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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years ago

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Steve Rogers, The Man On Fire

Hey y'all, as Pride month draws to a close I would like to post this fic. It's been in my drafts for a month and I finally today found the motivation to finish it. This is special to me for many reasons, one of which being that I'm proudly a part of this community. Some of the anger written in is my own. I think a lot of people will resonate with it. I really hope you all enjoy this and happy Pride Month <3

This was based loosely off a headcannon and once I re-find it I will credit!

Synopsis: Steve is freshly thawed, queer, and pissed | A.k.a. Steve's experience in 21st Century America

Characters: Steve Rogers, Mentions of Bucky Barnes, (loosely a Stucky fic but Steve thinks he's dead here)

Warnings: Angst but not bad, Steve Rogers being volatile and chaotic (we love), poorly written accents (I literally read this with an accent in my head), literally a 2k monologue

Word count: 5.1k

Steve Rogers came out of the ice angry.

No— not angry— Steve Rogers came out of the ice fuckin’ furious.

He came out of the ice with his hands curled into two fists, with his jaw clenched so hard his teeth were liable to snap, and with a bone to pick with every damn reporter and historian and too loud opinion on this side of the Brooklyn Bridge.

He came out simmering— no, erupting— like the serum in his blood couldn’t keep his body from hibernation all those years ago but it sure as hell won’t keep him from setting the entirety of New York on fire now. He’ll burn it all down if he has to and rebuild it the way he remembers it— the way Bucky would have remembered it— and at the end of it all no one— not the bigots or deniers or the homophobes that seem to be the only thing that came with him from the forties— will be able to say that Captain America can’t love whoever he wants.

No one will be able to say that Steve Rogers didn’t love James “Bucky” “the man I’ve loved since twelve years old” Barnes with everything he had and then some.

No one.

So he starts with the museums in Washington— because sure it isn’t New York but where else would a relic like himself belong more?

He still has hope when he enters the building. They didn’t make them like this when he was a kid— they had science fairs in the town hall and culture fairs in the backstreets near the docks but never anything this grand. No tall marble pillars or enough stairs to make him wonder if he would have been able to climb to the top when he was half the size he is now. It’s strange. It’s kind of wonderful. Yeah, the Smithsonian museums make Steve Rogers feel small for the first time in a very long time and that gives him hope.

That hope doesn’t last long, though, because soon he’s wandering through the halls, following the signs that say Captain America: The First Avenger— what the hell is an Avenger? Is that what they’re calling soldiers these days? Now he feels small and old.

Turning the corner is like landing on another planet, one devoted entirely to him. His picture is everywhere he looks, his name is in lights, even his damn uniform has been replicated and presented on a little stage and he hates it. The rage is back, sparking at his fingers— he’s a match and lucky for everyone this building is made of stone because if it wasn’t he’s sure it would be reduced to nothing but ash by now.

It only worsens as he begins reading through the plaques and the paragraphs flashing across screens on the walls— he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that. The more he reads, though, the more he wonders if the stone is really, truly safe from the fire in his blood. He doesn’t think it is.

He surely isn’t at least— he feels like he’s going to explode. This isn’t him— none of this is him. War hero. Martyr. Golden boy. He has to stop reading that plaque— clearly no one did their research. Clearly no one dug up his medical files— or his police records. Brawls at the pub, disorderly conduct behind Mr. De Luca’s sandwich shop, public nudity at the beach that one time— thank you Bucky for the best night of his god damn life. Golden boy— ha.

Golden nobody with the black eye and broken hand is more like it.

For a moment he thinks he’s fine— he thinks it can’t get worse than this. Then he gets to the early life section and for an even longer moment his tongue tastes like gunpowder.

Steven Grant Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his friend James Buchanan Barnes—

He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence— not when they already got the most important part wrong. Friend. Friend? No, no, no. No! There are a million words in the english language that Steve could use to describe Bucky and ‘friend’ will never be the first one.

How about best friend?

How about partner in crime?

How about soulmate who loved Steve so much that every night for the past forty-eight days since he woke up in an era that Bucky doesn’t exist in he’s cried himself to sleep with the same cherry cola taste of his ‘friend’ on his tongue.

It’s the final straw— Steve loses it.

“Anyone got a marker?”

The museum is quiet before he speaks but when his voice— steadily rising and taking on that New York headiness that his troops used to jazz him about— cuts through the exhibit— his fuckin’ exhibit— it’s silent. It’s dead, almost as dead as Buck— Nobody dares move a muscle as he rips his ball cap off his head and throws it at the statue of himself. Everyone knows who he is— everyone is going to know who he is so help him god.

