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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Note

heyyy. I know you’ve been doing marvel a lot, but if you could do one with morgan and the reader? Based on amplification and it’s the reader who gets sick instead. thanks!

Finally

Warnings: some mentions of being sick (cause... you know... anthrax), angst and fluff :)

Word Count: 2735

a/n: My first Morgan fic!! I love him so much! This one took me a while because 1) I feel like I'm not that good at rewriting episodes, and 2) I wanted to get Derek's character right. Hopefully it's not too terrible! I hope you enjoy!! :)

Masterlist

"Rossi, Prentiss head to his office. Morgan, get Reid and L/N from the hospital and check out his house." Hotch instructed as soon as Dr. Nichols was deemed a reasonable suspect.

It wasn't long before you, Reid, and Morgan were pulling up outside of Dr. Nichols house.

"It's clear so far. I'll let you know when we're done checking." One of the CDC techs said through a walkie.

"We should look around a bit." Reid started down the driveway, gesturing for you and Morgan to follow.

"Ow!" You flinched away from the rose bush, shaking your hand in an attempt to lessen the pain.

"You good?" Morgan eyed you, overly concerned about a small scrape.

"I'm fine. Promise." You winked, walking past him and Reid to check for anything out of the ordinary in the backyard.

"I don't understand why you haven't asked her out yet." Reid looked between you and Morgan. Unfortunately, Morgan was saved from answering by the sound of his phone ringing.

"Hey, princess what do you have?" Morgan greeted Garcia, glaring at Reid.

You continued to explore while Derek and Reid talked to Garcia. It wasn't until after you entered the shed-like building that you thought maybe the CDC should check for anthrax out here too.

By then it was too late.

"L/N?" You could hear Morgan calling you. "Y/N!" It was clear him and Reid were approaching the door you just walked through.

You ran back to the sliding glass door, slamming it shut and locking it before either of them could stop you.

"What's wrong?" He frantically ran up to the door.

"Get back! No, don't come any closer." Your eyes flitted between the two agents, landing solely on Derek when you muttered, "I'm sorry."

"Y/N, open the door..." Derek's typically powerful voice nearly broke as he watched you shake your head.

"I can't. I- I'm already exposed." You shook your head resolutely, convincing yourself this was the right move. "I'll look for anything that could help in here. It's the best move."

"Y/N, you need to go to the hospital." Derek put more power behind his words with hopes of convincing you.

"The hospital won't do anything for me. Nichols could've made a cure, and if he did it's probably in here." You tore your eyes from Derek, hoping Spencer would help you convince him. "Reid, tell him I'm right."

He looked conflicted, eyes flitting between you and Derek.

"She's right. The cipro isn't working on anyone infected. Her best chance is to stay in there and find something useful." Reid looked reluctantly at Derek.

"Then you better find a cure in there." Derek whispered, eyes lingering on you before he finally turned away to call Hotch.

"Morgan, Reid. How's L/N?" Hotch questioned immediately, forgoing any greeting.

"White powder all over the room and the air was blasting." Morgan responded quickly. He made brief eye contact with Hotch before turning to walk back to the door.

The general barked out instructions for a decontamination team and cordoning off the area.

"Get her in the ambulance." Hotch directed Morgan and Reid.

"She won't." Morgan felt his heart rate increase at the thought of you staying in there any longer. "Said she's more helpful inside than in the hospital."

"Nichols is dead, looks to be about 2-3 days." Reid added on.

Just then Hotch's phone rang.

"L/N?" He answered on speaker.

"I really messed up this time." You let out a dry laugh.

"You need to get to the hospital." Hotch tried to argue.

"I know Morgan and Reid already told you I won't go. There could be answers in here." Your stubbornness was showing. "I need to figure out who killed Nichols."

"Y/N-" You cut Morgan off before he could try to convince you to leave.

"I think he had a partner." You decided to refocus the conversation on the case rather than yourself.

"I'll get Rossi and Prentiss to ask at his office." Hotch sighed in resignation.

"Good, I'll keep looking at everything in here."

You hung up before anyone could argue further. You shoved your phone into your pocket, immediately going back to look through papers and lab equipment around the room.

As you worked inside, you could hear the CDC team setting up outside.

Watching through the windows as people in full hazmat suits prepared to enter the room you were in made everything feel more real.

You pulled your phone swiftly out of your pocket dialling the number you knew by heart.

"Hi." Garcia's voice was quiet when she answered the phone.

"No funky greeting? I'm feeling a little jipped." You tried to joke with her, but it fell flat.

"I can't be my normal, bubbly self when you are where you are." Again, her voice was quiet.

"Garcia, can you do something for me?" Your voice was steady, masking the emotion about to pour out of you.

"What? Tell me what to do and I'll do it." She frantically moved around her desk, ready to do anything you requested.

"You know how a few weeks ago, you were joking about my crush on Morgan?" You asked slowly.

"The one you swore didn't exist? I remember." Her voice was laced with confusion at your topic change.

"Well, um, do you think you could record a message for him?" Your breaths were unsteady as you thought about saying goodbye.

"But you're gonna be fine." She spoke with authority, as if saying it made it true.

"I know, but, um... just in case. I want him to hear it at least once." Your voice broke.

"Okay. Um, whenever you're ready." She listened as you spoke to Derek.

"Hi Derek. Um, I kind of have a secret to tell you, but first I want you to know this isn't your fault. I'm the idiot who walked into the lab. It's on me. I guess I just want to make sure you hear this from me at least once." You cleared your throat, thick from emotion.

"I, uh, I think I'm maybe, just a little bit, um... in love with you." You felt the tears fall from your cheeks. "You're my best friend. You've always been there for me when cases hit a little too close to home or even if I'm just having a bad day. You never fail to make me smile, no matter how hard I'm trying not to."

You wiped at your cheeks roughly, trying to focus on the message.

"I've wanted to tell you for a while, but I never knew how. I guess I'm glad I walked in here for one reason. It finally pushed me to tell you how I feel."

You chuckled again, but there was no humor in it.

"I'm, ah, I'm really sorry if this is goodbye." You paused, unsure if you had anything left to say.

"Y/N?" Garcia questioned if you were still on the line.

"Prep the victim for transfer." You could hear Dr. Kimura entering the room, preparing to begin treating you.

"I've got to go." You hung up without another word, trying to rid your face of any evidence of the tears before facing the doctor.

"How are you feeling?" She questioned once you were in view.

"I'm actually feeling okay." You nodded, trying to convince yourself it was true. She eyed you like she didn't believe you, but nodded with you anyway.

"Alright, how can I help?"

You spent the next few minutes explaining Dr. Nichols profile. Dr. Kimura set off to look for the cure while you continued trying to figure out who killed Nichols.

"L/N, stick with me." Morgan's voice sounded through your phone, drawing your attention away from the stack of papers in your hand. "Prentiss and Rossi don't think the partner is from work."

"Okay, um..." You went back to the bigger desk. "He's got course syllabi and outlines dating back to the 80s." You glanced around the room, eyes catching on the other desk.

"A student..." You trailed off, mind moving a mile a minute.

"Talk to me." Morgan drew your attention again.

"Derek, I think it's a student. There's two desks, different organization on both. The smaller one has what looks like a dissertation that Nichols could've been grading. He wouldn't open his lab to a scientist, but he might for educational purposes." You prattled on, more and more information fitting the theory.

"I'll get Garcia to look at science students." Morgan gestured for Hotch to call Garcia. He was about to hang up when you corrected him.

"Wait! The paper, it's more about social policies surrounding an anthrax attack, not the actual science of it." You spoke quickly, trying to hold in an impending cough.

"Okay, political science and social studies majors then." Morgan trailed off, waiting for your response.

"Good. That's good." You coughed slightly, listening to the sound of his breathing.

"Garcia's got a match." Hotch nodded to Morgan before heading toward the SUVs.

"Y/N, you got everything you could in there. Now get the hell out." He practically begged.

"Sure thing, Derek. Bye." You hung up right as Dr. Kimura walked back toward you.

"His inhaler! It could have the cure, right?" She looked to you for approval.

"They're checking out Brown's house." Derek watched as they hosed you down.

"Go help them." You coughed slightly, wincing at the cool water.

"They've got plenty of help. I'm staying with you." His eyes never left yours.

"Please." You looked him in the eye. "They're about to strip me naked and hose me down. As much as I know that's something you want to see, I don't think I look my best right now." You joked, watching the way he averted his eyes slightly.

"Y/N, I-" You cut him off again.

"I know." You smiled softly, gesturing for him to go. "Now go help catch him." You kept your eyes on him until he was out of sight.

Turning back to the conversation happening in front of you, you watched as Dr. Kimura instructed another hazmat team member to get the inhaler tested for the cure.

"It makes sense for the inhaler to have the cure." Your mind felt fuzzy as you thought it over. You moved to grab your head, something catching the attention of the doctor.

"Agent L/N, did you cut your hand?" You glanced at your hand, remembering the rose bush outside. You nodded, eyes widening ever so slightly at the now blistering cut on your hand.

"Let's move." You were quickly cleaned of any lingering traces of anthrax before she directed you into the waiting ambulance. "Are you still feeling fine?" She questioned while taking your vitals.

"I'm doing great. I flea foon. I fill fon." You muttered, eyes rolling back in your head.

"Driver, faster!" She called to the front of the ambulance as you started coughing blood.

"Are you eating my jello?" You cleared your throat as you eyed Derek sitting next to your bed.

"Yes I am." He stared directly into your eyes as he ate another spoonful.

"Well, is there more?" You pouted, eyes still lingering on the cup in Derek's hands. He laughed in response.

"What happened?" You slowly moved to sit up, eyes flitting around the various machines in your room.

"The cure was in the inhaler. The other patients are in recovery, and you are going to be just fine." The way he smiled when he said 'just fine' had your heart aching. He just looked so relieved.

"Brown?" You continued your line of questioning.

"We got him. It's over." Derek's soft smile remained, eyes flitting around your body as if he were making sure you were actually okay.

"Well, that's a relief." You took a deep breath. "There's actually something I want to tell you."

He raised a brow, a small smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.

"Oh, yeah? Does Garcia know anything about this?"

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks, eyes widening in horror that he had already heard the message. "Oh, um, I mean, technically yes. I didn't- I wouldn't have told her before you if I didn't think I might die!" Your voice was rising in pitch, panic surging through your body.

"Woah, babygirl, slow down." His previous smirk shifted into another look of concern, although he still let out a small chuckle. "She just told me to ask you about a message. That's all."

"Oh." Your mouth stayed in the 'o' shape for longer than necessary, your body's way of stalling what you were about to say. "You haven't heard the message?"

"Nope." He said with a pop. "Care to enlighten me?"

"Well, I guess I have to since you brought it up." You rolled your eyes, messing with him.

"Hey, now! You started it." He clearly had you beat, so you just blurted it out.

"I think I love you!" You threw your hands over your mouth, eyes wide now that you'd confessed to your best friend that you're in love with him.

"That's what the message said. I thought- I mean there was a strong possibility that I was going to die. I didn't want that to happen without me having told you how I actually feel."

Your eyes were focused on the edges of the hospital blanket where your fingers were twisting a loose thread.

"Can I hear it?" His question confused you, causing you to look at him with a furrowed brow. "The message I mean?"

You nodded slowly, texting Garcia to see if she could send it to you. The chime of a text coming in happened almost instantly. You didn't hesitate to hit play on the recording.

I, uh, I think I'm maybe, just a little bit, um... in love with you. You're my best friend. You've always been there for me when cases hit a little too close to home or even if I'm just having a bad day. You never fail to make me smile, no matter how hard I'm trying not to.

I've wanted to tell you for a while, but I never knew how. I guess I'm glad I walked in here for one reason. It finally pushed me to tell you how I feel.

I'm, ah, I'm really sorry if this is goodbye."

The message cut off abruptly at that point.

You could feel your heart pounding as if it were trying to escape your chest.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize it sounded so sad." You smiled, though your eyes were watery. "I mean, I guess it makes sense since I thought you would only hear it if I died." You continued rambling, eyes looking anywhere but at Derek.

"Y/N?" He prevented you from muttering any other embarrassing words.

"Yeah?" You winced, trying to prepare yourself for his rejection.

"I love you too."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any-" You abruptly stopped, the words you heard finally catching up with your brain.

"You- you love me too?" You whispered, eyes finally meeting his.

"I do." His smile was wider than you've ever seen, and so, so pure.

"Oh." Your mind was having a hard time comprehending the gravity of what just happened. Luckily for you, Derek knew exactly what was going on when he leaned in to kiss you.

It took a second for your body to respond, but as soon as it did you could feel the butterflies swarming in your stomach.

Despite how new it was, everything felt right in the world when you were kissing Derek Morgan.

He only pulled back when you gently pushed him away, a wide smile on your face as you sucked in deep breaths of air. The two of you stared at each other lovingly, just enjoying the presence of one another.

The sound of a throat clearing coming from the doorway shocked you out of your trance. Reid stood leaning against the doorframe, a smirk on his face. He uttered one word, perfectly encapsulating your own feelings on the situation.

"Finally."

permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @madewithsebstan @sebastnstn

Criminal Minds tag list:

@mac99martin @goldeng1rl8 @measure-in-pain

#derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan #derek morgan fic #criminal minds fic #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan one shot #derek morgan angst

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mochacoffee · 5 years

Photo

I created a 3D model and floor plan of Aziraphale’s bookshop in Good Omens!

I really wanted one for reference and it seemed like many others did too, so I put together my best approximation of where everything is. Beneath the color version, you’ll see I’ve included two simplified, labeled versions of the plan. The verbal labels are so you know what the object is. The numerical labels are there to make it easy to find more information about the object. I’ve put a numbered index below the cut that features the relevant reference images I used for each object and some more information about why I put it where I did/why it’s relevant/etc. I want to be very clear that I did not add anything to this from my own imagination; every single item and feature represents something I actually saw in the shop.

If you have any questions or want more information about this, PLEASE do not hesitate to ask! I put so much time into figuring it out and I would be more than happy to be a resource for anyone who needs it. Also, if you notice any errors, let me know and I’ll update the post. I hope this is helpful!

Update: Here’s a link to an interactive view of the shop! It takes a moment to load. You can click the “3D” tab in the top right to view it in first person and walk around inside. Double click a spot on the floor to move there and pan around by clicking and dragging. The oval symbol next to the person walking gives you a birds-eye view.

Update 2: Here’s a higher quality rendering of the first person perspective! Update 3: I made an alternate first person render here complete with a ceiling, light fixtures, and ambient lighting from outside. This one is optimized for making it seem more like you’re actually there, whereas the previous one is for maximum visibility. This render also has some minor accuracy improvements, which are detailed under the cut in the relevant sections. (The first interactive link with the birds-eye view updates automatically.) Update 4: In case you’re interested in Aziraphale’s books specifically, I’ve made a catalogue of those here.

1. Unknown closet

Images

There is a door behind Gabriel when he talks to Aziraphale in the backroom. So where does it lead? Well. The wall we can see behind Aziraphale when he encounters Shadwell in the shop (see #17: boxes/storage) doesn’t have a door in it. It’s also facing the wrong direction and it’s in the middle of the southwest wall ⁠— we know this because Aziraphale can see Shadwell in the entrance from there. So the wall behind him at that moment is definitely not the wall of the backroom. We’re left with this door and unaccounted-for corner. The only thing that makes sense to me then is that there’s a closet there between the two spaces. My personal theory is that this closet is “the back” that Aziraphale refers to keeping the Châteauneuf-du-Pape in since I didn’t see any other obvious alcohol storage space in the shop. Update: @n0nb1narydemon has suggested this could be a bathroom for guests or because culturally it’s a room you can use to extricate yourself from situations, which is another possibility! They also asked where I think the doors behind object #20 lead, and I thought it would be good to add here that they might lead to the shop next door or to this unknown room. It’s possible the room actually extends further into the next shop and encompasses the part of the wall where the doors are, but I didn’t have concrete evidence to support that idea so I didn’t include it in the floor plan. Update: I was wrong about the Châteauneuf-du-Pape! In the DVD bookshop tour we learn that the cabinet in the top left corner of the backroom is where Aziraphale keeps his alcohol, including that particular wine. I added a reference photo of Neil pointing it out. Thanks to @fuckyeahgoodomens for bringing the existence of this tour to my attention — ya girl got the special edition blu-ray even though I don’t have a blu-ray player yet so I hadn’t actually seen it. Also, there is a chair right next to this cabinet against the wall which I missed in my initial rendering of the shop but have since added.

2. Part of shop next door (top right)

Images

This was very tricky to figure out because you can see from the exterior of the shop that there is no wall past the back door, but from the interior there is clearly more space there. BUT in a behind the scenes photo of David during the fire scene, you can see on this back wall that there’s actually a nook with two large entryways, similar to the one that makes up the backroom. From the exterior you can see that the area next to the back door is taken up by the window of the next shop, so I concluded that this little square of space was not part of the bookshop’s interior, but the nook did extend further back than where the shop appears to end from the outside. I had to make one bookshelf more nubby than the others to make this work, but after a LOT of trial and error I decided one nubby bookshelf was the only thing that could explain the apparent architecture of the space. Any floor design that accounted for a bookshelf of the same length as the others just did not make sense on a fundamental level.

3. Part of shop next door (bottom left)

Images

From the exterior of the shop you can see that this window belongs to the adjacent store, as the wall is a different color. Within the bookshop you can also see when Gabriel and Sandalphon enter the backroom, there’s no window behind them; there’s a sink. So it’s definitely not Aziraphale’s window. The wall of the backroom is also further into the shop’s interior than the wall Aziraphale’s desk sits against, so there’s a corner of space inside that’s unaccounted for. At first I assumed it was plumbing from the sink that had been sealed off or something, but when I realized that’s where the window was on the outside, I figured the space is probably part of the next shop over.

4. Aziraphale’s desk

Images

This is where Aziraphale sits in the shop like 90% of the time. It’s on the Eastern side of the shop because Aziraphale was the guardian of the Eastern gate in Eden and because production designer Michael Ralph is a goddamn genius (source). Shout out to @posted-omens for this fascinating post analyzing the chariot sculpture on his desk. Update: Fun fact, the ladder behind his desk is actually called a library chair, supposedly designed by Benjamin Franklin. It functions as a ladder but you can also fold it into a chair! Neil mentions this in the DVD extra bookshop tour. I added screen caps of it to the reference photos above since I don’t have a specific section for the ladders!

5. Phone Aziraphale calls Crowley from

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I will be honest with you: I think there’s something a little fucked up about this corner. It is my nemesis. I tried so many things to make it work and I just could not get it exactly right, but what you see in the floor plan is my best guess as to what’s going on. The conundrum is that the spot where Aziraphale stands when he’s on the phone with Crowley is definitely closer to the fence around the staircase than it is in my layout. But the table he’s in front of is also clearly against the outside wall of the backroom, and the stairs being where I’ve put them here is the only thing that made sense based on the reference photos. So there’s some weird spacing issue where there’s a little too much room between the fence around the stairs and this phone. If I were to move the walls to close that gap then there would be way too much space in the backroom and way too little space on the southwest side of the shop, so I think the walls are correct as they are. So ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. What I can say for certain is that the phone is there and it’s on a table next to a lamp, and the table is definitely against the wall of the backroom and behind the staircase. The distance between these things doesn’t hold up perfectly, but their arrangement does. On another note, this is one of two phones in the shop. The other is on the table next to the cash register (see #9) which Aziraphale picks up when Crowley calls to say they need to talk about Armageddon. I believe this is the same one he uses to call Adam’s house in episode two, only he moves it from the table by the register to the top of a pile of books (which I’m pretty sure were stacked on the circular table between his desk and the sofa). Update: OKAY SO it turns out in the behind-the-scenes bookshop tour on the DVD we get two more teeny tiny glimpses of this corner! I added them to the reference photo album above. It appears I was right about the lamp, phone, and bookshelf being where they are, except that the bookshelf and table are touching. There’s also a ladder propped against the shelf. I’d say it’s possible there are actually two bookshelves here; based on the parallax in the DVD tour, the one next to the phone didn’t appear to be against the wall, but we know there is a bookshelf against that wall because we see it in the show. (P.S. There’s also another chair against that wall which I didn’t see because Aziraphale was standing in front of it, so I added that too.) This leads me to believe there’s one against the wall and another one further from it next to the table. But that’s just my speculation, so I won’t change the actual floor plan unless I find more evidence.

6. Where they’re drinking when Crowley realizes Adam has named the hellhound

Images

When Aziraphale sits down at this table, the background is of the same space he refers to as the “backroom” when Gabriel and Sandalphon show up. He’s across the table from Crowley, behind whom you can see a bookshelf, the staircase, and the coat rack. The table is half in the backroom half out, since the room has two large entryways in its wall. Update: I realized the wall behind this table actually dips back further! It is a weirdly-shaped wall! But in the DVD special tour of the bookshop Neil walks past it and there’s clearly an area that recesses even further, so I’ve modified that in the interactive floor plan :)

7. Bench of books that start the fire

Images

When Shadwell leaves the book shop and slams the door, one of the candles knocks over and rolls into a pile of books and other papers (including the Sound of Music lmao). You can see it’s the same bench the customer is standing in front of when he gives Gabriel a weird look after he yells about pornography. (I love this customer so much because they gave me a super HD shot of this particular area.) The poles of the fence around the bench, the staircase behind it, and the smaller shelves beside it holding Terry Pratchett’s books make it clear that the bench is in that spot in the shop and that it’s the place the fire starts.

8. Coat rack with Terry’s hat on it

Images

Aziraphale hangs his coat here right before Crowley calls him to say they need to talk about Armageddon. Out of focus in the frame you can see the lion sculpture that sits on the fence surrounding the stairs (see #11) and a bookshelf. The camera pans past the shelf and we see him walk past his desk to pick up the phone by the cash register, which puts that shelf right next to his sitting area. We can also see the coat rack in the background when Crowley realizes Adam has named the hellhound. The coat rack has Terry Pratchett’s hat and scarf on it in his honor (source).

9. Antique cash register

Images

You can see this register in the background when Crowley is on the couch and when Aziraphale invites Gabriel and Sandalphon into the backroom. I know it’s an antique cash register because it’s photographed and referenced directly on page 79 of the Good Omens TV Companion. It’s a typewriter in my floor plan because the website I used (floorplanner.com), who knows why, did not have a 3D model of a cash register from the early 1900s.

10. Back door

Images

Thank you so much to @fuckyeahgoodomens for this post where they figured all this out!! Wonderful work! You can see this door from the exterior of the shop and its existence is referenced in the Good Omens script book on page 94. It’s also in the background of a behind the scenes shot of Aziraphale pulling away the carpet so he can contact heaven. Behind him in that shot you can see the bust (which moves around a lot - see #19) and a grandfather clock, and in the show from one of the aerial shots you can see that the carpet is pulled west, further confirming the door’s location.

11. Fence around the stairs

Images

I have concluded that this is a fence to keep customers from going up to the second floor. It looks to be made of golden pillars with wooden shelving atop them. The fence crosses beneath the staircase on one side and the other side ends about where the stair’s railing does. You can see this fence behind Crowley when he realizes Adam has named the hellhound, behind Aziraphale when he calls Crowley to tell him he knows where the antichrist is, and next to the customer who gives Gabriel a look after he yells “PORNOGRAPHY!” It’s also visible in one of the aerial shots of the shop. Update: In the DVD extra bookshop tour I noticed the lion sculpture on this fence is not just a lion, but a lion with a woman holding its mane. I think it might also be a lamp? In one of the reference photos, the one that looks down from the second floor, it appears there’s a light in the woman’s other hand. I’d be interested to see if we can track down what this particular sculpture is and what it might mean. Update: @cantdewwrite has suggested here that the light/sculpture could be a replica of one of the bronze statues in the Victoria Memorial, which does look quite similar. I’m fairly certain Aziraphale’s sculpture is of a woman, which would make it the figure in the memorial representing peace.

12. Open book of illustrated story of Adam and Eve

Images

Shout out to @amuseoffyre for this post where she figured out what this was! Update: I’ve determined that this book is The Gospel in the Old Testament: A series of pictures by Harold Copping. The painting is, naturally, by Harold Copping. It’s called “Adam and Eve after the fall.” Unfortunately this book is out of print and I haven’t been able to track down an ebook or scan of it, so I can’t confirm the text just yet. But based on its premise, I think it’s safe to assume that it’s telling the story of Adam and Eve directly. Aziraphale has a second copy of this book visible on the shelf next to the sofa.

13. Antique computer

Images

This is the computer Aziraphale does his extremely scrupulous taxes with, as confirmed in this ask that @neil-gaiman answered from @prismatic-bell! It’s an Amstrad, according to the bookshop tour in the DVD extras.

14. Spiral staircase

Images

These stairs are in many shots of the shop so it was pretty obvious where they were.

15. Sink, teapots, etc.

Images

You can see this wall right before Gabriel walks into the backroom and behind Aziraphale when he’s drinking with Crowley at the end of episode one. It appears he has two hand towels, a ceramic angel soap dish (aw), some teapots, and a decorated box above it, among other things. On the floor beside the sink is what I believe to be a broom handle, though it could be a mop? Next to that is a bronze statue of an angel atop a small table piled with books. On the other side of the sink is an open book on a stand ⁠— it has a fabric bookmark in it with a crucifix at the end, so I’m assuming it’s a bible. Light reading while you make your tea I guess. Update: Thank you so much to @brightwanderer for pointing out in this post that he has four extra angel wing mugs above the sink as well! I couldn’t figure out what they were! Update: Neil said in this ask that you can see an oven by the sink when Gabriel and Sandalphon walk in. Which you can! It’s real small and there’s a little pot on top of it. I’ve added a screencap of it to the images album for this area. Update: I’m donating my heart and soul to @ack-emma for suggesting in the replies to this ask that the central object above the sink is a samovar!! I had never heard of this so I had absolutely no idea what it was, but I think they hit the nail on the head. Y’all Aziraphale really likes tea.

16. Sculpture

Images

Thank you @ineffable-endearments, @behold-my-squeees, @srebrnafh, @aethelflaedladyofmercia for contributing to this post about the statue and its potential symbolism! Update: @doctorscienceknowsfandom has added some analysis to the post above suggesting that this is a sculpture of Paris, the figure from Greek mythology. I’m inclined to agree! Update: BINGO! @tifaria has found Aziraphale’s exact statue (confirmed Paris!) in this post. Brilliant work!! This community continues to blow me away. Further discussion about the sculpture’s meaning in the context of the show here — be sure to check the notes for further commentary.

17. Boxes/storage

Images

These boxes and piles of books can be seen behind Aziraphale when he encounters Shadwell in the shop and behind Crowley while he’s rambling drunkenly about why they should stop Armageddon in episode one. They’re in a nook that goes further back than where the shop appears to end from its exterior (see #2 for more info on that!).

18. Stacks of books

Images

You can see this stack in one of the aerial shots of Shadwell in the shop. I didn’t include most stacks of books in the floor plan because they’re literally everywhere and I had to manually set how high each book would be from the floor, so putting them in piles got tedious very quickly. But I did include a few notable ones, and this is one of those imo because there’s not much else in that area as far as I can tell.

19. Bust

Images

This little guy moves around quite a bit, unlike most things in the shop. In some photos/scenes it’s where I put it on the floor plan, but in others it’s closer to the northwestern wall and in this 360 video of the shop it’s right between two of the columns. I chose to put it where I did because it’s there in the scene where Crowley is drunkenly rambling about Armageddon, whereas the other locations I’ve seen it in were from behind the scenes shots and stuff. I’m not sure who the bust is of! It appears to have a little ribbon with a medal around its next though. Update: More speculation about the bust here, courtesy of @aethelflaedladyofmercia! Update: @fuckyeahgoodomens has confirmed in this post that the thing around the bust’s neck is the medal given to Aziraphale by Gabriel in this deleted scene!

20. Divider I think?

Images

Please for the love of god if you know what this thing is, tell me. My best guess is it’s a room divider because what else looks like that?? But I don’t know why you would put a room divider there. And it still doesn’t look exactly like a divider either. But the decorative element at the top and apparent gap between the metal frame and the red bit leads me to believe it’s not furniture or a box. This mystery object is my second nemesis after the weird corner (#5). Update: @brightwanderer has suggested that it might be an embroidered/tapestry draft screen, which I think makes more sense! Update: In the DVD extra bookshop tour I found a very brief image of this item over Neil’s shoulder which I added to the reference photos above. I think by some miracle I was right and it is a divider. It could be a draft screen but at the very least it is shaped like a divider with at least three sections. Wahoo!

21. Record player

Images

This is the phonograph that’s playing Franz Schubert’s String Quintet in C major (thank you again to @fuckyeahgoodomens for that info) when we first see Aziraphale in the shop. It also plays Queen’s You’re My Best Friend when Crowley runs into the fire.

22. Terry Pratchett’s books

Images

Another one of the many little Terry easter eggs in the show is this set of his books! @devoursjohnlock made a post highlighting some other specific books you can find in the shop.

23. Chess set

Images

I saw a post once pointing out this chess set and the implication that Aziraphale and Crowley must play together sometimes, which I thought was a really nice detail to put into the set. But I can’t find the post to credit it! I will update this with a link if I do. Update: Pretty sure this is the post I saw. Thank you to @losyanya for mentioning it :)

24. Circular entryway

Images

This is one of many circle motifs that production designer Michael Ralph incorporated into the shop. It’s gorgeous. I think there’s actually more room between the archway and the door than I’ve included in this floor plan; Shadwell takes a few steps through it when he runs out of the shop. But I think the fix is just the door being further out from the entryway rather than the entryway being further in. I didn’t want to fuck with the walls to improve this particular area because when I realized the spacing was wrong, I was almost done and would’ve had to manually move each object in the shop over a few inches over. Made more sense to leave the caveat in a footnote. Update: In the DVD extra bookshop tour you get a brief glimpse of something on the inside wall of the entryway. I think it’s a wall sconce or something along those lines. There’s one on either side. I added them to the reference album above! I also figured out how to extend the walls to accommodate some more space there without having to move everything else, so I did that. Update: Here’s a link to some meta discussion about the cupid sculpture in front of this entryway!

