir July 2021 Day 23: Guilt

Read on AO3

As Ladybug landed on the familiar balcony, she could see her partner’s slumped shoulders, a sure sign of his mood for the day. Not that she coud blame him. The excitement of defeating Hawkmoth and Mayura, of getting back the two missing miraculous, was easily overshadowed by what Chat Noir was going through.

All those years ago, when Ladybug had offhand mentioned the idea of Gabriel Agreste being Hawkmoth, she hadn’t expected it to be true, to lead to that night, surrounded by disappointment and butterflies.

She certainly hadn’t expected him to be the father of her partner, to watch the heartbreak cross Chat’s face as he realized who had been wearing the butterfly miraculous this whole time.

It was a good thing she had changed her mind on the knowledge of each other’s identities. Finding out who her partner was in the middle of the battle that they had been preparing for would have led to her being far more distracted than she was. Taking the time to realize what their identities meant for their partnership, for Marinette’s friendship with Adrien, proved to be important as she had his back that night.

And every night afterwards, for that matter. He hadn’t mentioned it, but after the arrests of his father and his assistant, the mansion was certainly too big, too empty, to stay in. More often than not, Ladybug would find Chat on the roof they met on for patrols, lost in his thoughts. It turned out tonight was no exception.

“Chat,” Ladybug called, not wanting to sneak up on him. She watched his shoulders drop, a sign he had heard her. At first, he had tried to turn her away, to try to deal with his pain alone, but Ladybug had been persistent. They were partners and she would be by his side through anything.

“Chat,” she whispered as she kneeled down, reaching out to rub his back. He leaned against her hand for a moment, before turning to her to reveal his red eyes and tear stained cheeks. Pulling him in for a hug, she could only murmur, “Oh, Adrien.”

It wasn’t fair. No one deserved to be related to Hawkmoth, but Adrien Agreste least of all. The model-slash-superhero deserved a different life than he had been granted, but he had survived this one as an optimist, a piece of sunshine brightening everyone’s day.

Ladybug felt his shuddering breath against her, and she went back to rubbing his back, hoping to ground him, remind him how much she loved him.

She could feel his tears against her neck, and she bit her lip to stop her own tears. She wanted to move him, take him home for a night of warm croissants and cuddling while watching movies, but it was too soon to move him. The night was dark and they were high enough up to avoid being seen from any Parisians anyways.

Ladybug’s heart broke at the idea that Chat’s life had been destroyed, his family completely gone, but that wasn’t the worst part.

As she heard Chat Noir speak, apologizng, she knew the worst part. The guilt that struck deep, that he carried every day, that was the worst part.

As Ladybug, she had done all she could to convince Paris that Adrien hadn’t been involved in his father’s affairs, at least not in the way they implied. However, it took the police, after many more interviews than should have been necessary, agreeing with her statements before the city’s anger at the young model subsided.

Alya had been a good friend for listening to Marinette’s rants about that whole fiasco.

Chat Noir’s shuddering breaths brought her back to the roof. She could hear him trying to stop his tears, unsuccessfully trying to even out his breathing. Ladybug would let him go for a little longer before dragging him home.

Her parents had welcomed him into their lives with open arms, even before the public opinion had shifted. She was sure they’d found the two of them bundled in blankets on the couch, the glow of the tv illuminating the room, but her parents hadn’t enforced any boundaries, trusting the duo to be smart.

Marinette had never revealed their superhero identities to her parents, even if sometimes the older couple let on they knew more than they should. Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng had been more than willing to provide comfort, a home, to Adrien, and Marinette knew he cherished it more than he could say. She’d even found Adrien and her father in the bakery, Tom whispering secret family recipes as he showed the blond the best way to frost.

She remembered that night, holding him in her arms in her room. His sobs, unable to voice why he had been so hurt. How he hadn’t gotten to have moments like that with his father, always having been shut out, sure it was his own fault.

Her heart broke all over again at the memory.

All Ladybug wanted for Chat Noir, for Adrien Agreste, was for him to be happy, to feel loved, to never feel so shut out, so alone, the way he was in that house. Akumatizing the citizens of Paris was terrible, but sometimes the idea of how he treated Adrien, especially after his mother’s death, felt like the worse crime.

Finally, Chat’s breathing slowed, his shaking ceased, and Ladybug gently pulled him away from her shoulder, looking him in the eye.

His eyes were puffy, his hair more of a mess than usual, but to her he was just as beautiful as he was on the magazine covers. The sight of him took her breath away everyday.

‘I love you,’ her heart whispered, but her mouth said something different. “Come home with me? We can watch a movie, I could bake some cookies? Whatever you’d like.”

He nodded slowly, as if the simple movement exhausted him. She’d have to dig up some brie from the bakery to thank Plagg for letting him come out here night after night.

When they made it to her balcony, Ladybug made a move to go inside, but a hand on her wrist stopped her.

Turning, she saw Chat Noir settled on a lounge chair, eyes fixed on the stars. They weren’t as easy to see here in the city, but she knew he liked to spend nights caught up in their shine.

“Do you want me to get blankets for us?”

He nodded without looking at her, and it takes everything in her not to walk over and curl up by his side.

She moved quickly in her room, hoping not to disturb her parents. She’d kept a stockpile of blankets and pillows for nights on her balcony, and she was grateful to not have to stray too far from the blond that had captured her heart.

She slipped onto the balcony, nodding as Plagg and Tikki floated past her, presumably headed towards the bakery for some snacks.

Adrien helped her adjust the blankets until they were all spread out, and the friends could lay out on the cushioned ground.

It was easy to pretend, especially when they were snuggled under blankets and watching a movie or curled up and talking about their feelings on rooftops. It was easy to forget they were just partners, friends, and that was the extent of it. No matter how much her heart wanted more, it didn’t matter.

She wasn’t going to rush him, to risk the balance they had. She didn’t want to scare him away from the only support system he seemed to have.

Marinette had forgotten to grab her laptop, but snuggled under these blankets with him, their kwamis having returned and curled on their laps, she was content to just live in this moment.

She slowly reached out to run her fingers through his hair, listening as his breathing evened out. She’d noticed the dark bags under his eyes a while ago, but he hadn’t mentioned anything, so she pretended to not notice how often he fell asleep when they were together.

She tried to ignore her heart whispering they were better, more complete, together. That his state of relaxation was related to how perfect they were for eachother, as if the strength of their partnership with the masks equaled the safety they felt in the other’s arms.

Peeking up to look at his face, Marinette realized he was fully asleep. She hoped the same was true for Plagg and Tikki, but wasn’t brave enough to check, not wanting to find two sets of us peering up at her.

“I know I’m not what you wanted,” she whispered, hoping not to wake him. If her words brushed past his dreams, she was sure she didn’t mind. “But you deserve so much, so much more than the legacy you’ve been left behind to clean up. You deserve all the love in your life, possibly more. Do you even see how much love is out there? From Nino, Alya, our classmates? The love they have for such a good friend? From my parents? I’m pretty sure some of the recipes my dad has shared with you are ones that I’ve never been told. Even the love I -'' she froze, listening to his breathing, but it didn’t change. “Even the love I have for you.

“Love comes in many forms, and you deserve them all.”

She sighed, shifting slightly to lean against his chest.

“Loving you, it’s always been so easy. That moment with the umbrella, how fitting the crack of thunder was, unexpected and quick, just like the love I felt for Adrien. It wasn’t the model looks, but the sweetness, your smile, how nice you were to be when I didn’t deserve it. And Chat Noir,” Marinette smiled, playing with a loose thread on one of the blankets. “It wasn’t out of convenience, or you wearing me down, but who you are. The puns, the optimism. Your heart, how thoughtful you are as you check in with the Akuma victims, the first to remind them that it wasn’t their fault. Those moments we got to share, on patrols or against Akumas. Chat crept up on me, too slowly to notice, until one day I turned around and there it was, undeniable. You and me against the world, right?

“To think, I got the oppourtunity to fall in love with someone as amazing as you, twice.” She sighed again, letting herself be lost in the memories.

“I’ve spent so long picturing a future, a future with you, both versions of you. Dancing in the soft lights of Paris, coming home to sweet smiles, the small patter of feet. Even the smell of camenbert haunting my dreams.” Marinette sniffed, smiling to herself. She could feel Plagg snuggle closer, softly bunching the blanket.

She reached her free hand down to brush against both of the kwamis.

“But it doesn’t matter. Loving you, it could be so easy, but you deserve more. More than me, more than just someone that’s nearby. I’ll spend my life making sure you know how loved you are, even if it’s from a distance. Love isn’t because of or in spite of, it’s just there.”

She ran her fingers through his hair again. “Loving you was easy, but this could be enough. I love you enough that knowing you’re happy would be enough.”

Marinette startled when she felt something wet on her arm. Looking up, she was met with green eyes. She froze, caught in his gaze.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she recovered quickly.

“How much did you hear?”

“Do you mean it?” His voice was thick, his eyes still shining.

She looked in his eyes, but she didn’t know what she was looking for. After a moment, she blushed, looking away.

“Every word,” she breathed.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #miraculous lb #ladybug and chat noir #LadyNoir July 2021 #Day 23: Guilt #My Fic #my reputation's never been worse #so you must like me for me

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x--daughters-of-darkness--x · 3 years ago

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Outlanders: How Jinjer survived a revolution and built their own world

Jinjer’s resilient spirit was forged in the civil war that erupted their native Ukraine in 2014. As the groove metal quartet prepare to unleash their fourth and most complex album to date, singer Tatiana Shmayluk relives the turmoil that shaped them. Cue: one of modern music’s most remarkable tales of survival, resistance and sheer determination…

It was when the first fighter jet flew overhead that Tatiana Shmayluk realised she had to run.

For the past few months, the mood in Ukraine had been growing increasingly tense. As a former USSR state, in spring 2014 the country had only had independence from Russia since 1991. Many citizens had wanted then-President Viktor Yanukovych to sign an agreement aligning the country closer with the European Union in November 2013. Plenty of others wanted to stay close to Russia. Protests began across the country. Then violence. Then Yanukovych was ousted from office in February 2014. Then more violence.

“There was a revolution,” says Tatiana. “There were huge riots in the main square of Kiev. In the end, our president, his ass was kicked out and he left the country. That was crazy. And then everything turned into chaos. And that’s when people really started hating each other.”

That April, following a highly suspect vote on whether to stay or go which resulted in a widely disputed declaration of autonomy for the region around Tatiana’s home-city of Donetsk in the east of the country, on the border with Russia, armed conflict commenced, involving Russian troops, tanks and air power. So began what Tatiana calls “a civil war – Ukrainians attacking Ukrainians”, with those loyal to their former Soviet masters on one side, and those wanting to break free, and have independence and closer ties with the EU on the other.

You may remember news footage of protesters banging dustbin lids at lines of soldiers and riot police. The politics of the situation are obviously layered and complex, but the simple version is: imagine a turbo version of Brexit that actually tore the country in two and resulted in one region declaring an independence that’s somewhat disputed by most of the world that isn’t Russia. And with a lot more violence. And a conflict that’s still piling up bodies now.

Tatiana was having a barbecue when she realised what was about to happen. “We were at a picnic, not far away from my building where I lived,” she says today from her flat in the Ukrainian capital, Kiev. “We were just chilling on the grass, eating food and stuff. And we heard this loud sound in the sky – we looked up and saw a jet. And that was that. We just grabbed our stuff and ran home, and we started figuring out how to leave before it was too late.”

Had Tatiana and her friends – including other members of her band, Jinjer – waited much longer than they did, their passage to Lviv some 1,300 kilometres to the west, where bassist Eugene Abdukhanov and his wife were already living, might have been much more hazardous. Even as they “packed all our shit into a van” and made a break for it, the country was starting to change shape around them.

“Already there were borders built being built around our region,” she says. “And I remember when we were crossing it, we were met by a guy, a soldier with a weapon. And then we heard [machine gun fire] somewhere very close to us.”

As she describes this, Tatiana makes an almost amusing machine gun noise, but she is painfully aware that even seven years on, the situation remains a serious one. “There’s no way out for this problem,” she says, “No solution. And that’s really, really sad.” If one needed an example of the lasting effects here, her parents have remained behind in what she calls, with almost mundane succinctness, “the war zone”.

“There’s an actual border between Ukraine and the former parts of the country, and it’s all blocked. And due to the pandemic, they have no chance to cross borders,” she explains. “They cannot receive money from the government, their pensions. I always tell my mom, ‘Hey, mom, just try once to do this, make really big effort and cross this border, even [if you have to go] through Russia. Just come here and stay here. I can help you in any way possible.’ But she is old school. And when you have been living on this earth for over 60 years, it’s really hard to change your way of living.”