“I said—” he tries again— “does anyone have a marker?”

It takes a moment for the people around him to pick their jaws up off the floor and he allows them that moment with a smug grin starting to tug on the corners of his lips. Finally— they’re starting to get it.

He’s not a hero; he’s a supernova of every scrawny, queer kid who’s ever gotten beaten to a pulp for kissing who they want.

Maybe then it’s fitting that the marker— when it’s finally produced and placed in his waiting palm— comes from a teenage girl with a shaved head and a blue, pink, and purple denim jacket and a busted lip. She doesn’t say much— only a mumbled here you go— but her eyes say everything that her words don’t. Give em’ hell, Cap. For the first time since waking up he flashes a genuine grin back— yeah, this one’s for you kid.

Steve wastes no time uncapping the sharpie— he’ll look that one up later— and scratching out the error. The blasphemy to his unholy name. It takes him a little longer to decide what to write in its place. There are a million words, sure, but somehow none of them feel right at this moment. None of them are enough. That’s something he’ll have to come to terms with later, though— how much nothing feels like enough anymore without Bucky.

Finally Steve settles on a word and he scribbles it as neatly as he can given the fact that he hasn’t had to write anything in eighty years. When he takes a step back, feeling alive for the first time since waking up, he beckons over the girl with the shaved head and points to the place where he’s taken it upon himself to correct history.

“Hey kid, why don’t you go ahead and read that outloud for everyone here.”

He allows another moment— this time because she deserves the time it takes for her eyes to light up and the smile to stretch across her bruised mouth.

Steve laughs— a rusted, croaky laugh; another first in forever— when her head whips around, facing him as she loudly proclaims: “It says boyfriend. Steve Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his boyfriend Bucky Barnes!”

“Damn right I did—” he mutters to the kid before taking a step towards the crowd of gaping mouths. “Did you all hear that? Don’t worry if ya’ didn’t— I’ll say it one more time. Boyfriend. Bucky was my boyfriend and if he was here today he would be my husband. If any of you have a problem with that then feel free to take it up with me. I took on half of Brooklyn for that man and I’ll do it again.”

When no one says anything Steve nods, turning to hand the girl back her marker and to thank her— he may be angry but he hasn’t lost all his manners— but when he looks at her she doesn’t look back. Instead she takes the same step forward that he had, one of her hands balled into a tiny, shaking fist at her side and the other wrapped around a cell phone that’s pointed towards the crowd. He doesn’t understand the mechanics but he thinks she’s recording.

“You hear that?” She parrots the super soldier with a wavering but fierce voice. “Captain America likes men! And none of you can deny it!”

This time it’s his mouth that drops, watching as she shakily turns the camera off and spins back around. Before Steve can say anything, though, she’s talking again, this time hastier, and he can’t help but think that she sounds so much like him. All flushed and scrawny and pissed.

“I’m sorry, I’ll delete the recording if you want but, I jus’ know these bigots are gonna’ try and cover everything up and that would be a fuckin’ shame. I don’t know if you know how many kids need to hear this. I did— and I think they should too. Only if you want, of course.”

He doesn’t answer right away— he can’t. It’s like looking at himself at fifteen. Suddenly he’s back again, his feet hanging in the water as his boyfriend paces behind him, asking if he’s ready to have him look at his knuckles yet. He didn’t get that many good punches in— the scrapes are mostly from the pavement— but Buck always worries too much so it doesn’t matter. The protective idiot.

Steve shakes his head, blinking away the sunset lingering behind his eyes. “Bucky woulda’ loved you, kid.”

The next time he loses it— the next time he turns into more flame than man— is after he saves the city he’s been trying to burn down for three months.

It isn’t long after that day in the museum when Nick Fury decides it would be best for everyone if Steve goes back into the field. Of course, no one really asks him what he wants— they pretty much just shove a new suit into his hands and tell him to get training, Captain— but what else is new?

No one really comments on his outburst besides that either. Can you really call it an outburst when you’re just trying to reclaim the parts of you that have been stolen? Sure, the press gets a hold of the story and, true to what the kid had said, tries to twist it into something more digestible, but no one actually addresses it up with Steve. Apparently when someone saves the world as good as he does no one cares that they kiss men.

Or that they don’t wanna’ to actually save the world anymore.

See, in those three months— between the training and training and even more training that Steve Rogers begrudgingly obliges— he has time to catch up on the world. More importantly, he has time to catch up on what the world thinks of him. He scours a plethora of documentaries, scholarly essays, and whole books of information about his time as Captain America. Well— his time as Captain America when it mattered. In all his scouring he learns one thing: everything written about him is wrong.