25. Sofa Crowley sits on when he suggests they could be godfathers

Images

You can see that the sofa is next to Aziraphale’s desk and the cash register, and also that there’s a bookshelf behind it. From the entrance to the shop you can see two bookshelves on either side of the central circle, so it was pretty clear that the couch was on the other side of one of those shelves.

26. Wall crucifix

Images

I find it very interesting that Aziraphale has this considering Jesus isn’t a big part of angelic lore or heaven’s general priorities in the show. It would make more sense to me that he has it because it’s another memento of his time with Crowley, sort of like the illustrated story of Adam and Eve by his desk (#12). Also, fun fact, the opposite side of this wall segment is where he put up all his maps and notes about the whereabouts of the Antichrist in episode three.

#good omens #aziraphale's bookshop #good omens reference #floor plan #ref #i hope people see this i posted it at 2am because i was too excited about it to wait until daylight hours #OKAY SO PEOPLE SAW IT THANKS GUYS #check out the tag:#bookshop questions #for follow-up Qs!

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sunflowergirl522 · 4 years

Text

That’s Peter Part 2

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You’ve been able to hop realities your whole life, running away to your favorite one with your favorite people when the blip happens. You come back to visit Jimmy to find out everyone came back and then get some bad news. When you go to find your boyfriend Peter you find out that he’s been snatched into a different reality.

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 1450

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

“What do you mean that’s Peter?”Jimmy stands and makes his way to stand in front of you. The two women in the room stay silent sharing a look at each other before watching the two of you interact.

“I mean that’s Peter, Jimmy. My Peter.” You watch as his eyes get wider as realization hits him.

“You mean the Peter, like the love of your life Peter?” You turn around and face the screens crossing your arms to hold yourself. You watch as Peter gets excited about one of the kids having super speed like him and can hardly contain the smile that wants to take over your face.

“Yeah, apparently he got sucked into this reality last night. That’s what Scott said when I went looking for him.” Jimmy gives you a side hug and gets a good look at your face while the women behind the two of you get to work doing whatever they had meant to do here.

“We should be able to access the data on Haywards devices now.” You and Jimmy turn to face the others.

“Have you been crying?” He whispers to you and you just shrug at him not wanting to talk about it.

“It’s a story for another time.” Jimmy nods at you then walks up to talk to the two of them about this guy Hayward tracking Vision but you turn back around to watch the tvs.

“So who are you exactly?” You turn around at being addressed.

“Oh, I’m Y/n. Hi,” You offer a small wave to them. “I’m Jimmy’s friend.”

“These lovely ladies are Monica and Darcy.” Jimmy introduces the two of them.

“How do you know this Pietro?” Darcy asks as she continues to hack into files.

“Peter, and I spend a lot of time in his reality.”

“Peter is Y/n’s boyfriend of two years.” Jimmy continues on for you after you finish speaking.

“What do you mean his reality?” Monica tilts her head as she asks you this the confusion evident on her face.

“I-”

“Y/n can jump into different realities as she pleases.” Jimmy interrupts you the excitement in his voice evident while talking about your power. “It’s actually pretty fucking cool! She opens up a portal and walks through it before it closes behind her and it came with the power to teleport.”

“So do you know Wanda?” Monica stops Jimmy before he can keep going on about it and you can’t stop the small smile at Jimmy’s excitement about your powers. That’s something that’s never changed and always manages to bring a smile to your face.

“No, why would I know Wanda?”

“I was just assuming you got them the same way as Wanda and Pietro.”

“I was born with them but didn’t realize I even had them until I was like thirteen.” Monica’s phone then rings and she smiles down at it.

“That’s it. My way back into the Hex will be here in an hour. Just gotta meet my guy over the ridge. Let’s roll.” She starts to head towards the door and Jimmy stands up to follow her.

“You can’t do that.” Darcy looks worried as she speaks. Jimmy then says something about how he's a wiz at hotwiring cars and you chuckle at it remembering how you had to teach him when he had a shit car that refused to start after a while. “You can’t go back into the Hex. The boundary has changed your cells on a molecular level twice. It’s changing you.” Monica doesn’t look worried about that at all though and you can’t help but to wonder why.

“I know what Wanda’s feeling and I won’t stop until I help her.”

“Okay. But I’m staying here. I haven’t broken through Haywards last firewall and it has to be something big.”

“Fine, just meet us out there as soon as we can.” Monica then leaves and Jimmy nods at Darcy before looking at you.

“C’mon Y/n.”

“What? I’m not going with you. I love you Jimmy but I gotta stay here and figure out whatever this is so I can get Peter out of it.” You take his seat in front of Darcy and lean back in it.

“Alright, but come meet us when Darcy does.” You nod at him as a response and he leaves after placing a hand on your shoulder.

“So, tell me everything. What’s the Hex? What’d Monica mean when she said she knows what Wanda’s feeling? How can I help?” You lean on your elbows on the table as you speak to the woman in front of you. She lets out a breath of air before answering your questions.

***

“Okay so let me get this right. Vision is dead, like gone gone, and Wanda stole his body that was in pieces from SWORD before doing this.”

“Yeah, that’s right. And Peter showed up last episode.”

“Damn, I’d be mad too. You just come back from being blipped just to find out that your boyfriend is being torn apart and studied by scientists. I can’t say I blame her for creating this little world. And I mean Peter is just the icing on the cake. Bringing your dead brother wow.” You sigh out as you rub your forehead. “She really has everything she’s wanted doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, it’s the perfect reality.” You sit up straight at Darcy’s words before standing up completely and starting to pace around.

“That’s it! Why didn’t I think of it before. I’m so stupid.”

“What?” Darcy seems genuinely interested in what you may have planned. You grab the chair you were sitting in and spin it so the back of it was facing Darcy before straddling it and folding your arms on the top of the back of it.

“Wanda’s basically just created her own reality right?” Darcy nods at you smiling at your enthusiasm. “Then I should be able to get in there. I can get into any other reality why not hers.” You run a hand through your hair as you speak.

“But it won’t be the same as any other reality you’ve been to. She’s controlling everyone in there. Monica was pulled in and controlled.”

“Would she be able to control someone who pops in unexpectedly, someone she didn’t choose to let in?”

“Theoretically she would have to notice you in there first.”

“Then I should be fine right?”

“Possibly but you’d have to be careful. If she saw you and noticed that you weren’t supposed to be there then who knows what consequences that would have.”

“So I’ll hop on in and play along with her little world, popping out here to let you guys know what’s happening. I could be your inside man.” You stand up not letting Darcy tell you otherwise. “Do me a favor and tell Jimmy about this when you see him. I’ll see you guys in a bit.” And with that you open up a portal to town square in Westview and hop in.

You take in surroundings, kids are running around with bags of candy, the movie theatre is playing Incredibles and The Parent Trap, there’s hay bales and pumpkins all around you. Looking down at your attire you notice that you’re in a blue and yellow bodysuit with and X in the middle of your stomach as if it was a belt, across your forehead is a blue headband. For some reason it reminds you of Jean. You shake your head to get out of those thoughts, you’re here to find Peter. It wasn’t hard to find him sitting next to Wanda with that ridiculous hair style. You can’t deny how good he looks though. As you lean on a stack of hay in earshot you can hear Wanda talk about how she felt alone and empty before the world was made. You can’t help but feel bad for her, you know you don’t know exactly what she’s feeling but since you’ve found out your dad’s been dead you can’t help but feel a little empty. The next thing you know her twins are running up to her, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Hey, don’t sweat it, sis. It’s not like your dead husband can die twice.” Of course Peter had to open his big mouth. Wanda blasts him into the cemetery and you gasp. You can't blame her though he deserved it. When she freezes everyone you try to stay as still as you can, glad that the theory that she shouldn’t be able to control you was right. You’re just glad she can’t see you shut your eyes as the red flash she lets out nearly blinds you.

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #peter maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #peter maximof x reader #Wandavision

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erin-bo-berin · 4 years

Text

Hands

MASTERLIST

Happy Monday! What better way to start the week than with some Spencer smut? Huge thanks to the anon who requested this based on a Spencer’s hands post I reblogged. WHEW did I get a bit carried away with writing this though, not that I regret that. His hands are just amazing aren’t they? Hope this fic makes you guys’ Mondays, just a bit better. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 3,821

Fidgeting.

Tapping.

Pointing.

Motioning.

Never staying still.

Repeat.

Spencer Reid had the most glorious hands, ever.

When you first started your job at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, the only thing you’d anticipated was the hard work you’d have to do to fill big shoes.

You had been hired as the Unit’s Press Liaison after Jennifer Jareau, the Unit’s previous Press Liaison, decided to become a profiler. It was an overwhelming offer because JJ had been one hell of a wonderful liaison. The only thing you’d been worried about was living up to the expectations she’d left behind.

What you didn’t expect was your gradual sexual attraction to and crush on Dr. Spencer Reid. Or an intense appreciation for his hands.

You couldn’t believe you had such a thing for them. It was incredibly difficult when you worked with him, as well.

They always managed to attract your attention.

He was always doing something with them. Whether it was fidgeting with a pen, fingers playing with a rubber band, hands gesturing while he explained something or sliding down a page of text as he read, your eyes always returned to them time and time again.

You didn’t have small hands by any means, but his hands were large, most likely twice the size of yours. You could hold your hand up to his in comparison and he’d be able to engulf his in yours.

There were prominent veins on the backs of his hands, something that was incredibly sexy although you couldn’t say why. His fingers were long and slender, clouding your thoughts on the daily, no matter how much you tried to stay professional.

Just the other day you had been presenting a case to the team.

“Chandler, Arizona needs our help.”

You clicked the remote, grisly pictures appearing on the screen.

“Two bodies have been found, exactly one month apart.”

“They look like they’re sleeping,” JJ noted with a frown.

“No blood, no wounds, it all looks relatively clean,” Spencer added, twirling a pencil in his fingers.

You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to look away. You wished like all get out that he’d stop doing that.

“Wait a minute, is that frostbite on the edges of their fingers?” Rossi asked.

“Yeah, I see it too,” Spencer said, looking back at the pictures in his file.

His fingers tapped the areas where the frostbite was most present, absentmindedly gliding over the pictures.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t had constant fantasies about those hands on you, those fingers tangled in your hair, his fingers buried—

“Y/N?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, facing your boss Emily Prentiss who had asked you a question that you’d completely missed.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“I asked if the coroner had identified the marks on their chest. It looks like it’s from a defibrillator.”

You peered at the notes you’d jotted down, not before noticing Spencer quirk a brow in your direction. He’d most definitely caught you staring.

“That’s correct. By the coroner’s reports, both victims had been resuscitated multiple times and not at the same time either. Over a period of time.”

“What the hell is this unsub doing to these people?” Luke Alvez muttered.

“That is what we’re going to find out. Wheels up in thirty,” Emily said, standing, gathering the case file.

You expelled a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding as the team left. You needed to grab your go bag as well before meeting the team at the jet.

But first, you needed to get it together.

•

Your fantasies had returned, unsurprisingly.

You’d given a press conference earlier, met with family members and now was sitting against the edge of the table as the team were recounting what evidence they’d found. Most of it was the beginnings of their profile forming, tossing theories around.

You were only half listening, your mind wandering.

“This unsub’s torture is his twisted sexual fantasy. You know how normal people fantasize about normal sexual things? Whether it be exhibitionism, a certain kink, maybe even a certain part of another’s body, perhaps one’s hands.”

You had to stifle the guilty gasp that had risen in your throat. You felt your face heat. Either Spencer was messing with you or he had ironically and unintentionally somewhat called you out.

He hadn’t even glanced in your direction though. Even then, you weren’t sure what to think. Spencer Reid was definitely one smart cookie, both book smart and common sense smart. He caught on to more things than some gave him credit for.

“This is his sick unnatural version of that. It’s what arouses him,” Spencer continued, oblivious to your inner thoughts.

Well, Spencer certainly did that enough for you. You groaned internally, trying to focus on the case and not your gorgeous coworker. There would be plenty of time to release your sexual frustration later, at home, away from him and the rest of the team.

Although it was such a shame it couldn’t be his own hands caressing you as he fucked you against a wall.

Oh god, you really needed to get some fresh air.

“Agent Y/L/N?”

You turned at your name, seeing the local detective approaching you.

“We have an out of state family member that’s just called and would like to talk to you before he flies out.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. At least that would preoccupy your mind for a short while.

“I’ll be right there,” you nodded.

You turned back to the team.

“Keep me updated on what you find out,” you said before leaving to take the phone call.

You crossed your fingers in hopes that they wouldn’t send Spencer again to fill you in. That was the absolute last thing you needed.

It’s official, your coworkers hated you.

Spencer sat on top of the desk you were sat at, filling you in.

You were trying hard not to, but your body was reacting to him. You could feel the tightness of your breasts under your blouse, your center beginning to throb as you attempted to focus on what he was saying.

It wasn’t just his hands that got you hot, but they were a wonderful addition to an already impressive package.

He was attractive. He was tall and slender, light brown curls that were most likely always in a disarray. He would often push stray curls out of his eyes with a hand, oblivious to the fact he even did it.

He had a jawline as sharp as a razor and cheekbones any woman would envy. His lips were full and a naturally opaque medium pink hue. He had a habit of biting them or licking them when he was deep in thought. He also had this cute habit of poking his tongue out of his mouth while he thought. It was sexy and utterly adorable at the same time.

His smile could literally make a woman’s panties drop and give them butterflies simultaneously. His smile was as big as his brain and just as bright as him. When he smiled, it lit his whole face up, showing a row of perfectly straight and white teeth. His eyes occasionally crinkled at the corners and scrunched up when he smiled real big or laughed.

His eyes were so intriguing to you. Some days they looked brown, other they looked more green. You would guess they were a shade of hazel by how they seemed to change in different lights or depending on different colors he wore.

One thing about those eyes, they never missed anything.

His brains were just as attractive as he was. With his genius and his knowledge and experience of the job, he had become an amazing profiler over the years. It amazed you how he could process information and have a breakthrough in a case that none of the rest of the team could’ve ever thought of.

“Have you heard anything I’ve said?” he asked.

Once again, you forced yourself out of your head to struggle to listen to what he was saying.

“Huh what? Oh yeah, I- okay maybe I missed that last part,” you admitted.

“What’s got you so distracted today?” he asked, curiously.

“Just tired,” you lied smoothly.

Tired of imagining you half naked and sprawled across any of the nearby surfaces.

You shook the thought loose from your head. Focus, focus. You could do that.

“Just quickly run that by me one more time, please?”

•

You tossed a stack of files on your desk, sighing.

It had been a long week.

You’d made it through the last case—it successfully solved and the unsub in custody—within a few days. The team you were a part of were just that good.

You, along with the team, had arrived back at Quantico late last night. Today was a day full of paperwork, wrapping up the loose ends of the latest case. That had to be your least favorite part about this job.

You’d finish your paperwork earlier, also trying to avoid Spencer as the last few days had spiked your sexual frustration. You weren’t sure just how much more one could take.

Luckily—or unluckily, considering how you looked at it—you had a stack of cases to go through. You were going to be staying later than usual, that’s for sure.

Everyone was heading home for the day, but you were just getting started. You were anticipating going through the case files with Emily, when there was a knock at your door.

It wasn’t closed, so the knock was more of a formality than anything.

You looked up to see Spencer in the doorway.

“Hey. Need a hand?”

You had to bite back a groan. This man, you swear.

“Oh, no, thanks though. Emily and I are just staying a little later this evening to knock out some cases,” you motioned to the stack you’d been compiling.

“Actually that’s why I’m here,” he said, stepping in, putting his hands in his suit pants pockets.

“Emily had a personal emergency and asked me to help you out in her place.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, really. I can get it done myself, it’s no problem,” you offered.

“Well you know how fast I can read. Besides, it’s no problem. What, are you trying to get rid of me?”

A small smirk graced his lips.

“Uh, okay. Let me just grab these and I’ll meet you in the briefing room. It’ll have more desk space than this mess.”

You peered at your cluttered desktop, making Spencer chuckle.

“Here, let me help.”

He grabbed the stack of case files and was out the door.

You closed another file that you’d just gone through and sat it on the chair next to you, the table clearing and the pile in the chair, growing.

Turns out, Spencer was right. His quick reading came in handy with going through these potential cases. It’d only been an hour and you’d flown through three quarters of the files.

“Done with this one,” Spencer said, sliding it your way, “Tell the detective to look into the brother of the suspect, he seems promising.”

You raised a brow, but said nothing as you jotted the note down to add to the file, closing it and adding it to the pile.

He was already on the next case, reading it. His fingers scanned down the pages as his eyes took in the information. As much as you tried to resist, your eyes fell to his hands. You just couldn’t help it.

The amount of dirty thoughts you’d had involving them in the last few years was insane. It was hard not to imagine those long, agile fingers buried deep inside you, driving you crazy.

You shifted in your chair, trying to avoid the arousal that was creeping upon you, its fingers just starting to grab a hold of you. You could just imagine those fingers gently gliding over your bare skin, hands gripping your curves, melding into the form of your hips as he held tightly onto them while he thrust deep inside you. You bet he’d feel amazing.

If his big brains were any kind of indicator of his nether regions then you were positive he was well endowed.

The words in front of you in the file were blurring, you couldn’t keep focus. Your mind was a fog that was filled with nothing but Spencer Reid in the most compromising ways.

You blinked to clear the blurring words, reaching for your water bottle to drink some. It had been at least ten minutes since the last time either of you had spoken, so you were startled when you heard him speak, breaking the silence in the room.

“So what’s got you so aroused?”

You almost choked on your swallow of water. You sputtered a bit, wiping your mouth and swallowing the liquid, screwing the cap back onto the bottle. He hadn’t even looked up from the file in your direction when he’d spoken, he was still studying the case in front of him. You stalled, putting your water bottle back in your bag before answering.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re shifting in your seat, crossing and uncrossing your legs uncontrollably and clearing your throat. Your breathing seems to be a little more accelerated than normal and your heart rate has probably spiked. Plus, your face is flushed.”

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to desperately deny it, but you knew Spencer was too good at his job and knew better.

He shifted in his seat, turning to look at you.

“Why are you always staring at my hands? Are they what gets you this worked up?”

You swallowed hard, nodding slightly.

“Answer me, please,” he said not in an unkind tone, but a gravelly element had slipped into his voice.

“Yes,” you whispered.

His teeth raked over his lower lip as his hand pushed your hair back behind one ear, softly trailing down your cheek before grasping your chin with two fingers, pulling you into a kiss.

You were surprised at this turn of events, but returned the kiss, his lips soft against yours. He deepened the kiss, his hand gliding over your cheek, fingers tangling into your hair.

He pulled away from you, his fingers deftly unbuttoning your blouse.

“Wanna see exactly what my hands can do?”

You were dreaming. You had to be. There was no way this was actually happening or the fact that Spencer was trying to seduce you. At some point in the last couple of seconds, he’d pulled you to a standing position, lifting you up to sit on the edge of the table.

“Please,” you murmured, watching him.

His fingers brushed an area of exposed skin with every button he’d opened, making you shiver. Finishing the last button, he pushed the shirt back over your shoulders and you let it fall off your arms and to the floor. You were quite literally sitting on the edge of the table in just your lilac lacy bra and work skirt.

His hands glided up your arms, giving you goosebumps. Although that partly could’ve been because of his intense gaze locked on yours. His hands reached towards your back, unhooking your bra then sliding the straps down your shoulders. When your bra fell in your lap, you pushed it away, hearing it hit the floor. You also thought you heard a deep groan, die in his throat.

You felt suddenly, extremely exposed as his eyes roamed your bare top half.

“Tell me. What kinds of things have you imagined me doing to you?”

At this point, you couldn’t determine if he was just a really good profiler or a mind reader. Your face flamed, realizing he’d probably caught on long ago.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” his lips brushed against yours, his fingers like feathers across your collarbones, before he whispered in your ear, his scruff tickling the side of your face in a pleasant way.

“I like you too. For a long time, Y/N.”

You bit your lip, watching him pull away, the smirk back on his lips.

“Now, tell me. What have you imagined me doing?”

His hands cupped your boobs, squeezing them gently. If your nipples hadn’t already hardened from your arousal, they most certainly would be now.

“Have you imagined this?” Spencer whispered.

The pads of his thumbs moved back and forth over your nipples causing you to gasp. Your core had already been throbbing from earlier but now it had become ten times worse, including the slickness between your thighs as well.

“Or maybe this?”

On one side, his fingers twisted your nipple just slightly and on the opposite side, his hand kneaded your breast more firmly. The whimper that left your throat obviously pleased him.

His fingers found the zipper of your skirt, located at your side, along your hip. He pulled it down slowly. All you could hear was the slow descent of the zipper and your sudden, ragged breathing.

His hands brushed your hips as he pulled the garment off, letting it drop where it may.

With a hand gentle on your back, he pushed you down to lay against the table top then his hands continued their exploration. They glided up over your stomach, fingers tapping down your sides.

You’re pretty sure he could make you orgasm just from his playful touch. You were propped up on your forearms, watching him. Your skin was cool against the tabletop.

“You still haven’t told me what you’ve imagined me doing,” he said slyly, hands just beginning to reach the tops of your thighs.

Without even thinking, your legs immediately parted, ready for his hands between them.

“Nuh uh,” he replied, closing your legs, gripping the sides of your thighs roughly, “I need to be told.”

At this point, you were positive you’d soaked through your panties. You were dying from his touch, yet craving it where it mattered the most.

“I want you to touch me,” you croaked.

“Touch you? But I have been,” he grinned mischievously, rubbing the sides of your thighs, “In fact, I’m touching you now.”

You wanted to groan. Fucking Spencer Reid.

Either you were out of your mind with your current state or just completely lost all will to keep up your sexual frustration for the words out of your mouth were something you wouldn’t normally be so brazen to say. At least not without blushing.

“I want you to use your hands on me until I’m gripping the table and screaming your name,” you gritted out through clenched teeth.

The only reaction you saw from him was the slight squint of his eyes and you felt the grip on your thighs tighten. If it hadn’t been for that, you wouldn’t have thought your words had affected him at all.

He nudged your thighs apart, fingers slowly stroking the insides of them. You were practically quivering with need by this point, your core throbbed for his heavenly touch.

When it came, a feather light brush through the silk material of your underwear, you hissed, the feeling just barely a taste of what you knew was to come.

“Eager are we?”

He could feel how wet he’d gotten you and the wolfish grin on his face, you knew, was because of it.

He remained teasing you, thumb pressing your clit through the thin fabric.

“Fucking hell Spencer, either you do it or I’ll do it myself.”

His deep chuckle sent electricity to your core.

“Why Y/N, I never knew there was this side to you.”

His fingers dipped into the waistband of your panties, pulling them off. He wasted no time getting down to business.

His touch trailed down your slit and a low moan came from you. You couldn’t help it at this point. Months—hell years—of sexual frustration were coming to the surface and you were quite willing him to wreck you.

A finger slid in you easily, obviously with the help of your arousal. You saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, his eyes taking you in. You needed more and you told him so. More digits were added and you easily became a moaning mess.

His knuckles gently rubbed your walls, giving you shock waves of pleasure all through your body. He was as good with his hands as you’d imagined, but the real thing was so much better than your fantasies.

His pace alternated between slow and gentle to rough and quick, keeping you on your toes. Small whimpers and moans were coming from you quickly and you leaned your head back, hips arching into his touch.

You were certain you were going to explode when his thumb circled your clit.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, feeling yourself inadvertently tighten around his fingers.

You were positive he’d felt it too when you heard his own groan come from above you. His beautiful hazel eyes were piercing you, lust filled and prideful that he was the one making you moan and squirm under him.

“Spence,” you whimpered.

Your high was so close, your blood was roaring in your ears and all you could think of was him making you cum harder than you’d ever have before. Your hand gripped the table, your breathing coming in sharp gasps.

One hand gripped his wrist as the coil of pressure that had been growing in the pit of your stomach, exploded. You cried out, pretty sure his name was on your lips repeatedly as your previously tensed muscles, relaxed and you came all over his fingers.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, as you were recovering, your chest rising and falling.

He helped you up, kissing you once again, gently before gathering your clothes and handing them to you with a grin.

Your cheeks flushed as you realized you’d quite literally just came on the round table—where the entire team was briefed on cases, might you add—and because of Spencer.

It was only when you’d gotten your undergarments back on that you noticed him trying to discreetly rearrange himself, that you realized he was trying to hide his own raging arousal.

You don’t know how you’d missed the fact that you’d gotten him incredibly hard. Maybe because you were too busy dying repeatedly over his touch.

“Spencer,” you motioned him over.

You reached for his belt buckle when he walked into reaching distance, fully intending to return the favor.

He stilled your hands, shaking his head.

“Another time.”

You looked at him, confused. His eyes twinkled mischievously, though.

“Next time, I want to show you what other parts of me can do.”

You had to hand it to him. That was one side of Spencer Reid you would’ve never expected.

As he left, you were sure there was going to be a cold shower in the very near future for him.

TAG LIST: @dreatine @reid-187 @groovyreid @reidslibra @suvikamahes98blr @fuckthealarm @iamburdened @cindywayne @tinyminy88 @sundippedprincess @missprettyboy @hushlilbabydoll @sammy-jo1977 @haileymorelikestupid @lemonypink @multifandommandy @teamkiall @redbullchick @ifeelloved @one-sweet-gubler @nanocoool @delightfullyspeedyearthquake @unsteadyimagines @ughitsbaby @inkwiet @pennythetechgoddess @capt-engr-ssa @sixx-sic-sixx @spencersdolore @reidsstudies @disney-dreams-world @chocolatecalzoneherringbonk @mggwhore @andiebeaword @cupcake525 @be-the-bravest @gretaamyk @likelovers @hopebaker @prisonreid @httpnxtt @daviddoughboy @pastathighs @marvels-gurl @blushingspencer @pretty-boy-gubler @victorzsaszmydaddy @inlovewithamess @im-inlovewith-mycar

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utanoprinces · 3 years

Text

Tokki Works Part-time

TN: This is a memorial (bonus text story) from Debut, written from Tokiya's perspective. He's been sent to do some work for the professor (yes, the same one who developed Ai) in exchange for help with operating a complicated video device used during the Master Course. I'm a fairly new translator still, so do take this with a grain of salt! Enjoy, and please don't repost anywhere without permission!

⁂

“Here…?”

Based on the map I received from Kotobuki-san, I've arrived at the laboratory belonging to the professor who developed the monitor.

I look up at the building before me.

Given the dubious name, “Professor’s Laboratory”, I imagined something more ominous, but the exterior appearance gives a very tidy, somewhat ordinary impression.

I press the doorbell and a moment later the door opens to reveal a man wearing a white lab coat.

“Who is it?”

He seems to be somewhere in his thirties. No, maybe even older.

Because of his large glasses, it’s hard to see his face and what expression he has.

“Excuse me. Kotobuki-san referred me to…”

“Oh, I heard~ Ichinose Tokiya, right?”

“Yes. I’m Ichinose. Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise. Feel free to call me ‘Professor’. That's what everyone calls me.”

So this is the “Professor” Kotobuki-san was referring to… It may be rude to say, but his hair is shaggy and the way he talks has an overall shady atmosphere to it.

There's no way this is actually the person who designed the monitor…

“Right. So what is it you want me to do?”

Kotobuki-san had called it an experiment, but I hadn’t even been told what kind of research this person does.

“Ah, I’ll explain the details inside.”

The professor beckons me lightly and turns to go back inside. He guides me to a room that looks like a lab, with simple desks lined up against a gray wall. However, the surroundings are so cluttered that it’s impossible to set foot anywhere.

A mountain of books, an array of miscellaneous equipment... Because of the whole monitor affair, I assumed he might work in the electronic and electrical engineering field, and that assumption doesn’t seem to be wrong based on these surroundings.

“Before the experiment, I’d like to request that you do some office work for me.”

As he says that, he heads deeper into the room, dexterously avoiding the equipment that’s scattered haphazardly across the floor.

It might be my first time walking through such a messy room.

I take a small breath and follow, feeling as though I’m traversing a jungle.

The professor boots up the laptop on his desk and brings over two stacks of paper.

“I want you to input the data here… and rewrite these handwritten documents.”

“All… of it?”

As far as I can tell, there’s a considerable amount.

“It’s a lot, sure, but it’s simple so I don’t think it’ll be too hard. Still, if we had more manpower, we could get done right away.”

Come to think of it, Kotobuki-san also said four people could finish it immediately… and that it’d take one person half a day.

“Go with the manual data first. The format’s already been created, so you should be able to do it without even thinking.”

The professor opens the spreadsheet software and points me to a chair in front of the laptop.

It’s going to take a lot of effort, but it’s a job I’ve accepted, so I have to do it.

I slump down in the chair, feeling somewhat overwhelmed.

I flip through the stack of documents to briefly assess the contents.

It's all numbers lined up in rows. It does indeed seem like it should be done manually.

The one thing that’s bothering me a little is that there is almost no indication of what the data is for. It seems as if it’s been intentionally hidden.

The same goes for the handwritten papers I’m meant to rewrite—it looks as though most of the important details have been omitted.

...he's surprisingly secretive.

“Well, I’m sure you don’t know what any of it means, but since you just have to type it, don’t worry about it, alright?”

I get the impression from his tone that he’s implying I wouldn’t be able to understand it anyway, which makes me slightly irritated.

Even so, he is my employer. I’m a part-timer. Work is work.

“Well then, I’ll get started right away.”

“Sure. If there’s anything you don’t understand, just ask.”

I softly clear my throat and begin to work.

Once I've started, I discover that the formatting and the documents have been designed to be easy to work with, so it makes for surprisingly quick work.