But that’s what Tatiana and Jinjer have had to do. And growing from such trying circumstances has only made them more rigid in their resolve. Because literally having to run for your life will have an effect on a person. “Growing balls, maintaining your balls,” is how she puts it.

“Of course, it makes you stronger,” she says. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

Today, Tatiana has lived in Kiev for more than five years. As Jinjer’s singer, she is one of the rising stars of European metal, and made her living visiting countries as far-flung as Argentina, Australia and Japan to play her band’s music. Next week, the band release their fourth album, Wallflowers, a furious, razor-sharp work of metal that will delight fans of Cradle Of Filth and Conjurer alike, and will add nicely to streams that, in total, already sit at over 100 million.

Though she says that she’s only been recognised around town a handful of times, and that she probably gets noticed more for the tattoos that cover her arms and neck (“Old women who were born in the Soviet Union really reject people with tattoos,” she says. “They look at you like you’re a prisoner, or a prostitute…”) than for her music, at 34 life for Tatiana is very different to what she knew growing up. As a kid in the early ’90s, after the collapse of the USSR, her family were, she says, “average”, but there were clues that the Shmayluk family were not one of society’s ‘haves’.

“I remember that we couldn’t afford meat,” she recalls. “After the Cold War ended we got a lot of American food, like veggie burgers. It looked like oatmeal with brown [fake] chicken that you make into patties, and then you fry them. You eat them as kind of meat, but it’s not. It’s just some shit, like some very plastic stuff. I realised how poor we were. And I was crying, ‘Mom, I just want some meat. I don’t want to eat this.’”

Elsewhere, though, Tatiana remembers her childhood as being “great”, a time she looks back on with fondness. “We didn’t have internet and stuff, so we just played outside all day long. And school was awesome.” The food imports post-Cold War might not have been the most brilliant thing she had ever seen, but the new order also brought with it more western culture. MTV introduced six-year-old Tatiana to hip-hop (“I’d practice dancing like MC Hammer”), but via going through her brother’s room and raiding his tape collection – often bootlegs – she also got turned on to Nirvana, Metallica and The Offspring.

“We had this family tradition that every evening we had supper together around the same table,” she remembers. “When I discovered The Offspring, I put Smash on my huge headphones. I was sitting in a chair, eating, and I wasn’t talking to anyone from my family, just listening to music. And then when I finished, I just sat back and just enjoyed the music, doing nothing.”

Her ability to both lose and find herself in music turned into doing something more significant at high school when, after years spent doodling herself playing guitar in a band with other girls in a sketchbook, Tatiana performed her first gig as part of a talent contest, doing covers of songs by Limp Bizkit and German metallers Guano Apes (“No-one voted for us,” she laughs). Her first gig as an audience member, meanwhile, came a few years later, when Soulfly played in Kiev. Despite the fact she didn’t actually get to see Max Cavalera and his band onstage, it was an experience in itself.

“I traveled from Donetsk to Kiev, like, 700 – 800 kilometres,” she says. “My parents were very protective, they didn’t want me going anywhere on road trips or anything, and they didn’t give me any money to spend. I only got to watch maybe 30 minutes of the show, because my boyfriend got drunk and started a fight with someone. Security grabbed him and threw him out of the club. It was quite a shitty day!”

In 2010, aged 23, having completed language studies at university, and working briefly at a dating agency, Tatiana joined Jinjer. Two years later, they self-released their debut EP, Inhale, Don’t Breathe. A year after that, they played outside Ukraine for the first time, in neighbouring Romania. “That gave us a push to move forward, because we really liked it,” she says. “And although we didn’t bring any money back – we didn’t earn anything – we realised that we want to do this, and we’re going to overcome any obstacle that is waiting for us.”

Eight months later, this would be put to the test by fleeing the war. Having moved to Lviv, Jinjer – Tatiana, Eugene, guitarist Roman Ibramkhalilov and then-drummer Yevhen Mantulin – then all moved into what the singer describes as “a summer house” just outside the city. Soon, the band became a full-time concern. They still had nothing, but it was a more fun nothing.

“We were all just hoping for the best, touring just with money that we had, earning nothing, like one euro,” she says. “Sometimes we didn’t have anything to eat, basically, because we were broke, because everyone had just quit their jobs. We just had some coins to buy a beer. That was intense. But I remember those years only with a warm heart. That was fun. That was a really huge challenge for just people who had never done that before, but we happened to overcome all this shit because we stayed together.”

But as touring became a more regular thing and things for Jinjer seemed to be on the up and up, the band once again found themselves faced with bad luck that most will, mercifully, never know. On tour in 2014, they had a long drive to Russia for the next run of shows. Stopping at a friend’s house in Kiev for the night, Tatiana took a taxi back to her own place, leaving everyone else to continue partying and drinking. At 4am, she got a phone call about Yevhen.

“They said, ‘You have to come here because he’s broken his spine,’” she recalls. “He fell out of the window. Everyone [had gone] to sleep, and he stayed there in the kitchen, sitting on the window frame, smoking. And then he fell asleep, and fell from the third floor. They heard someone screaming in the middle of the night, but they didn’t realise – they thought that it was maybe a dog or something. And then someone checked the kitchen and he was not there. Then they looked down and saw him just lying there.”

By some miracle, he survived, though he no longer has use of his legs. Tatiana says she and his bandmates were “in shock for many years”, and that, “I remember we were all around him, toured with him, just hanging out, and then he’s just like… bam.” But even this incident, which left him in a wheelchair and unable to return to the band, is talked about in the same spirited, fighty way that Tatiana talks about every challenge.

“He seems very positive,” she says. “He’s doing music and he tours around Russia with a band. It’s kind of a hip-hop band, and he plays guitar. He’s still doing tours, so that’s awesome.”

Should you ask Tatiana to describe to you the Ukrainian national character, she’ll tell you that they are “stubborn”, and that as a whole they feel “we have nothing to lose”. She’ll also tell you that, “Ukrainians are very passionate people. Not like Italians [are passionate], for example, or Spanish people. We are passionate with a straight face, you know, not smiling – more like Russians.” When it comes to danger, meanwhile, she says that “we take risks easily”.

Surprisingly, despite the above description matching the impression you get of Tatiana from her story, she doesn’t think of herself as “a typical Ukrainian”. She does, though, nod in confirmation when asked if she sees playing music as a form of resistance. Before any of the bigger events and challenges, this spirited defiance started with becoming a musician at all, at home.

“The first time I resisted something that really prevented me from doing what I love was my parents,” she says. “Mostly my mom, who didn’t want to see me as a musician. In Ukraine, it’s kind of a big thing. If you’re a musician, it’s not respected. From 17 to 23, I was protesting [her], silently. I didn’t, like, yell at her; I didn’t fight with her. I just said, ‘Yeah, yeah,’ and I did my own thing. That’s when it started, and it’s still going this way.”

An example: on Wallflowers, there’s a song, Disclosure, in which Tatiana vents about treatment at the hands of certain media outlets in her homeland. Even being used to internet haters, giving the band shit for everything from daring to escape a warzone, to daring to have a female member, to daring to become successful, the experience left her boiling.

“Earlier this year, in March, me and Eugene went to some studio to do an interview with a Ukrainian guy who is a YouTuber, and he used to work on Ukrainian TV channels,” she says. “So there was a tense atmosphere, and very angry vibrations between us. And he was so manipulative. We had differences in our political views and stuff, and he didn’t want to accept that. So he really wanted to show us in a very bad, bad way. I was pissed off for three days after that, and wrote the song about it.”

As people with a profile, do you think you’re a target for that sort of thing?

“We absolutely are targets for those people, for haters,” Tatiana says. “They hate us for different reasons: for me being a woman, you know. And people think that we pay for [success], like with our money – some of them think that we are hugely rich. My mom is a bookkeeper! My dad worked in coal mining, he was a worker, just working class. But no-one cares. They always find something to blame us for. But at least they don’t do us any harm. Only with words and comments. It’s distant. They’re poison, but it goes nowhere.”

Tatiana Shmayluk is a self-evidently tough woman. She’s also extremely nice. Equally, she’s extremely modest. When she talks about her life’s trials and triumphs, survival and successes, she does so in a manner that almost shrugs these things off, that possibly anyone could do them. Possibly, if pushed by the sight of a war literally kicking off while you have a barbecue, we could. But it’s still surprising that, for someone with more real things to get angry about than most, she describes what she’s putting into Wallflower as simply “my whining and insecurities”.

“Every album, I find something to be angry about,” she says. “It’s pessimistic, but it’s nothing to do with the pandemic. The pandemic gave me some time to just sit and think about, different stuff that I’ve been going through. And we have to agree that the whole world isn’t getting any better – I put myself into this kind of state of mind that, ‘Okay, it’s almost the end of the world.’ Maybe the next album will be more optimistic and more positive. Maybe…”

Pessimism or not, none of it makes her story of prevailing against the things she has any less stirring. Never mind the fact that the band she fronts come from a country most tours don’t even stop at. She’s – rightfully – proud of Jinjer’s success, and the work ethic it’s taken to get them where they are, but she’s almost at pains to share the glory with her bandmates. And in part, it’s this that’s carried Jinjer through all this the most. It’s this, she says, that’s helped her both survive, and to thrive.

“I would never do this myself. I wouldn’t be able to work on so many obstacles just by myself,” Tatiana admits. “And if I had some type of my own personal career, just a single singer, I wouldn’t even start doing that. I really need those guys. And the guys, I hope they need me. That’s just how it works: all together. Even having nothing in our pockets and empty stomachs, we could work.

“It just depends on how big your dream is.”

#tatiana shmaylyuk #jinjer #2021 interviews

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hargrove-mayfields · 4 years ago

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Harringrove April Day 16- Nostalgia

On just about every flat surface in their mansion, Steve’s mother had put out some fancy Tiffany light fixture.

Steve’s room was the only place in the whole house he got to have any day in the interior design, and his lamp, well it didn’t quite have a stained glass shade, or ornate detailing to fancy up the mansion, his happens to be an old nursery lamp from when he was six and still had a themed bedroom.

At the peak of his too cool for school teenager bullshit, he’d attempted to throw it out, sent it away to the curb with a bag of stuffed animals he claimed he didn’t need anymore, but the very same night he started having nightmares again, so he scrambled to get it back before the raccoons found it first.

That dusty old lamp had saved him from countless nights spent awake and terrified, and he wasn’t one to say he was ashamed of that.

Except, now Billy Hargrove, the pinnacle of badass, is in his room, and there it is, still plugged in on the nightstand.

Of all things too, it couldn’t have just been a generic race car lamp or something he could play off as not really being for kids, it had to be stupid Bambi.

There’s a story behind it, that when he was a toddler, his first venture out of Indiana was to go see his gramma over in Maryland, and, after one look at his big brown eyes and his fluffy brown hair, she immediately nicknamed him Bambi.

After that the name just sort of stuck with him, his parents using it when they wanted on his good side, to make up for forgetting his birthday, or as an apology for leaving him alone so long the babysitter left, so of course his mom thought it would be adorable if his bedroom was themed around it.

Somewhere in a dusty corner of the attic, he still had the curtains and the quilt and the wall hangings, and under his bed was a pillow embroidered with his name and a picture of the clumsy cartoon deer made by his gramma. And of course, there was the brightly shining lamp.

He would never admit that he kept them there for when he was at his most frightened, clutching the pillow to his chest during a nightmare, or wrapping the soft material of the tiny old quilt around his shoulders when he felt an imaginary pair of eyes watching him.

Because Steve had seen some shit, he felt that after witnessing a ten-foot tall faceless monster come through the ceiling and try to kill him, and having a herd of baby versions of that same monster charge at him with nothing but a baseball bat to protect himself and a group of defenseless children, he had earned the right to use a damn nursery lamp in his bedroom.

But, that ass-backwards swell of pride at still using his childhood comfort items at 19 years old is definitely crushed by the fact that, after being in his room for a grand total of five minutes, that’s immediately what Billy drifts to.

A drunken apology at a New Year’s party might have made up for the concussion and proved he was probably not going to beat his face in again, but it didn’t change the fact that he was in Steve’s bedroom with the edge of the printed lampshade pinched between his fingers, and a contemplative look on his face.

It was a little while after their truce was reached, that Billy just started showing up at the Harringtons’ door unannounced. Sometimes it was to borrow Steve’s first aid kit. Sometimes he’d steal some of his weed. Once he’d come over just to watch something on Steve’s TV. Whatever his reason, Steve had let him in every time.