It’s all so fuckin’ wrong.

Just why the hell would he want to save a world so bent on destroying who he is?

The Smithsonian exhibition was nothing compared to what’s been written in the eighty years he spent in the ice. Better yet, nothing compared to what hasn’t been written about him. They’ve taken an eraser to every part of his life that doesn’t fit with the golden image that they constructed for him. A.k.a. every part that matters. His relationship, his past, every little thing that made him supposedly perfect for the role he was given. Gone. Erskine told him he was a good man— apparently he was the only one who thought so.

Apparently being a good man isn’t good enough.

They only wanted the perfect soldier. Yeah, well, they had one and they fucked him over too. Don’t even get him started on what they did to Bucky— Steve doesn’t want to think about what Winnifred— Winnie for short— Barnes would do if she saw the history books erasing her baby’s Jewish roots. Or his relationship. It wouldn’t be pretty, that’s for damn sure. If ever there was someone more protective than Bucky it would have been his mother. Not that there’s a damn note about her in anything either though.

Maybe that’s the final straw that does him in this time— watching the place that Mrs. Barnes loved more than almost anything else in the world crumble, while also knowing that the world no longer gives a shit about the two people she loved more.

“Mr. Rogers, this is where you grew up, is it not? Is there anything you would like to say about what took place here in your home city today?”

Maybe he pretends not to hear the last part— maybe he really does only hear up until where the reporter asks him if there is anything he wants to say. He’s been around quite his fair share of explosions; it would make sense that his hearing is a little off. Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore, though.

Scratch that— he definitely doesn’t care anymore.

And why the fuck should he? He does have something to say and propriety be damned he’s going to say it.

Steve stares into the crowd of faceless reporters and flashing cameras with a scowl on his grimey face. Around him stand the other Avengers— his ‘team’. The last time he had a team the historians screwed up the history for every single member. Dugan, Morita, Falsworth, Jones, Dernier, Sawyer, Juniper, Pinkerton. Barnes. All of them were brave men with families and sacrifices and all of them were treated like jokes by ‘reporters’ just like the ones in front of him now. He really doubts there’s a difference between old and new journalism.

The only difference is that now he’s here and this time he’s not going to let them write anything but the damn truth.

“It is—” Steve muses, brushing the sweaty hair from his forehead— “I’m surprised you know that though.”

The reporter cocks his head, clearly confused, and it makes the super soldier’s blood boil. “Come again, sir?”

“I said I’m surprised you know where I was born, kid.” This time when he says the word— kid— it’s derogatory. “Ya’ know, considering how you all seem to know nothing about me otherwise.”

Steve almost smiles at the way the crowd tenses. He actually would if it weren’t for the white hot rage coursing through his veins, mingling with the last of the adrenaline leftover in his system. It gives him an extra kick— not that he needs it. Even when he was just a runt from the wrong side of the tracks he needed nothing more than an offhand comment to raise his fists. Fighting to Steve Rogers has always been intoxicating— the aftershocks of winning the battle just makes it more thrilling now.

Who knew, right?

“Sir I asked—” The reporter sputters and Steve simply holds a hand up, silencing him before he can start again.

“Yeah I know what you asked, alright. You want me to talk about the battle here in New York today and how I am more than happy to have risked my life to save it. But I can’t do that, kid. Because I didn’t save it for you. I didn’t save it for any of you.”

Steve feels his team tense— maybe were it any other time he would stop talking. He would just leave it, let the issue go, because Bucky would tell him too. They aren’t worth it, bruiser, he would say, they aren’t worth your blood. Maybe he would listen to his boyfriend because usually he was right. Bucky was always right. So yeah, maybe he would list—

Who is he kidding; he knows he wouldn’t.

Not then and certainly not now— not when Bucky isn’t here to defend himself against everything Steve has been reading about. That’s exactly why he doesn’t stop talking. Someone has to defend him and who better of a person than him? So, yeah, he keeps going, even when he hears footsteps behind him.

“You wanna’ know who I did save it for? James Barnes, that’s who I saved it for! You see, just around that corner there is a bookstore. Rickley Books. That was my boyfriend's favourite bookstore. You know, the man who gave his life to stop a train in Austria from reaching the enemies? Yeah that was him. That train was filled with supplies. Had it reached their headquarters, who knows if we’d be standing here today. If there would be a New York at all. Not that you would know that. But who cares about that dead sergeant from the 107th, right? There’s plenty just like him.”

Steve shrugs nonchalantly— a move he picked up from the very man he’s speaking about— but he spits his words at the reporters with enough venom to cancel out any peace that the action brings. That’s his own move.