I expected him to be working on something else, but instead, the professor sits beside me and props his elbows on the desk.

“Ichinose-kun. What are your thoughts on the recently-announced discovery that could potentially disprove the theory of relativity?”

When he asks me that nonchalantly, I stop working for a moment.

Why ask me that out of the blue?

It seems strange, but I decide to answer him anyway since I recently read about the news in a magazine.

“Wasn’t it from a foreign research institute? I can’t really speak on it unless I’m given proper evidence. In my opinion, I think it’s a measurement error.”

“Oh, I see.”

The professor nods, maintaining his relaxed demeanor.

“Then… why do you think people get so irritable during the rainy season?”

“That is… it’s probably because of the high humidity.”

“I know, right. Isn’t it awful when everything’s sticky?”

...what the hell is this guy going on about?

After that, the professor repeatedly tries to start a conversation with me.

“Have you tried the latest product from the donut shop in front of the station?”

“I don’t go to places like that too often.”

“Did you know that penicillin was discovered by accident?”

“I have read that. Quite the miracle.”

“Boooriiing~”

“...what was that?”

“An impression of Reiji. Did it sound like him?”

“...that person is even more annoying.”

“You’re right.”

The conversation jumps from topic to topic with seemingly no thread of continuity.

However, it's inefficient to keep talking like this, no matter how simple the work may be.

He doesn’t seem to be the type to enjoy teasing people for their reactions like Kotobuki-san, so just what is he up to?

I can’t help but wonder, but I try to give appropriate replies while continuing to work dispassionately.

Met only by my half-hearted replies, the professor eventually gives up and stops trying to speak to me.

I take advantage of the silence to increase the speed of my work output.

"...kun, Ichinose-kun."

"Yes?"

Before I know it, when I look up, the professor is standing beside me, smiling.

"I’ve been calling you for quite some time. Your concentration is amazing. You must be tired. Here, go ahead."

He offers me something steamy.

Is that… a beaker?

No, a beaker is a beaker… but this thing has a handle.

Is it something he uses for experiments? Inside, a steaming, dark-brown liquid shifts around.

"What is that…?"

"It's coffee."

"I can see that, but…"

I hesitate. To be honest, its appearance is reminiscent of chemicals, which spoils any desire I might have had to try it.

"Oh. It's my special mug. I call it 'bea-cup'."

"Why… the handle?"

"It'll be too hot if you grab it as-is."

Ah...

As I thought, he's a strange person.

I have a headache.

He’s one of Kotobuki-san’s acquaintances. I was prepared for this.

"Come on. Don't be shy. Don’t you like your coffee black?"

"It’s not that. It's just… I appreciate the offer, but I'm not thirsty right now."

"Is that so? Shame."

After I politely decline, the professor responds in a slightly lonely, dejected voice and slinks off to the corner of the room.

Well, the manual data is done. Rewriting doesn't seem to be too difficult either.

I get so absorbed in working that the only ambient sound is that of the keyboard tapping away.

"Finished."

The last one. When I look up after checking over the contents of my work, the professor, who had been reading for a while, raises his brows behind his glasses slightly.

"I'm surprised. You're quick, huh?"

"Thank you."

"Want some coffee?"

"I'm fine."

The doctor stands, pours some coffee for himself, and—bea-cup in hand—peers at me.

"You really saved me. It must have been boring with all those words you didn't understand."

All those words I… didn't understand?

“No, no. I actually found it quite interesting. I thought you specialized in electronics and electrical engineering, but it seems you’ve done a lot of research in a variety of fields like… medicine.”

When I say that, his eyebrows rise even higher.

“...did it say something like that?”

“No. However, with this many units and numbers, it should be easy to make a conjecture. The first half of the data was all about the human body.”

“Oh, I see...”

He shrugs slightly when I present one of the papers to him.

“It’s intriguing data. It seems to me that it entails how muscle and fat tone affect the elasticity of the skin. Not that I can see any use for researching something like this.”

The professor silently lifts the bea-cup to his lips, his large glasses fogging up with steam.

Immediately after, his mouth twists into a grimace.

"Haha. Is that right? Why that certainly strikes a nerve. It’s actually meant to be a countermeasure against middle-aged weight gain."

"Middle-aged… weight-gain?"

“I’m old enough to be curious about it, myself. Even so, when you hear 'macho' it doesn’t fit the image of 'professor', so it’s research to determine how to achieve the ideal body type—not too muscular and not too chubby.”

“I hate to say it, but… Wouldn’t it be better to just go to the gym instead of researching this kind of thing?”

“You don’t get it. It’s not just about how it looks, I care about the feel of it. It’s not enough to simply work out.”

“Haaa…”

“Now that you mention it, you seem surprisingly fit—would it be okay if I take a look?”

“No.”

I duck away from the professor’s outstretched hand and pick up another document.

“Then, how about this one? Chemistry this time. It seemed to me like textile research.”

“Ah, well…”

“This new fiber, when exposed to a certain amount of ultraviolet light, takes in carbon dioxide from the air and—”

“Yeah, I know, it’s my research. Fibers that gradually grow as they’re exposed to sunlight. You want to know why I’m studying something like that?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I like plants a lot, but I always end up killing them by accident. I was thinking I could develop a grass that can grow without water or fertilizer.”

The doctor looks out the window.

“I’m actually growing it right now. Oh—it withered.”

“Isn’t that bad?”

“No… it’s…”

“It’s bad. Next, this one. At a glance, it seems to be a small rocket. A unique feature of this model is that it’s designed to minimize its impact when launched.”

“Don’t all boys dream about rockets?”

“That’s it?”

“You don’t need a reason to dream.”

“...this is all just nonsense.”

I sigh in exasperation.

The person who designed that monitor… I’d been thinking they must be quite remarkable when he was actually just doing all of this...

“I don’t mean to sound like an amateur, but you should at least narrow down your field of research.”

“No! I like doing all types of research, so I can’t pick just one.”

Seeing his flippant smile, I realize he’s even more difficult to interact with than Kotobuki-san.

“If that’s the case, then why not make some sort of composite of the data and try using it for more meaningful research? For example, based on the data about the human body, we can use the fiber to…”

I’m about to turn over the document when the professor hurriedly sets the bea-cup down beside me.

“...?!”

“Coffee… you want some?”

“No…”

The lenses of his glasses glint. I clear my throat and take my hands off the documents.

“So… what do I need to do for the experiment?”

I wasn’t interested in his research from the start. I just wanted to get back at him for treating me like an ignorant teenager twice.

It doesn't seem to be in either of our best interests to pursue this any further.

“Experiment? Oh, it’s already over.”

“Eh…?”

The doctor grins and laughs at my surprise.

“You know how I’ve been talking to you for some time? Lately, I’ve developed an interest in human reactions. I’ve been collecting data from you.”

“And you didn’t even ask for my permission? Isn’t that a little in poor taste?”

“If you’d declined earlier, I wouldn’t have been able to gather accurate data. Besides, I thought the condition was that you were supposed to help with any experiment.”

When he says that, I fall silent. It doesn’t feel good to admit, but he’s right.

“I didn’t think you majored in psychology as well.”

At my pained reply, the professor grins as if to get back at me.

“I research what I want when I want.”

Really… he’s a shady person from top to bottom. Just how serious is that statement?

“You made an unexpected point earlier, but honestly, the reactions of a serious person like you aren’t interesting because you’re so predictable. I would have liked to work with someone with more unpredictability, more erratic behavior, instead.”

“That really is too bad. As you can see, I’m an extremely uninteresting person.”

As I reply, I consider how relieved I am that I hadn’t brought Otoya or [MC] to this part-time job.

I couldn’t endure [MC] being observed this way, let alone Otoya.

Even if it yielded data more akin to what the professor had in mind...

“If you’ve finished your experimenting, then I guess my work is done?”

“Yeah. I suppose you’re right.”

“Then. If you’ll excuse me.”

As I move to stand, a thought strikes me, and I turn back to the professor.

“Speaking of psychology, I do know one thing.”

“Oh…?”

I point in the direction of the eyes watching me through lenses.

“The reason people hide their faces with glasses or sunglasses is that they think that by doing so, they’ll be the only one to see the other person, that the other won’t be able to see their eyes. In other words, it makes them feel less anxious to have a psychological advantage. People who hide their faces for most of the time are actually shy and awkward.”

I wag my finger in front of his large glasses and receive a laugh in reply.

“Haha. You’re a funny one, huh? I see how Reiji’s having a hard time.”

“I’m the one who’s having a hard time.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

I pick up my bag, and this time, the professor approaches me.

“Ichinose-kun. If you don’t mind, I’d like for you to come work for me again.”

“I’m afraid I can’t. I’m busy with other things.”

“That’s a terrible shame.”

For a moment, our eyes meet through the lenses of his glasses. We exchange faint smiles and I leave the lab at last.

#uta no prince sama #utapri #ichinose tokiya #hakase

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wildfey · 3 years

Note

Anon from yesterday back again! About the set-up, a post on twitter explained the theory much better and I gotta look up the name. The gist is that Phoenix could've proved that he was set up. He did not have the time to have a forgery done since he got the job for defending Zak only the day before. Plus the money. Instead, there is no evidence at all he even tried. Why? Because he'd seen the courts' corruption before and decided it didn't matter anymore, plus too dangerous.

(continued) You could even point at his reply to the Judge's words and wonder if Phoenix has nothing to say because he knows it's useless to argue. Hidden powers have already decided that they will attack him and try to drag him down.

okay, okay, hello again anon, good to see you back with another excellent ask.

I always think that there are two ways to look at Phoenix's disbarment:

a) that the problem was straight-up with bringing forged evidence into court, no matter what the circumstances were.

b) that the problem was that Phoenix was assumed to have created the forged evidence and bought it into court intentionally.

Ace Attorney really flips around on which of these is true in universe (it's a plot point to some extent in 1-5, 3-3, 4-1, and 4-4) but considering that Phoenix gets his badge back almost immediately after it's proved that the second wasn't the case, I'm going to assume that presenting forged evidence accidentally is either not an issue or less of an issue. This tends to be the fanon majority stance too. (It's worth noting that Edgeworth is implied to have pulled some strings irt getting Phoenix's badge back. Ymmv and so on.)

With our framework safely in place, the question arises: If Phoenix could have avoided punishment, or at least public shaming, by revealing the set-up, why wouldn't he? As you point out, the forgery doesn't make sense once you start to look into it and we know that Phoenix did put a lot of these pieces together. Hell, he could have made these arguments when Misham testified during the Gramarye trial. But he doesn't. (Warning: this is a more headcanon-y meta than my last one, because the 7yg is... a gap and we have very little concrete info on what the fuck Phoenix was up to. He got a kid, worked on jury trials, played good poker + bad piano, and had some sort of frenemyship with Kristoph. That's pretty much all we've got).

Firstly: Corruption. The AA court system is ridiculously corrupt, and at the point that Phoenix is disbarred, he becomes emblematic of this - he's a man with a history of revealing injustice - notably Von Karma & Gant, but even without them he still won some high profile cases - and once he's disbarred, it's implied that the narrative is flipped, turning him into a figurehead for that which he fought against (dark age of the law, etc). The obvious conclusion is that his disbarment was a convenient way to discredit him - powerful and corrupt figures (and in AA there are many) don't need to fear Phoenix Wright if he isn't a lawyer and his reputation is ruined. The counter argument is that Phoenix... has always done some questionable things with evidence (1-5, 2-4, and 3-3 stand out to me). But no more so than anyone else in this fucked-up universe. Either way, Phoenix has always worked in a system stacked against him, and it's very possible that he suspected there to be manoevering behind the scenes (and there was! We know Kristoph existed and was purposefully working against Phoenix.) HOWEVER, I don't believe that any of this would stop him on it's own, because it's been long established that Phoenix Wright does not give a shit about bad odds.

So, what would make him accept it? Anon, you mention danger in your ask, and I do see that as partially true - Phoenix isn't concerned about danger to himself, but he has a kid to care for. I would say, however, that especially when we come to Kristoph, as much of a bastard as he is, Phoenix had no evidence that he could be violent to the point of murder until 4-1. Before that, his influence was long-distance life ruining, rather than active threat (though long-distance life ruining is pretty scary on its own when you're raising a small child with low funds). I do see that as a cause, but one of many, and this is the point where I'd like to go back to the conversation on motivation.

I am going to make the argument here, as I did in the other answer, that Phoenix, in the 7yg and possibly elsewhere, is depressed, and that one symptom of that is a loss of motivation. It's implied by the game itself, and makes more sense than most of the alternatives.

(I won't get too personal, but the years of my life where I dressed like this... not good years lol)

My headcanon has always been that by the point that Phoenix had sorted out his guardianship of Trucy and got himself out of that initial low that came from having his life ruined, it was too late to fix his disbarment and he had to change tracks, and that's when he became interested in MASON. (Not to self-promote, but I'm realising that a lot of what I've said here is rephrased ideas from The Path Once So Clear, so if you want 15,000-ish words on the subject, it's there). Of course, when talking about Phoenix's 7yg depression, I think it's also important to mention that Phoenix in AA4 is very much implied to be putting on an act (which is pretty common in AA4 in general. Most characters in that game have both a public and private face). Being 'Beanix' - eg. the piano/poker player with no prospects who works in a shitty restaurant and takes nothing seriously - is a convenient cover while he works on the things that he doesn't want to be targeted for (and here we come back to the corruption angle).

As to how far the depression helps that act... well, that could be a whole conversation on its own. Once again, I'm very much coming into headcanon here, but I'm reminded of the phenomenon where someone with depression will deliberately exacerbate it, either as a form of self-harm or as some attempt to fit a role (artists are especially prone, due to the 'depressed artist' stereotype. I see it most in the emo scene). Beanix has always seemed to me as someone who is deliberately messing up his own life - he repeatedly provokes Apollo, essentially sabotaging their relationship, he puts himself into dangerous situations for no real reason (this is a general Phoenix trait), and despite the fact that we KNOW Maya and Edgeworth were supportive of him during this period, we never actually see them around, presumably because he's keeping them at a distance. How much of this is for the act, and how much is real?

Again, we've come very much off topic (whoops) but I see a lot of this as another aspect of Phoenix's low self worth - is there a difference between the image he projects of a man who has given up due to being disbarred, and the real Phoenix who is still actively working behind the scenes but is very obviously not doing well because he can't 'save people' - the thing which so much of his identity relies upon? I think there is, but I also think the image too often becomes the reality, and AA4 does carry this underlying theme of how wearing these masks of a public persona can affect your 'true self'.

As always, I genuinely love to see other people's takes on this, either in the tags, in reblogs, or via asks. This one is very headcanon-y, and I know there some entirely different perspectives out there, some of which I really like. (Also this one got to be heavy. Look after yourselves guys.)

#my post #ace attorney meta #Ace Attorney #Phoenix Wright #depression cw #a big one too #and minor mention of #self harm cw #Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney #replies

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uglypastels · 4 years

Text

Appropriate Action // Tom Holland

(a/n) this goes out to @captainpeggy40 for sending me that gif set of Tom smoking in TDATT. I seriously have a problem, but hey, we wouldn’t have this wihout it so... also damn, i haven’t written a oneshot in ages and its so much easier oof. this was fun.

word count: 4500 (italicized means flashback)

warning: “bad boy”!Tom, smoking, some guys being pigs, tattoos, mention of drinking, (mention of) violence, (mention of) soft drug use. little bit of angst, but it is mostly fluff

hope you all enjoy xxx

“If we see you smoking we will assume you are on fire and take appropriate action.” - Douglas Adams

The car’s engine roared as Tom waited in front of the building. The new paint job was just the perfect touch that his vintage chevy needed. Tom leaned his arm out the window, the other hanging over the sizeable front seat. He stared out ahead of him, looking at the empty road. In a second, groups of students would fill his vision, all gawking at the gorgeous black car. He preferred the attention to be on the vehicle he spent so much time in than himself.

He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with smoke. That bitter, euphoric taste of nicotine was finally taking over. Even though he had only woken up a short while ago, he felt like he had been up for hours. His head was pounding, and he just wished to be back in his small apartment, cut off from the world, just him and something cold to drink.

Tom took the cigarette from his lips, flicking the burned and shrivelled butt out the window, and quickly put it back in his mouth to take another long drag. The cigarette was almost burned up, and he hoped he could finish it before-

Right then, something caught his attention in the corner of his eye. From a distance, it only looked like a colourful blur nearing him, but he knew immediately what- or better said, who it was. He turned his head, cigarette still dangling from between his lips, to look at you walking down the path to the car. Like always, your head was down, and your pace was quick. He swiftly threw the cigarette out the window. Right then you looked up and gave him a small, tight-lipped smile, which he returned to you. All this time, music was playing, so he reached for the volume to lower it a little.

“Hey,” you got in, eyes locked on the dashboard. Tom knew what this meant.

“What did they do?” He looked out through the window behind you, already with two distinct faces in mind to keep an eye out for.

“Nothing, Tom. Let’s just go.” You almost begged him, but he wouldn’t have it.

“Darling, you know I won’t allow those two assholes to be near you, just tell me what they did and I’ll handle it.” He gripped the steering wheel tightly. All you did was pick at the loose name tag on one of your books on your lap.

“You don’t have to do anything, Tommy.” Usually, he hated it when people called him that, but for some reason, when the word came out of your mouth. It made him feel fantastic, better than any cigarette or drink could.

You didn’t know why you were so determined not to get Tom involved in your campus problems. Probably because you knew that he could beat anyone (really, anyone) to a pulp if he wanted to, which meant he would get in trouble. And it just didn’t feel like you were worth that. You didn’t feel like you were worth it for him to get into trouble. Besides, nothing happened. All those frat guys did was look at you and make comments… nasty, disgusting comments, but most the time you didn’t even hear them. You learned to zone it out. There was nothing for Tom to worry about.

You hoped Tom would have started driving, but when you looked up, he was still staring out the window on your side, jaw clenched. You took your hand and placed it on top of his.

“Just drive, please.”

His eyes fell to you for a second, looking straight into your pleading eyes. He could never say no to that face of yours. There was just so much innocence in you. He loved it about you that no matter how much you tried to get out of your shell, there was always this kind of purity and shyness about you.

With a disagreeing sigh, he changed gears and stepped on the gas, leaving the school building behind in the dust. Only the one small cigarette butt on the floor as the only sign that you Tom had ever been there.

You leaned in against his shoulder, but after one inhale of air, you pulled away.

“You smell like a chimney,” you said teasingly. Tom rolled his eyes, but you could see the twitch in the corner of his mouth. All you did, however, was pout. “You said you’d stop.”

“I’m sorry.” He kept on smiling, finding it so cute how hard you tried to get him to stop smoking. But you both knew it was hard to teach an old dog new tricks. “But you have to realise, dove, that this is a losing battle you’re fighting. It’s just simply too good.” To put extra salt on the wound, he reached out for a cigarette in the open pack in the cupholder. He put the little stick between his lips and looked at you with a face that you could only describe as Zoolander-like.

“Besides, look how cool it makes me.” He said before putting the cigarette back in the pack. How much you hated smoking, you had to admit; he looked darn good doing it. The window on his side of the car was still open, softly blowing the wind into his hair. He had let it grow since you met but could always remember how he looked like the first time you saw him.

That was already over a year ago. You stood outside of a tattoo shop for what felt like an eternity. It was a small studio, and it was organising a walk-in sessions afternoon that day. You thought this would be the perfect time to do it.

Finally, you walked inside. Some punk music was playing you didn’t recognise. The walls were plastered with gorgeous artwork, and the shelves were stacked with obscure little items that might have just as well belonged in a witch coven. It looked fantastic.

Still, the place was relatively empty. Only one chair was occupied, but that one machine was enough to fill the room with the buzzing sound. A girl with bright blue hair and several piercings was sitting at the counter, looking bored. Her spirits however perked up when she saw you walk in.

“Hiya, how can I help you?” she smiled.

“I’m here for a walk-in if that’s alright.” It was so evident that you had no idea what you were doing. Still, the girl didn’t say anything about it—the idea of having someone get their first tattoo excited her.

“Alrighty then, do you have any ideas of what you want to get?”

“Uhmm, no. Not really.” your cheeks were heating up, and you were starting to think that you had not thought this through at all.

“That’s alright,” she reassured you. “We got a few folders with ideas over there. Look through them for an idea, and then we can come up with something.” She winked and pointed over to the corner of the room, where antique armchairs were standing. Between them, indeed, a large folder filled with small tattoo designs. You sat down and started going through the pages. It all looked pretty, and it was quite overwhelming actually to pick something.

Eventually, you halted at something that caught your eye. It was a rose with a few petals falling off.

“I hooked up with a girl once that had kind of tattoo,” a voice next to you said, making you jump up. You looked up and saw a guy about your age sitting in a chair, ready to get a tattoo himself. You hadn’t even realised how close the waiting corner was to the actual tattooing station. And now you were wondering how long the man had been sitting there, watching you.

“Excuse me?” you asked, not understanding the need of the comment he had made.

“The rose tattoo, don’t get it.” He simply said. You looked at him a bit better. He was wearing a white t-shirt, which revealed a few gorgeous tattoos slipping out of the sleeves. He had short cut hair, but you noticed that on the right side, it was completely shaved off, giving you a good idea of where he was getting his next tattoo.

“Why not? It looks pretty.” You weren’t thinking about getting it, but it did look nice, which was the big reason you were looking at it. Before this, all the designs were fairly minimalistic. This was the first one with some good detail in it.

“Nothing against the artist, but the design… it’s kind of basic. Nothing against it if you’re into that kind of things, but I wouldn’t recommend it as a first tattoo. Not to mention, it’s a big piece. I would go for something smaller, easier.”

You had not expected a whole essay to come from his mouth, so you stared at him with a slightly open mouth. His chuckle unfroze you again.

“Well, lucky for you I guess, I wasn’t thinking of getting it. But thanks for your input.”

“No problem.” He was about to turn away, but the helpless and lost little child in you cried out for help.

“So what would you recommend?”

He came back around and grabbed the folder from your hand. He flipped through the pages, a bit mindlessly. Eventually, he got to the last page without saying anything and closed it.

“I don’t think you should get one.” He said as he put the catalogue on the small coffee table. You stared at him. You had no response to it.

“Not right now, at least.”

“Why do you think that?” You finally managed to get out.

“Well… why do you want to get a tattoo?” You were about to answer with a half-lie, but he was quicker, “To anger your parents?”

All you did was scoff at his suggestion, but it was enough to prove his theory right. “Hey, I don’t judge. And if there is something deeper going on in that pretty head of yours, go ahead, but don’t go through hours of pain because of them. Do it because YOU want it.”

You didn’t reply, just thought for a second. Then, without saying a word to the handsome stranger, got up and walked over to the counter where the girl was patiently waiting (and most likely listening in to every word of that strange conversation).

“I got an idea,” You quickly went into your phone’s gallery and scrolled through the pictures until you found what you were looking for. “Could you maybe make this like a, what’s it called, like minimal line art. You know, just one continuous line.

The girl looked at the picture, and a giant smile beamed across her face. “Absolutely! If you can send it to my email, I’ll go and trace it for ya real quick.” She scribbled down her email address, and with a few clicks, you shared the image with her. She told you that it would probably take a few minutes so you could sit back down. Right, next to your anonymous helper.

His artist had come back from wherever he had been and was preparing the ink and machine. The helpful man, however, sat in the chair, frozen like you had left him. Clearly, he didn’t expect you do go and get a design done.

You sat down opposite of him, quite proud of yourself.

“Well… I didn’t exactly expect that, but I hope you’re happy with your tattoo.”

“Thanks, I am.” You nodded, “I hope you are with yours. And that it won’t hurt too much.” You winced at the idea of getting your head tattoed. You head heard that places closer to the bone hurt more.

“You can watch if you want.”

“I’m alright, thanks.” You declined his offer.

“Aight, Tom, take a seat, mate.” The tattoo artist told the man. Tom gave you one last smile before laying down and facing away from you, giving the tattooist proper access to his momentary canvas. You watched him place the stencil carefully. You couldn’t see what it was exactly, but it looked big. Definitely, one of those designs you would not be ready for at this moment. And the girl called you to get your own stencil on.

And the rest, as people say, was history. You got your tattoo done much quicker than Tom did. Of course, he realised this and immediately grabbed the chance to call you over to him so he could speak to you again before you left his life forever. You sat next to him, watching him get his tattoo, and talked. It was strange. It was as if you had known each other for much longer than just that afternoon. And the afternoon ended with him asking you for your phone number, which you gladly gave.

Things stayed just as smooth and comfortable between the two of you for all those months. His hair had grown and was now long enough for you to brush your fingers trough. He might have not said it out loud, but you knew that was a big reason for him to let his hair grow out. It did mean that the tattoo that started it all was completely covered. It was like a little secret between both of you.

You felt safe with him, but almost more importantly, you felt like yourself. He never made you do anything. He was the only person in your life that did ask anything from you, never made you do anything. But at the same time, he introduced you to this entire new side of you that you didn’t even know existed. You began to worry less about what other people thought of you, you were less scared of trying new things, even if it meant getting into a little bit of trouble now and then. It felt great.

Tom drove you to his apartment like he did every Friday. With no other plans for the day or the upcoming weekend, you were free to do whatever you wanted. Even if it meant staying in bed for the entirety of three days, eating ice cream and watching dumb movies.

Tom’s flat was the last place your parents would have wanted you to be. It was… grungy. It was large enough for him and your occasional sleepovers. The theme he was going for with his decor was most likely a “strange second-hand store” with his mismatching, half-broken furniture. He had an extensive collection of vinyl records, the most significant part of it containing artists you had never heard of before. He kept his little coffee table quite empty, except for the tall glass bong standing in the middle (that may or may not have been a birthday present from you). And he had bookshelves filled with everything in the range of classic horror novels, to comic books. It was your favourite place in the world.

Yet, when you were only a few blocks away from the building, you made him stop the car.

“What’s up?” He asked after parking the car on the side of the road.

“Let’s go to the park,” you suggested. It had been lovely weather the entire day, and you longed for stretching your legs and finally enjoy the sun. Tom wasn’t much of a park person, but he did enjoy going on walks with you. He was about to start up the car again but then stopped. Before you could ask if something was wrong, he leaned to the side to you and kissed you deeply. With his hand on your cheek, it heated up your entire body, and you grabbed his shirt, needing something to hold on to. You could taste that cigarette he had smoked before you got into the car.

“Hmmm, just a second,” you said after pulling out. You opened your bag and searched for a second until you found the box of breath mints. Tom, already well aware of the procedure, rolled his eyes and held out his hand flat open. You tipped over the container, spilling three large mints into his hand.

“C’mon, these taste like shit,” he groaned. You just looked at him until he put them in his mouth.

“You wouldn’t have to eat ‘em if you didn’t smell like cigarettes.” You shrugged, putting the mints back in your bag. Tom still didn’t seem convinced about your method, but he didn’t say anything more. He stepped on the gas again, and you were finally off to the park.

You were glad he had the window open because it was apparent he had smoked in the car recently. Fortunately, with every minute passing by driving, the smell got less prominent. Before you knew it, you had arrived at your destination and could step out. You hopped out of the car and made your way to the other side to meet Tom. He brushed his fingers through his hair as he stepped out. You could tell how cool he thought doing so, and you could agree. He looked mesmerising. In his old denim jacket, covered in DIY patches, his grey shirt and old, slightly warn through jeans, he almost looked like he could replace Patrick Swayze in the Outsiders.

Somehow, it all worked for him just fine.

He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in for another kiss. You were just glad the mints were doing their job, but no matter that, just the feeling of his soft lips against yours made you melt any time.

But you also wanted to enjoy the weather in the lovely surroundings. Hence, you unclasped yourself from hid grasp and manoeuvred around him to hold his hand. That didn’t seem like enough to Tom, so, still holding your hand, he pulled you in closer to drape his arm over your shoulders.

Because that was the thing about Tom. He was intimidating to most. Dark, mysterious, brooding. A real loner. There were barely any people who he opened up to. One of the few, if not the only one, is you. And that was why you knew how soft he really was. He loved to have you near him, preferably holding you or at least your hand. He loved those moments on the days you were with him, where you ate breakfast in bed and told each other about the dream you had the night before. He loved having you around, and he loved being yours.

Ever since he remembered, he always denied the question of what his biggest fear was. First, because he simply didn’t know, but know it was just too hard to admit that he was afraid of something terrible happening to you. So when he picked you up from class and saw the speed at which you walked at to the car, never looking up to chat with friends. He saw the need at which you wanted to get out of there, meaning that there was something in that building you needed to get away from. It was definitely a someone.

He wished you would just tell him what the problem was. He would do anything for you. Which was most likely the reason you didn’t tell him. Because you knew he would do anything. Even if it meant he’d be in danger. It wouldn’t matter to him.

But while his fear was losing you, yours was losing him.

That was nothing to think about at that moment, though. You were in a lovely park, holding each other close. There were a lot of families around with the same idea as you, to enjoy the pleasant weather outside in the shade of the large trees.

You walked around the park, his arm hung over your shoulders. At one point you had wandered off to small open field between the trees. It was a perfect spot to sit down. The grass had clearly just been cut because the fresh smell was overwhelming. Tom lay down with his hands behind his head, and you used his stomach as a pillow. You looked up at the blue sky, pointing out the different shaped clouds.

“Ooh, that one looks like a dragon!” you pointed at one on the left. When you glanced at Tom you realised he hadn’t even been looking, his eyes entirely focused on you.

“You’re not looking!” you playfully slapped his side to which he responded with a soft groan. This was followed with the both of you laughing for a while. Then Tom reached out into his pocket and to your horror, you saw that he pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. He put it between his lips and was about to flick open the lighter you grabbed it out of his hand. He looked at you in confusion.

Mumbling, since he still had the little stick of cancer in his mouth, he said: “Ekfcufe me?”

“No way are you smoking here.” “There’s no one here.” He sighed after pulling the cigarette out of his mouth.