In this particular instance, it had been Steve who had called Billy, because he had a math project and an essay due first thing tomorrow morning, and Nancy was too busy to help him.

At first he’d considered just not getting the work done, but he decided Billy would do. He was smart enough that the co-ed teacher in the math class they shared had begged him to switch to the advanced classes, so Steve figured his help wouldn’t be so bad.

But his desk where all of his school stuff is is upstairs in his bedroom, where he’s left out the dumb baby lamp, and of course that would be exactly what Billy goes straight for. Steve feels himself start to panic a little, unsure if he could trust Billy’s reaction, and convincing himself that Billy might beat his ass for being a fragile little fairy or something.

It never comes, Billy just sits down all casual on the bed next to Steve, pulling one of his legs up so he could cross it over his knee, and nods over at the lamp again. “Wish I still had something from when I was little.”

The weight of the entire universe is lifted from Steve’s chest, knowing that Billy isn’t going to tear his head off. He lets out a sharp breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “Yeah?”

Billy nods and looks down, fidgeting with the pendant he always wore around his neck. “My dad threw everything out. All I have is one little picture of my mom.”

Steve knew he lived with his step-mom, but had never even thought about what happened to Billy’s real mother. He realizes the pendant was probably a locket, the very one that holds the aforementioned picture, and asks “Can I see it?”

It looks like Billy has to think about it, as he keeps twisting the locket between his fingers, before he nods and opens it. Steve leans towards him, putting his hand up under it and holding it in his palm, straining to see the tiny, aged picture.

Even though he’s never seen this woman, it makes Steve incredibly sad, seeing her little face all worn out in that locket around her son's neck. He wonders if she was dead, or if maybe she’d lost custody for some reason, or if maybe she had just left, but whatever happened, when his eyes flicker back up to Billy’s face, the tears shining in his eyes and the way he avoids his gaze, he knows better than to ask.

Steve lets the locket fall and watches Billy snap it shut quickly, and he realizes he has no idea what the right thing to say is.

What he wants to say is that he’s sorry, for him losing his mother and having nothing but one yellowed and tear stained picture to remember her by, but that seems too much like prying, somehow not really appropriate.

Instead, he remembers what Billy said about his dad throwing his stuff out and says, “Your dad must be a real asshole, huh?”

Billy scoffs and blinks away the last of the tears in his eyes. “You’ve got no idea, Harrington.” There’s a long awkward pause, until Billy asks, “You know how I’m always coming over here with like, all kinds of shit wrong with me?”

Steve thinks he knows where this was going. “Sure.”

Chewing on the corner of his nail, Billy takes a moment to get his thoughts together, his eyes flitting nervously across the room, focusing on pretty much anything but Steve, mostly the picture frame behind him. “I lied. It’s not, like, fights or whatever I say. At least not with other kids.”

Steve himself was no stranger to conversations like these, he himself had to confess something of a similar calibre to Nancy, when they were still dating, because his father had come home from a business trip pissed off about something, and slapped him across the face just a little too hard. The sturdy silver ring that he wore on his middle finger had split the skin on Steve’s cheek, and he couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse to cover his tracks.

Admitting to it out loud was one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, so he decides he won’t make Billy say it. Maybe they weren’t on the best of terms, only here to do homework or whatever, but if he was going to open up about this, he definitely wasn’t going to make him experience that same humiliation he had.

“Is it your dad? That does that to you?” Nancy hadn’t been kind enough to spare him, forcing him to tell her once that the scar he so proudly sported wasn’t actually from a fist fight with Tommy like he said, and he wouldn’t do the same to Billy.

In lieu of a response though, Billy sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, his hands starting to shake ever so subtly, and Steve knows he’s got to keep pressing. “Do you need help? I can call the chief-“

“No.” Billy shakes his head and makes eye contact with Steve for the first time since he started talking. “Cops only make it worse.”

Steve could understand that, had tried once when he was about eight or so, with the assistance of one of the housekeepers, to call the police when his father twisted his arm so far behind his back his shoulder popped out of place, but they wouldn’t dare arrest a public figure like his father, especially not for a little corporal punishment. The first thing they’d asked was what Steve had done wrong, not why his father had felt it fitting to beat on his eight year old for a tiny mistake. He never asked for help again.

“Well is there anything I can do?” Despite their differences and the fact that he only called him here to cheat on his homework, he truly did want to help Billy. Something about repeatedly surviving horrific monster attacks made him a lot more protective of those around him, and now that they were over their dumb pissing contest, Billy was included in that too.

“Think you’ve done enough letting me into your mansion, unless that’s not good enough for your hero complex.” It was a pathetic jab, there was no bite behind his broken tone, and Steve would almost rather have him at his worst than see him so vulnerable and sad.

Steve tries to reason with him softly, “You know it’s not like that, Billy.”

“Do I?” Walls had been put up as Billy made his last ditch efforts to protect himself from being weak in front of Steve. “Cause where I’m sitting, it seems like you get off on charity cases like mine. You tryin to swoop in and save me, King Steve? Feed your ego so you can feel like the savior you were always meant to be?”

He was baiting him, trying to pick a fight so he’d push him away, Steve had seen it all before in himself and wouldn’t fall for it. “Listen. I just want to help you.”

Everything about Billy suddenly seemed to make a whole lot more sense. That whole part animal, tough guy thing was just an act, and Steve knew because he had done essentially the same thing.

Before Nancy Wheeler had taught him to be better, he and Billy really weren’t so different. He’d let high school bullshit bother him, beat up the nerds and fucked all the cheerleaders and mocked anyone lower than him on the social ladder like he was supposed to, but it always made him feel off.

In the end, it had been so easy to get him to the other side, to show him what to do instead, he supposed all he needed was a little push to help him actualize what he already believed.

And then it hits him, in that moment, that this was Billy’s push in the right direction. That he was Billy’s Nancy.

“I don’t expect you to tell me everything and I’m not doing this for me, just,” It became extremely important to him to not set Billy off, to say just the right thing to keep him on the right track. “my door is always open, Billy.”

At first, it seemed to have worked, Billy sat staring at the floor, his lip quivering as he mulled over Steve’s words, but, when he stood abruptly and snatched his leather jacket from where it was draped over the back of Steve’s desk chair, Steve knows he messed up.

“Where are you going?” He stands up fast enough to give himself a head rush while Billy shrugs his jacket back on and yanks the door open.

“Need a smoke.” That’s all he gets before the door slammed in his face, and he hears Billy's heavy boots stomping down the stairs and the sound of him slamming his front door.

He waits with bated breath and tears pricking the corners of his eyes for the sound of Billy’s car starting and tearing out of his driveway, but it never comes.

Still, he feels immensely guilty and selfish and stupid as all hell for not just biting his tongue. He should’ve just fought back, argued with him like was expecting him to instead of trying to be comforting like he was his fucking therapist or something.

Because this was Billy fucking Hargrove, stereotypical meat head bully. Why he even felt the need to help him, other than their similar upbringings and coping mechanisms, or the fact that Billy had obviously been reaching out, hoping for someone to care, was beyond him. Or maybe it really wasn’t, he knew exactly why, he just felt weak and stupid for trying, and especially so for failing.

Apparently he’d been so caught up in his little pity party that he missed the sound of the door opening back up, and didn’t notice Billy had come back until his bedroom door was open.

Steve was so relieved that Billy came back, that he hadn’t pushed him too far or fucked everything up, even if he reeked of too strong cigarettes, and growled at him when he came in, “Don’t we got fucking work to do, Harrington?”

They don’t end up finishing the essay. Steve was hopeless with numbers, and they were too busy goofing off, so the math project didn't get done very quickly. It was okay though, Billy wasn’t much help at all when it came to English anyways.

Steve walks him outside when he has to go, beating a curfew of midnight. He stops on the porch, immediately crossing his arms against the frigid cold of the night air. Billy stops too at his car, his fingers through the handle, and turns around, calling across the yard. “Hey Harrington?”

He hardly waits for Steve’s response, a quick “Yeah?” to tell him, “Thank you.”

There isn’t time for Steve to respond before Billy’s yanking open the door of his Camaro and backing out of the driveway, but he knows he’d still made astronomical progress tonight.

It makes him feel incredibly dumb, laying in his bed that night, illuminated by the warm light of that very same Bambi lamp and trying to put his thoughts of Billy to rest like he was some cheesy teenage girl, but he’s just happy to have found a friend, to have made a difference in somebody’s life, and he knows that on the other side of town, laying in own bed with his locket left open on the pillow beside him, Billy feels the same way.

#harringrove #harringroveapril #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #ej writer #story by ej!#love how I had something completely different planned but ran out of time and had to dig in my drafts for this fic #and it still took me forever to edit it

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miraculouswolf99 · 4 years ago

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I Put A Spell On You (Song Fic)

My first miraculous salt fic. Doubles as a song fic and a Halloween fic. Features the best song from the best Halloween movie of all time. Hocus Pocus.

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*****

Adrien was happy. No one else in class knew why he had been smiling all day. Chloe was probably the only one in the room that knew why he was so happy today. But she was not going to tell anyone and ruin his day when Liar Rossi would would just use it to make up some more lies and ruin his happiness.

Things had not gotten better since the lying Italian had joined the class. Even though now that Marinette had transferred to Mendeleiev’s class, things had not gotten better. If anything, things had gotten worse since now Lila thought that she could not freely lie and manipulate almost non-stop with no one there to attempt to expose her.

The class was now half and half with who believed the liar and who doesn’t. The ones that don’t believe her being Adrien, Chloe, Nathaniel, Kim, and Juleka. Sabrina was decided to be a neutral part and not take a side. She listened to Lila’s tales, but normally stayed by Chloe’s side. Alya, Nino, Alix, Max, Ivan, Mylene, and Rose were all firmly on Lila’s side and nothing could ever change their minds.

Adrien had finally been starting to stand his ground against the liar since he had seen her chase Marinette away. He was reaching his wits end with her constantly hanging on his arm and never letting go when he asks or even demands her to. Adrien had managed to convince Bustier that he was too bust with his schedule to tutor Lila and that he would be better off sitting in the back with Nathaniel since it was more quiet than being next to Lila “never shuts up” Rossi.

“What are you so happy about today, Sunshine,” Nathaniel asked his friend.

“I have some friends coming today,” Adrien answered. “They were visiting their grandparents in the United States and decided to stop in France on their way back to their home in Greece. Their names are Lyon and Vallia Garden.”

“You know Greeks, cool,” Nathaniel said. “When did you meet them? Obviously it wasn’t a time close to now since you have not left the country and no Greeks have showed up here either, to my knowledge.”

“I met them about a year before my mom disappeared,” Adrien says. “Their family owns and operates an incredible animal and nature sanctuary that almost takes up the entire island they live on. They host a lot of charities there. Concerts, celebrity birthdays, auctions, art shows, even cooking contests. I was there with my parents for a charity fashion show.”

“Do you speak Greek or did they speak French,” Nathaniel was curious since he did know that Adrien already also spoke Mandarin and English.

“They speak French,” Adrien says. “They were the only ones there that were my age, so I was glad to have someone to talk to. We’ve kept in contact ever since.”

“Sounds great,” Nathaniel smiled at his friend. “Do they know about... everything going on?”

“Dear god, no,” Adrien stated. “Lyon is fiercely protective of his friends. He is a master archer and when he caught poachers trying to break into the sanctuary, he actually shot them all before calling the police.”

“I am not sure whether to be terrified of him when they come or in awe of him,” Nathaniel admitted.

“Nothing wrong with both, as Vallia would probably say,” Adrien chuckled. “I do admit that they can be pretty scary. Especially since when they help out at their family sanctuary, Lyon seems to have a way with their wolves and Vallia seems to be a lion whisperer.”

“I am both terrified and looking forward to meeting them,” Nathaniel nervously laughed. “I just hope Marc doesn’t faint when he learns this stuff about them. I love him, but we all know he is naturally timid.”

“I know,” Adrien chuckled. “Remember when he first met Kagami?”

“I will never let him live that down,” Nathaniel smirked, loving it when he is able to tease his boyfriend.

Before the two could continue their conversation, there was sudden yelling from outside the classroom and coming from the courtyard. It sounded like four people arguing, two of them not sounding like they were French.

“What is that,” Nathaniel wondered as they stood up.

“I’m a little worried to find out,” Adrien stated.