He keeps going. “You know who else I saved it for? His mother. Yeah, his mother Winnie Barnes. Wonderful lady. She used to run a soup kitchen a couple blocks from here. Kept the rift raft like myself from going hungry most nights— I was a brawler, you know.”

A couple of reporters in the crowd laugh at that and Steve flinches, his vision tinting red as he cranes his neck, seeking them out.

“Oh you think that’s funny, do you? You think I’m joking? I’m not. You ever been backed into a corner, son? Had people hurl slurs at you that I can’t even repeat today? Ever been beaten up for loving your best friend? No, I bet you haven’t. You weren’t a queer kid in the thirties. That’s hard— that’s borderline impossible actually. I only made it because of people like Winnie Barnes. That woman was a saint but nobody talks about her either.”

Steve has to take a deep breath, clearing the rasp in his voice that rises as he dwells on the woman he called his second mother for so long. She wasn’t just a saint, she was an angel. He can’t cry here though, not now. Not even as his throat begins to tighten.

“Winnie was the type of lady who didn’t let anyone walk over the little people. She used to sit me down and say Stevie you gotta’ fight for what you want because ain’t nobody gonna’ give it to you. She told me that I shouldn’t have to but that there were going to be people who would try to tear me down just for being me. And she was right— just like her son— because that was the era, you know? But now, here in the twenty-first century, you’re all still trying to tear us down.”

A hand lands on his shoulder, small fingers tugging at where his suit has begun to tear. Natasha Romanoff. He meets her gaze quickly, neck craning to stare down the red head, and in the few seconds their eyes meet it’s like Bucky is next to him. Somehow the blue in her irises catches the falling sun just like his used to. Steve can hear the gruff of his voice in the depths of his mind. Back down, bruiser. The sentiment is echoed across Nat’s face.

Steve shakes her hand off him, turning back to the reporters— don’t they know that he can’t?

“You all say you care about me, huh? That I’m a hero? You know nothing about me— you don’t want to. Before I was a soldier I was a kid. A queer kid. I said that already but let me repeat it. Queer. Did you write that down? None of you certainly did before. That’s how I know that you don’t care— because in an age where being queer is infinitely more accepted you still don’t bother to write it down.”

He pauses for another breath, shutting his eyes against the blinking red lights of the cameras. They’re like little demons, always watching his every move. Recording. Everything’s always recorded these days. Will he ever be used to that? Bucky was the technology guy, not him. Not then and not now.

When Steve picks up again— eyes open and shoulders freshly straight— it’s on a new note— a clear note.

“You don’t care about me— you certainly don’t care about the real heroes of the war because if you did you wouldn’t erase our history. Do you know how much it would have meant to Bucky to see our relationship accepted? The man who died for you? How much it would’ve meant to his mother? You can’t just pick which of our stories and our sacrifices are worthy and which aren't.”

He hasn’t spoken this much since he’s woken up, not all at once at least. Maybe he should have, though— maybe if he had then he wouldn’t feel like ripping the heads off everyone in front of him right now. Call it fight or flight. Call it revenge. Hell, call it whatever you’d like because it doesn’t really matter. Either way he feels like a kid again— again— backed into a corner behind the deli with his fists up and his teeth bared.

He feels feral again.

“So now you just want me to save the world like I did— like Bucky did— all those years ago— or maybe jus’ New York— as if that’s any better— and you don’t even bother to write a proper article about me? Hell, I never even asked for an article, let alone a whole exhibit! I’m just a soldier— and before that I was just a kid. If there’s never another article written about me I’ll be grateful. But now that I’m here, standing in front of you, I’ll say this—”

Just as Steve’s voice is cresting into a shout that would no doubt be heard regardless of whether or not the microphones were in front of him, Natasha tries one more time, her fingers slipping between his.

Her voice is a dull buzz compared to his, only reaching his ears by sheer will. “C’mon Stevie— we gotta’ go now.”

Like before he’s stunned but this time instead of seeing Buck— instead of hearing him in his head— he hears Winnie.

You fought good, honey. You fought good for us. You can rest now.

It’s jarring and it’s not lost on him the handful of awkward seconds that it takes for him to respond. That’s just the effect Winnie had on people though— still has, apparently. Steve shakes his head— I know, mama. But I gotta’ finish this fight.

“No, Nat— I’ve got to say this.” Steve mumbles— voice just beginning to waver despite how hard he clenches his jaw— before sneering at the crowd one last time.