“I’m here. Nature is here.” You argued.

“Nature is here?” Tom raised an eyebrow, holding in his laughter. You nodded frantically. That didn’t seem to work because he put it back in his mouth, letting it dangle from his lip. So, you reached out and grabbed that too, just like the lighter. And you put it in your own mouth. You had smoked before, just to try, and it was quite disgusting. It was another reason why you never understood Tom’s love for it.

“What are you doing?’ Tom said, some panic covering his voice. As much as he enjoyed it, he knew how bad it was for him. Out of all the things he introduced you too, he always wished you never took up smoking.

“Well, if you need to smoke so bad, I don’t want to be left out.” You flicked on the lighter and were slowly putting it closer to the cigarette. Your eyes, however, were locked on Tom’s. Was he going to call your bluff? The little flame was about to burn the-

“Alright! I won’t smoke here.” He stopped you. Once again, proud of your intervention, you gave him the cigarette and put the lighter in your own pocket.

“Now go throw that out.” You told him. “And I mean all of it.” You had seen a trashcan on the path leading to the open space, so you pointed him that way. Slowly, Tom got up and slouched his way toward to bin. Satisfied, you closed your eyes and lie down on the grass.

But that only lasted for a few seconds. You could hear footsteps and loud noises coming from the other side of the field. The voices made your blood freeze and get up quickly. It sounded like they were coming your way, and you did not want them to find you lying on the ground. The thought of that happening alone- no. You didn’t want to think about it.

You got up and were dusting yourself off from the grass, already walking in the direction Tom had went. But it was too late, they saw you.

“Well, if it isn’t our little y/n!” one of them shouted out. Jack. You didn’t turn around, just kept on walking. But they were much faster and quickly caught up to you, cutting off the path.

“Uhm, hey guys,” it was a wonder any sound came out of your mouth and that they heard it.

“Well, what are you doing here all by yourself?” asked Jack with a tone that sounded as sweet as marmite to you.

“I’m not actually,” you tried to get through, to walk away from there, “I’m with my boyfriend-”

“Oh, with your boyfriend, are ya?” Jason added with a disgusting smirk. “Out in the field, huh. Wondering what you two had been up to.” They both sniggered like the idiots they are.

“Do you think we can join ya?”

“No.” You said, determination coming up slowly in your voice. Very slowly, but it was progressing. You could see over their shoulders that Tom was making his way back, and he noticed your new company. This gave you the real confidence you needed.

“No? Awh c’mon, don’t be like that.” Jack was about to grab your hand, but you pulled it away from his reach.

“I said no. I don’t know how many fucking times you dickwads need to hear it.” And then you did something you still don’t know how it exactly happened. With a rush of adrenaline, in a quick move, you punched Jason in the face. So fast that his buddy Jack couldn’t even comprehend what happened before you kicked him in the groin.

Without wasting another second you made a run for it, meeting Tom only a few feet away. He had clearly seen what happened and stood frozen on the path to where you were.

“Were you planning on joining or?” You said as you ran by, not wanting to stop there. Tom quickly got the hint and followed you. You had to get to his car. And fast.

“Holy shit, y/n, what was that?” Tom asked in astonishment when he caught up to you, which didn’t take that long. You, however, didn’t answer. Not wanting to waste your adrenaline rush on answering a question that could just as quickly be answered somewhere safer.

You ran through the whole park, all the way to the car: passing families and pigeon-feeding elderly. Finally, you could see the car. Unluckily, it couldn’t be unlocked from a distance. Tom sprinted up and put the key in the lock. You had reached the other door right on time and slipped inside.

You were both heaving air, you clutching your chest, Tom adjusting the rear-view mirror to see if the two frat boys had followed you. Realising you were once again alone, you simultaneously erupted into laughter.

“Wow-” you breathed out, “that was-”

“Brilliant.” Tom managed to chuckle, “You were brilliant.” He reached out to pull you against his side and kiss your forehead. “Fucking brilliant.” He repeated with a whisper.

“I don’t know what came over me.” You said in disbelief, looking at your red knuckles. Tom took your hand and kissed most severely red part of your skin.

“It was those guys from school, right?” He asked. All you could do was nod. You hadn’t told him much about what they had been doing, but you knew he was clever enough to figure this out somewhat by himself. He didn’t ask any other questions.

“I’m so proud of you, babe,” he said, “Kicking that asshole like that, I’m almost scared of you.”

“Oh, almost, huh?” you questioned.

“Well yeah, you’ll always be my little dove.” Still holding your bruised hand, he leaned in to kiss you.

At that moment, both of you knew you had each other’s back. You loved each other. Everything was fine, there was nothing to fear, nothing to worry about.

The End

> thank you for reading!!

> pleae leave a comment or ask, i’d love to hear what you thought about it

>masterlist and link for taglist in bio

tagging:

@definitely-not-black-cat @artemisiaarm @nerdyhockeygirl @miraclesoflove @justasmisunderstoodasloki @thefridgeismybestie @m19friend @creative-happenings @parker-holland-osterfield @fanficparker @fanficscuziranout @peterparkoure @xxtomxo @happywolves81 @captainbuckyy @tra-gicx @qxeen-of-hearts @varshavisuu @kangaroobunny @petersunderoos96 @the-lost-fairy-tale @nerd-domland @sleepybesson @rissa067 @the-queen-procrastinator @scarletteclipze @screeching-student-unknown @tomhollanders2013 @miraclesoflove @playinonaloop @queenoflostspirits @roses-hxlland @hereiamhereigo @sunnydays0803 @averyfosterthoughts @moorehollandplz @beiroviski @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @peterparkerbabyyy @multifandomlover21 @lmaotshollandd @badbitchydecisions @tikapollak @starkeybabie @awesomehritz @madzleigh01 @oh-what a beautiful-parker @taciturnspidey @quaksonhehe @mountainsforwords @harryfobter @peepeeparkerr @viagracex @ethereal-beauty-p @perspectiveparker @slytherin-chaser @worldoftom @duskholland @the-claire-bitch-project @moonysoftt @peeterparkr @wazzupmrstark

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ssfghfrrggf · 3 years

Text

Heavy is the Head Chapter 8 Going Down

Ao3 link

“Excuse me, chief, do you have a minute?” Gallo asks, knocking on the door to Casey’s office. He can’t believe he’s actually taking Ritter’s advise and apologizing for what he said the last shift. He meant it, and he knows he lucky Casey didn’t fire him on the spot. Boden probably would’ve, but then again, Boden probably would’ve listened to him.

“Yes, I’m glad you came in here actually,” Casey says, inviting him into the room. Severide is standing in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest. They were probably talking wedding stuff.

“Before you say anything, Chief, I’d like to apologize for what I said and how I acted last shift,” Gallo says, forcing himself to sound sincere. He hopes Ritter is right about this. “There’s no excuse for how I acted.”

“I agree, there’s not,” Casey says stiffly but digresses as Severide clears his throat. “But I’m going to let you look into your hunch.”

“Sir I-” Gallo starts to argue, but then registers what Casey said. “wait, you’re letting me? Really?”

Casey nods. “But I’m letting Severide take point on it. I don’t want you running all over creation with this. And if he thinks you need to take it back a notch and you don’t listen to him, then I’m going to hear about it. Got it?”

“Yes sir,” Gallo says, nodding his head and glancing over at the squad lieutenant. “You won’t regret this.”

“I better not.”

Gallo’s grateful for this chance to pursue these fires, but he can’t help but feel like Casey still isn’t taking it seriously and that he’s just dumped all the responsibility off onto Severide.

“So what are you thinking the connection between these two cases is?” Severide asks, as Gallo follows him back to his office. “I looked through the files and nothing stood out to me. I also know the investigator who did all three cases, he’s a solid dude.”

“Honestly, I’m not really sure,” Gallo admits. “They just struck me as odd, you know?”

Severide nods thoughtfully. “I know the feeling. Sadly fire chiefs and juries need more than hunches. Especially when there’s reasonable explanations for everything.”

“I was kind of hoping we could go look at the scene or something,” Gallo suggests hopefully.

Severide sighs. “I can give Phil a call and see if he’ll hold the scene and let us have a look at the last fire, but the other two scenes were cleared a long time ago.”

“Thank you lieutenant,” Gallo says, he can’t put into words how happy he is that he’s being allowed to work on this.

“Yeah, and here are your copies of the files,” Severide says, handing him a stack of files.

“I get files?” Gallo asks, trying not to sound too shocked.

Severide looks amused and conceals a chuckle. “Yes, you get files. You gotta figure out this hunch of yours.”

“Oh- oh.” Gallo’s really not sure what he was expecting from this, but this isn’t really it. He figured Severide would take the case and he’d have to wait around for the lieutenant to figure it out and then bring him into the loop. But now he gets to be part of the loop. He gets to take a more active role than annoying his superior officers until they do what he wants and take him seriously. The situation is quite literally in his hands.

“I’m going to give the files my own look over, but this is your thing.”

“Thank you,” Gallo breathes, and he means it. From the bottom of his heart he means it. Someone is finally taking this seriously.

***

“I still can’t believe he proposed to you in a freezing pool after you pulled him out a window,” Mackey muses, as she, Brett, and Foster are sit around admiring the ring Severide got Stella, like they’ve never seen an engagement ring before.

“It doesn’t surprise me one bit,” Stella says, keeping her hand held out in front of her. It’s been quite a few years since she had a ring on that finger, and it’s a little strange, but it feels right. Right like nothing else has felt right before. “I think it was cute.”

“Only you would call that whole situation that,” Foster laughs. “Almost dying in a fire and then getting soaked in a freezing pool? No thanks.”

“I’m just glad that pool was there, because let me tell you, a hospital proposal would’ve been awful,” Stella jokes. It seems like her and Kelly have spent so much time in the hospital, she doesn’t need a proposal there. As little memories associated with that place as possible, the better.

“You didn’t know the pool was there?” Brett asks, looking at her in shock. “You neglected to mention that all the times you’ve told the story.”

“No, the only thing I was worried about was not getting burned alive,” Stella laughs.

“But she’s got good extinct,” Kelly says, coming up behind her and rubbing her shoulders and leaning his head over her to pant a kiss on the top of her head. “Saved my ass more times than I count.”

“I don’t know how you survived before I came along,” Stella teases and reaches up to pat his cheek.

“Oh it was rocky,” Casey joins in the converversation as he makes an appearance to get a refill on his coffee. “There’s nothing to explain how he managed it. Broken neck and blown up with a grenade, what a year apart?”

Severide ducks his head nervously and shrugs off the jab. The grenade incident has been briefly discussed before, but Kelly stands by the firm assertion that he doesn’t remember any of it. Which very well may be true, but Brett remembers it vividly and hates talking about it. The only reason he didn’t die on that hospital floor was because Mills had found him and stopped Dr. Halstead from black tagging him.

“Like I said,” Stella says with a playful smirk. “It’s a miracle you made it to adulthood.”

“Really, that goes for any man, I think,” Foster says, leaning back and propping her feet up on the table. “We’re the reason any of them make it past adolescents. The only ones who don’t need us are the ones who are smart like Ritter.”

“Please don’t bring me into this,” Ritter says, poking his head from his book.

“Well, Severide gets some credit, even if he did propose to you in a swimming pool in the middle of January, because he did it,” Sylvie points out. He blew their plan, but he asked and now him and Stella are going to get married.

***

“You look busy,” Ritter comments, dragging Gallo’s attention away from his files for the first time since Severide handed them to him.

“Yeah, I finally got a hold of the files from those fires,” Gallo says diverting his attention only for a couple seconds to look at his friend before digging back into the files. He has yet to find anything linking them together other than his gut feeling, but he’s going to dig until he finds answers.

“So apologizing worked?” Ritter says and sits down on the bed next to him.

“Shut up. He was going to let me do it even before I apologized,” Gallo says. He’s never going to admit out loud that it probably did help his chances.

“Mhmm,” Ritter says and flips open one of the files. “So what exactly are you looking for here?”

“I don’t know, that’s half the problem,” Gallo says with a sigh. He’s been looking at the files for what feels like ages but he can’t seem to find anything tying the cases together.

“Hey, kid. You up to take a ride?” Severide asks, approaching them. “My buddy in arson said we can go poke around the scene..”

“Yes!” Gallo says and hops off the bed, trying to keep his excitement at bay. “Oh I gotta check with Lieutenant-”

“I already did. She practically begged me to take you off her hands for a couple hours. Go grab your gear and get in the Squad,” Severide says jerking his head toward the door. He looks amused by Gallo’s excitement, but keeps any comments about it to himself.

“Thank you lieutenant,” Gallo says as he walks past the squad firefighter to get to the bay. For some reason he really wasn’t expecting things to go like this, he half expected Severide to give him the run around and not take his crazy theory seriously, the same way Casey had.

“Yeah,” Severide shrugs and turns to follow him.

***

“Hey, lieutenant,” Gallo calls from down the hallway in the dark gloomy house. The kid sounds concerned and like he’s just found.

“What’d you find?” Kelly asks, shining his flashlight in the direction of the kid. He conceals a shiver as a drop of water falls from the sealing and goes down the back of his shirt sending a tickle down his back.

“This door right here,” Gallo says and points to the door leading out onto the back porch of the house. “There’s scratches in the wood around the lock and bolt.”

Severide frowns at it, the wood is splintered away and chipped like the door was pried open with a crowbar or some other tool like it.

“It wasn’t in the report,” Gallo adds, and he’s right. There hadn’t been anything in the arson report about the apparent forced entry marks that they’re looking at now.

“I know,” Severide says and pulls out his phone to take a picture of it. Phil has always been meticulous with his investigations, and has some of the cleanest neatest reports in the department. “I’ll call Phil when we get back to the house, but we’ll keep poking around here to see what else we can find.”

He hadn’t been convinced by Gallo’s theory, especially after reading the reports. They were all so different. The christmas tree fire that had happened on Roosevelt was because of a frayed wire on the christmas lights, the fire before that on Loomis had been caused by lint in the dryer, and the one from the previous shift, the one they’re at now, was caused by a gas stove malfunction. There’s essentially nothing connecting them, but just because there’s nothing connecting them doesn’t mean this one isn’t arson, and two parents died leaving their kids orphans so he owes it to them to pursue this, especially with the possible new evidence of foul play.

“Hey, lieutenant, we got a call,” Tony says, poking his head around a corner down the hallway from them.

Severide sighs and looks at Gallo. “We’ll come back later.”

***

“Hey lieutenant, you wanna go have another look around that house? See if we can find anything else that points to fowl play?” Gallo asks, poking his head into the lieutenant's office. They’ve been back from the squad rescue for about an hour now, he wanted to give Severide time to fill out his paperwork for the run before pestering him to go back and have another look at the house.

He’s not surprised to see that Stella is in his office with him, sitting on his bed. She has some kind of magazine that looks like it’s for wedding stuff, and the paperwork sitting on Severide’s desk is only half filled out.

“I don’t think we’re going to find much,” Severide replies, clicking his pen and leaning back in his chair. “I called Phil. He said those marks were from crews making entry, and that the paper work for it got mixed into the wrong file.”

“But what if there’s something else in that house that points to fowl play?” Gallo argues.

“Look, I’ve got paperwork I need to finish up. We can maybe go back after shift.”

Gallo swallows back an angry remark and settles for a curt “Okay” to dismiss himself from Severide’s office instead.

***

“Hey, lieutenant, do you want to take another look at that house?” Gallo asks, jogging to catch up with Severide and Stella as they leave shift.

Severide sighs and turns away from Stella to face him. “I’ve got some stuff I need to do. I’ll give you a call if I have time later, but I really don’t think we’re going to find anything else at that house.

“You know, for a second there I thought you’d take this seriously,” Gallo spits angrily. He can feel Ritter next him, willing him to rein it in, but he’s too angry and too worked up. He’d thought- or hoped really, that the lieutenant would take him seriously and put actual work into this case, but he’s blowing it off.

“Gallo-” Severide starts to speak, indignation smeared all across his face.

“You’re going to regret blowing this off when someone else dies!” Gallo shouts, unable to stop himself. “There’s an arsonist out there targeting families and you’re letting them get away with it because you think your stupid wedding planning is more important!”

The shock on Severide’s face switches to anger, and there’s a second where Blake thinks the man might actually deck him, but he doesn’t care.

“Watch it.”

“No, you’re blowing me off just like Casey is. You don’t care. People are going to die- have died, and you don’t care,” Gallo snaps, and turns on his heals and leaves before the lieutenant can respond. He doesn’t care if he gets fired for all the yelling at superior officers he’s been doing lately. People are dying and he’s the only one who seems to be noticing it, and if he has to get fired to make people see it, than so be it.

“Gallo,” Ritter breathes, following him toward his car.

“I’m done being blown off,” Blake interrupts him. “If they don’t believe me or care, fine. I’ll solve the case myself, because I’m right.”

***

“Hey, Kelly, you ready to come to bed?” Stella says in her best seductive voice as she stands in the doorway of their bedroom trying to get Severide’s attention.

“No,” he mumbles, barely even looking up at her. He hasn’t looked away from the fire files for more than a minute since they got home. Stella sighs and walks over to the couch, giving up on her attempt to get a couple minutes with him.

“You’re really torn up about this, aren’t you?” she says quietly plopping herself down on the couch next to him, and picking up one of the files to flip through it.

“He was right,” Kelly replies under his breath. “I didn’t mean to be blowing him off, but I was. I didn’t take it seriously or as seriously as I should’ve. If he’s right this could be huge.”

“Well, you are now,” she points out and runs her fingers through the hair on the back of his head. “Hang on…” she trails off as her gaze settles on one of the pictures from the fire on Roosevelt where the christmas tree had burned the house down.

“What?” Severide asks, looking at her.

“It’s not the focus of the picture, but that back window is broken,” she says pointing to the picture.

“Yeah, report says it was from ventilation,” Severide says, losing interest and turning his attention to a different file.

Stella frowns and shakes her head. “We never vented the back windows.”

This stops Severide and gets his attention. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure we didn’t break that window. We didn’t touch the back side of the house, and engine hit it from the front.”

“There’s no chance you’re remembering wrong?”

“Kelly, I’ve been a lieutenant for what? A couple months? I haven’t been point on a lot fires, but I remember the ones I did like the back of my hand,” Stella promises, looking him in the eyes.

Kelly’s frown deepens and he hands her another file. “Did you make entry through the back on this one?”

It’s the fire that lead to Severide proposing to her, but it’s hard to have fond memories of it. Gallo and Ritter barely made it out alive, let alone her and Kelly.

“We didn’t touch the back door,” Stella says looking at the pictures her fiance has just put in front of her. “And look there’s charing on these scratches.”

“Which means they were made before the smoke got bad, I know,” Kelly finishes for her. “And I assume you guys didn’t touch the basement door on that fire on Loomis.”

“No,” Stella says, shaking her head. She’s not sure exactly what the two of them just stumbled on, but she does know whatever it is, Gallo was right.

“Gallo was right,” Kelly says leaning back on the couch and letting out a deep sigh.

“Are you going to call Phil and have him reopen the cases?” Stella asks.

“Not yet,” he replies without looking at her. She can tell he’s planning something- has some idea running through his mind.

“What are you thinking?” she asks, studying him closely, hoping he’ll actually let her in on whatever crazy idea is running through his head.

“We need to go look at those scenes,” he says looking over at her, and she can tell there’s something else on his mind.

“Kelly, they’ve already started renovations on two of them. Now tell me what you’re really thinking,” Stella says and rubs the back of his neck. She can feel his tension. There’s definitely something going on with these cases but they can’t run into it willy nilly.

“All three of these were Phil’s cases,” Severide says slowly, flipping the file in his lap closed.

“And you think he’s covering something up?” Stella asks. That’s a big accusation, and if that’s the case, they definitely need to come at this carefully and thoroughly. You can’t come at an arson investigator with that accusation without evidence that is rock solid.

“I don’t know Stella. It doesn’t make sense. I know him. He wouldn’t cover something up, but he’s also not sloppy,” Kelly says, getting flustered. “But one case is a fluke, two is a coincidence…”

“And three is a pattern,” Stella finishes for him.

“Three is a pattern,” he repeats hesitantly and looks away from her. “I don’t get it Stella…”

“Kelly-”

He shakes his head and stands up. “I need to call Boden.”

“Kelly, please don’t shut me out on this,” Stella says, standing up too, and grabbing his hand.

“There’s a couple other cases I want to look into,” Severide replies after a moment of hesitation. “I think it’s possible that they’re connected to these, but I need to talk to Boden first.”

“What cases?” Stella asks, looking him in the eyes.

***

“What if we asked Boden for help?” Ritter suggests. He’s been helping Gallo sort through the arson files since they got of shift the day before last, and it’s been grooling. Blake is relentless in getting to the bottom of this, but the best thing they’ve found is a couple inconsistencies between how Gallo remembers things going down on the fire scene and how things were listed in the arson reports. Ritter isn’t really sure which is more stressful, watching Gallo run himself ragged trying to solve this thing or the fact that there’s probably an arsonist out there burning families up and there’s very little they can to do to stop them until the hit a real break in the case.

“He’s retired,” Gallo says flatley and throws his bag of personal belongings over his shoulder before slamming his car door.

“But he has friends who aren’t,” Ritter points out. “He probably knows someone who could get us a meeting with those first two families.”

“You think they’d talk to us?” Gallo asks, looking up from the file that currently has his attention.

“Yeah, I mean if it were my house that burnt down, I’d want to help figure it out,” Ritter says. “Or you could ask Casey since he probably has some good connections and could move faster on it.”

This makes Gallo snort.

“What?”

“Casey thinks this whole thing is a load of crap. Hell maybe he’s right and I am crazy,” Gallo scoffs, shaking his head. “Regardless, he won’t help.”

“Gallo, what made you think the cases are connected?” Ritter finally asks. He thinks it’s quite possible his friend is onto something, but he wants to know what it was that made him see a connection, what clicked.

“The families,” Gallo replies after a moment of thoughtful silence. “They reminded me of my family, and I always kind of wondered. They said the fire was started by a gas stove…”

“But you feel like there was more,” Ritter says, finishing for him. “And when the report came back on that 3rd house being a stove fire-”

“Yeah,” Gallo interrupts him. “But there’s something else about them, the fire spread and how quickly they reached flashover there was just something so similar about them, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

***

“Gallo, we need to talk.” Severide is waiting for him on the app floor when he and Ritter get to work. Stella is waiting with him. Both of them have grim expressions on their faces like whatever they’re about to tell him is serious. They’ve probably decided to reprimand him for the way he lit into Severide coming off the last shift, which he’d probably deserve. He’s been testing a lot of people’s authority and pushing a lot of respect boundaries lately.

“You’re not in trouble,” Stella adds, glancing over at her fiance.

“We found something.”

“What?” Gallo breathes, he’d thought for sure that after their fight last shift, Severide wouldn’t want anything to do with the case.

“We’ll talk in my office,” Severide replies, nodding his head toward the door to inside, but before they can make it more than two steps the tones sound.

“Engine 51, Truck 81, Ambulance 61, Squad 3, Battalion 25, multi story residential structure fire.”

“We’ll talk when we get back,” Severide promises as he heads to the squad truck.

***

It’s a three story building, and dispatch radios in as they roll onto scene that it’s a duplex with multiple residents. A block away Stella knew it’d be a big one, but arriving on scene it’s worse than she thought. All three floors are burning, and there’s heavy smoke.

“What’s our plan, chief?” Stella asks as they unload off the truck.

“Fire’s in the roof structure, so I don’t want crews up there, so truck and squad do a quick primary search. Then get out. This place is going up fast.”

“You got it chief,” Stella says, already masking up. “Mouch and Gallo, take the ladder up to the third floor. Nathan you’re with me, we’ll take the second floor.”

“Capp and Tony you two are together, Cruz your with me. We’ll clear the first floor and move up to help out,” Severide orders masking up with his firefighters.

“Be Careful in there,” Stella calls over her shoulder as she and Nathan head inside. Black smoke is already pouring out of the open door.

The first floor seems to mostly just filling up with smoke, it’s not even thick enough that they have to crawl in order to see. Stella can hear Squad making entry behind them as she and Nathan head up the stairs to the second floor. The second story is worse. The smoke gets thick and black before they reach the top of the stairs, to thick to see much of anything.

“Alright get down, Nathan,” Stella orders, dropping down onto her hands and knees. “Keep one hand on my ankle, if I stop feeling you touching me, I’m going to stop, got it?”

“Yeah!” Nathan replies, she can hear the excitement in his voice. Since joining 51 he’s gotten more than his fair share of hairy situations, and remains unphased by them. “Let’s do this!”

Stella shakes her head, amused with the kid’s energy, before pressing on deeper into the black smoke.

***

“Chief, we got two victims on the second floor and need assistance,” Stella’s voice comes over the radio.

“Cruz and I are clear on the first floor and can go assist,” Severide reports, glancing at Cruz who nods that he’s ready for more action.

“Copy that, go assist them, Severide,” Casey replies.

“Alright, lets go,” Severide says to Cruz and jerks his head toward the stairs.

“Kidd, what’s your location?” Severide asks as he and Cruz start their trek up the stairs into the thicker smoke.

“Second door on the left,” Stella replies.

The hallway at the top of the stairs is dark from the thick smoke, and they have to get down on their hands and knees just to see. Cruz keeps one hand on Severide’s ankle as they grope their way through the deepening darkness, letting him know he’s still right there with him. There’s next to zero visibility now, so Severide has to run his hand along the left side of the wall to feel for doorways. His hand slides off into nothing but empty space and he almost tips over.

“That’s the first door,” He calls over his shoulder to Cruz who gives his ankle a little squeeze in acknowledgement. Kelly presses on, finding the wall again, and it’s not long before he finds the next door, but this time it’s closed.

“Stella! We’re out here!” he shouts and bangs his fist against the door signaling to his fiance that he’s outside the door and that he and Joe are ready to come in.

The door opens just long enough for him and Cruz to pile inside and then it’s slammed closed behind them. The room is significantly less smokey than the hallway outside, it’s clear enough so that he can see both Nathan and Stella clearly along with the two unconscious victims lying on the floor.

“Mouch and Gallo, clear on the top floor. Heading back out now.” Gallo’s voice crackles over the radio as Severide makes his way over to the first victim. He catches the look of relief that crosses Stella’s face upon hearing that the other two members of her crew are safe.

“Me and Stella will get him, Nathan and Cruz, you two get the woman,” Severide orders, and everyone in the room shifts to do as they’re told. “We’re going to have to move fast. It’s pretty rough out there.

***

“Please, my neighbor Jerry is still inside!” An old woman says pleadingly and tugs on Severide’s sleeve, stopping him as he and Stella exit through the front door of the duplex. Tony and Capp had met them at the door and taken their victim off to the waiting ambulances. “Please, he lives on the third floor!”

Severide hesitates and glances up at the top floor of the duplex, there’s black smoke pouring out of almost all the windows, and there’s tongues of fire beginning to mix in. Upstairs is getting close to flashing over.

“I’m up for one more grab, if you are,” Stella says, glancing up at it too, probably making the same calculations in her head as he is. The chances of getting back out aren’t great with how hot the fire’s burning on the top floor is, and the chances of making a successful grab are even more slim.

“Chief, we got a confirmed rescue on the top floor, Gallo and Mouch must have missed them. Me and Kidd have enough air left to make the grab,” Severide says into his radio, letting it answer Stella’s question.

“I don’t like the smoke I’m seeing Severide. That top floor could flash over, and the chances of the vic even being alive-”

“There’s a chance chief,” Severide interrupts him. Two of the windows on the top floor aren’t belching black smoke which means there’s a good chance whatever room that is, is clear enough for someone to still be alive in there.

“You’re sure there’s a rescue?”

“Yes chief, we’re sure.” The old lady is still holding onto Severide’s hand and she’s crying now.

“You have two minutes. Not a second longer,” Casey replies after a second of hesitation.

“You got chief,” Severide replies and goes to get his mask back on. He glances at Stella who already has her mask back on.

“You ready?” she asks, bumping his arm with her fist as he finishes tightening the straps on his mask. He gives her a quick thumbs up, and she opens the door and disappears into the smoke; He follows her into the blackness.

Kelly keeps one hand on Stella’s back as they work their way up the stairs that start near the front door. The smoke gets thicker and thicker the farther up they go, until he can no longer make out yellow reflective strips on Stella’s gear; his only assurance that she’s still in front of him is that he still has his hand on her and the heavy thunk of her halligan hitting each each step as she sounds to make sure it won’t give out.

***

“Keep me posted on conditions in there,” Casey radios to his two lieutenants as he keeps a close eye on the smoke pouring out every possible opening on the top floor. It's already turned dark and deadly, and the smoke coming from the floor below it isn’t much better. He already regrets his decision to let them go back in. “If anything starts feeling off, I want you guys to bale out right away.”

“You don’t have to micromanage, chief,” Severide radios back, sounding more annoyed than concerned or worried about the amount of smoke he and Stella are undoubtedly trying to make their way through.

“It’s my job to micromanage,” Casey replies. “You guys just hurry, okay?”

“You got it chief.”

“Truck and Squad, I want you guys to get as many ladders on as many of those windows as you can in case Kidd and Severide have to bail out,” Casey directs to the groups of firefighters standing behind him. Most of them look like they’re ready to hop up and get back inside at a moments notice.

“They went back in?” Gallo questions, standing up from where he was sitting on the back bumper of 81. It sounds like a challenge, full of judgement and indignation.

“Yes, there’s another confirmed rescue on the third floor,” Casey replies impatiently. Gallo has been trying his patience since the house fire a couple shifts ago where he ended up sending the kid home, and it’s getting old fast.

“No, me and Mouch cleared that floor,” Gallo argues, he looks scared. “There’s no one up there.”

“You may have missed them,” Casey replies.

“Chief-”

“Go help put ladders on the windows,” Casey interrupts. He’s not in the mood for arguing with Gallo anymore.