The two had stayed behind to chat after the bell rang and everyone else left for the day. They immediately left the classroom and looked over the railing and into the courtyard. They were soon joined by Marinette, Marc, Kagami, Aurore, and Mireille from Mendeleiev’s class, who had also heard the yelling.

“What’s going on,” Marinette immediately asked.

They all look over the rail. They see two people arguing quite loudly with Alya and Lila. They certainly were both unique-looking teens.

The first was a girl that was quite beautiful and had a grace and elegance to her style. She had long blond hair braided with roses and butterflies and had pink streaks. Her eyes were a stunning silver that you could see, if you were close enough, had specks of blue in them. Her style was a red, pink, and purple dawn colored dress with gold flats. On her wrists were diamond rose cuff bracelets, a butterfly on the one on her right wrist.

The boy next to her gave off a very icy exterior that also screamed honor and loyalty that only a knight would have. A tall boy with hair that was actually black with streaks of white and blue in it, coming to the length of Adrien's. His eyes were the opposite of the girl's, blue with silver specks. His outfit of choice was a sky blue t-shirt under a white jean vest, matching the blue pants with white boots. On his hands were white fingerless gloves. Around his neck was a sword and shield pendant as well as a white cloak only going down to his knees.

“Lyon, Vallia,” Adrien gasped.

“Those are your two friends from Greece, Adrien,” Kagami asked, Adrien having told her during their last fencing practice.

“Yeah,” Adrien said. “Their plane must have landed earlier than expected and they decided to come here.”

“Why are they arguing with Alya and Lila,” Mireille wondered.

“If it has something to do with that liar, it’s probably her fault,” Marc, of all people, stated.

It was a pretty open secret in the school that literally everyone but most of Bustier’s class, plus Bustier herself and Damocles, were all aware that Lila was nothing but a manipulative liar. In fact, most of them were shocked that the class, teacher, and principal believed her outlandish lies in the first place.

“Maybe Lila tried to cozy up to them and they caught her in a lie,” Marinette guessed.

“Lyon and Vallia do come from a rich family,” Adrien said. “Not only is their family known for their sanctuary, but they also have the largest jewel collection in the world. Like the medallions on their foreheads.”

They all looked and saw that the two did indeed have crystal medallions on their foreheads. Vallia’s was a rose quartz butterfly and Lyon’s was a sapphire wolf.

“What is up with that book that Lyon has,” Kagami noticed.

They all looked and saw that Lyon was holding a pretty large book that looked very old. It was bound with brown leather that had Frankenstein-like stitches all over it along with old silver metal on the cover as well. It also had a very large buckle.

“They did say they wanted to show me something,” Adrien said. “They went to the US to celebrate Halloween with their grandparents so maybe they got some type of prop and wanted to show it to me.”

They all quickly started to get into the courtyard and make their way over to the four. In a city plagued by a terrorist that uses negative emotions, arguments usually lead to someone getting akumatized.

“My brother does not worship the devil,” Vallia shouted at Alya and Lila.

“That book is a Book of Shadows,” Lila pointed at the book in Lyon’s hands. “It’s a tool of witchcraft, which is all about worshiping the devil. I should know. My great uncle is a world renown priest back in Italy.”

“Not all witchcraft is devil worship, you pathetic liar,” Lyon sneered. “And there is no world famous priest in Italy since the last well-known one was arrested five years ago for killing people using fake exorsisms.”

(Reference to an episode of Criminal Minds.)

“Lila is not a liar,” Alya yelled. “You are, you devil witches.”

“This isn’t even a real spellbook,” Vallia screamed at them. “It’s a movie prop out grandparents won in an auction. They knew we loved Halloween, so they got us a prop from out favorite Halloween movie.”

“See, that proves you worship the devil,” Lila accused. “Halloween is a devil cult holiday, my great uncle proved that years ago but America rejected his facts and still celebrates it.”

“It is not,” Lyon yelled. “You are the worst liar I have ever come across. You should be ashamed to insult an entire holiday just because you don’t like it. Pathetic, just like all you other mythology copying Italians.”

(Reference to the Roman and Greek rivalry from Percy Jackson.)

“How dare you,” Lila screamed.

“Lyon, Vallia,” Adrien called. “Calm down.”

But it was too late. A black and purple butterfly already came flying down. It went inside of the book Lyon was holding. The butterfly outline appeared over his eyes.

“Your favorite holiday and your culture insulted all at once,” Hawkmoth says to him. “Hocus Pocus, I am giving you the power to right this wrong. All I ask is for the miraculous of the ladybug and black cat in return.”

“I will show this liar some real magic,” Lyon said, transforming.

“What the hell,” Vallia gasped, backing away.

Lyon had changed into an almost male version of Winifred Sanderson. He was in a mostly green outfit with a green leather vest and pants with black leather boots that matched the black silk shirt under the vest. He also wore a long and shiny green cloak with a hood. He was still holding the book.

“Is it wrong that he actually looks hot in that outfit,” Adrien let slip, then instantly covered his mouth.

“Okay, we will come back to Adrien’s crush later,” Marinette stated. “For now, let’s run.”

Adrien immediately rushed forward and grabbed Vallia.

“Adrien,” Vallia was confused and worried. “What’s going on? What happened to Lyon?”

“Hawmoth is a terrorist here in Paris,” Adrien gave a quick explaination. “He takes advantage of negative emotions to turn normal people into his mind controlled villains.”

“Someone is mind controlling my brother,” Vallia was pissed. “When I get my hands on him, Hades will look like a puppy in comparison.”

“Maybe later, but we all need to hide so that Ladybug and Cat Noir can save your brother,” Adrien said.

Hocus Pocus then opened his book. He smirked as it glowed.

“Wicked ways beneath the skin, let all who taste it now join in,” he cast.

(Reference to Descendants 2.)

Out of the book came magical glowing chocolates. They all shot around the school and into the mouths of multiple people. It forced them to eat the magical treats, including Vallia, Nathaniel, Marc, and Kagami. Music then started playing out of nowhere as Hocus Pocus smirked again.

“Oh crud,” Adrien swore, running away along with the few students and staff that managed to avoid the chocolates.

He transformed and was soon on the roof of the school. Ladybug soon joined him. But they were shocked that the school was now in a full-blown musical moment. Hocus Pocus took “center stage” with Vallia and Kagami as his main back-up singers.

“I put a spell on you And now you're mine You can't stop the things I do I ain't lyin'.”

“It's been three hundred years Right down to the day Now the witch is back And there's hell to pay.”

“I put a spell on you And now you're mine!”

Hocus Pocus seemed to have used the chocolates like mind control treats. Everyone that eaten one had was now dancing around the courtyard in very Halloween-like manors. Some even seemed to be doing Micheal Jackson’s Thriller moves.

Alya and Lila, who had not gotten chocolates, were not allowed to leave as the dancers forced them to stay in the courtyard.

“What the heck in going on,” Ladybug was so confused.

“I guess whatever movie his akuma form is based off of had a musical number in it,” Cat Noir guessed.

“I put a spell on you And now you're gone (Gone, gone, gone, so long!) My whammy fell on you And it was strong (So strong, so strong, so strong!)”

“Your wretched little lives Have all been cursed 'Cause of all the witches working I'm the worst.”

“I put a spell on you And now you're mine.”

Hocus Pocus walked around the courtyard as he sung, Vallia and Kagami making amazing back-up singers. Alya and Lila still looked terrified even with the catchy song playing around them.

“Even as a back-up singer, who would have thought that Kagami could sing,” Ladybug said.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Cat Noir agreed.

“(Watch out! Watch out! Watch out! Watch out! She ain’t lyin’)”

“If you don't believe, You better get superstitious.”

“I put a spell on you... I put a spell on you...”

“Ah say into pi, alpha maybe upendi!”

“In comma-coriyama"

“In comma-coriyama”

"Hey hi, say bye-bye-i-i-i-i-i-i-i"

"Bye, bye"

The song ended with a pose from Hocus Pocus and his two back-up singers. He still had his menacing smirk on his face.

“I think it’s time our little liar had her own spell placed ob her,” Hocus Pocus stated. “Like... a truth spell, perhaps.”

Let’s just say that the heroes were petty and decided to let the liar’s kingdom fall before defeating the akuma. And Adrien was certainly glad to have his friend back and a really cool book from their favorite Halloween movie. He just wished that the name of the movie would stop slipping his mind. Oh well, gives him an excuse to talk with Lyon more.

#lila salt #Lila exposed #ml salt #halloween #akumatization #original character #original akuma #hocus pocus

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baekhvuns · 4 years ago

Note

Hey 🥺 If ur not busy? Can i request a ateez reaction to them asking you to move in with them? But like u feel hesitant because thats a huge step and like damn thats commitment 💀😂 -RRS👅

ateez reactions ; requested (f)

。。。ateez asking you to move in with them ( kind of made me soft, highly recommend listening to euphoria by jk the joonpiter version, skip to 1:20 )

── kim hongjoong :

when hongjoong told you that he would love it if you would want to move in with him, in a new house that the two of you owned and lived in.

you were a bit hesitant, it’s not like you didn’t want to live with him. he is the love of your life and it wouldn’t hurt for you both to live together in a small little house.

but it was a huge commitment, moving in together was kind of . . scary?

“joong, w-what if we can’t pay the rent? what if we run out of grocery and don’t have enough money to get them? wha-“

hongjoong smiled fondly, stepping to place his hands on your shoulders and leaning down to match your level.

“we’ll figure it out together. . . there will be bad days but there will a lot of better days.” he says, you smile. “we’ll be in this together, you got me, i got you.”

your eyes softened at his words, reaching your hands to cup his face. “you got me,” you whispered leaning in to place your lips on his.

“i got you.”

── park seonghwa :

the two of you were standing on the wooden flooring covered with plastic wrapping with paint sprinkled over, your faces looking at the empty apartment waiting for you both to lighten it up with your souls.

“so we really doing this?” you broke the silence, squeezing seonghwa’s hand lightly while looking around the empty house.

seonghwa’s lips tugged up in a soft smile, looking down at your uncertain face. he knew you were hesitant of moving in together because it was a very big commitment, it was scary.

he removed his hand from your hand and moved to stand in front of you, you looked at him with wide eyes, putting your weight on him and leaning on his chest. pressing the side of your face in his chest, his one hand wrapped around you while the other around your head.

“we’ll do it together, i know it’s scary. . . so many what if’s and to do’s and to not.” he says and you pressed your lips in a firm line, nodding.

“what if we can’t handle it?” you asked lowly, making seonghwa chuckle.

“you can fight goons but can’t handle living with me?” he teased, “can’t handle a fine man like me?” you pulled back, eyeing him with disbelief.

“this isn’t funny hwa, this is our future, we’re living together.”

“i know, and we’ll be great at it. trust me.”

── jeong yunho :

you watched your stuff get moved from the living room of your house to the big moving truck by uniformed men.

“ah, yes that should be enough, we’ll see you there.” your boyfriend yunho’s voice could be heard very well from the entrance.

you took a seat on your bubble wrapped couch, hearing it make a crinkly noise. you hid your face with your hands, leaning your elbows on your thighs. a sigh escaped your lips, were you really ready to move in with yunho?

what if the two of you break up for some unexpected reason? the two of you would have to live with each other until one of you move out.

“what’s wrong,” yunho crouched in front of you, taking your hands in his and looking at you with soft eyes and you faced him.

“i’m scared. . yu what if we have a really big fight and we don’t want to live together any more? there’s so many possibilities of us going wrong-“

“nothing will go wrong,” he chuckles, “we’re literally engaged, unless you have someone else that you’re cheating on me with?” he teased and you smacked his shoulder lightly while he laughed.

“mr. jeong, are we taking these too?” you heard one of the truck drivers call out for yunho.

“i’ll be back,” he taps your cheek and leaves for the exit. you sit back on the seat, wondering of all possibilities and over thinking everything, but then you paused.

eyeing the engagement ring on your ring finger, you fiddled with the stone with your fingers. you and yunho were each other’s support, this ring symbolized your bond with him, you were the yin and yang to each other.

“you ready, baby?” you looked up to see yunho leaning on the doorframe, raking a hand through this mint hair.

this was a big step, yes you’ll have difficulties but there would be many great days.

“yeah,” you looked at him with a smile, “let’s do it.”

── kang yeosang :

the two of you were sitting on yeosang’s parents couch in their house, hands intertwined together as the two of you listened to what his parents said.

the two of you had been thinking about moving in together, so seeking his parents advice was something you both wanted to to hear desperately.