“If I ever read an article from any of you that discredits Bucky Barnes, our relationship, or myself just know that I’ll come for you. I’ll come for this city. Don’t you ever forget who I saved it for. James Barnes, Winnie Barnes, and every queer kid who’s ever felt erased because of people like you. The bigots in the forties couldn’t stop me. The Nazis couldn’t stop me. Not even the Atlantic Ocean could stop me. So don’t think for a second that any of you could either. Have a good day.”

With that Captain America turns, marching off the impromptu stage and beginning the trek back to his apartment. He doesn’t bother looking at his team as he passes them— he can imagine their stunned faces well enough on his own. No doubt he’ll be getting another assignment from Fury soon enough to make up for this ‘outburst’ too. Still, he feels a little bit better. There’s an ache in his shoulder, and one under his ribs too, but he still smiles as he passes Rickman and Sons Books. That must mean something good.

The last time Steve Rogers burns he doesn’t burn the way he’s expecting to— he doesn’t vandalize his own name or blow up at a reporter. No, the third time— the final time— that Steve Rogers burns it’s with nostalgia— and with a damn good cup of coffee in his hand.

“I had no idea this place was even here.” The girl across from Steve muses, tiny hands shifting the steaming cup back and forth.

Her name is Ellie, he learned that back at the museum after asking for a copy of the video she took. He barely knew how to use his phone back then, let alone his email— hell, both still confuse him more often than not— but she had been patient. A little awestruck and a little riled up too but he took it in stride— easily. It’s not hard being nice to the spitting image of him.

“I’m glad I’m good for something other than making the news.” Steve chuckles and this time he means it— there’s no malice or ill intent, only humor. “O’Malley’s ‘s been here longer than I have. Looked a little different then—” he takes a moment to let his eyes wander the old coffee shop and it’s new appliances— a moment to feel his age catch up to him— “but I guess I did too.”

Ellie’s laughter joins in there and it’s strange— strange that he hasn’t laughed with another person in seven, almost eight, months; strange that her laughs sound so much like Bucky’s when they were younger; strange that Bucky isn’t here to hear. Here to laugh, too. Because he would have.

He would have called Steve an old man, would have wrapped his arm around his shoulders, would have asked— no, demanded— that Ellie try the plum cobbler. They always made the best cobbler. Bucky always had the best laugh. All grit and breath and him. Steve feels warm just thinking about it.

“Well thanks for letting me in on the secret, I’ll make sure to guard it carefully.” She even has Bucky’s warm sarcasm.

Maybe it’s not so much like looking in a mirror as it is looking at what he wishes he and his boyfriend could have been back then.

“And thanks for letting me interview you—” Ellie continues, setting the cup down but not before nodding at it, her eyes wide— “wow. You weren’t kidding about the joe, huh? Anyway— thanks for scheduling this. I know you’re probably super busy— and that there are more well established people you could have gone to.”

Steve sets his own mug down too— if he hadn’t there’s a possibility it would be more puddle than porcelain. “Well established means nothin’, kid. Not when you don’t have heart. They’re parasites, all of ‘em. The press couldn’t care less about me.”

Ellie nods, lifting the lid of her laptop. It’s a little bit dented and slathered in stickers, not quite the newest model— he would know, he has the newest one and it’s still sitting in his apartment in the box. Yet another testament to how little the people around him truly know him.

“Welcome to the twenty-first century, can I get you a side of classism with that commercialism?”

Now she sounds like Winnie too.

“Say, has anyone ever told you that you’re funny?”

She shrugs, tilting her head, a lopsided grin glued to her face. “Once or twice— I never know if they mean it or if they just want me to shut up. I never do so I guess we’ll never know.”

Steve sputters out another laugh because; “I guess we’re the same then— never give them a moment, kid. That’s the best advice I can give you.” He pauses— again— he supposes it’s going to be a day of pausing— he supposes it’s about time he pauses— before adding, “Bucky would’ve scolded me for saying that.”

Ellie’s fingers, swift and deft over the machine— Steve hadn’t even seen her begin to type— pause too as her smile softens. “What would he have said instead?”

Her question shouldn’t catch off guard— this is why he asked her to meet him; to finally, properly write his story— their story. Still he pauses— Steve’s empty hands feel hot, his shoulders warm; bare— what would he have said? It doesn’t take long to hear his boyfriend’s voice, not there but somehow loud in his ear all the same.

Just relax— they aren’t worth it. It’s too nice out to care about anything but the water— are you coming in or not? Summer doesn’t last forever, you know?

It’s impossible but Steve can feel the sun on his back and on his ears again, like he’s there— like he’s back, sixteen and on fire. Those were the days where everything made him cold. The days where his skin burned no matter the season but especially in August which was when the ocean was warm enough to swim in. It never stopped him from joining Buck— nothing could have stopped him. His cheeks warm, too, at the thought.