“But-”

“Mayday, mayday, mayday! Firefighter down!” the whole fire ground freezes as Stella’s panicked voice crackles over the radio, her words barely descernable through the static, and Casey's heart drops into his stomach. Dread washing over him like a wave as fire starts rolling out the windows swirling with smoke, the top two floors are about to flash over. “Third floor, delta side, Severide’s down….it’s- Flashover!”

“Let’s go get them!” Cruz shouts and takes off toward the door.

“No one goes inside!” Casey shouts, before he even realizes the words are coming out of his mouth, but he finds he means them. He’s already sent two firefighters to their deaths, he’s not about to damn anyone else. Every instinct as a friend and a firefighter is screaming at him to send RIT to go get them, to go save his friends, but his years of experience tell him there will be no rescue, only a suicide mission.

“Chief!” Cruz protests as Casey pushes him back away from the building. He’s been a chief less than a year and he’s failed at the most fundamental part of his job, keeping his people safe. He’s not killing anyone else. It’s the worst decision he’s ever made, but he’s not caving.

“Kidd, can you get to a window and bail out?” Casey says, returning his attention to his radio.

“Negative… found a hole in the floor… going down…”

“Chief! You have to let us go get them!” Cruz shouts, and pushes against him. “They’re going to die! You have to let us save them!”

“No one else is going inside!” Casey yells and pushes the squad firefighter back. “I’m not letting anyone else die!”

He’s barely finished spitting the words out when balls of fire explode out of every window on not just the third floor, but the second too. He loses his grip on Cruz’s coat as a wave of shock hits him, but the other firefighter doesn’t move. Matt’s knees hit the hard concrete ground before he even realizes he’s falling; he can feel the waves of heat coming off the building as black smoke and evil red flames pour out the windows. He knows he should be giving orders, ordering 51 to hit the fire with everything they got, telling everyone else to do something- anything, but he can’t move. He can’t think. Stella and Kelly are dead. Even if she had managed to get her and Severide through the hole she found in the floor, the only thing it did was drop them right into another flashover. He can hear shouting, but none of the words register with him. He can feel tears stinging his eyes. They’re dead. They’re dead because he sent them back in. They’re dead and he’s the one who killed them.

#cf fic #chicago fire fic #stellaride fic #brettsey fic #kelly severide #blake gallo #matt casey #stella kidd #with the return of this fic #comes the return of me being on my bullshit #PLEASE REBLOG

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five-rivers · 4 years

Text

Interview With a Ghost, Part 2

Part one is here. The Dannymay prompt used is ‘Bones.’

"Well," said Captain Jones, over the intercom, "that answers that question."

"Not really," said Patterson. "It doesn't really explain all the ancient China stuff. We didn't even ask him about that."

"I think it does, actually," said Collins, tapping his fingers on the table. "If he didn't want people to know that he'd died and was continuing to live his human life, what better way to throw them off the trail than by mimicking a old legend like that?"

"But the Fentons said it wasn't well known," said Patterson. "Who would have known about it when the Fentons first showed up?"

"It certainly narrows down the list of potential..." Collins groaned. "What do we even call this? Victims? Suspects? Possibly dead people?"

"Before you two get too tied up in semantics," said the captain, voice coming through the intercom again. "We have some things to discuss. My office."

Collins and Patterson weren't the only ones assembling in the captain's office. Captain Jones had called Molly, the medical examiner, in as well. She sat on the chair in front of his desk, a stack of papers in her lap.

Jones shut the door behind him and locked it. "Alright," he said, rubbing his face and sinking into his chair. "So, before you called me in to watch that interview, I was talking to Molly. She told me some interesting things about Phantom's body. I assume you've already told these two what you've learned."

"I've gotten a little more, since then, actually," said Molly.

"Go ahead, then," said Jones.

"Well, at this point we're pretty sure that the cause of death is electrocution... Or we would be, if it wasn't for the whole 'only half a body' thing he has going on." Molly sighed. "He has electrical burns on his bones. They're black in spots."

"Ouch," said Patterson. "What a way to go."

"Yeah. Let's not bring it up to him, okay?"

"It might be a way to figure out it's him, though, make him break cover."

Captain Jones cleared his throat. Collins and Patterson turned to look at him, expectant.

"That brings us to the bones of this matter, so to speak," said Jones.

Collins suppressed a twitch of his lips. The captain liked puns, but admitting that one found them humorous could be hazardous. Mainly because it would result in more puns.

"What is that, sir?" he asked.

"Do we want to expose Phantom? Assuming that he is masquerading as a living person, something I'm not entirely convinced of. Especially considering your mention of legends and 'ancient China stuff.'" The captain circled the words with air quotes. "Care to explain?"

"The Fentons believe that Phantom is the same ghost as one that shows up in a bunch of legends around the world," said Collins. "We were going to look into them, next, but Phantom showed up."

"So, in other words, there's some evidence that he's, what, hundreds of years old?"

"I suppose," said Collins.

"Which would mean that's someone else's body. Because there's no way it's that old, right, Molly?"

"Not unless all that ectoplasm in it preserved it, somehow," said Molly. "I wouldn't entirely discount that, by the way. I'm not an ectologist."

"And everyone who is, is a suspect because of the ectoplasm and the body's age," put in Patterson.

Captain Jones cleared his throat. "As long as that's not the case," he said, "that means that, if Phantom is playing at being alive, he's doing it with someone else's life."

There was a pause, the words heavy on the air.

"You don't think he actually killed anyone, do you, sir?" asked Patterson.

"No," said the captain. "I don't. But it's something we have to consider, because if it is the case, then we have an obligation to reveal him. But if it isn't... What do you think will happen if we reveal Phantom and he leaves? If he's just continuing his- his 'life,'" again his hands came up to make quotes, "and he's not hurting anyone, there's no reason to reveal him, and many reasons not to, including the safety of the city."

"There is a reason to reveal him, even then," said Patterson. "If he's lying about it being an accident. If he was murdered. Or if the accident wasn't as out there as he wants us to think it is. I mean, he's a teenager. They don't just drop dead for no reason, and, well, Dave's wife had a point."

"You mean with her comment about abuse," said Captain Jones.

"Yeah," said Patterson.

"If it helps," said Molly, "there aren't any other detectable signs of abuse on his body."

"There's another issue," said Collins.

"Yes?" said the captain.

"What if Phantom decides to object to our line of questioning more physically?"

"You mean, if he attacks us?" asked Patterson.

Collins shrugged. "He is a ghost. And a kid. And we're putting a lot of pressure on him. I don't think any of that is conducive to rational decision making."

"I guess we can't argue that he isn't violent," said Patterson, making a face. "But what can we do? We can't definitively say what's going on."

Captain Jones glared at his desk as if it had offended him. Maybe it had. It was a horrible mess.

"We need to keep investigating," said the captain. "But I want you, all three of you, to be circumspect. We need a different explanation for why you're asking questions."

"Why?" asked Patterson. "Phantom already knows."

"Because of his 'enemies.'" Air quotes again. "We don't know who they are, or the real reason he's so anxious to keep everything quiet. We don't even know if he's talking about humans or ghosts. And," said Captain Jones, after a significant pause, "I don't want the Guys in White to get wind of this at all. They can have that corpse over mine, you got it?"

To Collins' great relief, the captain had chosen to deal with the Cult Division (aka Cameron Daily and his computer) himself, which left him and Patterson free to strategize on other fronts. Specifically, to whittle down which children they should interview, how they should be interviewed, and whether or not it was possible that any of them were Phantom.

"If he can shapeshift, then he can shapeshift," grumbled Collins, massaging his temples. It was far too early for this, and he'd been here until midnight yesterday, getting paperwork together and sending for class lists from the school. They'd had to explain why they wanted them. "His body type could be anything." He reached for his coffee. He was almost out.

"But," said Patterson, "we have his body. The body types match."

"He could have changed over two years," said Collins. "Teenagers usually do. He could have, I don't know, simulated a growth spurt in his human disguise, or whatever."

"Still, he couldn't have changed that much, not while escaping suspicion," argued Patterson.

Collins grunted. "Maybe," he agreed.

"And he's got to go to Casper High, he gets to ghost attacks there too fast for him to go to school anywhere else."

"Mhn," said Collins. "Sure, I guess."

"Has to be someone who's been there for two years, because of when everything started. So it can't be and of the freshmen or sophomores. Has to be someone who's an incoming junior or senior."

"Or someone who graduated last spring," said Collins.

"You're right," said Patterson. She tugged on the end of her braid. "That might complicate some things. Still. I think these are the most likely candidates." She pushed a list of circled names and pictures across their shared desk. "We can interview them today."

Collins glared at it, the way he glared at everything that wasn't coffee at this time of day. "Patterson, I thought we were doing interviews with kids to find the conspiracy theory kid."

"Well, we can do that, too, and ask around to see if anyone's been acting ghostly."

"Fine," said Collins. He squinted. "'Wesley Weston?' Dear god, who names their child that?"

"I don't know. It's better than some celebrity baby names that I've heard of," said Patterson, shrugging.

Collins put the list down and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "What was the theory again, anyway?" he asked. "That Phantom was the Fenton kid?"

"Daniel. Yeah. I've got him circled, here." Patterson tapped on the list.

"Do you think there's any merit to that?" asked Collins. "The Fentons are ghost hunters. You'd think they'd either notice and stop hunting him, or, well, you know."

"It would explain the ectoplasm, though. And maybe the electrical burns. They're inventors, too, and that thing on their roof has to have some kind of fancy wiring."

"That would be-" Collins wracked his brain for a suitable adjective and came up empty. He shook his head. "I don't think we can make that conclusion from a forum post you barely remember, Patterson. It sounds good, but-" He shook his head again.

"But it is pretty unbelievable. I still think we should ask him."

"Just like that?"

"Why not? You saw how he reacted to your question yesterday. His poker face needs work."

Collins' desk phone rang. He picked it up. "Detective Collins speaking," he said.

"Hey, this is Molly."

"Yeah? You have something new for us?"

"The body is gone."

"What?"

"Phantom's body. It's gone. I think there's been a break in."

I tentatively plan to continue this for day 25: Break.

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay 2020 #day 16

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shyrose57 · 3 years

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Brothers anon, sorry I've been gone for a while. To be honest I found out about Pokémon Uranium and I've been playing it non-stop for the last few days. And now I have a massive brain fart and can not remember a certain event in the story for the life of me for some reason. I know it happened I just don't know what happened.

14: They'd both roll into a ball and if you throw them fast and hard enough it'll be like playing bowling! It happens when their all asleep, and about a month after Foolish. It happens because while everyone else is sleeping, Ranbob isnt, as he just cant sleep. So he's sat just outside the cave they stopped in, staring at the stars. When Raq sneaks up behind him, originally he planned to get Ran by using a mix of posion and slowness, but upon seeing Ranbob he takes advantage and gets him instead. So he shots him with a slowness/fatigue arrow and when Ranbob eventually falls asleep, he comes and gets him. Because he wants Ran though he leaves a message in enderian, then takes Ranbob to a camp with a few other hunters.

Ran is pissed and acts impulsively, though his anger is used to mask the desperation, horror, and sadness he feels. Everyone else are also mad yet scared, and are stuck between immediately going to help or taking time to come up with a plan. Specifically between Watson, Isaac, and Benjamin wanting to wait to come up with a plan. And Grievous, Cletus, and Jackie wanting to immediately go rescue him. While Charles focuses more on making sure Ran doesnt run off without anyone else...which he does anyway. They eventually settle on planning but that's ruined when Ran runs off and everyone has to scramble to wake up and follow after him.

They get him back within a week actually so very fast. They get him back by Ran running off to the camp he had seen remains of eailer (it looked like a often camped at spot so it makes sense to check there) and since he got there at night no one saw him. Which gave him a chance to look around and find where Ranbob was. By the time the others caught up to him, the sun was rising and he was running to hide in the forest. They spend the next day observing the camp and what everyone does, then that night they launch a suprise attack where Ran manages to grab his brother and run away. Though he does get shot.

In the aftermath Ran is poisoned with the same stuff his currently barely lucid brother is, and barely manage to get them to a safe spot. Where the others eventually find them and take to watching over and eventually grabbing them and running futher away. And when their finally in a safe spot and the brothers are awake and left alone, theres a bit of a heart to heart between the two that allows each to tell their side of things, and opens tons of doors for them. The heart to heart ends with them both apologizing and hugging, and at a later time (not sure when yet) during the night they comfort eachother and end up sleeping next to eachother.

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

Not super often, but it comes into play for little stuff. Like the entire group is just mining when Ranboo just runs into a gaint vein of emeralds. Oh yes, he actually walks into a lake to get something he dropped when suddenly he's in extreme pain. And while the others treat his burns his brother is just silently disappointed that he didn't know he couldn't go into water. Ran knows well enough to avoid it from his time alone, Ranbob after the above accident tries to avoid water but forgets at time, while Ranboo will avoid water he also is the kind of person to just step into water because he can (its like that moment in one of his streams where they where talking about lactose intolerance people and how they just chug milk because they refuse to let natural selection take them.).

Stealing items (which will get them almost killed), hiding things from people, the typical putting their bedroll over a hole, pushing Phil into water and running from him when he emerges pissed, etc.

They have 3 main ones 1. Something malfunctioned with Karl's time traveling watch and sent all of them back to a time already visited, and because of the malfunction the watch as almost completely broke, leaving them stuck until its fixed. 2. Dream is behind it since he's in both worlds and found a way to break the time barrier and sent them back so they wouldn't get in his way. 3. God hates them.

They do! Because they are stuck in the future. And because everything else that used to cause the anger and sparks the fights are gone now, and any current existing spite or problems between people are put on hold so they can find out how to escape. And with those factors out of the way they manage to actually talk and get to know eachother.

I like to think that Techno and Phil have never gotten along with Dream (the only reason Techno ever worked with Dream is because it was for a common goal/interest, and it took more priority than killing eachother), and want to kill him for multiple reasons (Tommy, Wilbur, Ranboo, Fundy, etc) and will gladly take any excuse to kill him. The fact Dream went this far to harm this many people makes them disgusted and determined to finally follow through and kill him. There no real start to the ire between them all, they just never liked Dream from the start and all he's done has done nothing but depend it. Brfore knowing their reasons for being hesitant, their mad that Tubbo and Karl are even hesitanting in killing Dream. But after their explanation for their hesitation, everyone actually freezes and realizes, "Oh shit their right." And instead start to plan to find a soild way home first that won't collapse on them, then kill Dream. Which is easier said than done.

He said what I said last time with the Technoblade stuff. But he also just kinda yelled at them about how Ran needs to stop ignoring evidence and how Ranbob needs to stand up for himself. He also empathizes that they need to think of how the others view this all, how it affects them, how they focused solely on themselves and now need to start focusing on others.

Also you got a cat? May I see cat or no?

Pokemon are always awesome. Is the game any good? But good to have you back, Brothers Anon.

14: They could make a game out of it, when they're bored. Ill-advised, but certainly an interesting time!

Why does Raq know Enderian? How's Ranbob's time at the camp, if he's even aware of it, since you said he's out of it? Ran gets shot? If Ranbob's barely lucid, how does it effect Ran? How does that go, with both of them out of it?

They hug? Does Ran admit he was worried? Do they do this when they're more lucid, or no? How's the morning after this whole show go?

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Can you imagine how everybody feels? They're mining for hours, Ranboo, five minutes in, comes out with half a stack of emeralds. The confusion, the bewilderment. Beautiful.

Ranbob: Oops, dropped something.

Water: *burns him*

Ranbob: *shocked pikachu face*

*Months later*

Ranbob: Oops, dropped something-

They just? Walk into water sometimes? Good lord, their poor groups. Imagine having to try and keep your endermen friends from taking a tip purely out of spite.

It sounds like these guys have more of a death wish than anything. Pushing Phil into water is just asking to die.

Pfft. God hates them? Who proposed that one? Hilarious image that invokes. They're all just sitting in a circle, throwing out ideas, very tired. Someone throws out theory number three. Everyone agrees immediately.

Very nice! Are we getting more found family here?

This implies Techno to be fairly closer with the mentioned people, if he's angry with Dream for what was done to them. What's his relationship with them all in this AU?

How does that whole thing go, with them originally being upset with Karl and Tubbo? Is it something that just comes out immediately, and is quickly resolved, or is it something that rolls out over the course of a few days?

Ranboo has very good advice, but also, like? Mr. Typically And Possibly Literally Spineless telling his descendant to stand up for himself? How did his group react to that?

Here is the kitty in question, Muff.

She's very energetic, but she plays a bit rough, and keeps gnawing on my fingers.

#Brothers AU #dream smp #dream smp au #tales from the smp #ranbob #ranboo #tubbo #technoblade #karl jacobs

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tarithenurse · 4 years

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Nightingale - 39

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Hatake Kakashi &/x Fem!OC Contents: Angst. Stress. A/N: As usual, ASK or REBLOG for tag! HUUUGE thanks to all who are reblogging already <3

Ch. 39

Unsure what urges him to search rather than wait, Kakashi heads to Uguïsu’s apartment but there’s no answer when he knocks. For a moment, he feels bad about picking the lock – maybe she got an urgent task – but the gut feeling doesn’t subside and he would rather have to apologize for overstepping these boundaries than risk losing her.

Stepping in, he is welcomed by silence. Even in the dim light from the city, it’s not a problem to navigate the space he knows so well and everything is in place as Kakashi takes in the living room. Silly of me...it’s probably Ibiki who needed her help with something.

The white-haired jōnin has almost managed to abolish any concern by the time he reaches the bedroom.

The first thing he notices is the empty, wooden box nestling on the pillows: normally it’s pushed underneath the bed and functions as a storage place for most of Uguïsu’s gear. Secondly, a glance to the wardrobe reveals random drawers and doors left ajar and a few pieces of clothing has fallen to the ground as if someone has grabbed handfuls in a hurry and not worried about the mess left behind.

“She’s gone...” Kakashi hates the sound of the words, feeling as though they, more than anything else, is what makes it real.

Already, his mind is making a list of what he has to do before he can set out to retrieve the woman he loves, and the first stop is the hokage. Office or residence? The latter would make sense, considering what time it is as Kakashi rushes from the girl’s home, but a glance up at the Academy shows a light shining from the top floor and he takes a direct route there.

No one stops him as he hurries through the doors and up – mostly because there aren’t many around save for a handful of guards and a few people working late on their administrative tasks. He would have liked to barge into the office. Instead, he stops and takes a couple of calming breaths before knocking resolutely.

“Enter.” Old Sarutobi’s voice is still strong.

Kakashi has always liked the hokage’s office. Not because of what it represents but rather because of the view it holds over the Academy and Konohagakure beyond that. Right now, it feels as if it’s holding him back, though.

“Mm, young Hatake,” the old man smiles kindly, “what is the occasion?”

“I need a temporary leave of absence from my duties.” Keeping it brief, the jōnin explains about his concerns for Uguïsu. “It doesn’t make sense...I don’t know why she has left now or so sudden. Something must have scared her, but I don’t know what. Perhaps a newcomer?”

The hokage’s face is obscured by the angular brim of his hat and the beard is pushed upwards because he rests the chin on his hands. “I believe I know what it is about,” he sighs before pulling out a document from a stack to his left and handing it over to the younger man.

It’s a brief, written statement solidifying the decision that Konoha is going to be the host for the upcoming chunin exams.

“It’ll be swarming with outsiders,” Kakashi sighs, “yes...this would be enough for her but how could she know?”

Sarutobi returns the letter to it’s place. “I had just invited her in for a cup of tea when the message arrived,” he explains, “and I didn’t see any reason to keep the news from her.” A thousand words wouldn’t convey the same understanding as the silence shared does in those seconds. “Go.”

...

It’s a gamble, but Kakashi is confident he’s choosing the right gate to leave Konoha by and his theory is strengthened when he asks Izumo if he’s seen the blue-haired woman this evening.

“Who?” The beanie with the metal plate jerks as he scratches his head through it.

Did -? “You were at her chunin test, remember?” Neither that nor other arguments help the gate keeper recall the woman. “Go see Ibiki as soon as you can. Tell him your memory has been tampered with.”

Why would you go to this extend, Uguïsu? In truth, the desperate ninja already knows as he vaults over the wall rather than argue for the gate to be opened. Ahead of him the forest looms with darkness nestled under the thick canopy as if it too has been bidden to help hide any evidence of Kakashi’s love, and he knows he can’t find her all on his own.

A drop of blood is a low prize which he gladly pays to be greeted with the happy yaps of the ninken pack – sounds that fall silent as the dogs immediately sense that something’s wrong. The order is short and concise, prompting the pack to disperse in search of the faintest scent as Kakashi sets off along the road. A brief howl guides the ninja south and onto a trail which probably has been created by animals over the course of decades.

Sometimes, Pakkun and the others lose track of the woman on the ground – even in her desperation, she has been wise enough to switch between travelling from branch to branch and on the path – but they always manage to pick up the chase quickly.

“Seems we’re gaining on her,” the big Buru tries to comfort, “scent is stronger.”

A few yaps prove that the others agree, helping Kakashi to focus on the task rather than the itching at the back of his knees and down his spine that’s trying to get him to run faster. It’s been four hours since you set out, his own voice sneers at him, who knows how much of a head start she’s had? He should have asked the hokage when he last saw Uguïsu, but it’s too late now and knowing wouldn’t have changed the fact.

“Cat piss,” Pakkun swears just then with a low growl.

Breaching the treeline, there’s a small drop into a gullet where a river runs. They knew it was there. Kakashi definitely knew. But somehow, he’d forgotten about that too. I’m losing my edge.

“Spread out on both banks.” He doesn’t actually have to say it as the ninken already are moving, leaving only Pakkun at his side.

“Listen, pup,” the little dog nudges him with the wrinkled head, “take a breath and get your head on straight. You stink of panic.”

There’s no reason to contradict the pug. Closing his eye, Kakashi forces his shoulders to relax, flexing his hands by the sides before shaking them out with each exhalation. Each inhale bring notes of wet grass, mud, and bark through the mask, and it’s almost as if he can pick up the scent of cotton himself.

Where’d she go? Uguïsu doesn’t know the area as well as he does despite having been on several missions throughout the Land of Fire by now. Half a day’s travel south, there’s a low, jagged mountain range which has to be circumvented in order to get to the nearest village. Maybe she’s -

“Hey hey! Here! I got it!” Shiba’s bark catches everyone’s attention.