“we know it will be hard at first, that’s how yeosang’s mother and i had it.” you smiled listening to his dad. “you’ll have thoughts about leaving, or even feeling overwhelmed. . “ he continued and you squeezed yeosang’s hand slightly.

his dad was describing how you were feeling, how you were thinking and the unexpected possibilities the two of you could have.

“you’ll overcome them together,”

the nerve wracking experience of being independent and living together, something you had never thought that could come to you at any point in your life, thinking you’d be single all your life.

“it will be hard, but the two of you will do it.”

but when yeosang came into your life, your entire life changed. it was as if he was your missing puzzle piece, he completed you.

“so what do you think?”

you looked up at his dad, a firm smile on your lips. “we both are ready, we’ll do it,” you looked at yeosang who mirrors your expression.

and as if he heard what you were about to say, the two of you said it at the same time. “together.”

── choi san :

“i’ll leave you both to look around,” you and san bowed slightly and watched the landlady walk away.

you faced san, an uneasy feeling pooling inyour stomach. the two of you wanted to move in together, the day san asked you, you were kind of terrified.

you kept asking yourself if you were ready for this next step in your life, if the two of you were ready for this.

san even told you that he would fine with whatever your answer would be, he was ecstatic when you said okay. because you felt that you both were ready, it’ll be okay.

but now when you took a step in your maybe future house together, you couldn’t help but feel anxious, feeling unsure of your thoughts and overthinking everything.

“we don’t have to this if you’re not okay with it baby, i know, i understand. but if you do change your answer, or not, remember i’ll be there with you, okay?” you nodded, and san pulled away to go lool around.

leaving you in more doubts, the look on san’s face brought to much happiness to you. when you told him you would love to move in with him, he picked you up in his embrace and twirled your around as you threw your head back laughing.

you didn’t even realize it had been so long that you stood there staring into nothing that the landlady has to shake you out of your trance.

“ma’am, will you be considering to buy this house?” she asked you, gripping on her metal keys in hand.

you swallowed, looking over to see san’s back who explored the house. when you walked in the room after bidding goodbye to the lady, san turned around with his stunning smile.

“did she leave?” you nodded, “then we should go-“ before he completed his sentence, you ran up and hugged him, burying your face in his crook.

“we bought it, i said yes.”

── song mingi :

“let’s move in together,”

you and mingi laid beside each other on his bed, both your breathing’s matching with the others. the chill breeze in his apartment from the cold rain pouring outside.

“what?” you asked, moving a bit to face him, and he shifted in the same position.

“i want to live with you,” he takes your hand in his and you swallowed, “b-but mingi, isn’t this too early? don’t get me wrong-“

“i know it maybe early for you, but for me i’ve been thinking about this for so long. i want to be in the same place as you, wake up to see your beautiful face laying beside me.”

“you see i-“

“smell your scent on my clothes, having your food for dinner every night, have you in my arms every night and wake up in the same position.” he whispered out, your mouth parted and a little gasp flees your lips.

“i want you by my side, everyday.” you felt a tear drop down your cheek, hearing his low voice making your lips quiver as more tears roll down.

immediately wrapping your hands around his neck, you pulled him impossibly closer to you. small sniffles leaving your mouth and you nodded against his neck, “i love you,” you said, his larger hand caressing your back a soft smile on his lips and water brimming on his waterline.

“i would love to move in with you.”

── jung wooyoung :

you gasped when wooyoung suggested to move in together, “you what?”

you watched him take a sip from his orange juice carton, “well. . do you wanna move in with. . me?”

“are you serious?” you asked, and his face morph into panic mode. immediately standing up with his arms in the air as if the police had caught him for doing something bad.

“w-well, i’m not forcing you! please don’t think that, i just wanted you to come live with me-“

“i mean i already kinda do.”

“-because i believe that we’ve being dating for so long now, it’s only right for us to move in together in a small little house.” he continues and you narrow your eyes at him.

“wooyoung, you know living together is a huge step. so many things to do and so much changes around us, a-and what if it doesn’t work out?”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair before sitting down. “you’re right, maybe we shouldn’t.” he says it so lowly that you wanna engulf him in a hug and tell him you would love to move in with him.

“if we do move in together. . “ he looked up, “then you’re throwing the garbage away.”

“d-done.”

“you’ll help me clean the house from time to time.”

“deal.”

“you’ll help me cook,” you tapped your chin, and he nodded frantically.

“then we should be okay to move in together.” you said and wooyoung’s eyes flew wide open. “really?” he screeched and you nodded.

“okay, so preplanning , i ordered a bunch of stuff on. . “

── choi jongho :

you didn’t know if you were more afraid to move in with jongho or was he.

“so, are you sure about this?” you asked, craning your head to the right to look at him. his red locks falling over his forehead and a pout on his lips.

“hm, i thought a lot about it, and i wanted your opinion on it.” he says, and you nodded, taking in his hand and linking fingers with his.

“i think i would like that too,” you replied, and he jumped.

“really?”

“we’re you expecting a different answer?” you scanned his face.

“no no, it’s just that the other hyung’s said that their significant other was kinda shocked, so i thought you would be too,”

“uhuh.”

“and i even made a power point presentation on why we should move together, so that i could show you.” you threw your head back laughing.

“y-you made-e a powerpoint?” you spoke between your laughs, “hey hey, stop laughing!” he pouted and you laughed even more.

when you finally relaxed down, you asked him to show the presentation to you. “a-are you going to change your answer?”

you pretended to think, and jongho looked at you with concern. when you leaned closer to him, he thought he was done for.

“nope.”

#✉️ : ask #r.r.s 👅 anon #ateez #ateez reactions #ateez requests #ateez scenarios #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fluff

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discoscoob · 4 years ago

Text

A Second Chance | Loki x Female Reader

Loki (Marvel) x Doctor Who

You and Loki remain stubborn, can Donna convince you to give him a chance?

Part Fifteen | Part Seventeen | Chapter Index

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: none

Read on AO3

“So when can we expect you back?” Val asked Thor, from where they were stood on the edge of the settlement of New Asgard, looking at the sea beyond the cliff side.

“About that...” Thor began before Val cut him off.

“Thor, your people need a king.” She sternly reminded him.

“They already have one.” Thor turned to look at her with sincerity, “and she’s a far better king than I could ever be.”

“Are you serious?” Val could hardly believe her ears, there was no way that Thor had just passed the responsibility of the throne down to her, he must have been joking but his face never wavered.

“It’s time to be who I am, rather than who I’m supposed to be. And a leader is who you are.” Thor told Val before his eyes drifted their focus from her as something behind her captured his attention which caused a crease formed between his brows.

Confused by what had distracted Thor, Val mirrored his expression, before she could even follow his line of sight, she felt a cool breeze caress against the back of her neck, which caused her fine hairs to stand on end.

She looked over her shoulder just in time to see a blue wooden box materialising out of thin air, in the near distance behind her.

“What’s this now?” She asked with a tone that told you she had had her fill of strange occurrences for one lifetime.

Once the box had fully materialised, the narrow door swung open with a squeak, which Thor and Val could hear from where they were both stood, and much to their surprise, Loki stepped out into the sun.

Thor immediately looked as though he had seen a ghost, for all he knew he could have been, but it wasn’t the first time his brother would have come back from apparent death, or the second for that matter. Thor didn’t know whether to pull Loki into a bone crushing hug or to throw Mjolnir at his head in order to check that he was truly there.

As if he were on autopilot, he found his feet carrying him towards his brother. The brothers walked across the grass towards one another, but with each step closer, Thor’s pace quickened, until he was charging towards Loki with a battle cry.

Loki’s feet had firmly rooted to the ground as soon as he realised that Thor intended to crash into him, while his eyes widened and he raised his hands innocently.

“No, brother, listen to me.” He began diplomatically, but Thor had no intention of slowing down.

Loki quickly decided that he would rather not be tackled to the ground and began hastily walking backwards, with skilful steps to ensure he didn’t stumble or trip, before he eventually pulled his eyes off of his enraged sibling and made a final sprint back towards the safety of the TARDIS where you, your auntie and the Doctor, observed in confused and concerned silence as Loki ran back around the console, without ever taking his eyes off of the double doors.

Before any of you could question what was wrong, a mighty man came crashing through the doors while growling Loki’s name.

You hadn’t immediately recognised him as Thor, since the last and only time you saw him, he had short hair and most his face had been cast in shadows. The man who crashed into the TARDIS had long knotted hair and a bushy beard which covered half his face.

“Thor, I can explain.” Loki insisted from where he was stood on the other side of the console.

***

“Where’d the hairbag go? We’re meant to be leaving.” A talking raccoon dressed in a vest asked Val, who looked down at the creature with furrowed brows.

“He went chasing after his brother.” Val answered as she looked back towards the blue police box, while the raccoon looked out at the water that lay beyond the cliff which they were stood on.

“Ain’t he dead?” The raccoons face twisted in horror as he assumed Val had used a metaphor to explain that Thor had ran off the cliff edge in order to reunite with his brother.

***

You looked back towards the man who barged into the TARDIS, after Loki had revealed he was Thor, and although he had drastically changed his appearance since the last time you saw him, which was only a few hours ago, you began to pick up on recognisable features which told you undoubtedly that he was, in fact, Thor.

“What sorcery is this?” Thor asked, as he looked around the spacious control room, which was much larger than the small box he had followed his brother into.

“Not sorcery, science.” The Doctor corrected him as he casually strolled across his control room.

“I know you,” Thor drew his brows together as he pointed one of his fingerless glove clad fingers at the time lord, “you were with Loki in New York.”

Thor glanced towards you and your auntie and you saw recognition settle across his eyes, indicating he remembered the both of you as well.

“Loki healed you.” Thor pointed the same finger at you and you felt as though a spotlight had been shone on you, as you shrank away from the attention. The Loki who had healed you was no longer here, he was also the Loki who saved his brothers life and he didn’t even know it, you decided to change that.

“Loki and I were together,” you began to explain, you didn’t miss the way Thor’s eyes widened as he looked between you and the other Loki who was silently watching his brothers reaction. “When you and all the Avengers travelled back in time, Loki managed to escape with the Tesseract after he was captured in New York.”

“No,” Thor shook his head, as he looked back towards Loki, “I took you back to Asgard, father banished you to the dungeons.”

Loki opened his mouth to explain but you beat him to it, regaining Thor’s attention.

“The Time Variants Authority arrested Loki because he wasn’t meant to escape from New York, afterwards they restored the timeline, it was as if he never left, everything was put back to normal, but this variant of Loki still existed. That’s who I met, that is the Loki you met in the alleyway in New York, that is the Loki who you saw get killed by Thanos.” By the time you finished explaining your eyes were glossy as tears had gathered on your waterline and you quickly excused yourself, before you broke down in front of everyone, and rushed off to the privacy of your own room.

“I don’t understand.” Thor spoke once you had left, he looked between Loki, the Doctor and Donna for further explanation.

Loki stepped around from the protection of the console and approached his brother as he explained.

“There was another version of me on the refuge ship, he managed to grab me during the commotion and knock me unconscious and take my place. He saved both your life and mine. Afterwards I woke up here, on the floor of this ship, with a head full of brand new memories which I had never experienced.” By the time Loki had finished explaining he was stood right before his brother, who by now had tears gathered in his own eyes as they took in Loki’s appearance. He looked exactly as he had the last time Thor saw him, he was wearing the same outfit, his hair was the same length and he even had the same marks of dirt and ash smudged on his face.

Without hesitation Thor pulled Loki into his chest. At first Loki was startled by the sudden show of affection and flinched, but he soon relaxed into his brothers hold and slowly brought his own arms across Thor’s broad back to return his embrace. Loki did his best to ignore his brothers scratchy beard irritating his neck as Thor hooked his chin over his shoulder.

While the brothers were sharing a moment, Donna quietly slipped out of the control room, she encouraged the Doctor to make himself scarce as well by subtly waving her hand in a ‘come here’ motion by her side. He didn’t need to be told twice, as he never knew what to do with himself when others were sharing a moment in front of him, escaping was the best option.

Once the pair were in the corridor Donna informed the Doctor that she was going to check on you and the Doctor escaped once again, as he diverted down another corridor, leaving Donna to seek you out on her own.

The very first place she checked for you was your bedroom and that’s exactly where you were, sat quietly on the foot of your bed as you fidgeted with your hands over your lap. You were no longer crying, she noticed, but you still made the occasional sniffle which indicated that you had only stopped not so long ago.

Donna didn’t say anything as she apprehensively invited herself into the room, she treated the space delicately, as if the slightest movement would destroy it like a house of cards, her feet barely made a sound as she tip toed towards you and the springs of your mattress squeaked as faintly as a mouse as she lowered herself down right by your side.