Steve blinks, his own smile— perhaps a little lopsided in it’s own right— shaping over his mouth. “He would have told you to relax— and to try the plum cobbler. It’s fantastic.”

With another giggle— and a reiterated comment— has anyone ever told you you’re funny, Steve?— they fall into a conversation, just a kid and a relic, about life. It’s not an easy conversation— but then again those kinds never are. It’s real, though, and unedited. Unfiltered. Just the way Erskine and Winnie and Bucky would have liked it— the only way Steve wants it. It’s not perfect but, hell, Steve has never been perfect.

He’s never wanted to be.

Maybe Steve doesn’t know everything his boyfriend would say— and maybe he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t blow up once or twice after today— but he can confidently say that he gave Brooklyn a run for her money— twice— and lived to tell the tale. He can say then when it mattered, he burned. That he still burns. That he will until he doesn’t— until he’s extinguished.

But, hey, though Summer doesn’t last forever, not even the Atlantic could extinguish the flame that is Steve Rogers.

That’s what he writes— in Sharpie— on the card he writes to Ellie— the one attached to the computer he knows he’ll never use.

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Stucky #steve x bucky #Queer!steve rogers #Queer!Steve #Queer!Bucky #Queer!Bucky Barnes #Captain America #pride month #Steve angst #steve fluff #Marvel cinematic universe #Mcu #mcu fic #steve fic

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stuckybarton · 4 years ago

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One Punch One Kiss

Summary: You find a different option to relieve your stress and the fact that you might just be in love with Bruce Banner. Warning: Profanities. Mild Violence. Slight Angst, Self-Depreciation. Grammar Errors. Not Beta’d. Characters: Unnamed Female Character x Bruce Banner Words: 3,092 A/N: So this happened. Lol. Masterlist

It been well over months now since you've found yourself in care of the so-called Earth's Mightiest Heroes, The Avengers. It was far from the life you once lived.

The poverty of the slums, where fighting was always the way to survive another day. It was always survival of the fittest for someone like you. One of the many reasons why it took so long for you to intergrade with the team. Your "power" wasn't that much special compared to the rest of the bunch.

You were a mixed martial artist, finally getting out of the bottom of the barrel but a freak accident left your hands, your tool for survival, barely able close into a fist anymore--you can barely even open them back then too. You find yourself mixed with the wrong crowd and after one too many experiments, you've gain this so-called mutation that lets you punch anything effortlessly. But it doesn't come without a price.

When the adrenaline dies down, you are left with an indestructible fist, but the pain was never far behind. Hands that would last the rest of time, but the pain, the burning torturous pain was something you can never get used to. It was better to dip your hands in lava than the excruciating pain. The insistent throbbing on each finger made it hard for you to open your hands, as much as you were capable of opening them. There there are nights were you want nothing more than to end things, end your suffering once and for all.

But out comes one Bruce Banner.

A man that has known about the demons pestering your life. Having to fight his own every single day as he tries to control the big green monster he calls his other self.

He had helped you so much. From physically helping you maintain the pain you had to endure post-mission, helping Tony Stark with designing the perfect gloves that could potentially lessen the pain you had to experience after each mission. Then there was psychological and mental help.

You were never one for meditating. Always using your fist to forget about your problems as much as possible. But without that stress relief, you were left to Bruce's method.

One hour every single day. Whether it was Bruce having a big research or in the middle of a debriefing. They would take time out of their own schedules just for the one hour to bring semblance to their frail state of minds.

Somehow it does work.

In either your room or in Bruce's room. An hour long meditation with nothing but the sound of white noise brings a momentary peace in your mind, while also making you realize something you try so hard to ignore.

You were in love with Bruce.

Madly, deeply, and crazily enough to be in love with the first man to have every taken care of you. You're fucked, that much you have known for yourself since the realization had occurred.

Now you're left with making sure to make as many excuses as you possibly could to avoid Bruce and your daily meditation. Everyone in the compound knew what you were trying to do, but knowing you and knowing how the aloof Bruce Banner could be, they try to mediate the situation without getting themselves too involved.

"What's up, One-Punch Woman." Tony's usual nicknames annoyed you when you first started out, but as time goes by, you just find yourself getting used to it. You got to talk to Peter about letting Tony watch anime. He gets more material from those.

"Today's not the day to piss me off Tony." You muttered.

You had enjoyed the momentary peace inside the training room. With only the resounding echoes of your first against the punching bag, the rapid breathing escaping your lips, and the low hum of the air conditioner. This was your compromise for not joining Bruce with meditating.