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fijiangecko · 4 years

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Maintaining a New Life

Chapter 3: Into the Murky Waters

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Read it on AO3 here

A/N: A day late but it’s here!

~~~~~~

“I think after we visit the police and get their files we should head back to my place and sort through everything. If we’re lucky we might be able to visit one or two of the crime scenes before the sun goes down, but it would be best for us to all have the same idea of what’s going on.” You speak while putting your arms through your coat, the cold air hitting your face as the group walks down the streets.

“Sounds like a plan to us.” Nodding, Iwaizumi pipes up and leads the group further along the streets of Yokohama.

The police station is busy as officers pace quickly through the corridors, quietly chatting amongst themselves. Two men stand by a desk, one looking up for a brief moment before nudging the other with sickly green hair. The latter frowns upon seeing your faces, but walks over.

“Officer Suguru, nice to see you again.” Kuroo speaks, a sly smile spread across his lips when he sees the man. You recognize the officer as well, having worked a handful of cases with him, although he treats everyone at the agency as though they are lesser than.

“Can’t say the same about you.” His voice is stern, almost spiteful while his eyes glaze over the group lined up.

“Alrighty then,” you interject. “We’re just here to pick up the files and maybe ask some quick questions, then we can get out of your hair. Sound good?”

Suguru makes eye contact with you and clicks his tongue. “Follow me.” He turns on his heel and starts to walk off, not bothering to see if you all follow. “ We’ve been covering this case for about a month and a half with absolutely no leads. As soon as we think of something, a piece of info pops up that discredits the entire theory. I told the chief not to bring you weirdos into this but we’re starting to get desperate considering the media still doesn’t know.”

“Figures,” Oikawa pipes up. “Once they know it about this they’re gonna be up your asses.”

“Thanks. Not helpful.” Suguru shoves the handle down on a door and pushes it open with his hip. Inside the doorway is a conference room with one box sat on the long table. “This is what we’ve got so far.”

Iwaizumi walks over and pops the top off. “That’s it?”

“Yeah.” The box isn’t even half full. You assume that most of its contents had already been given to you by Takeda and Ukai. “Again, we called you freaks to help us.” Suguru stands by the door, arms crossed.

“Well, if you don’t mind, we can take these off of your hands and we’ll let you know if we have any questions.” Ever the charmer, Oikawa puts the lid back on top of the box, and slides it off the table and into his arms. Suguru has a displeased look on his face, but doesn’t respond to the banter. “Tell the Chief I said bye!”

The four of you hastily make your way out of the office, away from the prying eyes of countless officers. With a sigh, Kuroo lets his shoulders relax. “I knew from the first step inside that place that they wouldn’t be any fucking help.”

“As soon as I saw Suguru I knew it wasn’t going anywhere.” The thought of the green haired piece of shit makes you mentally gag. “It would be better for us to just get back to my apartment and go over it ourselves.”

With a silent agreement, everyone quickens their pace to the subway.

“Water anyone? We can set up in the kitchen, just let me move some shit.” You put down your belongings and take off your shoes before running over to the kitchen to get rid of the stacks of mail on the table.

No one responds to your question as they walk over to the dining area, but Kuroo bumps your hip with his. “I’ll get a pitcher, you go set up the files.” As a thanks, you bump his hip back and start to scatter papers.

“So…” Kuroo sets the pitcher and some glasses down as you speak. “There have been six murders over the past month and a half, each occurring within six to nine days within the last.”

Iwaizumi picks up a glass. “By the looks of it, all of the bodies were found in abandoned sections of the city, or ones that were sectioned off from the public.” He talks over the sound of water being poured. “Some of them are known spots while others the general public wouldn’t have the knowledge of.”

“So it’s most likely someone who either has access to these locations or knows about them,” Kuroo says absentmindedly while looking over a piece of paper.

“Yes, but that doesn’t narrow down the options all that much.” Your arms are folded across your chest as you gaze over the plethora of information spread across your table. “I think it’s safe to say that it wouldn’t be someone from the general public. These murders don’t look like they were random, but none of the pieces here fit.”

“We should set the files up in a general timeline and visit the newest spots first and work our way back. The last one was almost a week ago so there’s no telling when or where our killer is gonna drop a body off next.” Iwa leans over the table and starts to move the stacks, Oikawa following suit.

A few short moments later, each of the files is placed chronologically. “So we’ll stop at the old shipyard first and then head over to the warehouse district. That should be enough time before it gets too dark and then we can go everywhere else tomorrow.” Oikawa points at the locations.

“Sounds like a plan, but we should probably take my car instead of the subway if we wanna get there in time.” You turn to face your apartment and try to find where your keys are.

“We’re taking your car? The one you told me I wasn’t even allowed to look at? Like, that car?” Kuroo’s eyes are wide, but teasing as he pokes his nose in your direction, trying to hide a smile.

“You and Bo were drunk and if you got a scratch on my pride and joy I would’ve killed you both, but yes. We’re taking that car.” You can feel his sarcastic tone from miles away, but you don’t bother to look at him while you rummage through different purses to find your key ring.

“Shotgun!” Oikawa makes his way to the front door and starts to put on his shoes. “The passenger seat is so much more comfy than the back seats.” His body turns partially to Kuroo’s, looking at him to let him in on this little known fact.

“Wait, you guys have been in the car?!” The tallest guy in the room reels back, genuinely shocked at the revelation.

“Yeah… Y/N used to take us out of missions in the suburbs in it.” Iwaizumi proceeds to put on his shoes as well.

“What the hell dude?! Am I the only one who hasn’t been in it?”

“You, Nishinoya, Tanaka and Bokuto.” You whip out the keys from a bag and jingle them in his face. “Everyone else has at least sat in my car.” He pouts, but follows the rest of the group.

The car is easy to spot from the parking lot, the sleek black gloss finish reflecting the sunlight back at the group. From Kuroo’s knowledge of cars, it looks to be an older Chevy Chevelle but with four doors instead of two. “How old is this thing?”

“It’s a 1967 model, I had to have it shipped from the U.S.” You walk to the drivers door and unlock the car. The boys all hop in, taking their respective seats.. The first thing that catches Kuroo’s eye is the modern interior paired with the stick shift in the center of the front seat.

“I can see why you never let me in here, looks expensive.”

“I don’t take her out too often since I’m in the city most of the time, but it’s nice to be driving again. And yes, a good chunk of change was spent on her.” You pat the dashboard and start the engine. “Once again, I will kill you if you get the tiniest scratch on her.”

“This place is still taped up since it wasn’t all that long ago, but we should probably split up so we can get to the warehouses before too long.” The engine rumbles underneath your voice, the car slowly coming to a halt as you park not far away from the scene.

“Iwa-chan and I will check out the actual crime scene, you and Kuroo can check the perimeter to see if they missed anything!” Oikawa hops out of the car and stretches quickly before walking over. You take notice of the fast blue flash that happened when he was stretching, but no one else seemed to have caught it.

The possibility of the Port Mafia appearing put the three of you on high alert, and almost anytime your group was out Oikawa would use his gift to make sure there were no surprises. The three of you had briefly chatted about it at the agency, behind Kuroo’s back. The general consensus was that Oikawa would be the lookout anytime you all went out and that it was his responsibility to let you both know if anything happens. Iwa’s job is to keep track of all of the data and keep separate files that contain anything related to the Port Mafia, such as the patterned blood stains. Your main focus is to keep Kuroo out of the loop. If the mafia is involved in this case, you could only hope that the police call you off of it before things get too involved.

Kuroo takes the lead and starts to walk the perimeter of the shipyard, checking out all the different angles that could have line of sight on the crime scene. “So, what do you make of all of it?”

“What do you mean?” You stuff your hands into your pockets and lean forward to inspect some of the large crates strewn across the concrete.

“I mean the case in general. You are one of the most seasoned detectives the agency has, and I can tell you already have an idea, if not a couple, of what’s going on here.” He puts emphasis on his words by craning his neck to look at you, but his words are sincere as he’s genuinely curious about your opinion.

Pursing your lips, you think for a moment. You don’t want to lie to him necessarily, but telling him exactly what you’re thinking isn’t really an option. “You wouldn’t be wrong, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions and get something in your guys’ heads before I have enough evidence to back it up, y’know?” With your last word, you look into his golden eyes.

“Smart.” His look softens when he sees that you’re telling a truth of sorts. “Then the whole group wouldn’t have to deal with confirmation bias.” His scientist is peaking through. You roll your eyes and walk off to inspect a different area as he chuckles and moves off.

The yard is bleak for the most part, countless variations of cargo and ship parts placed carelessly around. It’s odd, you think, that the body would be in the center of everything. Like it isn’t trying to be hidden. Your pace slows as you come to one of the last places that has visibility on where the body would have been. There’s a large shipping container that blocks some spots; age and the general wear and tear has caused the large piece of metal to rust. Your eyes rake over the orange container, but something catches your attention around the handle.

You crouch down and move in closer. “What’d you find?” Kuroo notices your position and makes his way over.

“Fibers that were caught on the door.” You point to the black material, careful not to touch it. It could’ve been missed easily, blending in with the rusty metal. “I’ll have Kenma run diagnostics on them just in case.” He nods, but turns his attention to the buzzing in his pocket. You walk over to the car and grab some gloves and a bag.

Taking the fabric between your fingers, you gently shimmy it out of its wedged position and place it into the plastic. Kuroo puts his phone back into his pocket. “Oikawa and Iwazumi said that nothing was out of the ordinary at the scene. They’re headed back to the car now.”

“Okay. I think we looked over everything so let’s go.” You hold the bag up and examine it in what sunlights left.

As you and Kuroo approach the vehicle, Oikawa practically shouts. “I’m just saying! If you like this person then you should just come right out and say it! It’s not like you’re ugly!”

“And that’s why you’re a dumbass. No way in hell am I telling them shit,” Iwa huffs and turns away from his partner.

“Why’d you piss him off, Oikawa?” You speak before Tooru can get another word in, tossing the bag at Iwa.

“How dare you! I was trying to be a good friend and help Iwaizumi with his crush but apparently I’m not allowed to be a decent person.” Whining like a child, Oikawa crosses his arms and turns his chin up and away from the group. You and Iwa roll your eyes.

“This happen often?” Kuroo leans in to whisper.

“More than I’d like to think about.” You take off the gloves and pull out the car keys.

“He does know it’s pretty obvious who it is, right?”

“Absolutely not.” You stare at Kuroo and sigh. “Alright, Hajime rides shotgun to the warehouses.”

“But-”

“No,” you cut off Tooru once more. “After that, Kuroo gets to sit there on the way home.” He silently grumbles to himself, settling into the back seat while the rest of you silently get in and listen to the radio.

Slowly coming to a halt, the metal hunk jerks into place as you put her into park. “Same groups?” Kuroo asks, looking between everyone.

“Can I trust you two to not hurt each other and do your jobs?” You look at Oikawa from the rearview mirror, popping a brow up accusingly.

“We got it Y/N.” Hajime breaks off the childish encounter before it can continue and splits off.

The warehouse is large, but filled with nothing. Your footsteps echo in the dark space. The other two in your group keep forward and walk down where police tapes are starting to fall off from their previously tied positions. You stop and take a second to look around, noticing the staircase and balcony on the outer parts of the room.

The metal creaks under yours and Kuroos footsteps. “Do you think he’ll ever say anything to Oikawa?” Kuroo walks up the stairs behind you, unsure of where to look before ultimately deciding to look at the ceiling.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” You reach the balcony and slow your pace to check everything. “I hope he does. They’re good for each other.” Kuroo can tell you’re being sincere, and he smiles at your statement. All three of you are close and if you think that they’re good for one another, then he decides to take that stance as well.

Following behind you, he checks the wall and floor for anything while you observe the space below and the railing. You can see Tooru and Hajime talking down on the ground level, crouching and standing straight, taking out the photos and finding where each position is.

I hope he says something soon. Tooru can’t take a hint but it’s not like either of them are interested in anyone else right now. You watch them while you walk, a nudge to the shoulder brings you out of your thoughts. “Y/N. Blood stains.” Kuroo points to the railing. Dried splotches of blood are faint on the top bar of the railing, only a few specs and faint from age.

Your face scrunches in thought, impressed that he spotted it. “These weren’t in any of the photos.” He shakes his head in confirmation, and pulls a swab and container out from his pocket.

“Not that it does us all that much good, but at least we can try and get the blood type. See if it matches any of the victims. After the last place, I thought it might be a good idea to bring some equipment with us.” You agree with him by nodding and letting him take the sample.

“We should probably stop by Kenma’s tonight and give him all this stuff since he’s not gonna sleep anyways.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Placing the swab into the tube, he turns and walks back down to the others.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi are already standing next to the car in silence. You can tell Iwa’s just being petty and Tooru looks like he’s about to burst if he doesn’t talk in the next two seconds. “Ready?” You unlock the doors for everyone and they all hop in without a word.

Rubbing your eyes, the dim lights from the lamp posts light the city streets as you blink harshly to bring some moisture back into your eyelids. While you’re staring at the road, you don’t see Kuroo staring at you from the passenger's seat, admiring how gorgeous you look with the different angles of light hitting your face. He loves how you took charge of this case, and he admires your leadership skills on the field. His chest tightens at the thought. You have been doing this for so long, he thinks to himself, and you deserve the praise.

Tooru glances up from the back seat and notices Kuroo’s current state, and decides to nudge Hajime’s arm to get him to look. Both of them smile at the scene, knowing for quite a while that Kuroo has a thing for you, but they quietly return to their work and let it happen.

The trip to Kenma’s house doesn’t take all that long considering it’s getting fairly late at night. You and Kuroo decide to just go and drop off the evidence quickly, and Oikawa and Iwaizumi can stay in the car and wait.

You knock softly on the door, careful not to be too loud for his neighbors. Within a matter of seconds the door is swung open and Kenma stands in front of you both, wearing his pajamas and bags apparent under his eyes.

“Hey Kenma, sorry to drop in so late.” His face is telling you that you had interrupted something, so you speak as sweetly as possible.

“Don’t worry about it. Kuroo already filled me in; I’ll have it done by morning.” He extends his hands towards you and you place the two bags into them. Kenma holds them up and looks at them. “Shouldn’t be too difficult. I’ll call you when I’m done.” And with that, he shuts his front door and leaves you both outside.

“Okay.” You swallow your saliva and turn back to the car.

“He’s probably been up for a day or two,” Kuroo grumbles.

“It’s okay, that means he’ll most likely pass out soon.” You don’t know Kenma as well as his counterpart, but you still knew of his tendencies.

The engine puts you in a trance for the rest of the way home; the sound puts you at ease and your heart rate slows until you are completely relaxed. You pull into the parking space and sit for a moment, taking in the noise before cutting it off and getting out.

“What’s a good time for everyone? The rest of the crime scenes are spread out all across town so it’s gonna be a lot of driving around.” A yawn finishes your sentence as you lean on your apartment door, looking to the three men.

“How does nine sound? That should give Kenma some time to get back to us and give us enough time to get coffee or whatever.” Kuroo shivers in the night air, shoving hands down into his pants pockets and hunching into himself.

“Sounds good to me.” Iwa pulls his suit jacket on.

“Same here.” Oikawa matches your yawn, but smiles at you.

“Cool. Get home safe guys.” You wave to them and open your apartment, feeling a blast of warmth.

“Night.” They each mumble and head on home.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive Y/N.” Kenma’s voice is tired over the phone, words slurring slightly from over exhaustion. “Neither of the samples matched with any of the victims. The blood’s O negative and the clothing was made out of some kind of cashmere, which no one was wearing when they died.”

“Okay.” You rub your eyes and sigh, frustrated that this was going exactly how you didn’t want it to go. “Thanks Kenma. Go to bed.”

Kuroo, having walked in not that long ago, heard the entire conversation. He places two coffees down on the counter and watches you rub your eyes. “No dice?” You shake your head and let your hand run slowly down your chin. “Well at least we know that the police missed stuff. It’s not exactly what you wanna hear, but it gives us a chance to actually piece this together.” Always looking for the positives, he smiles at you and gently rubs your shoulder.

“I suppose.” You put a hand on top of his, patting it lightly. His thumb continues to rub circles into your shoulder, but the moment is cut short by a knock at the door. As you step away, your heart skips a beat and you take a deep breath. Unbeknownst to you, his heart does the same thing.

“Good morning, Strike Team Alpha!” Oikawa practically screams as he enters the doorway, a big, bright smile across his lips. Hajime walks in behind him and waves.

“Mornin’ boys. Let's get this show on the road, shall we?” You walk back into the kitchen, picking up the coffee.

“Please.” Kuroo clears his throat and grabs his cup.

“Better chug your coffee now. No drinks in the car.” You take a few sips of yours before leaving it on the counter. He deadpans and attempts to drink all of the burning hot coffee, but ends up coughing a majority of it up. You laugh and head outside.

“Where to first?” You pull the seatbelt across your chest and click it into place before looking at your co-pilot, Hajime.

“If we’re following the order, we’re headed to the suburbs. It’ll probably take an hour or so with traffic.” He takes out some papers from a file folder, showing you the address.

“Sounds like a good nap to me!” Oikawa stretches in the back, placing hands behind his head.

“Nuh-uh.” His smile falters. “I’ve got files back there you all need to go over in the meantime.” You point over the seats, down to where his and Kuroo’s feet are.“Plan is to get these first two locations over with before two, then get lunch and finish with the last few locations. Depending on traffic and stops we should get done around nine or ten.”

“You think it’s gonna take that long?” Kuroo takes some papers into his hand, glancing up at you through the rearview mirror.

“Unfortunately. It’s a weekday, which means traffic is going to be hell and these places don’t have the police on them anymore, so we have to call ahead of time and get clearance before going.” You twist the keys and the engine roars, warming up for a long day of work.

The morning passes pretty quickly. The owners of the two locations cooperated with no complaints and let you inspect as much as you like. Just as expected, the traffic did hold up some of the progress, but before you knew it, the afternoon had rolled around. You haven't found anything new, and pairing that with the unfortunate news Kenma had given you this morning, your mood is starting to turn sour.

“Alright. One more and no more bathroom stops.” You speak clearly, eyes dead ahead on the road.

“This should be the place near the steel manufacturing site, right?” Kuroo flips through the papers in the back seat, the car now littered with files.

“Yeah, the body was found near the scrap metal. Hajime should’ve already contacted the owners to let them know we’re on our way.” You watch the sun slowly meet the horizon.

“They gave us the gate code and said no workers should be there when we arrive.” He responds at the sound of his name, typing something on his phone. “These are the guys that also gave their security footage to the cops so we don’t have to split up this time.”

Not another word is said while you drive. Oikawa takes the photos, Kuroo looks over the information and Iwa fills in Takeda and Ukai as to what’s happening. You hum softly with the radio and tap your thumb to the beat.

Ever so slowly the sun descends beyond the skyline, leaving the streets to the moonlight. A few more turns and you’re met with a gate and keypad. Hajime tells you the numbers and the large steel construction site was before you. Street lamps light up the parking lot, but on your better judgement you swing the car around the building and park it out of sight. The four of you step out of the car, a cold breeze bringing you out of your tiredness as you lead the group into the building.

“So where was the body found?” Kuroo steps further into the building, looking around at all of the different welding tools.

“Should’ve been right around here based on the photos.” Iwa walks him over in the direction, Oikawa and yourself following suit.

The scene’s been cleaned up weeks ago; no traces of where the body was could be seen but luckily you have the photos to point you in the right direction.

Oikawa staggers further and further behind, his heart picking up in rate while he turns his ear towards the door. His ability Listener in the Night allows him to hear a bobby pin dropping in a room surrounded in five foot thick steel walls and from far distances if he chooses to listen to that distance. His feet stop, as if waiting for confirmation. Not a second later he rushes over to you. “They’re here.”

The urgency in his voice sets off every alarm in your brain. “Where?”

He motions outside, near where the parking lot is and sends Iwaizumi a look. Knowing without saying a word, Iwa’s jaw tenses and he turns on his heel, spotting a concealed spot from the front entrance. Hastily he moves over and waits for Oikawa to join him.

Seeing the guys make their move, you rush over to Kuroo and grab at his shirt collar, pulling hard. “Y/N! What the hell-”

“Tetsuro. Don’t ask.” You run while he jogs, but the tone of your voice and the use of his first name shuts him up immediately. There’s nothing in the world that would let you loosen your grip on his clothes, and he knows this well. When you take charge, you are a dictator. No questions asked.

Your group of four huddles in the corner, Hajime keeping everyone behind him while Oikawa whispers their location to you all. Suddenly, a familiar voice is heard near the doorway.

“The cops give up already?” The voice sends chills down yours, Iwaizumis and Oikawas spines. Kuroo keeps his mouth shut and his eyes on you instead of what’s going on. The man's voice is cartoonish, the inflection on each word is overused making it easily recognizable.

The tension is thick enough to cut as the three of you stop breathing all together. Kuroo places a hand on top of yours to try and relax you, but you are completely unaware that he does so, too focused on the crisis at hand.

“Y/N.” You snap your neck up to look at him and shake your head harshly, mouthing the word ‘no’ to him. His eyes hold endless amounts of worry while yours carry panic. In your haze, you didn’t even realize that Iwa and Oikawa had pulled their guns out and are now standing in front of the both of you. Oikawa’s hands shake slightly and Iwa is taking deep, slow breaths.

“That, or they are trying real hard to keep this away from the public.” A second voice emerges, one that is less familiar to you but doesn’t put you at ease. The two men walk further into the complex, their foot falls echoing in the large space.

You feel cornered, like a rabbit in a trap and your throat is starting to close, making it harder to breath. With white knuckles, you pull Kuroo closer and place your forehead on his chest, below your hands and take a deep breath. He panics, never having been in this situation, and looks to the other two men. They aren’t paying attention at all and focus on the voices.

“Either way, Wakatoshi still needs us to pick up some stuff tonight.” That name sparks another wave of chills. You prep your ability, letting the faint blue aura slowly build around your person, Iwaizumi doing the same but letting his ability release as he prepares for the worst..

“Uh… I hope you realize we don’t have the right vehicle to pick up,” the second voice deadpans.

“No, not that.” The footsteps go quiet. A few seconds of silence pass, but it feels like an eternity as the group tries their best to stay as silent as possible.

“I know you're here, little detectives!” Tendou Satoru’s voice booms over the empty factory, his laughter filling the space shortly after.

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mysterioh · 5 years

Text

BUSTED - b.b. part 2

PAIRING: PROFESSOR! BUCKY X READER

SUMMARY: Nat asks you about a certain contact by the name of “Bucky Boo Bear 🐻💖💕💗” and gets the surprise of a lifetime.

WORDS: ~2K

A/N: hi! thank you for all the love on part 1! it was genuinely not expected but very much appreciated! here’s the second part and I hope I was able to make it to everyone’s expectations. 💕

PART 1

"First of all, how dare you?"

"How dare I like math?" Bucky asked with a smug grin that had the redhead fuming.

"How dare you defile innocent girls with your devilishly handsome looks!" she yelled in his office. "Have you seen this face?" she asked, squeezing your face with one hand and shaking it back and forth. "This is the epitome of chastity!”

“I’m amazed you know such big words, Romanoff,” he chuckled.

Nat groaned in replied ready to slap the smug grin off his face. She leaned over on his desk with her palms flat against the wood and daggers shooting from her eyes. Unfortunately, it'll take a lot more than that to intimidate him.

“You know, I always thought you were a good professor. Distinguished, intelligent, a total hardass at times, but good nonetheless. But now? You’ve lost all my respect!” She said and you gave her an unseen roll of the eyes. “How dare you take advantage of my friend like this?”

“Nat…”

“You stay quiet!”

“You do realize the feelings are mutual here right?” he asked, “I’m not forcing her into anything.”

“She’s half your age!” she exclaimed. “You can’t just start dating your students!”

“Nat, would you keep it quiet!” you hissed. “What if someone hears?”

“You damn old pervert!”

“Actually, I’m twenty-seven. So that makes me only six years older,” he stated nonchalantly. “Not like I’m expecting you to be good at math or anything.”

“I know how to add, moron,” Nat deadpanned. “I might be failing your stupid class but I know basic math.”

“You can’t call me a moron. I’m your professor,” he replied, growing increasingly annoyed by her belligerent behavior.

“Screw you and your title you gross math geek,” she hissed. “Targeting sweet and innocent girls for your disgusting fantasies.”

Bucky chuckles only fueling Nat’s anger. “She’s not as innocent as you make her out to be.”

You glared at Bucky as he looked at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Am I gonna have to tell her or you?”

“Tell me what?” Nat asked looking at you with a raised brow.

You looked away from her, your cheeks a bright red. “Nothing, there’s nothing to say here.” You said, warning Bucky to not open his pretty mouth.

Bucky gave you an evil look. “She’s the one who started it.”

“No, I didn’t, you liar!”

“Come in,” Bucky called from his desk, eyes fixated on the screen of his computer.

You poke your head in through the door and smile when he looks up. He returns it.

You walk inside, confidence oozing from the way you sauntered over to his desk. Maybe it was just him, but there was a sultry air to your strut and suddenly his thoughts weren’t very professional.

“Hi, sorry to bother,” you said. “I’m really having trouble with 6.3 and was wondering if you could help?”

“That’s kinda my job,” Bucky chuckled, motioning you to sit in the chair next to his desk. “Let’s see that problem.”

You chuckled while opening your notebook to find the problem you were stuck on. “So it’s on areas of revolution. I don’t really understand why you would use the Cylindrical Shells Method instead of the Disc Method.”

You push the notebook closer to him and before he even reads anything he can’t help but admire how neat your notes are. Always made grading ten times easier.

“Alright,” Bucky pulls out a blank piece of paper from one of the several stacks on the side of his desk. “Let’s start by graphing this baby.”

You pulled your chair closer to his cluttered mahogany desk and right next to his chair to get a better view. Bucky works out the problem, but it’s hard for him to focus.

On any other day, he could do them with his eyes closed, but next to you he sounds like a nervous tutor on his first day.

The scent of your perfume is intoxicating. The accidental brush of your hand against his fires him up. The way you bite your lip and furrow your brows in confusion had him fawning inwardly.

You couldn't help but sneak glances at him while he worked. His voice was like a jazzy tune, deep and soulful but smooth and sweet like honey.

Those little glances morphed into something else and you're stuck staring at him, admiring the nitty-gritty of his features.

Eyebrows knitted in concentration. Steel-blue eyes determined to find a solution. His chocolate brown locks tied back lazily into a low bun with a few rebellious strands shaping his face. Oh, what wouldn't you do to leave a trail of kisses along the sharp angle of his bearded cheek, traveling your way towards those perfectly perfect, plump—.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

Your cheeks heated a bright red. "N-no!" You stuttered, quickly averting your eyes from his amused gaze and towards the desk. "U-um, I think I should go!" You quickly began to gather your things haphazardly while Bucky just looked on confused.

He never said he minded. He didn't really want you to leave. Just not yet.

"I'll see you in class, professor!" You said flustered. "H-have a good day."

You turned on your heel to leave but freeze the minute his hand catches yours. His hand was surprisingly warm, fitting ever so perfectly in yours. It felt like you were unconsciously floating off into space. Your thoughts were filled with warm and fuzzy feelings and suddenly, the urgency to leave fades away.

Bucky brings you back down to earth with a gentle tug on your hand making you turn to look at him, and it's the prettiest thing you've ever seen.

Him looking up at you. His eyes twinkling in the light peering through the blinds of the window. Lips parted slightly, itching to say something that should never be said in this situation.

"You don't have to go," he shook his head, the errant strands of his hair jostling as he did. "Can't you stay just a bit longer?" He whispered.

In a matter of seconds, the schoolbag dropped, Stewart's Calculus was dead in a ditch, and private tutoring just got a bit too intimate.

Next thing Bucky knows, he's caught in a whirlwind, dazed and confused by the way you're kissing him. The sweet taste of strawberries you had for a snack on the way there still lingered on your lips and had him craving more. Your gentle fingers traveling up his arms and the way you pull on his lower lip in mischief has him going insane. But even as the turbulent storm within him runs rampant, he still has some sort of sanity left.

"We really shouldn't be doing this," Bucky murmured against your neck. Your heart aches against your ribcage at the sound of his husky voice against your skin.

"We really shouldn't," you replied breathless, playing with the buttons of his shirt.

Papers with mathematical scribbles were scattered on Bucky’s desk along with a few on the floor. What had started as an innocent review session quickly turned into something else.

It was bound to happen eventually. The lingering gazes in class. The out of place compliments when returning quizzes. Always picking on you in class just to make sure you were listening. You always had a feeling that there was something more underneath all of it and sitting in his lap in the solace of his office was more than enough evidence to prove that your theory was correct.

"This is highly unprofessional, Miss L/N," Bucky stated as his hands slid down your sides. He nipped at your sweet spot.

"We can stop if you want to?" you asked innocently as if what you were doing was pure in its essence.

He leaned back in his leather chair and pulled you closer by wrapping an arm around your waist, making you straddle his hips better. Your body was taut against his with your hands resting on his chest. The look in his eyes denoted desire and you knew he had no intention of stopping.

“And what if I said I don’t want to?”

“Then I’m not going to stop you.”

"You do realize there is no turning back? This is going to change everything."

"Change is a good thing, Professor," you smirked bringing your lips closer to his, your sweet breath tickling his lips. Bucky growls lowly at the name.

"You're a bad student, Y/N."

"You're not so righteous yourself, Prof." you chuckled. "You have wandering hands," you said, alluding to his hard hands hidden underneath your sweater.

Bucky chuckled with a red blush tainting his bearded cheeks. He pulls you into a deep kiss, releasing seven weeks of pent up tension. The feel of your hand caressing his cheek and your core tight against him had him sending to another realm. There was an inkling of fear in him, but the need for you was far greater.

Who was gonna find out anyway?

"You started it?" Nat shouted at you.

"N-no!"

"I'm about to pull out the receipts," Bucky butted in.

"You will not do anything!" you shouted at him.

"Don't shout at me I'm your professor," he retorted.

"And I'm your girlfriend," you whispered at the end. "So I'll do what I want!"

"Babe, you're so bossy." Bucky chuckled. "I think that's really hot."

"Shut up, Bucky!" you shouted, hot and red.

"I can't believe I just heard you say that," Nat gagged. "This is beyond disgusting." She turned over to you, her red locks bouncing behind her. "Y/N, what's your mom gonna say about this?"

"Oh, Mrs. L/N is so sweet," Bucky said just to spite her. "She makes the best baklava."

Nat gaped at you. "He met your mom?!" You smiled sheepishly. "And he ate her baklava?!"

"Yeah, it was really good."

"How dare you eat her baklava?" she asked completely offended

"Well, she offered." Bucky shrugged.

"So your mom knew about this before I did?" Nat asked.

"You know my mom, Nat, she's always nagging me about getting a boyfriend."

"So you decided to pick your professor for the job?" she asked incredulously.

"Would you keep it down?" Bucky asked. "I'm tryna keep my job here."

"Should've thought about that before you started dating your student, math freak."

"Next insult and I'm knocking five percentage points off your grade."

"You can't do that!"

"Watch me," he threatened with a playful smirk.

She pouted at him then towards you. "Dump him right now!"

"Woah, woah, wait a second here," Bucky shouted in defiance.

"I'm not gonna do that, Nat. I really like him." You said.

"Why? He's a loser who gets turned on by math!"

"Well I like this loser!" you pointed at him.

"Don't call me a loser!"

"Fine don't ever talk to me again," she said as she strutted towards the door. "I never want to see you again."

"Nat, we live in the same house." You rolled her eyes at her. She was such a dramatic at times.

"Not anymore. I'll throw your stuff out the window for you to pick up. You can live with your stinky boyfriend from now on."

"Nat!" you hollered as she slammed the door behind her. You shake your head feeling a headache rising.

"She's really something," Bucky commented.

"I think it's the red hair," you said, making him chuckle.

You walk around his desk and take a seat in his lap.

"Sorry," he said.

"About what?"

"You just lost your best friend because of me."

"No," you chuckled, fixing the collar of his shirt. "She's just a bit dramatic. She'll be fine in an hour or two."

"How do you live with that?”

“You get used to it after twelve years.”

Bucky shook his head in amazement. “Wanna come to my place this weekend?" he asked with twinkling blue eyes.