“It’s nice that Loki reunited with his brother.” Donna kept her voice soft and gentle, as anything else would have felt inappropriate in that moment.

You simply nodded your head in response as you kept your eyes focused on your intertwined hands over your lap.

“I see the way you look at this new Loki,” Donna mused and you lifted your head in interest of her observations. “Like he killed your cat and then pissed in your cornflakes.”

You only huffed and lowered your head.

“The only reason he is alive is because my Loki isn’t.” You shook your head. “I think I am allowed to be, at the very least, a little bit resentful of that.”

“That’s fair.” Donna nodded, “but you have also been offered something a lot of people would kill for.”

“And what’s that?” You asked through a cynical scoff of a laugh, wondering what kind of silver lining Donna could have possibly found in this situation.

“A second chance.” She answered as if it were obvious.

You let her words settle between the two of you as you pondered over them for a moment before you eventually shook your head, with an unreadable expression.

“Even if I wanted it, which I don’t, he has already told me he isn’t interested.” You told your auntie.

“He said that to you?” Donna leaned towards you, almost as if she couldn’t believe what you were telling her and when you confirmed it with a nod, she wrapped her hand around yours and rose from your bed, muttering something under her breath you didn’t quite catch as she pulled you along with her.

You were beyond mortified as you stumbled along behind her while she lead you out of your bedroom and down the corridor in the direction of the control room.

***

When Thor pulled back from the embrace, he held Loki by his shoulders, while Loki maintained a stiff exterior with tense shoulders as he stared at his brother with narrowed eyes and his brows pulled into a frown.

“What?” Loki prompted Thor when he could sense that he was thinking something.

“I never thought I would see the day that my brother, the God of Mischief, would court a midgardian.” Thor smiled, a proud smile to which Loki rolled his eyes and stepped back from his hold.

“Not me, the other Loki. Why would I have any interest in a midgardian I barely know?” Loki explained as he avoided looking at Thor in favour of inspecting the console, which caused him to miss Thor’s frown.

“The other you put those memories in your mind for a reason and you’re just going to throw it all away?” Thor followed Loki around the console, trying to encourage him to meet his eyes.

“She doesn’t want me here anyway.” Loki admitted which made Thor’s face twist with offence on his brothers behalf.

“When did she tell you that?” Thor asked his brother and Loki quickly realised that this bothered Thor far more than it had bothered him, but he allowed his brother to have his moment.

“Just before.” Loki answered with little interest, what he didn’t expect was for Thor’s hand to wrap around his wrist in order to drag him deeper into the TARDIS.

Loki dug his heels into the ground in an attempt to halt his brother, while his protests fell on deaf ears.

“Thor, you’re behaving like a barbarian. This is humiliating. I don’t even want to stay here.” Loki tried to get through to his older brother but it was no use.

When Loki heard your voice echoing down the corridor, he silenced his protests so he could hear what you were saying.

“Donna, stop! It doesn’t matter, I couldn’t care less about what he thinks.” He heard you tell your auntie, as your footsteps grew closer.

Eventually the four of you collided at a corner where two corridors met and before either you or Loki could speak, Donna and Thor were talking over each other.

“My brother tells me you don’t make him feel welcome here.”

“Why are you telling my niece you’re not interested in her?”

“Because it’s true.” Loki answered matter-of-factly, while at the same time you said, “I didn’t mean to make him feel unwelcome, it’s just- it’s not exactly easy to be around him.”

“She at least deserves a chance.” Donna had immediately answered Loki, at the same time you spoke.

“I’m not here to fill the place her Loki left behind.” Loki answered Donna just as you told her, “Donna, just drop it!”

“Then why did he give you all his memories?” Donna ignored you and Thor backed up her argument, “that’s what I said! The other Loki wanted you to have his memories for a reason.”

“Whatever his reason was doesn’t matter, it is entirely my choice what I decide to do with them.” Loki insisted. “Now my brother and I will be on our way.”

“No.” Thor spoke in a low tone, which caused Loki to freeze halfway through his turn to march away.

“What now?” Loki sighed with a roll of his eyes.

“I can’t let you throw this away without giving it a chance.” Thor told his brother.

“What are you suggesting, brother.” Loki turned around to face Thor with a tilt of his head.

“I will refuse to let you leave with me unless you give this a fair chance. Just explore his memories a little, get to know the person the other version of yourself fell for, perhaps there will still be something there for the both of you.”

You and Loki remained silent as you both thought about Thor’s suggestion, although it felt wrong to ‘replace’ your Loki, he had given him his memories and told you to take care of him, perhaps giving him a chance was the fair thing to do for the both of you but you didn’t dare show any reaction to Thor’s ultimatum on the surface.

“May I speak with you for a moment?” Loki feigned politeness, as he took his brother by the crook of his elbow and pulled him a few paces down the corridor where they began talking with their backs turned to you and Donna.

“Are you out of your mind, I said I don’t want to stay here, why can’t I just go with you?” Loki muttered under his breath to his brother.

“The other you developed these friendships, he had a relationship and I think he wanted you to have them or at least have the chance to explore them and how do you know you won’t one day regret walking away from them? At least if you give it a try, you won’t forever be asking yourself ‘what if?’” Thor whispered back.

“This is a terrible idea.” Loki protested, “I already know I will hate it.”

“Just take her on one date. If it doesn’t change your mind-”

“It won’t change my mind.”

“If it doesn’t change your mind, then you can leave. I think that’s fair.” Thor told him and Loki contemplated it with a swift glance towards you from over his shoulder.

“Fine.” Loki answered with a sigh.

“You won’t regret it.” Thor patted Loki’s shoulder with a smile, which his brother responded to with a glare.

#loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki imagine #doctor who #thor #donna noble #tenth doctor #10th doctor #tom hiddleston #valkyrie marvel

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dailytomlinson · 4 years ago

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A bathroom figures significantly in the origin stories of at least two classic One Direction songs. The first will be familiar to any fan: Songwriter and producer Savan Kotecha was sitting on the toilet in a London hotel room, when he heard his wife say, “I feel so ugly today.” The words that popped into his head would shape the chorus of One Direction’s unforgettable 2011 debut, “What Makes You Beautiful.”

The second takes place a few years later. Another hotel room in England — this one in Manchester — where songwriters and producers Julian Bunetta and John Ryan were throwing back Cucumber Collins cocktails and tinkering with a beat. Liam Payne was there, too. At one point, Liam got up to use the bathroom and when he re-emerged, he was singing a melody. They taped it immediately. Most of it was mumbled — a temporary placeholder — but there was one phrase: “Better than words…” A few hours later, on the bus to another city, another show — Bunetta and Ryan can’t remember where — Payne asked, maybe having a laugh, what if the rest of the song was just lyrics from other songs?

“Songs in general, you’re just sort of waiting for an idea to bonk you on the head,” Ryan says from a Los Angeles studio with Bunetta. “And if you’re sort of winking at it, laughing at it — we were probably joking, what if [the next line was] ‘More than a feeling’? Well, that would actually be tight!”

“Better Than Words,” closed One Direction’s third album, Midnight Memories. It was never a single, but became a fan-favorite live show staple. It’s a mid-tempo headbanger that captures the essence of what One Direction is, and always was: One of the great rock and roll bands of the 21st century.

July 23rd marks One Direction’s 10th anniversary, the day Simon Cowell told Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson that they would progress on The X Factor as a group. Between that date and their last live performance (so far, one can hope) on December 31st, 2015, they released five albums, toured the world four times — twice playing stadiums — and left a trove of Top 10 hits for a devoted global fan base that came to life at the moment social media was re-defining the contours of fandom.

It’d been a decade since the heyday of ‘N Sync and Backstreet Boys, and the churn of generations demanded a new boy band. One Direction’s songs were great and their charisma and chemistry undeniable, but what made them stick was a sound unlike anything else in pop — rooted in guitar rock at a time when that couldn’t have been more passé.

Kotecha, who met 1D on The X Factor and shepherded them through their first few years, is a devoted student of boy band history. He first witnessed their power back in the Eighties when New Kids on the Block helped his older sister through her teens. The common thread linking all great boy bands, from New Kids to BSB, he says, is, “When they’d break, they’d come out of nowhere, sounding like nothing that’s on the radio.”

In 2010, Kotecha remembers, “everybody was doing this sort of Rihanna dance pop.” But that just wasn’t a sound One Direction could pull off (the Wanted only did it once); and famously, they didn’t even dance. Instead, the reference points for 1D went all the way back to the source of contemporary boy bands.

“Me and Simon would talk about how [One Direction] was Beatles-esque, Monkees-esque,” Kotecha continues. “They had such big personalities. I felt like a kid again when I was around them. And I felt like the only music you could really do that with is fun, pop-y guitar songs. It would come out of left field and become something owned by the fans.”

“The guitar riff had to be so simple that my friend’s 15-year-old daughter could play it and put a cover to YouTube,” says Carl Falk

To craft that sound on 1D’s first two albums, Up All Night and Take Me Home, Kotecha worked mostly with Swedish songwriters-producers Carl Falk and Rami Yacoub. They’d all studied at the Max Martin/Cheiron Studios school of pop craftsmanship, and Falk says they were confident they could crack the boy band code once more with songs that recalled BSB and ‘N Sync, but replaced the dated synths and pianos with guitars.

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The greatest thing popular music can do is make someone else think, “I can do that,” and One Direction’s music was designed with that intent. “The guitar riff had to be so simple that my friend’s 15-year-old daughter could play it and put a cover to YouTube,” Falk says. “If you listen to ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ or ‘One Thing,’ they have two-finger guitar riffs that everyone who can play a bit of guitar can learn. That was all on purpose.”

One Direction famously finished third on The X Factor, but Cowell immediately signed them to his label, Syco Music. They’d gone through one round of artist development boot camp on the show, and another followed on an X Factor live tour in spring 2011. They’d developed an onstage confidence, but the studio presented a new challenge. “We had to create who should do what in One Direction,” Falk says. To solve the puzzle the band’s five voices presented, they chose the kitchen sink method and everyone tried everything.

“They were searching for themselves,” Falk adds. “It was like, Harry, let’s just record him; he’s not afraid of anything. Liam’s the perfect song starter, and then you put Zayn on top with this high falsetto. Louis found his voice when we did ‘Change Your Mind.’ It was a long trial for everyone to find their strengths and weaknesses, but that was also the fun part.” Falk also gave Niall some of his first real guitar lessons; there’s video of them performing “One Thing” together, still blessedly up on YouTube.

“What Makes You Beautiful” was released September 11th, 2011 in the U.K. and debuted at Number One on the singles chart there — though the video had dropped a month prior. While One Direction’s immediate success in the U.K. and other parts of Europe wasn’t guaranteed, the home field odds were favorable. European markets have historically been kinder to boy bands than the U.S.; ‘N Sync and Backstreet Boys found huge success abroad before they conquered home. To that end, neither Kotecha nor Falk were sure 1D would break in the U.S. Falk even says of conceiving the band’s sound, “We didn’t want it to sound too American, because this was not meant — for us, at least — to work in America. This was gonna work in the U.K. and maybe outside the U.K.”

Stoking anticipation for “What Makes You Beautiful” by releasing the video on YouTube before the single dropped, preceded the strategy Columbia Records (the band’s U.S. label) adopted for Up All Night. Between its November 2011 arrival in the U.K. and its U.S. release in March 2012, Columbia eschewed traditional radio strategies and built hype on social media. One Direction had been extremely online since their X Factor days, engaging with fans and spending their downtime making silly videos to share. One goofy tune, made with Kotecha, called “Vas Happenin’ Boys?” was an early viral hit.

“They instinctively had this — and it might just be a generational thing — they just knew how to speak to their fans,” Kotecha says. “And they did that by being themselves. That was a unique thing about these boys: When the cameras turned on, they didn’t change who they were.”

Social media was flooded with One Direction contests and petitions to bring the band to fans’ towns. Radio stations were inundated with calls to play “What Makes You Beautiful” long before it was even available. When it did finally arrive, Kotecha (who was in Sweden at the time) remembers staying up all night to watch it climb the iTunes chart with each refresh.

Take Me Home, was recorded primarily in Stockholm and London during and after their first world tour. The success of Up All Night had attracted an array of top songwriting talent — Ed Sheeran even penned two hopeless romantic sad lad tunes, “Little Things” and “Over Again” — but Kotecha, Falk and Yacoub grabbed the reins, collaborating on six of the album’s 13 tracks. In charting their course, Kotecha returned to his boy band history: “My theory was, you give them a similar sound on album two, and album three is when you start moving on.”