"Come on, Rocky." Tony's hand resting on your shoulder angered you. You hated anyone, aside from Bruce, from touching you.

"Get your hands off, Stark."

Your fist continued to collide with the punching bag, but every single time Tony would try to intervene. Either trying to pull you away from the punching bag or pulling the punching bag away from you.

It took all the control out of you to stop yourself from using Tony as your punching bag instead. Every deep breath you took, the resolve was slowly fading away and your hands were now screaming at you to stop pain finally coming in full waves.

"Stark, I am warning you."

"I'd stop if you tell me why you're avoiding Dr. Banner. It's affecting his productivity if I'm being honest."

And that was the straw the finally broke the camel's back. Punching Stark right in the jaw, but his nano-tech was quick to protect him from punch, but the impact left him stuck right through the walls and everything was now on high alert as F.R.I.D.A.Y placed the training room on lockdown.

"I told you to stay the hell away from me, Stark." You spat, now thinking of a way to get the hell out of the training room without anyone, especially the particular man, coming to see that you were falling apart all because of your god damn feelings. "F.R.I.D.A.Y. open the doors." You demand but the AI refused only wanting Tony to give the command.

"The hell is wrong with you Y/N?"

Now coming face to face with an Iron Man suit of Tony, the last thing you would want was to ruin the reputation you have made with the team. The unproblematic one. The one that would rather keep to yourself than argue with anyone on the team.

"You! Get the hell away me." Your voice grew hoarse as the genuine anger begins to manifest.

One punch, that was all it would take to shut the hell out of the man and you could escape the confinements of the training room.

"Open the doors, Tony. I'm not really in the mood to deal with you and the rest of your fucked up group."

"Well, you're part of this group whether you like it or not. So doesn't that make you just as fucked up as we are?" Tony was actually pointing his beam at you and it made it more evident that you didn't belong here in this group as much as Bruce had assured you were.

There would always be this power dynamic that you will never escape from. May it be the slums, the laboratory, or this compound. You will be nothing more than a tool for them to use and to exploit.

"Stand down, Y/N. You're being hysterical."

That was when you finally snapped, running towards him, clenched fist swung but it never met his face, instead a green being came quick to block your hit.

"It's okay, Y/N." Hulk assured--or was it Bruce. You weren't certain anymore.

Eyes trained towards where you fist has landed. Landing right onto his ribs, had he been in his normal body, you were sure you've fracture a few ribs or worse, punctured his lungs or heart in the process.

When your eyes trailed upward, the gentle look on the Hulk's face scared you. Even he was worried about and everything you had been doing for the past few days as you avoided Bruce.

You didn't flinch when his larger hand tried cupping your cheeks, instead nestling more into his touch. You had it bad. But it was enough to calm you down for the moment. Bruce was your peace.

"Breath, Y/N."

Slowly, you see him turn back to his normal self. Never once did his hand leave your own. Both hands now cupping your cheeks as he stared at you.

"Can you do that for me?"

You nodded, never breaking eye contact. You breath, you tried you best to calm the heart you never noticed was beating to fast as you slowed your breathing.

"You got me..."

Indeed you do. He was here, even after the days you've tried ignoring him, avoiding him, and downright pushing him away. You still got him.

"That's all that matters..."

You nod, eyes now stinging with the unshed tears. You were afraid of losing him. You feeling for him that presented itself to you now, you didn't want to lose it. You couldn't depend on anyone else in this compound but him. Your only sanctuary in your state of mind. Your Survival of the Fittest mentality scrambling at this man that would give you the world even if you so much as ask it from him.

The Strongest Avenger, but was the most vulnerable in your presence.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y. open the door." Bruce requested as he pulled you to his chest.

With the AI following, you caught glimpse of the mess the Hulk had made through the wall just to get it. Wincing at what Tony would have them to just to pay for the damage of it.

Their journey has been silent. The only sound you could hear, or at least tried to focus on was his heart. The rhythmic calm beats against your ear made you focus on your own breathing until you arrived in his room.

Bare as Bruce's room was, it brought you a calmness of the familiarity it had with you. Not much decorations aside from the diplomas and achievements, one picture still stuck out the most to you in his array of achievements. It was a picture of you and Bruce. It was post-mission in the Quintjet, one bud on each of your ear and you still remembered the two of you were listening to Lofi music at the time. What made the picture so memorable was the sight of the two of you grinning ear to ear while icing your aching hand after going head to head with a colossus from who-knows what planet.