"Can't," you sighed with a smile. "I have a Calc exam on Monday and my professor likes to make them incredibly hard."

"I can help," he offered with a smirk. "I'm very good at math."

"Something tells me we're going to be doing a lot more than just math," you chuckled.

"Maybe take a break or two," he suggested, dipping into your neck and peppering kisses along the curve of it.

"Highly doubt that," you replied as you pushed him away.

He frowns at you as you get up.

"I've got class in ten minutes," you replied. You turned to pick up your bag.

He catches you by the hand and gives it a kiss. "See you later then?" he asked with big puppy dog eyes.

"You are so clingy."

"I like spending time with my girlfriend. Is that so bad?"

"No, I guess not," you chuckled giving him a peck on the lips. "I'll see you tonight then. But not for too long since it's a school night."

"Nerd," he deadpanned.

"Says the guy who gets a hard-on from integrals," you retorted.

"I just like math, okay?"

"That's seriously not normal."

@marshyrebelcloud @chuckennuggets1213

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #professor!bucky #professor bucky x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fluff

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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 4 years

Text

Whumptober Day 31: Something Within Him

HAPPY WHUMPTOBER EVERYONE!

Summary: Written for the final day of Whumptober, Day 31. Set during RttE. Viggo has always looked at him like he knows something about Hiccup that he, himself, doesn't know. Hiccup can't phantom what it could possibly be and he isn't interested in finding out. But then one day he's captured and he figures that maybe he should've at least wondered.

Rating: Mature

Characters: Hiccup, Astrid, Toothless, Fishlegs, Snotlout, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Viggo

Pairing: Hiccstrid

Words: 13 627

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: “Experiment

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: THIS IS IT! WHUMPTOBER DAY 31 HAS FINALLY ARRIVED! MY GRAND FINALE FOR THIS YEAR'S WHUMPTOBER IS HERE! ALL 13K OF IT!

I started at midday and now it's 2am for me! I said that this was going to take all day to spell-check and it did! :'D

Constructive criticism is appreciated!

ENJOY!

Ao3

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

Viggo has always looked at him like he knows something about Hiccup that he, himself, doesn't know. Hiccup can't phantom what it could possibly be and he isn't interested in finding out. Whatever Viggo knows, or thinks he knows, so long as he doesn't use it against him, it matters little to Hiccup.

But then he's captured. And Hiccup wonders, staring at the bars of his cage, that maybe he should've at least wondered what it is that the Dragon Hunter Chief has on him.

The place he's being held in, it isn't their usual base. Hiccup has only seen the inside of it, but this is what appears to be a giant cave chamber. There is a large pool and so far, having been stuck in this cage, Hiccup hasn't been able to see how deep it actually is. From his position, though, he can't see the bottom.

And there is a considerably sized hole in the ceiling, where sunlight comes through during the day. But it is evening now, the sun has set and the moon can be seen reflecting what little light it can down into this cave.

Toothless isn't here, for some reason Viggo simply left his dragon behind. Viggo is here, however. It's just the two of them, no Dragon Hunters, and Hiccup wonders what he's planning as he stares at the man's back.

In front of Viggo, there is a table. On it there are books, one of which is splayed open, tools Hiccup can't quite see and are making him nervous, and a bottle with... something. All in all, everything about this scene before him brings him nothing but discomfort.

Finally, Viggo breaks this silence between them.

"Have you ever wondered where this connection with dragons of yours comes from?" He asks, a peculiar question to break the ice with. Hiccup shrugs, not interested in answering him, worried for Toothless and worried for himself. Doesn't matter if Viggo can't see him since his back is turned to him.

Seemingly receiving no answer, Viggo turns to face him.

"Well?"

"What does it matter?" This time Hiccup asks. It requires talking, which he isn't a fan of as he's a little annoyed with his current situation, but it still doesn't answer the man's question.

Viggo isn't even bothered. Something got the man in too much of a good mood and that honestly just makes Hiccup's mood even worse.

That and that this means he has something special planned for his captive tonight, which can only mean bad news for Hiccup.

"What about your natural innate ability of flight?" He asks. It's as if Hiccup isn't held against his will and they are talking under more casual circumstances.

Legs crossed and elbows resting on his knees, Hiccup's brows furrow.

"What natural ability?" He asks, genuinely curious as he, while he's quite good at it, doesn't have his own wings. He needs Toothless in order to fly, he can hardly call that natural. Certainly not innate.

Viggo, however, thinks he's just playing dumb.

"My sources tell me all I need to know and they've told me how you and your dragon have always flown so perfectly together, like you are one dragon. You're certain you don't know why that may be?" He speaks his next question and Hiccup looks off to the side for a moment. It all comes down to his bond with Toothless and how well they understand one another, it's not that mysterious.

"Let me rephrase my inquiry, how did your first flight go?" Ah, a question he can answer!

"Quite disastrous actually." Hiccup tells him nonchalantly, a slight smirk, but Viggo ignores this response.

"When the two of you were up in the air together for the first time, what did it feel like? Did it feel right? Did you feel a sudden burst, an epiphany, and suddenly you knew what to do?" Viggo asks and Hiccup hopes the surprise isn't too obvious on his face.

That managed to trigger a memory. He's reminded of his first flight with Toothless and while it had truly been disastrous, he did feel exactly what Viggo is describing to him.

He remembers letting go of his cheat sheet and simply letting pure instinct and his little experience guide him as he and Toothless weaved through those sea stacks. It had felt like a sudden epiphany, like he finally realized how flying truly worked. And yes, it had instantaneously felt right, like he was always meant to be in the sky.

But he can't tell Viggo that. For whatever reason this man is interrogating him about this and that means he can't tell him.

Hiccup wishes he has something to keep his hands busy with, they're restless. He stands up.

"What's with all these questions? If you're thinking about me teaching you to bond with and ride a dragon, you can forget it!" Hiccup reassures him that he won't, tiring of all this interrogating and not liking where all of this is going.

There is a smirk on Viggo's face as he knows that he hit the nail on the head. Hiccup is such an open book, how can he not reveal it?

"I have no interest in riding dragons myself, my Dear, this is simply more evidence to a theory of mine."

"Theory? What theory?" Hiccup moves closer to the bars of his cage, not liking those words. But Viggo has already turned his back to him again and is reading through the pages of whatever book he has lain in front of him.

It's thick and dusty. Hiccup trusts it just about as much as he trusts anything else in this cave.

"Viggo, what theory?" He tries again.

He doesn't like that he's been put in this cage. It's big, too, obviously meant to hold something that is not him. Although, the bars aren't wide enough to slip or crawl through.

Viggo doesn't care to answer and why should he? His prisoner is at his mercy, not the other way around. It does little to settle Hiccup's nerves.

Then he turns away from the table and approaches with the key in hand. Hiccup, noticing, steps away from the gate and backs up to the other end of the cage.

With a swift motion, Viggo inserts the key and turns, unlocking the cage and swinging it open before gesturing to his prisoner that he may step out of his cell.

He almost appears too trusting, seemingly relying on Hiccup not to run away and Hiccup, therefore, decides that he won't. Not because he sees this as a good sign, not at all. That Viggo is being so "trusting" only means he has this place more guarded than it first appeared to be to him.

But Hiccup doesn't step out. He crosses his arms and stares at his captor, as if telling him "you really think I'm falling for this?" As if he would ever see this as anything other than a blatant trap, no matter how suspiciously amicable Viggo is being.

"I'm giving you the choice to cooperate and let this be a learning experience for both of us. You do love knowledge, do you not? Or have I completely misread, Hiccup Haddock?" Viggo suggests, Hiccup's reluctance not fouling his mood, and so he decides to step out.

Doing this the hard way most likely means calling in the help of Dragon Hunters who would love to manhandle him until he's bruised all over. More Hunters simply means more trouble for him. If it's only Viggo he has to worry about, he might have a chance.

Besides, maybe there is something a little tempting about his foe's offer, if only to see what kind of information he's hoping to garner and how helpful it's going to be to him and the Dragon Riders.

Viggo smiles as he passes him by on the way to the table, or rather, smirks as he does. Just short of saying; "Now there's a good boy."

Hiccup tries not to let it get to him or at least not show that it is. The last thing he wants is to give him any more ammo than he already has.

Standing by his table, Viggo briefly turns back to Hiccup.

"Mind joining me?" He asks and gestures to the workspace in front of him. Probably having little choice, Hiccup joins him.

He doesn't like standing next to him, but what truly sends a chill down his spine is what he sees lying before him.

The book the Dragon Hunter Chief was reading is closed now. It's as if he doesn't want Hiccup to see what he's so fascinated by that he wants Hiccup's help of all people.

Or he guesses that's why he's here. He certainly hopes it isn't to become the subject of that fascination. Because he can now see those tools and he doesn't like what he's seeing.

There are knives of all sizes, though most likely all just as equally as sharp. A small hammer and a chisel, not the kind you would use for hard work, but rather for more delicate tasks instead. There's a saw as well as many more, but Hiccup can't imagine what Viggo would want to use this for. He doesn't want to imagine what any of these things can be used for.

Just what is Viggo planning? Those tools aren't going to be used on him, are they? And what about that mystery bottle? Whatever it's containing, Hiccup is willing to bet it can't be anything good.

He's rearranging them, making sure they lie neatly on the wooden surface. Hiccup can't tell if he's doing it out of compulsion or just to make him nervous.

"Tell me about your dragons. What is your relation to them?"

"Excuse me?" Hiccup asks, briefly glancing up at him, but then deciding that it must be a better idea to watch his hands.

"The dragon pack on Berk. My sources tell me that, amongst all the Vikings, it's you the dragons listen to the most, even above the highest authority figure in your village, your father. Why is that?" He asks so casually as if they're having a simple conversation and completely ignoring the fact that they're enemies.

The last thing Hiccup would want to talk with him about are the dragons Viggo would very much like to capture and sell. Either whole or piece by piece.

"Why would I tell you about Berk's pack? The pack that counts on me to protect them?" What Hiccup wanted was to emphasize how the man with him should not expect anything out of him, that his lips are sealed, but that isn't what Viggo hears.

"They count on you, do they? You specifically? Firebreathing dragons, a whole pack of them, rely on you, a single human, to keep them safe? And you honestly expect me not to ask you any more questions?" Viggo places a hand on the table as he faces his current "partner" in science.

Hiccup doesn't like this. He doesn't like this at all. Viggo's whole demeanor tonight is so peculiar. There is such curiosity, such fascination, and in the usual Grimborn way, they present themselves in such a malicious way.

"No, I'm not answering your questions, Viggo!" Hiccup smacks his hand on the wood, hoping to show how determined he is not to answer.

Viggo doesn't look entirely too pleased with this display, glancing at Hiccup's hand on the table.

"Are you sure that's what you want to be? Difficult? Did my offer to perform this experiment as equals not satisfy you? I can always call in outside help." So he lets out a subtle threat and Hiccup can't quite tell which one he should be more afraid of. The verbal one, or the one where Viggo gently fingers the saw lying on his side of the table.

So if he refuses to answer his questions, he doesn't just have some good old manhandling to look forward to, but whatever that saw can be used for as well?

Viggo is going straight for the kill on this one, isn't he? Whatever this "experiment" that he just mentioned is about, it's big enough that he isn't willing to take things slow. Either Hiccup cooperates right this instant until it's all over, or he risks being held down and lose a couple more body parts.

Hiccup swallows visibly, shaken by the threat. His gaze meets Viggo's.

"Well?"

Hiccup lets out a sigh. Perhaps to calm himself?

"You've heard of the Red Death before?" He asks once he's managed to regain his composure a little. He hopes he isn't shaking, he's usually good at steadying himself.

"Yes, of course. I've done my research ever since our very first encounter. At first, I thought the tale of the Boy and the Dragon who defeated the Red Death was nothing but a way for a disappointed father to make up for his disgraceful son. After all, that is the way it goes with you Vikings, is it not?" Viggo responds to his question and in a more timely manner than his "equal".

Hiccup feels himself getting a little angry at that comment and looks away. It hits a sore spot.

"But then our games properly started and I realized that, if anybody would successfully destroy a dragon that size, it would have to be you," Viggo speaks to him with an air of admiration, as if hearing the truth behind this tall tale has pleasantly surprised him.

"However, as much as I would love to discuss this story with you, we don't have the time as you've left my question unanswered." Hiccup fights the urge to sigh again.

"The Red Death, she acted like a queen for the pack that now lives with us on Berk. Fishlegs thinks that, since it was my plan that defeated her and there were plenty of dragons to see that, I may have taken her place. But it's just a theory!" He emphasizes that last part. He doesn't want Viggo to get any crazy ideas.

But Viggo, he just looks content with this information, like Hiccup just reaffirmed something he already knows.

"But you knew that already." So he states and crosses his arms, but whether it's in agitation or defense, he doesn't know.

"I had my suspicions. Perhaps I didn't take you for a "queen", but yes, I had my suspicions." The man says, taking some enjoyment out of annoying his young, and temporary, cohort.

This entire situation, Hiccup finds that Viggo is having way too much fun. This isn't some friendly meeting that they're having.

No, it isn't and he hates everything about this. Standing here next to Viggo, talking with Viggo, almost as if they are partners or fellow scholars. It feels so wrong.

And he soon finds it's about to get a whole lot worse than this.

"But now that this is sorted, I want you to undress."

"Wait, you want me to what?" Hiccup wasn't exactly making himself comfortable, but that still takes him off guard.

Viggo picks up a knife before he answers and admires its glint in the torchlight.

"You heard me. This experiment requires you in a state of undress. Don't worry, I only need you to remove your armor and your tunic." He answers as if that is in any way comforting. Especially when he's playing with that knife in that manner.

"I'm-I'm not going to..." His words end there, his level of discomfort rises dramatically.

"Hmm, I could always-"

"O-okay, fine!" He knows what Viggo wants to say, he wants to threaten him with "outside help" again. And if there is something that would make stripping for Viggo Grimborn worse, it's stripping in front of and being stripped by Viggo Grimborn and his men. It would be humiliating.

So he does it voluntarily, or about as voluntary as undressing under duress is. First removing his pauldrons before pulling his chest armor off. At his tunic, he hesitates.

"Well?" Viggo presses when he notices Hiccup's reluctance. His good mood takes another little dip, he's growing impatient.

"I-I-I can't just... Viggo, hey!" Hiccup is about to his express his hesitation when Viggo takes the knife in his hand, grabs Hiccup's tunic, and cuts right through it. Because of his carelessness, it grazes his skin and creates both a red line and an accompanying awful stinging on his chest.

Hiccup backs away startled and looks down at himself, hands grabbing the cut pieces of his clothing. The cut is already bleeding and Viggo managed to get through most of his tunic as well as his undertunic. He glares up at him and Viggo returns the favor.

"I am a man with reasonable patience, Hiccup Haddock, but my patience is wearing thin. I am not taking the time to watch you dilly-dally when we have a schedule to uphold."

"A schedule? Is there an actual schedule or are you just saying that because we're running out of time?" Hiccup asks him, angry with his current situation.

Though he asks this, neither sound like a good option. A schedule can mean that Viggo wants this to be a regular thing, undressing for whatever reason, for however long Hiccup will be held captive by him before the Dragon Riders eventually save him. Meanwhile running out of time may suggest that there is something Viggo wants done before it's too late to do it and that can make a man desperate and unpredictable as a result. So really, neither are preferable.

Viggo doesn't answer his question, instead furrowing his brow.

"Tunic, Hiccup."

So he removes them, both layers, and is left bare from the figurative belt up. As if this couldn't get any worse, though Hiccup has a feeling it might still get worse and in so many ways.

He can feel Viggo's gaze on him and he can't bring himself to meet it. After all their interactions and Viggo's subtle hints, making himself vulnerable in this way isn't exactly something he wanted to do.

Gods, he can feel Viggo's eyes on him as he passes him by, knife just grazing his arm harmlessly and making goosebumps appear on his skin.

He's doing it on purpose, he must be. He can't let it get to him.

But he does, his breath hitches when the knife leaves his skin and Viggo walks away from him. He can't tell if it's because of discomfort, his nerves, or something else entirely.

The Dragon Hunter Chief approaches something standing in the beam of moonlight coming down from the hole in the ceiling. It's elevated and flat, but still made of rock, like some sort of pedestal has been carved out. Hiccup isn't sure if he wants to follow him, nervous about what might happen when he does.

"Are you coming or not?" Unfortunately, his captor isn't giving him much of a choice.

"Viggo, what are we doing here? You demand answers from me, threaten me with force if I hesitate to give them, the least you can do is tell me what I can expect in the next... however long this is going to take." Though he's used to the cold north, he shivers as he speaks.

"You'll see." Of course, that's the answer that he gives him.

"Pedestal, get on it." Viggo orders next and Hiccup figures he has to. Otherwise, he'll just be threatened by "outside help" some more.

So he gets on it, attempting to stand, but then Viggo pulls him down onto his knees. His upper body is already bare and vulnerable, might as well be forced into a submissive position, too.

Hiccup grunts and almost fights it. He was right to think that things can still get worse.

Viggo is standing behind him now, rolling the blade in his hand. Hiccup can feel his heart pounding. He hates having that man so close and beyond his view.

His free hand settles on his shoulder and Hiccup nearly jumps straight to his feet because of how on edge he is.

His hand is warm, though, warmer than Hiccup would like it to be.

"What're you doing?"

"Calm yourself. No need to get worked up and make this experience any more unpleasant than it needs to be." Hiccup glares at his fists as they rest on his lap. How is he supposed to listen when that is the kind of reassurance he's being given?

He wishes he wasn't shaking, but he is. He's so aware of everything, he's pretty sure he can hear the man behind him breathe.

The cold of the knife touches the skin on his back, a little above his right shoulder blade.

"Viggo-"

"Relax, don't struggle and it'll be over soon."

The blade nicks into his flesh and Hiccup can't take it anymore. He jumps to his feet and spins around to face the other, removing himself from the platform.

"No, I can't do this! I'm answering your questions, I've stripped down to just my pants, and now you expect me to just let you cut into my body?! And for what?! You haven't given me any answers of your own and you refuse to explain what you're endgame is!" Hiccup raises his voice, heart pounding.

Viggo simply watches him, wearing an expression that tells Hiccup that he's not even considering changing this one-sided exchange of information.

"Fine, if you want to do it the hard way." So he calls in two of his men to grab Hiccup, one on each arm, to force him back upon the rock.

"What?! No!" Grunting, Hiccup attempts to fight them, struggling himself free on one side before a third Hunter joins them to pull the lead Dragon Rider back onto the pedestal.

"No, let go! Viggo! Viggo, all I want is some answers! I don't understand why you can't give me those. What are you planning on doing to me?!" It is frightening. To be manhandled in such a way by three men both bigger and stronger than him, to be forced back down on his knees and held down to keep him at the mercy of Viggo Grimborn and his questionable actions.

"I've told you, Hiccup, you'll have to wait and see. Something things are better left to be experienced. Now be quiet and take it." Viggo glowers down at him. That is about the only explanation he'll be getting from him and all it does is make him even more anxious.

Viggo supposes this isn't a bad thing. A fast heartbeat just means it'll be spread through his system faster.

Taking place behind him again, Viggo replaces the blade on his back, presses, and drags it down. It is slow and methodical, he's more concerned with keeping his cut straight than he is with Hiccup's comfort.

And Hiccup, he's left to deal with it. He doesn't want to show how much it pains him to have his flesh slowly split open, but there are pained whimpers he can't suppress. And neither can he stop the shivers of his body, nor the way the muscles of his back contract, as if they stand a chance of stopping this.

Viggo is done after it is repeated on the left side of his spine as well, but the three Dragon Hunters don't let go.

"Fuck..." A curse slips past his lips this time. It hurts so bad and those two slashes aren't all that short either. His neck is starting to hurt, too, from the way he's being held.

The three men keeping him pinned let out a chuckle, laughing at his misery.

"Quiet. We aren't here for hilarity or pranks." Viggo suddenly sounds farther away. Hiccup wants to look, but his restrainers aren't allowing him to.

It sounds like Viggo is back by the table and Hiccup hopes that it isn't to pick a different torture device.

"You, let him go." The Hunter Chief orders the man holding Hiccup's neck to release him and he does. After a little push for extra measure, naturally.

Viggo returns and kneels down in front of Hiccup holding the bottle that was previously standing next to the mystery book.

"Tell me, Hiccup Haddock, what do you know about Fireworm Queens and the gell they secrete for their young ones?" He asks.

"What can I tell you that the Dragon-Eye hasn't already?" Hiccup asks in turn, still an edge to his tone despite his watery eyes.

"I am simply testing your knowledge, no need to be so hostile." He can't tell if Viggo is actually being serious or not. He does all of this to him and then expects Hiccup to not get hostile? He must be joking.

Viggo stands and uncorks the opaque bottle. A smell that is horrendously sweet fills the air almost immediately and makes everyone present gag at the intensity. Their nostrils burn.

"That's-"

"The secretion of a Fireworm Queen is contained within this bottle, but it isn't the kind fed to all her offspring. Can you tell?" He asks and Hiccup supposes that he can.

That scent is familiar, he remembers smelling it in the cavern of the Fireworm Queen he and the Dragon Riders went to, to save Hookfang's life once or when that same dragon came to them for help. But that smell wasn't as strong as the one he can smell now. This one is much, much stronger, to the point that it makes him want to throw up. He has a feeling he knows what it is.

Noticing Hiccup's refusal to respond by how he clenches his jaw, Viggo answers for him.

"This is the hormonal gel given to Fireform larvae that are meant to become queens someday. It is potent and it is the star of today's experiment. Well, the two of you share the spot." He tells him with a smirk and then moves behind him again.

Hiccup watches him go until he's out of sight, dread knotting his stomach.

"Do you know what it does? It makes a Fireworm independent from the gel that gives them their heat, it enables them to produce it themselves, changes them so they can grow in the same size and strength as the queens before them. They become a queen themselves." Hiccup can hear Viggo pull something out by the way it's dripping the gel back into the bottle. Fireworm gel shouldn't be this liquid.

"Do you know what this means, Hiccup? With a certain dosage, a Fireworm's hormonal gel can change a larvae's very physiology to the point that they become an entirely new kind of dragon. It brings out that which is hidden deeply within them to elevate them to something new. Imagine the kind of power such a gel can give if experimented with, imagine the possibilities." There is such passion in Viggo's words as he dumps all of this info on his abductee.

"You're very talkative all of a sudden," Hiccup says.

"I am merely sharing what I know."

Something is placed on his back over one of his injuries, splatting onto his person before it's properly put in place. It feels like a long strip of cloth drenched in diluted gell and it's mingling with his blood, soaked up by his wound.

It feels cold at first, until the gel seems to activate with his body heat and quickly warms up to the point of hurting. Hiccup breathes through it as much as he can. If it's this intense in a diluted form, what is the gell like in its true form?

The same thing happens to his other cut and Hiccup hisses as the second strip heats up, too.

"Can't imagine it to be too comfortable." Viggo sasses, as if that's something Hiccup wants to hear.

"Oh... Why-why are you doing this? What are you hoping to accomplish?" Hiccup tries once more, his cheeks flushing as the temperatures of his body rises. Within moments he feels feverish.

"What I am trying to accomplish? Hopefully, the exact result I'm looking for." Again, not what he wants to hear.

Viggo appears in front of him again and grabs his chin. Hiccup tries to break free, but Viggo's grip is tight.

The muffled sound of an explosion shakes the cave chamber and small stones drop down from the ceiling here and there.

"Dragon Riders." One of the Hunters mutters and another groans in dismay.

Meanwhile, Hiccup feels relief wash over him.

At least for a short moment.

"Then we'll have to hurry." Viggo's grip on his chin tightens and he forces his mouth open. Hiccup struggles to break free, but the third man joins in again and grabs hold of his hair and jaw.

"No!" A garbled yell leaves Hiccup, but it's no use. Whatever else remains in the bottle, Viggo forces it down his throat and this isn't as diluted as the gell on the strips of cloth.

The effect is instantaneous. His lips, the entire inside of his mouth, his throat, everything becomes unbearably tingly and hot. It's as if he's being burned from the inside out and it makes him panic. If he wasn't crying already, he certainly is now.

Covering his mouth and nose, Viggo keeps Hiccup from spitting it back out, smiling all the while.

"You'll have to forgive, my Dear, but considering our circumstances, I was forced to give you more than the natural doses. Much, much more." He tells him and Hiccup can feel it, with the way he's burning from the inside out.

There is another explosion, followed by another.

"I really wish I could stay and see what happens, but it is time for me to leave soon." He says as he still keeps his hand in place. He doesn't plan on letting go until he's certain it's all gone.

Or until a plasma blast sends them all flying.

It isn't aimed at them, but at the ground instead, lest the Night Fury responsible ends up hitting his own Rider. But the force behind the shot is still powerful enough to fling all five of them.

Hiccup falls to the ground and rolls in the direction of the lake. As per his luck, he falls right in, ending up completely submerged.

Or perhaps it is fortunate, the hot sensation on his lips and tongue alleviates just a tad bit with the cooling water.

"Hiccup!" That is Astrid's muffled yell and Toothless roars in unison with her.

Hiccup can't see what is happening, cringing as the freezing water cools his body and takes his breath away.

He doesn't regain any movement, body locked by cold, but he doesn't have to. Toothless dives right in to pull him out.

Sputtering out water after he's pulled to the surface, Hiccup clings to his dragon and fervently rubs at his face. That burning on his lips and mouth, it needs to go and water is his best option. He tries to wash everything off.

Toothless doesn't quite get what is wrong, but he lets Hiccup do as he wishes. If it helps him to wash whatever it is that is wrong with him off, then he will try and stay as still as he can. Hiccup is holding onto him for support.

Once the burning tingling has been taken care of, Hiccup lets Toothless pull him onto solid ground. It isn't completely gone yet, but it has lessened enough to make it bearable. Just slightly more bearable than it was before, that is.

Astrid helps him get out of the water, grabbing Hiccup's hands to pull him up. The other Dragon Riders are there, too, and they surround him immediately, helping with getting him up. Toothless follows swiftly.

"Hiccup, are you okay?" Astrid asks, hands on his shoulders, but he takes them away from him. She gives him a look.

"I'm sorry, I just can't stand touching right now." His skin is still too tingly, too sensitive. The other Riders quickly take their hands off him.

"What the Hel is this?" Snotlout asks, referring to the strips of cloth covering what are clearly two bleeding cuts.

"I-I don't-I don't even know where to start. But please, get those off." Hiccup responds. The Fireworm gel seems to have cooled down from the water, a mercy considering what he felt like before.

Fishlegs moves behind him, four of the Riders looking over Hiccup's shoulders to take a look at what their healer will be doing.

"They look like they're stuck," Ruffnut states, just shy of touching the cloth.

"Well, let's hope they're not or we might be hurting Hiccup even more than he already is." Astrid retorts.

Fishlegs studies the strips before taking a corner and pulling a tad just to test the waters. Hiccup cringes.

"Oh no, they're stuck, they're very stuck." Fishlegs notices and stops.

Just like anything dragon-related, cooling it only makes it impossible to work with, much like the amber of Death Song dragons.

"Maybe it's better to take care of this on the Edge. We'll be home, you'll be in your hut, and we'll have a lot more supplies on hand than what we have now." Astrid suggests and Hiccup finds himself mulling it over.

Whatever Viggo's experiment is supposed to accomplish, leaving the gel to just sit on his skin might not be the best idea. But if he has to choose between having this issue taken care of here, in a dank cave with little medical supplies, and his home away from home, where his bed is and his workspace, then his choice is quickly made.

"Let's go home."

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It was an uncomfortable trip. Hiccup was able to fly on his own as his injuries didn't keep him from doing so. A blanket had been fashioned into a makeshift tunic by use of a belt to protect him from the freezing winds, but it couldn't stop the pulling he felt on his back.

The two wounds alone would be troublesome on their own, but with the gel sticking cloth into them makes them feel like they're being pulled on and it's unpleasant at the very least.

Dragon's Edge appearing in the distance is a blessing and they eventually reach it. Before long, Hiccup is in his hut while Astrid and Fishlegs figure out what to do about their current problem. So long as those cuts are covered, they can't treat them and that means they need to get rid of those strips first.

"And you said they felt hot?" Fishlegs asks Hiccup to repeat, wanting to know if he heard right so he can properly think of a solution.

Sitting on a chair and finding no way to sit comfortably with his back situation, Hiccup nods.

"Like Death Song amber before it cools." He nods.

"Maybe we can free you from that Fireworm gel like we free someone from Death Song amber? Heat it up until it lets go?" Astrid suggests, sitting on a chair, too, as is Fishlegs. They're both behind him, inspecting the situation before them.

"Hmmm, yeah, that could work, but we'd need to be quick. That stuff was so hot, too hot, I don't want to burn my back." Hiccup reluctantly replies. He's not looking forward to what they most likely will end up doing to help him, he doesn't want to experience that kind of burning again.

But he knows it and they know it. Astrid and Fishlegs share a look, sharing Hiccup's thought process.

"I'll go grab the Inferno," Astrid says and gets up to fetch it on the loft. Hiccup watches her go for a moment before his attention is taken by Fishlegs.

"We promise to be careful, Hiccup, and we'll try to work as fast as we can." He promises him while Astrid returns with the Dragon blade.

They both look at her, watch her check if it's still covered in Nightmare saliva before she lights it with a button and Hiccup fills with dread.

Astrid joins Fishlegs again and they get to work, Astrid holding the sword at the stiff strips to warm them up.

Fortunately for him, it doesn't take as long as Hiccup fears, the gel becomes workable when heated up and Fishlegs manages to pull the cloth off. The second they let go, Astrid takes the Inferno away and Hiccup breathes a sigh of relief.

At least that's over with, now they can properly care for those cuts.

"Oh, this is going to be troublesome." But that is what Astrid says and Hiccup tenses up in alarm.

"Hiccup, the gel is all up in those cuts. Cleaning them won't be easy." Fishlegs warns him and Hiccup nods.

"Do they need to be stitched?" Hiccup asks.

"With all of this gunk in there? Probably. They aren't too deep, but it might help to avoid further risk for an infection." He tells him and Hiccup supposes that he'll just have to resign himself to the fact that he'll be here for a long while.

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It took well over an hour, maybe two or even three. Bottom line is, Fishlegs and Astrid had to spend a long time heating, cleaning, and treating Hiccup's injuries before they could finally bandage him up.

"What was Viggo thinking?!" Astrid hisses angrily as she washes her hands.

"What does it matter? We all know Viggo's a creep." Snotlout complains. After a rejuvenating dinner, he and the twins have joined the others in Hiccup's hut to see how the treatment of their leader is going.

It's been hours since they got home and the three of them could see how much pain it was putting Hiccup in.

Cleaning open wounds isn't at all pleasant, let alone when a fire needs to be held close to said wounds in order to clean them properly. It wasn't good for neither his cuts nor his healthy skin.

His entire back is now red and tender from being burned and Hiccup trembles again from the abuse he was put through, that they had to put him through. Though they were given little choice, it angers them all.

But his wounds have been stitched and dressed and his newly required first-degree burns have been carefully cooled and treated with healing salve. He's eating now, the first meal he's had since he was taken. Or he's trying to, staring at his bowl of soup as they aren't sure what he's able to eat. Nothing warm in hindsight, the inside of his mouth is still sensitive.

He's quiet and without a doubt still reeling from this experience. He'll be fine eventually, but for a time, he'll need to recover from this mentally, too.

"I wonder what the purpose of this was, though. What was Viggo trying to accomplish?" Fishlegs asks, he's the first one to do so since they got home.

"Did he tell you anything?" Astrid faces Hiccup as she dries her hands. Viggo likes talking to him, maybe he told him something.

But Hiccup quietly shakes his head as there isn't anything to tell. He's too upset to take a spoonful and his stomach is too upset, too. Though it rumbles, he's too nauseous to eat.

"Hey, are you okay?" Noticing this, Astrid asks and approaches.

"Oh yeah, I bet he's fine." Snotlout responds sarcastically, finding her question to be a silly one.

Astrid glares at him momentarily. Of course, she knows he's not okay, but it never hurts to ask and see what he has to say.

"Ye-yeah, I'm fine, I just... I just feel too sick to my stomach to eat." Hiccup tells her, but whether it's because of the gel in his system, in his stomach, or because of the stripping of those strips, he doesn't know. Could even be a combination of all three, could be the exhaustion that this experience has left him with.

"Do you need to lie down?"

"Yeah." Hiccup hands her his bowl and she takes it before he can get up on wobbly legs. Fishlegs helps keep him steady.