Still, there was the inherent pressure of the second album to contend with. The label wanted a “What Makes You Beautiful, Part 2,” and evidence that the 1D phenomenon wasn’t slowing down appeared outside the window of the Stockholm studio: so many fans, the street had to be shut down. Kotecha even remembers seeing police officers with missing person photos, combing through the girls camped outside, looking for teens to return to their parents.

At this pivotal moment, One Direction made it clear that they wanted a greater say in their artistic future. Kotecha admits he was wary at first, but the band was determined. To help manage the workload, Kotecha had brought in two young songwriters, Kristoffer Fogelmark and Albin Nedler, who’d arrived with a handful of ideas, including a chorus for a booming power ballad called “Last First Kiss.”

“We thought, while we’re busy recording vocals, whoever’s not busy can go write songs with these two guys, and then we’ll help shape them as much as we can,” Kotecha says. “And to our pleasant surprise, the songs were pretty damn good.”

At this pivotal moment, too, songwriters Julian Bunetta and John Ryan also met the band. Friends from the Berklee College of Music, Bunetta and Ryan had moved out to L.A. and cut a few tracks, but still had no hits to their name. They entered the Syco orbit after scoring work on the U.S. version of The X Factor, and were asked if they wanted to try writing a song for Take Me Home. “I was like, yeah definitely,” Bunetta says. “They sold five million albums? Hell yeah, I want to make some money.”

Working with Jamie Scott, who’d written two songs on Up All Night (“More Than This” and “Stole My Heart”), Bunetta and Ryan wrote “C’mon, C’mon” — a blinding hit of young love that rips down a dance pop speedway through a comically oversized wall of Marshall stacks. It earned them a trip to London. Bunetta admits to thinking the whole 1D thing was “a quick little fad” ahead of their first meeting with the band, but their charms were overwhelming. Everyone hit it off immediately.

“Niall showed me his ass,” Bunetta remembers of the day they recorded, “They Don’t Know About Us,” one of five songs they produced for Take Me Home (two are on the deluxe edition). “The first vocal take, he went in to sing, did a take, I was looking down at the computer screen and was like, ‘On this line, can you sing it this way?’ And I looked over and he was mooning me. I was like, ‘I love this guy!’”

Take Me Home dropped November 9th, just nine days short of Up All Night’s first anniversary. With only seven weeks left in 2012, it became the fourth best-selling album of the year globally, moving 4.4 million copies, per the IFPI; it fell short of Adele’s 21, Taylor Swift’s Red and 1D’s own Up All Night, which had several extra months to sell 4.5 million copies.

Kotecha, Falk and Yacoub’s tracks anchored the album. Songs like “Kiss You,” “Heart Attack” and “Live While We’re Young” were pristine pop rock that One Direction delivered with full delirium, vulnerability and possibility — the essence of the teen — in voices increasingly capable of navigating all the little nuances of that spectrum. And the songs 1D helped write (“Last First Kiss,” “Back for You” and “Summer Love”) remain among the LP’s best.

“You saw that they caught the bug and were really good at it,” Kotecha says of their songwriting. “And moving forward, you got the impression that that was the way for them.”

Like clockwork, the wheels began to churn for album three right after Take Me Home dropped. But unlike those first two records, carving out dedicated studio time for LP3 was going to be difficult — on February 23rd, 2013, One Direction would launch a world tour in London, the first of 123 concerts they’d play that year. They’d have to write and record on the road, and for Kotecha and Falk — both of whom had just had kids — that just wasn’t possible.

But it was also time for a creative shift. Even Kotecha knew that from his boy band history: album three is, after all, when you start moving on. One Direction was ready, too. Kotecha credits Louis, the oldest member of the group, for “shepherding them into adulthood, away from the very pop-y stuff of the first two albums. He was leading the charge to make sure that they had a more mature sound. And at the time, being in it, it was a little difficult for me, Rami and Carl to grasp — but hindsight, that was the right thing to do.”

“For three years, this was our schedule,” Bunetta says. “We did X Factor October, November, December. Took off January. February, flew to London. We’d gather ideas with the band, come up with sounds, hang out. Then back to L.A. for March, produce some stuff, then go out on the road with them in April. Get vocals, write a song or two, come back for May, work on the vocals, and produce the songs we wrote on the road. Back to London in June-ish. Back here for July, produce it up. Go back on tour in August, get last bits of vocals, mix in September, back to X Factor in October, album out in November, January off, start it all over again.”

That cycle began in early 2013 when Bunetta and Ryan flew to London for a session that lasted just over a week, but yielded the bulk of Midnight Memories. With songwriters Jamie Scott, Wayne Hector and Ed Drewett they wrote “Best Song Ever” and “You and I,” and, with One Direction, “Diana” and “Midnight Memories.” Bunetta and Ryan’s initial rapport with the band strengthened — they were a few years older, but as Bunetta jokes, “We act like we’re 19 all the time anyway.” Years ago, Bunetta posted an audio clip documenting the creation of “Midnight Memories” — the place-holder chorus was a full-throated, perfectly harmonized, “I love KFC!”

For the most part, Bunetta, Ryan and 1D doubled down on the rock sound their predecessors had forged, but there was one outlier from that week. A stunning bit of post-Mumford festival folk buoyed by a new kind of lyrical and vocal maturity called “Story of My Life.”

“This was a make or break moment for them,” Bunetta says. “They needed to grow up, or they were gonna go away — and they wanted to grow up. To get to the level they got to, you need more than just your fan base. That song extended far beyond their fan base and made people really pay attention.”

Production on Midnight Memories continued on the road, where, like so many bands before them, One Direction unlocked a new dimension to their music. Tour engineer Alex Oriet made it possible, Ryan says, building makeshift vocal booths in hotel rooms by flipping beds up against the walls. Writing and recording was crammed in whenever — 20 minutes before a show, or right after another two-hour performance.

“It preserved the excitement of the moment,” Bunetta says. “We were just there, doing it, marinating in it at all times. You’re capturing moments instead of trying to recreate them. A lot of times we’d write a song, sing it in the hotel, produce it, then fly back out to have them re-sing it — and so many times the demo vocals were better. They hadn’t memorized it yet. They were still in the mood. There was a performance there that you couldn’t recreate.”

Midnight Memories arrived, per usual, in November 2013. And, per usual, it was a smash. The following year, 1D brought their songs to the environment they always deserved — stadiums around the world — and amid the biggest shows of their career, they worked on their aptly-titled fourth album Four. The 123 concerts 1D had played the year before had strengthened their combined vocal prowess in a way that opened up an array of new possibilities.

“We could use their voices on Four to make something sound more exciting and bigger, rather than having to add too many guitars, synths or drums,” Ryan says.

“They were so much more dynamic and subtle, too,” Bunetta adds. “I don’t think they could’ve pulled off a song like ‘Night Changes’ two albums prior; or the nuance to sing soft and emotionally on ‘Fireproof.’ It takes a lot of experience to deliver a restrained vocal that way.”

“A lot of the songs were double,” Bunetta says, “like somebody might be singing about their girlfriend, but there was another meaning that applied to the group as well.”

Musically, Four was 1D’s most expansive album yet — from the sky-high piano rock of “Steal My Girl” to the tender, tasteful groove of “Fireproof” — and it had the emotional range to match. Now in their early twenties, songs like “Where Do Broken Hearts Go,” “No Control,” “Fool’s Gold” and “Clouds” redrew the dramas and euphorias of adolescence with the new weight, wit and wanton winks of impending adulthood. One Direction wasn’t growing up normally in any sense of the word, but they were becoming songwriters capable of drawing out the most relatable elements from their extraordinary circumstances — like on “Change Your Ticket,” where the turbulent love affairs of young jet-setters are distilled to the universal pang of a long goodbye. There were real relationships inspiring these stories, but now that One Direction was four years into being the biggest band on the planet, it was natural that the relationships within the band would make it into the music as well.

“I think that on Four,” Bunetta says with a slight pause, “there were some tensions going on. A lot of the songs were double — like somebody might be singing about their girlfriend, but there was another meaning that applied to the group as well.”

He continues: “It’s tough going through that age, having to spread your wings with so many eyeballs on you, so much money and no break. It was tough for them to carve out their individual manhood, space and point of view, while learning how to communicate with each other. Even more than relationship things that were going on, that was the bigger blanket that was in there every day, seeping into the songs.”

Bunetta remembers Zayn playing him “Pillowtalk” and a few other songs for the first time through a three a.m. fog of cigarette smoke in a hotel room in Japan.

“Fucking amazing,” he says. “They were fucking awesome. I know creatively he wasn’t getting what he needed from the way that the albums were being made on the road. He wanted to lock himself in the studio and take his time, be methodical. And that just wasn’t possible.”

A month or so later, and 16 shows into One Direction’s “On the Road Again” tour, Zayn left the band. Bunetta and Ryan agree it wasn’t out of the blue: “He was frustrated and wanted to do things outside of the band,” Bunetta says. “It’s a lot for a young kid, all those shows. We’d been with them for a bunch of years at this point — it was a matter of when. You just hoped that it would wait until the last album.”

Still, Bunetta compares the loss to having a finger lopped off, and he acknowledges that Harry, Niall, Liam and Louis struggled to find their bearings as One Direction continued with their stadium tour and next album, Made in the A.M. Just as band tensions bubbled beneath the songs on Four, Zayn’s departure left an imprint on Made in the A.M. Not with any overt malice, but a song like “Drag Me Down,” Bunetta says, reflects the effort to bounce back. Even Niall pushing his voice to the limits of his range on that song wouldn’t have been necessary if Zayn and his trusty falsetto were available.

But Made in the A.M. wasn’t beholden to this shake-up. Bunetta and Ryan cite “Olivia” as a defining track, one that captures just how far One Direction had come as songwriters: They’d written it in 45 minutes, after wasting a whole day trying to write something far worse.

“When you start as a songwriter, you write a bunch of shitty songs, you get better and you keep getting better,” Ryan says. “But then you can get finicky and you’re like, ‘Maybe I have to get smart with this lyric.’ By Made in the A.M. … they were coming into their own in the sense of picking up a guitar, messing around and feeling something, rather than being like, ‘How do I put this puzzle together?’”

After Zayn’s departure, Bunetta and Ryan said it became clear that Made in the A.M. would be One Direction’s last album before some break of indeterminate length. The album boasts the palpable tug of the end, but to One Direction’s credit, that finality is balanced by a strong sense of forever. It’s literally the last sentiment they leave their fans on album-closer “History,” singing, “Baby don’t you know, baby don’t you know/We can live forever.”

In a way, Made in the A.M. is about One Direction as an entity. Not one that belonged to the group, but to everyone they spent five years making music for. Four years since their hiatus and 10 years since their formation, the fans remain One Direction’s defining legacy. Even as all five members have settled into solo careers, Ryan notes that baseless rumors of any kind of reunion — even a meager Zoom call — can still set the internet on fire. The old songs remain potent, too: Carl Falk says his nine-year-old son has taken to making TikToks to 1D tracks.

“Most of them weren’t necessarily musicians before this happened, but they loved music, and they found a love of creating, writing and playing,” Kotecha says

There are plenty of metrics to quantify One Direction’s reach, success and influence. The hard numbers — album sales and concert stubs — are staggering on their own, but the ineffable is always more fun. One Direction was such a good band that a fan, half-jokingly, but then kinda seriously, started a GoFundMe to buy out their contract and grant them full artistic freedom. One Direction was such a good band that songwriters like Kotecha and Falk — who would go on to make hits with Ariana Grande, the Weeknd and Nicki Minaj — still think about the songs they could’ve made with them. One Direction was such a good band that Mitski covered “Fireproof.”

But maybe it all comes down to the most ineffable thing of all: Chance. Kotecha compares success on talent shows like The X Factor to waking up one morning and being super cut — but now, to keep that figure, you have to work out at a 10, without having done the gradual work to reach that level. That’s the downfall for so many acts, but One Direction was not only able, but willing, to put in the work.

“They’re one of the only acts from those types of shows that managed to do it for such a long time,” Kotecha says. “Five years is a long time for a massive pop star to go nonstop. I know it was tiring, but they were fantastic sports about it. They appreciated and understood the opportunity they had — and, as you can see, they haven’t really stopped since. Most of them weren’t necessarily musicians before this happened, but they loved music, and they found a love of creating, writing and playing. To have these boys — that had been sort of randomly picked — to also have that? It will never be repeated.”