Now that his injuries have been properly treated, maybe he can get some rest.

Toothless, who had been lying behind him, stands up to follow him up to the loft. He hasn't had much sleep as of late either due to his Rider disappearing.

The five watch them go up the stairs, noticing Hiccup swaying a few times before he makes it up.

"You want us to come back with your food later?" Astrid asks. Maybe they can heat it up over a fire when he does feel like he can handle a meal.

"No, I just want to be left alone for a bit." It makes sense. After what he's been through, Astrid would want to be left alone, too.

"So can we have Hiccup's food?" Ruffnut asks as they make their way out, the hut's door closing and leaving Hiccup and Toothless bathed in the light of a single candle standing by the bed.

Hiccup sits down on the edge of his bed, sighing and swaying. He feels so sick, the Fireworm gel must not be agreeing with him. He feels sick and he's tired, dying to lie down and curl up. So that's what he does.

He can feel his injuries protesting and almost doesn't go for the covers until Toothless pulls them over him, a corner between his gums.

"Thanks, Bud." Hiccup tells him, closing his eyes. He sleeps under them, not fully, with his back in the kind of state that it is. But his dragon is there to keep him warm, so maybe he can get some shuteye despite his many discomforts.

Soon after he closes his eyes, he sleeps, unaware of what Viggo's experiment has truly wrought upon him.

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A couple of days later, evening arrives and the Riders are finishing their dinner while Astrid serves a sixth plate to bring to Hiccup. After having been briefly gone, Fishlegs returns to them with the medical supplies he would need to change Hiccup's bandages.

Tuffnut watches Astrid.

"Maybe we can get Hiccup to eat here?" He suggests to her, they haven't seen him as he recovers and the only ones who do see him are her and Fishlegs.

"We told you, Hiccup is too sick for visitors," Astrid tells him, surprisingly calm in spite of the fact she's had to repeat it many times already.

"Then how come you and Fishlegs get to see him? I can change a bandage!" Snotlout protests, mouth still full of mutton.

"Hiccup can barely stand our presence at the moment, I'm not exposing him to you or the twins." She tells him, picking the extra plate up.

The truth is, Toothless eventually did cave and come to tell them of the fever plaguing Hiccup. Since then it's only gone from bad to worse.

He's burning up all the time, his temperature dangerously high. He's throwing up everything he eats and drinks, already he's lost some weight. And then there's the pain that he's in. Claiming that every part of him hurts, he lies curled up most of the time, stomach upset.

"My back, there's something wrong with my back."

Astrid and Fishlegs have checked over and over again, even removed the stitches to look at the wounds themselves when he told them to remove them. They've found nothing and believe him to be hallucinating due to the fever.

If anything, keeping Snotlout, Ruffnut, and Tuffnut out of that hut is a favor to them, even if they don't see it that way.

Astrid and Fishlegs are both exhausted, barely having slept these past few days. Whatever is causing all of this, all they can do is help him be as comfortable as he can be in this.

They've already sent a message to Berk with the fastest Terrible Terror that they have. Now they'll just have to wait for Gothi, Stoick, and Gobber to come. There's no way Hiccup can make that trip back.

They go back to doing their own thing when Stormfly perks up by the entrance, where she waits for her human. Her attention seems to be drawn by something as she squawks and her head tilts like a bird's.

"What's wrong, girl?" Approaching with the plate, Astrid wants to ask her what it is that piques her interest. But Stormfly doesn't have to answer when it comes to them before she can.

It is a long blood-curdling scream that freezes them all in place.

They look at each other for a moment too long after it ends, reeling from the sheer torment in the sound.

"Hiccup!" Astrid yells and drops the plate of food she holds. They all sprint out of the clubhouse and towards the hut. Having been spooked, Stormfly is nowhere to be found.

It doesn't take them long to arrive with their legs carrying them as fast as humanly possible. They open the front entrance to permit themselves entry. As it flips open, they hurry inside and up to the loft to find...

"Oh... my..."

"... Gods..." Snotlout finishes for Astrid, who stare at the sight before them. They all stare.

Hiccup and Toothless are both nowhere to be found. What they're staring at instead is nothing but blood.

Sheets, bed, pillows, bucket, everything is splattered with blood. It's even on the walls and on the ceiling.

"What the fuck happened here?!" Tuffnut asks what they're all wondering, but can't say, too speechless to.

Something on the floor catches Astrid's attention and she leans down to grab it.

It's a torn stitch.

"Fishlegs," She calls him over to take a look.

"Is that..."

"From his back? I think so." Astrid responds, not wanting to imagine how or why it's on the floor and not where it's supposed to be. Snotlout looks as well, an expression of disgust on his face.

"Uh, that's not the only one." Ruffnut mentions and points towards several more pieces on the ground.

"Did they get torn off? What was Hiccup doing to himself?" Snotlout asks, that scream had to be coming from somewhere.

Nobody answers simply because no one can provide him with one. But from the patterns of the blood and the pieces of stitches, it almost looks like an explosion of blood had occurred, like it all came bursting out of the wounds on his back. That alone is mindboggling.

"Hey Astrid, considering our situation, maybe we should tell them how Hiccup was really doing," Fishlegs suggests and that doesn't make them feel too good with what they're about to hear.

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They have left a convenient trail for them. It's a trail of blood, but it's something to find their friends with now that they've gone missing.

"Oh, I hope Hiccup's okay," Fishlegs wonders out loud, his arms full of medical supplies.

Snotlout rolls his eyes, too angry with Fishlegs and Astrid to even say anything now. Though the latter of the two sees it as a blessing, he's sure to make up for his silence soon.

"I'm sure he's fine. Or at least as fine as he can be and Toothless is still with them. They're probably waiting for us." Astrid reassures him.

"Uh, and how do we know that?" Tuffnut asks.

"Yeah, why would they be waiting for us if their first instinct was to run away?" Ruffnut asks and she has a point. That they would run away after an utterly puzzling experience like that is a strange thing to do. Especially for Hiccup, who should know better.

"I'm sure it was just the shock of... what must've happened." Astrid tries to give the incident a term, tries to call it something as things always feel better with a name, but finds she isn't sure what to call it. She also isn't sure anymore if it's a good idea to do this on foot as she naturally thought Hiccup and Toothless wouldn't be getting far. And yet, at the same time she can feel that they're close.

If they pass these trees, they'll find them. If they get past this rock, push through these bushes, but each time they end up being further away than she thinks.

"Ugh, this plan is dumb! We should be getting on our dragons and-" As Snotlout breaks his angry silence to propose a different plan, there is a loud rustling up ahead and they all grow quiet. It sounds like a dragon taking off and breaking through the trees to reach the sky, quite a specific sound, but one they're familiar with.

Recognizing this, they search the nearest opening in the greenery and look to the sky. High above them, they spot a black dragon with a little speck of red leaving the Edge. They would've thought it was Toothless and they would've given chase, if not for the fact that this species has four wings instead of two.

A new species of dragon? Now?

The Dragon Riders can only stare, too perplexed to climb onto their dragons to follow or to even grab a spyglass and see what it is, like it's their first time seeing a dragon.

But as exciting as it is to see another new dragon, they can't follow it. They need to find their team members first.

"What was that?" Tuffnut asks and no one can give him an answer.

They continue on the trail and while it ends quickly after, Hiccup and Toothless are nowhere to be found.

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They tried to find their missing friends. The ceiling window was open and they figured that must be how they got away unseen. But after deducing that, they didn't get very far as the blood trail they followed ended after a little while with no further leads. It's like Hiccup and Toothless just vanished into thin air. Dragon's Edge isn't a small island either, finding them again will be hard.

But they've tried. They've searched the forests, they've searched the caves, any place where a human and a Night Fury could hide, only to come up with nothing.

So the Dragon Riders have decided to make a detour.

"You two shouldn't have lied about Hiccup!" Angered by the hiding and the deadends, Snotlout scolds two of the other Riders. He rides on top of Hookfang as they're all mid-flight.

But for once, Hookfang agrees with his human. He is of the opinion that Stormfly's and Meatlug's humans should've been more honest with the group.

"We didn't lie, Snotlout. Hiccup was sick, nobody could see this coming." Astrid is having none of that. She worries and she's been mulling the past few days over and over, trying to think of anything that she thought of as suspicious, but there really is nothing she can think of. She knows Fishlegs has been doing the same in vain.

There is nothing that pointed towards his back bursting open at the seams. The seams being the cuts Viggo put there.

"I still think you should've told us!" Snotlout exclaims.

"So you've mentioned." Astrid retorts, but before the former can say something again, Fishlegs speaks up.

"There it is!" He shouts, pointing towards the island in the distance.

They've left Dragon's Edge and their search to take another look at the place where Viggo held Hiccup and experimented on him. They don't expect to find anything, but finding Hiccup and Toothless first without a way to help might not be so wise. If there is anything this place can tell them that'll help, they would love to know.

What a first glance tells them? That the Dragon Hunters have packed up and left, the island is abandoned. Not surprising and not entirely a bad thing as that saves them the trouble of a battle, but only if Viggo left behind some clue to what he's done to their leader.

They find the cave quickly and ascend down the hole in the ceiling, steering there as they have little interest in the rest of the island for the time being. The hole is big enough even for Hookfang's wings to fit through.

Unsurprisingly, this place has been cleared as well. Everything's been taken.

Everything, except for one thing, a single book.

"Huh, that's weird." Snotlout remarks, most likely saying what they're all thinking as they land. His voice, Hookfang's last wing flaps, everything echoes here.

"Why would Viggo just leave something like that here? That not like him." Fishlegs wonders out loud. Meatlug, who he still sits on, gurgles worryingly in agreement. It is strange and she doesn't like it a bit.

"Maybe he forgot?" Tuffnut hesitantly suggests an explanation.

"Eh, I don't know, looks more like a trick to me." But Ruffnut offers a different perspective.

They all dismount, standing near the pedestal-like carved rock that still has Hiccup's blood on it. There isn't a lot, definitely outweighed by the bloodbath they found in his hut, but their eyes are still drawn to it.

"Ugh," Snotlout shows his disgust for what happened here.

Leaving her dragon's side, Astrid approaches the pedestal to get the book.

"Careful, what if it's a trap?" Fishlegs fears.

"No, I don't think so. I think Viggo left this here for us to find." Astrid thinks, picking the old book up with little problem. Which is a worrying thing to think. Because knowing Viggo, it most likely means he's done what he set out to do and that he wants to gloat to the Riders about another victory by leaving this behind.

The question now is, what will this book mean for them? Will it be an explanation or just more questions?

Astrid returns to her friends with it and they all gather around her to see. She flips it open.

At first glance, the book seems a little odd. There are pages showing strange creatures, texts detailing myths and legends even older than Vikings, a whole section on dragons. There is even something about the Fireworms and their queens, which is one of the pages bookmarked by the man who left this book for them to find.

Because, oh yes, Viggo has bookmarked a few pages for them. He's telling them what they should read, even leaving the occasional note to show which parts are important to read. And they know it's addressed to them as Viggo mentions Hiccup by name.

So clearly he expects his rival to be alive. If anything, it slightly eases the worry that Hiccup might be lying dead somewhere with Toothless in no state to get their friends.

Though it hurts their pride to give into Viggo's mockery, Astrid releases a deeply agitated sigh and turns to the first bookmark.

It is the aforementioned section on Fireworms, their queens, and their gel.

"So what is all of this supposed to mean?" Snotlout asks. Though the Dragons have a slightly easier time to see what is being shown, the Riders are all squeezed together behind Astrid to look over her shoulder and read what's been written.

What they read, isn't new information. They know how the gel works, they know how Fireworm Queens are made.

"For as sophisticated and handsome as he is, Viggo's a dick," Ruffnut says, feeling offended by the Hunter Chief's need to belittle their dragon knowledge.

"So we know from Hiccup that Fireworm gel was used on him, but this information doesn't explain why it was used on him or what it was supposed to do." Fishlegs mentions, so Astrid turns to a different bookmark and that's where the book's strange nature reappears again, causing even an array of befuddling reactions from the Dragons.

The pictures are the oddest part so far and they haven't even gotten to the walls of text yet.

"Uh, are those...?" Snotlout can barely finish his sentence, too spooked and confused.

"Awesome dragon people?! Sign me the fuck up!" Ruffnut excitedly declares, practically climbing over Snotlout to take a better look.

What they're looking at is indeed a page full of sketches with humans in possession of some very draconic traits. Horns, claws, spines, even large and majestic wings. The way they were drawn was in a strange mixture of both beauty and creepy. There appears to be a thin line between the two.

"Oh, yeah, sounds like real fun. I, too, want blood spurting out of me with such force that it hits the ceiling." Snotlout claps back at her, disgruntled with her words, whatever these dragon people have to do with what happened to Hiccup.

"Fishlegs, what do you make of this?" Astrid asks and hands the book over to him. Fishlegs takes it and pages through it, skimming the contents to get a general idea of what it's saying, paying special attention to the parts Viggo has marked for them.

"I'm not really sure. The author of this book clearly likes to talk about these stories revolving around a winged kind of people in this section. Like, a dragon species that look like humans or are something between humans and dragons or were once humans and turned into dragons." Fishlegs explains the gist of it, still paging through the book.

"So like the Wingmaidens?" Snotlout asks, curiously attempting to take another peek. He brings up Atali and her people because he wants to make sense of this. Things like books didn't always mean what they said, they were tricky like that. People with tiny dragons to carry them make a lot more sense to him than people who are dragons themselves.

"No, no baby dragons. More like, these people had wings of their own, they were born with them!" Fishlegs replies, fascinated by the very concept.

"Had?" But Astrid can't help but notice the wording he uses. Is it a coincidence or on purpose?

"Yes, had! This book talks about them supposedly having gone extinct a few generations back. During the time when Hamish the First became chief of Berk!" He responds.

"But in order for something to go extinct-" Fishlegs cuts Astrid off.

"They first need to have existed! And that's what this book is implying. That they weren't legends at all, but real!" He claims. This book implies that about a lot of things they know aren't real.

"So what's that got to do with Hiccup? He doesn't have wings. Or claws, or horns, or fire, he's not a dragon! Not in a literal sense." Snotlout brings up a point.

"Uh, obviously he is." Ruffnut rolls with her eyes in amusement.

"That's why he's also a magical creature because he's a dragon!" Tuffnut agrees, neither of them knowing how right their attempt at helping everyone relax will end up being.

The remaining three Riders and the Dragons focus back on their biggest clue so far, the book

"We should put him a year in the wild."

"Yeah,"

"He'll be so feral!"

"Yeah!"

"Can you two please take this seriously! The only way we can help Hiccup is if we take this seriously and find out what exactly Viggo wanted with him." Astrid scolds them when she has heard enough.

"Viggo wanted Hiccup to grow wings and you want us to take this seriously?" Tuffnut protests at the ridiculousness of it all. Viggo gets to do this and they let him get away with it?

"Uh yeah, not likely," Ruffnut says with a shake of her head.

"Viggo didn't want Hiccup to grow wings, that's ridiculous!" Astrid raises her voice.

"It kind of looks like that's exactly what he wanted to do, actually. He wants us to know about the Fireworm gel and the tales of these ancient people? This might be exactly what he's hinting at." Fishlegs argues in defense of the twins.

"But Hiccup is human!"

"Remember the cuts Viggo made? Those can't be a coincidence!"

"Okay, so let's pretend that's what he wanted to do, does it matter? We're here to find out what happened to Hiccup in his hut, not try to crawl inside a creep's head!" Snotlout puts an end to the discussion by diverting it just a tad.

"Except if... you know... he succeeded?" It's an outrageous suggestion, but Fishlegs still makes it.

They'll all have to take a moment to stare, the notion that that's what caused the mess in his hut not quite what they thought of. Even the Dragons are surprised.

"Okay, that's it, you're fired from dragon nerd duty." Snotlout decides, arms crossed.

"A winged Hiccup, you say. I'd tap that. The question is, will Astrid? Because if she won't I'm available." Ruffnut jokes, her brother nodding in agreement.

"Ugh, muttonheads."

Meanwhile, Astrid makes her way back to Stormfly, who lets her on her back.

"What're you doing?" Snotlout asks.

"We're going back to the Edge. We've done everything we can here and we know what we need to know." Astrid says.

"So what? You're just accepting this stupid theory?" Snotlout asks in disbelieve. But without answering him, Astrid and Stormfly take to the sky.

"Wait, seriously?! I thought you and Fishlegs were the smart ones of the group!" He shouts to her, but still, he and Hookfang follow her home, they all do.

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Once on the Edge, the plan was to search again, to see where Hiccup and Toothless might've gone. That new dragon species might've thrown them for a loop, but not this time. They have tracker dragons and enough medical supplies and a general idea of what has happened, it was time to find them.

Of course, emphasis on "was" as the Dragon Riders arrive home late at night and Smidvarg comes to them with terrible news.

"Smidvarg! What's wrong, Buddy?" Tuffnut asks, a smile still on his face as he's always happy to see his Night Terror buddy.

The Night Terror screeches and shrieks flying off into a direction and expecting the humans and dragons to follow.

"We're following Smidvarg! Come on, Gang!" Astrid decides and they give chase, following the lead Terror to wherever the fire must be.

A fire is exactly what Smidvarg leads them to, a percentage of the forest on the East side of Dragon's Edge is burning, a large plume of smoke rises to the dark sky. And underneath it all, Dragon Hunter ships.

And just to make everything even worse, a plasma blast shoots free of the mess and creates a distress signal that briefly illuminates the sky.

"That must be Toothless!" Fishlegs cries out.

"And Hiccup is probably with them." Astrid acknowledges and Stormfly makes a dive.

Though a quick and effective surprise attack from above was probably the better option, Astrid and Stormfly let out a battle cry together. If only so it may take the Hunters' attention away from their missing friends.

It's a good attempt as a Hunter looks away from their captive to look at the source of that brave yelling.

"Dragon Riders!"

"Guys!" Hiccup shouts, overjoyed to see his friends. Toothless, who has just run out of fire to spend, can feel the relief as well.

"Quick, get a move on!" A Hunter orders, axehead clanging loudly against the cage Hiccup's been put in. The cage located on a cart, it starts to move as it's being pulled away.

"Bud!" Hiccup calls for his Night Fury before a tarp is thrown over him, completely blocking him from view.

"I've heard that a darkened cage is good for an animal, now calm yourself." The Hunter growls mockingly. But Hiccup can't calm, not even now that his friends are finally here and he can hear them engage the Hunters in combat. He doesn't know what took them so long, but they're here now.

"Riders, take care of the accompanying ships! We need Viggo for some answers!" Astrid orders and watches as a tarp-covered cage is moved onto the middle ship. She can hear Toothless and his sounds are coming from the forest. Hiccup must be under there.

The ships that have come for their friends are heavily armed, rightfully expecting a fight, but the Dragon Riders aren't about to be scared off by a few arrows and ballistas.

"Here we go!"

"Oh yeah!" Ruff and Tuff shout as Barch releases a toxic cloud of gas that envelopes a group of Hunters before it is sparked alight. The group screams as they are blown away, their cries cut short much too sudden.

"Come on, Hookfang, let's show them what we've got!" Snotlout tells his dragon and the Nightmare snarls in anticipation. He can feel the fire burning in his throat and he releases his fury onto one of three ships, burning the mast and the majority of the deck.

Meatlug helps, spewing lava in what remains and creating holes through each floor until the molten rock reaches the sea below.

Stormfly, she goes directly for Toothless, grabbing the net thrown over him while Astrid leaps from the saddle and runs at the nearest Hunter, axe raised.

With a cry, she brings it down and it meets the Hunter's sword. They engage each other in battle.

On Viggo's ship, the cage with Hiccup halts before the man himself and the tarp is lifted on one side.

Hiccup, though injured, backs up and hopefully stays out of Viggo's reach.

Viggo stands there, gripping the bars as he takes the sight of Hiccup in, everything that he can see in this darkness.

"You are more then I could've hoped for, my Dear Hiccup. Beautiful results." Viggo remarks and Hiccup hates what he's hearing. These are truly the last words he wants to hear come out of this man's mouth.

But at least he can see the familiar glow of fire, a ship must be burning to a crisp just out of his view. A good thing, it means his friends must be close.

"Viggo!" Astrid screams and Viggo lowers the tarp to hide his prisoner.

Astrid runs up the gangplank, axe bloodied and prepared while Stormfly and Toothless follow her onboard. There are still plenty of Hunters to take care of on this ship. And in the meantime, the other Dragon Riders sink the other ship accompanying the main one.

Viggo has come prepared, more men than usual are present and while the dragons take care of them, Astrid focuses on their Chief. She takes a leap and a swing and makes Viggo step away from the cage.

"Hiccup, we're here for you!" She tells him, loud enough to make sure she's heard through the cover and over the fire. She would like to lift the tarp and have a look at him, but the enemies surrounding them won't allow that. Though she can hear their dragons making quick work of them.

"Yeah, thanks." Hiccup's reply is surprisingly short, like he can't decide whether he should be thrilled or worried. A possible reason nags her in the back of her mind, but still having a hard time believing it, she pushes it away.

"What are you incompetents standing around for?! You're Dragon Hunters!" Viggo's temper flares when it seems like he may lose his experiment's precious results.

His men are useless and as his second ship begins to sink, the other Dragon Riders can all target this one.

With a growl, Viggo draws his sword and faces Astrid. After all his work, he'd rather not lose Hiccup now.

"You're surrounded, Viggo. Give up." Astrid challenges him, axe twirling dexterously in her hands. She's been waiting for this moment ever since Hiccup first got captured.

Viggo isn't too happy with her calls for his surrender, he would much rather just leave, but Astrid clearly isn't about to let him do so. His ship is burning all around him anyway, he won't be getting out of this unless he has a dinghy somewhere or something to distract her or stop her.

But then a burning mast comes falling down and Astrid needs to jump out of the way. It separates her and Hiccup.

"Astrid?!" He calls to her, having heard and felt something heavy fall right by his cage where she stood.

"I'm okay, Babe! Don't worry about me!" She shouts at him from over the roaring flames, looking back at Viggo over the fire only to find him gone.

"No!" She yells, frustrated with the Hunter Chief's disappearance.

Under the tarp, Hiccup makes use of what dragons put in a cage such as this can't take advantage of and that is a pair of hands.

In the dim light, he seeks the lock and thinks of a way to unlock it and free himself. Unfortunately, he has nothing on him, nothing besides his prosthetic. He could try to pry the door open with it.

Removing his prosthetic, back burning and hurting with every move, he uses it to force the cage door open. It takes a lot of effort, but the lock eventually caves with a groan. The door swings open and he's free.

Now what does he do?

Staying isn't an option as the tarp hiding him from view catches on fire. He has no time to think of his next move, his only choice is to get out of here.

Get out of here and expose himself.

Hiccup swallows the dread he feels, knowing he has to come out and reveal himself to the Dragon Riders some time. Now is as good a time as any.

Outside the Dragon Riders have finished the Hunters off, what few there remained, and their search for Viggo proved useless. If that man doesn't want to be found, they won't.

"Where did that bastard go?!" Snotlout growls, still needing to deal him some good old fashioned Jorgenson vengeance.

"Forget Viggo! Hiccup is trapped inside this thing, we need to get him out!" Astrid denies him his revenge, her eye has fallen on the burning tarp and she wants to get it off. She can't remove it with her hands, so her axe will have to do.

Or so she thinks until Stormfly takes initiative and grabs the tarp with her large talons, pulling it off and revealing the cage to be empty.

Astrid stares as Hiccup has apparently managed to slip out in the chaos? The lock appears to have been pried open.

"I'm-I'm here... I didn't leave."

Everyone looks toward the burning quarterdeck and find Toothless already there with his Rider. And Hiccup, he stands there with a mindboggling surprise for them.

Still shirtless, blood stains him and contrasts against his skin. On his back are the results of Viggo's experiment, two large, leathery, black wings akin to that of a Night Fur decorate his back. And in the light of the blaze consuming all around them, he makes for quite a sight.

None of the Dragon Riders say a word, too stunned to even think. The book was telling the truth. These people exist and Hiccup is now one of them.

"Do they hurt?" Astrid asks as she and Fishlegs tend to his back again, wiping down and cleaning the base of their leader's newly acquired wings.

Hiccup has told them how the day he got them went. How the pain in his back grew and grew, like something was dying to break from his skin until it eventually did, erupting out of him with all the blood and gore you'd imagine would accompany a birth such as that.

And when he heard the Riders come, he'd panicked and told Toothless to take him somewhere safe and isolated. This experience had left him a little rattled, to say the least, and he wanted to figure out what had happened to him, what was still happening to him, and if he wasn't just madly hallucinating it all.

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"They do." Hiccup replies and Astrid lightens her touch.

The base certainly looks like something has torn right out of his skin. And though Fishlegs hypothesizes that this will heal nicely and grow to blend together seamlessly, they can't help but cringe at the sight now.

The burns on his back are gone, however. Fishlegs wanted to discuss what this could mean, but Hiccup had made it clear that he is too tired. That and he probably doesn't want to talk about underlying issues or whatnot just yet.

"We're going to leave you alone once we're done. Can't imagine how tired you must be." Astrid promises. They are all back at the hut anyway, so he can get some well-needed rest.

Or rather, they're at Fishlegs' hut since Fishlegs should probably keep an eye on him.

"Yeah, you look like you got dragged behind Meatlug again." Snotlout helpfully states. The twins are here as well and have been looking through the Grimborns' book. Upon closer inspection, much like the Dragon Eye, this book about legends that ended up being true also belongs to the Grimborn family, surprise, surprise.

"Oh, you think that I don't look too hot after growing extra bones, blood, muscle, skin, and what have you overnight?" Hiccup sasses back, so at least that is still intact.

"Eh, I don't know about that. I think the wings just make you look hotter." Ruffnut chimes in.

"Thank you, Ruffnut." Hiccup deadpans and Ruff clicks with her tongue and winks.

But the matter of his relationship with Astrid does bother him. Before Toothless, he couldn't even imagine himself together with her as a normal human being. But now that he's... that he's... this? What will happen to them now?

Astrid can see him think it, noticing first by the drooping of the wings she and Fishlegs are tending to. They're expressive, just like the rest of him, and to her, that means that they are definitely a part of him.

She moves to sit on his edge of the bed and draws his attention. His complexion is a ghostly pale after this experience and his eyes tired. It's a surprise he's even still sitting up after all of this.

"This doesn't change anything between us. I still want to be there for you through everything, the good, the bad, and the unexpected." Astrid tells him with honesty, lightly brushing one leathery wing only to have both of them freak out and spasm at her touch. Hiccup cringes, hearing a bowl clatter to the ground.

"Sorry, Fishlegs." Hiccup apologizes, looking over his shoulder at his fellow dragon enthusiast as he cleans the mess.

"Oh, don't worry about it! They're so new, I bet it's going to take a while to get used to them." Fishlegs accepts the apology, telling Hiccup not to fret.

Ruff and Tuff meanwhile, they share a mischievous look.

"Sensitive?" Astrid asks and Hiccup awkwardly nods. She makes a mental note to be more careful next time she touches them. He doesn't have control over them yet.

"Just promise me one thing. If I ever end up growing wings, that you'll still accept me in your life, too." She requests with a smile.

"You growing wings would be amazing. Just hopefully with less blood and screaming." Hiccup responds, voice still hoarse from that screech he had released when it happened to him.

Astrid smiles at him. Wings or no wings, she still loves him just as much.

"So what exactly does this mean?" Snotlout asks and grabs the book from the twins, who both protest at his thievery.

"If I had to make a guess, I'd say that at least one bloodline must still be alive to this very day." Fishlegs proposes a theory.

"If that's true, then why is Hiccup the only one? And why did Viggo have to make it happen?" Snotlout asks as it would make a lot more sense to him for Hiccup to have just been born with them.

"Survival? The book clearly states that their numbers dwindled rapidly. And Fireworm gel meant to make Fireworm Queens "bring out what was already there", so to speak. So if what makes the dragon people was even faintly present inside of Hiccup, the gel brought it out. And it came out a lot faster than was probably healthy because of the overdose Viggo gave him." Fishlegs give the most likely explanation of what he thinks might be going on here.

"Can I see it? When did this start happening?" Hiccup asks and Snotlout hands him the book. Before he can find the number himself, Fishlegs already has an answer ready for him.

"350 to 400 years ago."

Hiccup finds himself in shock, they all do.

"So when..." Astrid's voice trails.

"When the Red Death began her tyranny and demanded that dragons steal food from newly settled Vikings. These people... my people...? Either way, they must've been hunted down because Vikings thought they might've been the cause." It pains him to say it and he feels hurt thinking these might be his people that this happened to them.

That he's not entirely human, it's still too strange to think about. Even with those two things on his back to prove it.

He hands the book back to Snotlout, who takes it and closes it.

"Does it explain the hand thing?" Tuffnut asks curiously.

"The hand thing has nothing to do with this, Tuff, you can all do it." Hiccup replies. He's too tired to think any more of it. As fascinating as this discovery is, he's completely drained.

"Yeah, except for the fact that we can do the hand thing because you taught us how to understand dragons, Hiccup." Astrid reminds him, gazing at him. She's been holding his hand.

"Toothless taught me!"

"And maybe you understood because you were born with the ability to understand."

Astrid is giving him that look. That look that tells him that, as scary as it is, he should consider the possibility of what this might mean. And Hiccup supposes he doesn't have a defense for that one.

"So we kill the dragon people and it's a dragon man who saves us from all eventually dying from a tireless war against a faceless and nameless foe? Now that would be ironic." Tuffnut states and Ruffnut nods in agreement.

"So great, Hiccup is a dragon man. Which parent did he get it from?" Snotlout has one more question that needs answering.

And since none of them would know, they all look to Hiccup.

"After I got my mom's gift for me back, he told me that she sympathized with the dragons and that this is why she made me a dragon doll. She wanted me to sympathize with them as well. As much as he loves her gift for me now, it used to be his biggest gripe back then, with the whole war still going on. But dragons took her and, well, ate her." Hiccup explains and then looks at Toothless, who's apologetic rumblings draw his attention as if he was the one who did it.

"So I don't know who I would get this from. If I even got this from either of them." Though there is the dragon expert inside of him that tells him that dragons don't prefer humans as food, but fish. And that includes dragons as large as the Stormcutter who took his mother before he even turned one.

And besides, if she were still alive after all these years, she would've come back somehow, right?

Having a feeling what he might be thinking of, Astrid takes and squeezes his shoulder.

"You should rest." She tells him and Hiccup nods. There will still be plenty of time to figure everything out, including what he's going to wear now that none of his tunics are going to fit.

Though some vague ideas might be growing in his mind already.

Astrid and Fishlegs leave the bed, allowing Hiccup to lie down. He's only going to be able to sleep on his side and front from now on. Unless he pulls a Toothless and sleeps upsidedown. Now that would be fun to try out.

"Sleep," Astrid says and presses her lips on his in a kiss, still happy to do so. With or without Snotlout pretending like he's about to throw up his lunch in the background.

Toothless pulls a blanket over him and roars at the others to leave already.

"We know, T, we're leaving," Tuffnut says, hands up, and he leaves together with everyone else. They all give Hiccup one last glance, glad to have him back safe and sound, before they close the door and bathe the hut in darkness.

Hiccup watched them go, petting Toothless on the nose when he comes purring. After the days he's had, he wonders if he'll be able to sleep at all.

He knows the changes aren't done yet. He can feel that his body is still all kinds of wrong and he fears going through another excruciating experience like the birth of his wings.

And when the physical changes to his body are done, there will be other changes. The Riders have alerted him to the Terror mail they've sent to Berk, his father, mentor, and Gothi will be coming to the Edge tomorrow or the day after. They aren't going to take this well and Hiccup worries for his father's reaction the most. After Hiccup deals with those reactions, he'll have to worry about Berk's next.

And then there are the many unanswered questions. Clearly, those draconic humans existed, Hiccup is now living proof of them. But is he truly related to them? And what does that mean for him and his dragons? Has Toothless ever suspected anything?

Pulling his head away from the petting, Toothless rumbles and nudges his Rider, telling him to close his eyes and sleep.

"I will, Bud." Hiccup tells him, eyes heavy with sleep.

He supposes he'll have to wait and let the changes of the future come to him.

Hiccup closes his eyes and hopes his dreams will at least take him to more reassuring places.

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