#rolling stone #ROLLING STONE SAID ROCK BAN SO ITS A ROCK B AND PERIDOT #220720 #10years1d #one direction

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Soulmarks, Part 21

First part

~~~

Mme. Bustier gave a sigh when the three dropped their documents on the desk in unison, but this was nothing compared to the shock that came with Marinette’s words:

“We’re transferring.”

“But… but you’ve only been students here for two days!” She said, flipping through the papers with wide eyes. “And you didn’t even come for the second!”

Marinette gave a tiny shrug and glanced at Tim, who waved a stack of papers.

“You can try and keep us, if you’d like, but we have record of over a year’s worth of bullying complaints where no action was taken. Of course, you can still contest us if you’d like to deal with Mr. Wayne and Mr. Agreste’s lawyers…”

The woman’s kind face drained of color.

“I’ll… I’ll sign this right away. I hope you enjoy your time at…” She looked at the papers. “Gotham Academy.”

Marinette sent her friends grins.

“I think we will. Thank you.”

The superheroes had never felt more anxious in their lives. Their food remained untouched in front of them... outside of Kagami, who was slowly eating her beignet fries.

Or, at least, she had been. Now she was looking at them all with wide eyes.

“Let me get this straight…” Said Kagami. “You --.” She pointed her fry at Adrien. “-- are Chat Noir. And you never told me to keep me safe, despite having no problem with giving me a miraculous on occasion.”

Adrien pursed his lips and looked at Marinette imploringly. She didn’t seem to be enjoying being the only one to speak. Her hand gripped Tim’s arm so tightly that he swore she was going to draw blood.

Damn, Tim could have so easily been left out of this. He didn’t know Kagami outside of what Adrien had said about his soulmate, he’d had every excuse to not come. But then Marinette had given him puppy-dog eyes and he was weak, okay?

Marinette coughed uncomfortably. “To be fair, Adrien was the one who didn’t want to tell you.”

Adrien choked. He glared daggers at his partner, only to stop and give his girlfriend the world’s most innocent smile. He carefully brought his hands up and made a heart with his fingers.

Kagami didn’t seem amused, taking a bite of the fry and turning back to Marinette slowly.

The girl did not seem to like this development, if the tightening of her grip on his arm was any indication.

“Anyway, because his dad is Hawkmoth, we’re relocating him. We have to tell the public who Hawkmoth was, because Gabriel was too important to just have him disappear, and we don’t want him to be attacked.”

Kagami took a sip of Adrien’s drink. The model huffed a little but let her have it.

“And you’re telling me in case I want to go with him?”

“Yep. We don’t even have to tell your mom where you’re going. I can go in as Ladybug and tell her I’m relocating you for safety reasons and we can take you.”

She nodded thoughtfully, then gave a shrug. “Sure. Sounds good. Where to?”

The heroes breathed for the first time that night.

The press. God, she hated the press. And she hated it even more now that they were screaming ‘Marinette’ instead of ‘Ladybug’.

But she had to do this.

Marinette fought the urge to mess with her yoyo as she stepped to the podium with Adrien at her side.

He still couldn’t speak but she’d still wanted him to come onstage with her.

She smiled faintly. “Hello, Paris, we have come to make some announcements.”

“First of all, Hawkmoth has been defeated.” She paused for the cheering and applause. “The authorities have given me clearance to share this with you: his civilian identity was Gabriel Agreste.”

The gasps were soon replaced by murmuring and she had to drum her finger on the microphone a few times to get their attention back.

“That being said, please do not attack Adrien Agreste. I did extensive research and observation, and I found that he did not know and was not involved in any way. However, just to be safe, I have decided to take him out of France. During my time in America, I found a suitable person to look after him.”

“Secondly…” She took a deep breath and looked at Adrien, who gave her an encouraging smile. “... we are resigning as protectors of Paris.”

The silence that followed that was deafening. She hugged herself.

“Hawkmoth has been defeated, we are no longer needed here… and it is no longer safe for my family, as the world knows my identity. We will also be relocating to America, but I implore you to respect our privacy.”

“As for Chat, he wishes to remain anonymous so he can continue hero work where he is needed. I hope you can respect that, too.”

“You won’t be left unprotected, of course. The Peacock miraculous is still lost and, though we doubt it is here, Rena Rouge, Carapace, and Queen Bee have all elected to remain in Paris in case it shows up.”

She swallowed thickly and looked out over the sea of people.

“Thank you.”

He flipped through a book on ASL, spinning in his swivel chair absently as he read.

Gotham was quiet at the moment, anyways. The most interesting thing he’d seen on the cameras all night had been Dick accepting a plate of cookies from a stranger.

His phone beeped to indicate his shift was almost over.

On cue, Marinette came in with two cups of coffee.

He smiled faintly as she took her seat, then she pushed her swivel chair over until it knocked against his a tiny bit. She read over his shoulder, sipping at her drink and occasionally bringing his to his lips so he could continue to hold the book for them.

He tugged at the collar of his turtleneck with an annoyed sigh. Honestly, he wished they’d come up with a different cover story for why Tim could no longer speak, because wearing sweaters all the time was quickly getting annoying. ‘Rich kid had taken a blow to his windpipe and could no longer speak’ wasn’t all that unlikely in Gotham, it was hard to beat, so now he had to wear turtlenecks all the time or spend time in the morning putting a fake scar over his neck.

(And, well, Tim had never been one to put much effort into his appearance when he could be doing something more productive.)

Thankfully, no one else had needed a cover. They were a bunch of French kids, no one would be surprised to hear that they had opted not to learn two languages at once. It would have been hard to come up with similar yet different accidents for all of them, and definitely a little suspicious.

Marinette pulled his hand away from his collar and pressed a kiss to it before lacing her fingers with his. “I think you look cute.”

He smiled.

His phone beeped and he quickly fumbled to silence it, because he’d barely done anything that night and he didn’t want to have to stop already, but from the way she set her jaw he knew that she wasn’t going to let him do that.

He set the book on his lap and signed: “Can I at least stay with you?”

Marinette blushed and nodded. He smiled at the tiny victory.

She pressed a hand to her comm. “Right, I’m here, now. Ryuuko, Chaton, report.”

“We found some really good hotdogs on eighth,” said Kagami.

“That’s…” She laughed. “Good for you. Bring me one in the morning.”

“I’m glad you’re getting some sort of nutrition, but get back to work,” said Bruce.

Kagami and Adrien groaned and she could hear them pick up speed.

“Batman, report.”

“No new information on the Two-Face situation.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course. Nightwing, Batgirl, report.”

“A civilian gave us cookies,” said Dick brightly.

“Are they poisoned?”

“We’ll find out soon,” said Barbara with a tiny sigh. “Nightwing already ate one.”

“Nightwing!”

Dick murmured something that the comms couldn’t catch, likely some version of ‘traitor!’, and then attempted to defend himself: “The lady gave them to me directly! It would have been rude not to eat one!”

She rolled her eyes. “Great. Take the cookies to Alfred to inspect and then take Nightwing to medbay just in case.”

“Gotcha.”

Tim smiled, watching her flip through their views to make sure they were all safe.

He had never really intended the man-in-the-chair thing to become his permanent form of vigilantism, had always thought he would go back to being Robin at some point, but he was glad that he hadn’t.

After all, it was less stressful and unlikely to get them hurt.

And he knew that Marinette liked the new job, too, if the tiny computer over his heart was any indication.

He felt her rest her head on his shoulder again, apparently appeased by what she had seen, and he wrapped his arm around her.

They listened to a police scanner and relaxed, together.

~~~

I need to stop writing finales at 3am --

Taglist

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#soulmarks #timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake #maribat #adribat

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greyfongschemmenti · 4 years ago

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Do you have any theories/headcanons as to why Lin is so reserved with her emotions?

And do you have any theories/headcanons for the Kya's want to travel the world rather than settling somewhere?

-Y❤️❤️

I mean Lin is reserved with her emotions because everyone in her life has hurt her in some way shape or form.

-/-

Kya is half air nomad. It’s in her blood.

Toph:

Toph has never given her positive affirmation. Lin has been trying so hard to get some sort of praise from her and nothing. Toph never gave her attention and when it came time to have her back (when Suyin caused the scars) Toph basically betrayed her and covered for Suyin and made it all go away. Everything except the scars that will be permanently displayed on her cheeks.

I want to head canon that maybe...just maybe Toph didn’t realize the extent of the damage Suyin had caused to Lin. Toph could have thought that Lin was over-exaggerating on the markings. Also think for that reason she didn’t let Lin get immediate treatment from a healer which was crucial for healing time and less scaring to occur. Only giving Lin time to just “slap a bandage on and toughen up.”

Suyin:

Suyin was a brat as a kid. She valued her freedom and because of that she legit thought she was invincible and could get away with anything because her mom practically owns the city.

Suyin is the baby which frankly only further pushes the whole. Baby gets what she wants. Doesn’t apologize for any of her actions or thinks that a simple “sorry” erases everything. Lives in a “Me” world.

Suyin get’s in trouble for driving as an accomplice. Suyin gets send to go live with her rich grandparents who will spoil her with immense gifts. While Lin just stays in the city and continues to groveling work. Forced to get used to the markings Suyin left which she never apologized to Lin for.

Tenzin:

Tenzin left her. That’s the short version.

Tenzin was her best friend turned romantic life partner. Lin knew Tenzin since she could sustain memories. Every life moment it was always her and Tenzin, they were only a year apart so they grew up together. Later started to date and they grew up being each other’s support systems.

Although yes they did have love for each other, I feel like that love was always platonic. They confused that love for romance because everyone around them basically teased them of their hidden crushes. Once that idea gets put into your head it’s kind of hard to not think about it and your brain starts to be like “okay yeah maybe they are on to something”. I feel like it was more on Lin’s side than Tenzin. I think Tenzin for sure had a massive crush on Lin.

back to the reason... Tenzin and Lin are both so career driven that they worked tirelessly to become someone their respectful parents would be proud of. Lin as a police officer and eventual Chief of Police and Tenzin being a councilman and representative for the Air Nation.

Once Aang’s passing Tenzin got more pressed by himself (I’m sure from the rest of the world too) to start producing the next generation of air benders. Although I would like to believe that Tenzin respected and supported Lin’s wishes on her career goal. I feel like he wanted Lin to put a pause to help him carry his goal first. Which Lin was adamant on not doing. She never wanted kids and was never going to change. Tenzin probably hoped that after time Lin might change and in turn caused many fights and arguments. Tenzin hope he could have the best of both worlds, Lin and kids. unfortunately that wasn’t the case so after two decades of being with Lin he had to break up with her.

Tenzin is such an awkward bean so when he broke up with Lin he definitely broke up. Like cut off all communication with Lin, because he probably thought that would be best for Lin. The only time they would talk would be professional meetings when they had to see each other for council meetings. Security and protection details for the Air Nation. They went from best friends and each others support systems to practical strangers. Which was honestly worse, imo. Lin didn’t just lose a boyfriend. She lost her person. The one person she could rely on for anything. The person who knew her likes and dislikes. The one person she wasn’t afraid to let down her walls, let down her hair and let it flow. The one person who wouldn’t judge her when she cried or laughed. So when Tenzin left, it broke Lin. More than anyone could it was Tenzin that really caused Lin to close up and say no more.

-/-

Kya

Kya is half air nomad.

Kya is a spiritual being and likes to live in harmony with nature. She's fun-loving and had a strong sense of humor.

I feel like Kya often liked the idea of traveling the world to interact with other peoples and getting to know other cultures. Without the attachment of being the “Avatar’s daughter”. She wanted to be known as Kya and just Kya.

Which she did accomplish as she became a renowned healer in her own right. All of her years of traveling I’m sure spent learning on different healing techniques and properties to improve on. Kya is easily the best healer in Legend of Korra, which I’m sure her mother is beyond proud. She managed to keep Jinora alive for weeks despite her spirit no longer being tethered to her body and was capable of treating Bumi's head wound without water ever touching him. She even managed to heal Korra, Bolin, and Mako simultaneously with her spirit water. Three people at. the. same. time!!! The only thing that ever posed too big an issue was the metallic poison in Korra in season 3.

Kya is a person who would rather experience it rather than read about it or listen someone else share their life. She is open to listen to the stories but she wants to go out there and experience it herself.

Kya doesn’t have a problem with settling. She can stay at a place for a couple months at a time. The most maybe a year because she gets the itch to go set off to a new adventure.

#kyalin #kya ii #linbeifong #lin beifong #fyreanon #askfyre

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stylesnews · 4 years ago

Link

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