You still remember why the two of your were smiling. There was a bet between Tony and Rhodey that you wouldn't be able to take on the giant and had waged a hundred dollars each because they were just that confident. Yet a minute later, you've just punched the alien once before it run as far away from you as possible. Being owed two hundred dollar and just the bragging right you were having had a smile on your face and Bruce was quick to join along in the merriment of the moment.

"What's wrong, Y/N?"

Returning back to the present, the worry in Bruce's face was still evident but you pulled away, cheeks warm at the realization that the man had been shirtless this entire time and you were leaning on his chest all throughout.

"Nothing." You muttered, now unable to meet his eyes now.

"The hole you've punched Tony into isn't much of a nothing." His words, as agitated as you knew he was being at the moment, was calm.

"Tony is just being annoying." You tried to reason. "He was getting on my nerves and deserves it." You added knowing very well that if it wasn't for Bruce, Tony would more than likely be enduring a concussion or even brain damage at this point.

Just the thought of that happening brought a knot right into your throat making you incapable of swallowing. Had it not been for Bruce, you were sure you would need to pack your backs yet again and leave the compound. God know what the rest of the team would think of you if that happened, or what what they would do to you as retaliation.

"But it's not just because of that." It was as if Bruce can read your thoughts. All he wants now is just confirmation.

"It has nothing to do with you." Lie.

"Then what is it? You've been acting weird for the last few days. You're blowing me off and using every excuse in the book to get away from our meditation and away from me. So this definitely has something to do with me."

You didn't have an answer to him. Fear overcame telling him the truth, making him understand your worries.

"Just say it. Say that the other guy is scaring you and be done with it."

You blinked confused with what he was saying.

"That's not it." You assured, finding the right words was hard.

"THEN WHAT?" As the green tint quickly appeared on his skin just as quick as it disappeared, your adrenaline was still high from the incident in the training room, fist already already ready to defend yourself if he loses control.

Never once did you raise you hand at Bruce. Never once did you face with in your attack stance. But never once did Bruce raise his voice at you. This was affecting him just as much as it did you.

"I'm a monster, Y/N. I know that more than anyone else. All you had to do was say so and be done with it."

"You're not a monster, Bruce. You never were in my eyes."

"Yeah, avoiding me makes it so convincing." he snorts turning his back at you, a shirt already in his grasp. "Just say it, Y/N. I can take it. I'm not a child anymore that can't handle the truth."

Biting your lips, this was worse than you have actually anticipated. You watched Bruce ramble on and on about why he was a monster and why you have every right to avoid him. But that wasn't what truly had you speechless. It was this, this man that was aloof as he was had done nothing but bare his heart of to you. Show he was just pained as you were with this situation you've placed yourself in--placed the two of you in.

Was it still the adrenaline or your stupidity, you really didn't know as you surged towards him, lips mashing against his own. His lips was soft against your own. The taste of coffee and hint of mint. And just like that, the words in Bruce's mouth stopped and he was left just as stunned as your were for what you've done.

"I, I don't--I...I don't hate you, Bruce." you stutter, eyes refusing to meet his own yet again. "It's opposite really."

"Say it, Y/N."

"I love you, Banner." You muttered finally looking at him. "I love you and I know for a fact that you wouldn't want to be seen anywhere near me."

"What?"

"You're you. Smart, Got a good sense of humour. You care about me more than my parents ever did. You're the first person here in the compound that treated me more like a human instead of this asset or experiment."

It was now your turn to ramble on about why you don't deserve him. You knew very well why and whatever reason that would try to oppose those beliefs were quick to be stomped away. That was how your mind works, you don't deserve things, you work hard for anything and everything.

"Y/N close your eyes."

You blinked at the sudden request, but the smile that now rested on Bruce's face assured you slightly. But knowing him, knowing he would be the last person to hurt you, your eyes finally closed.

In the darkness, you tried to calm you mind. As much as your trusted Bruce, the unknown scared you, the reason behind this situation worried you. to be this vulnerable in front of him, to be this defenceless.

The last thing you would have expected to happen was his lips against you own. Breathless, you open your eyes to see Bruce's own closed as the kiss continued. The gentle hands that had calmed you down in the training room were once again there to calm you don't. Gently you find yourself pulling more into the kiss, aching hands rested on his chest. The calm heart now coming alive against your fingertips.

Pulling away, Bruce opened his eyes, breathless just as you were and the uncertainty of just what happened finally becoming more an more evident. It was just how you would accept it at this point.

"Hope that's clear enough for you." Bruce muttered, now his own eyes refusing to meet your own. "Why you think so low of yourself? You're part of this team because you value civilian's safety more than our safety, more than your own safety that it's sometimes so annoying because I worry about you and your lack of safety."

You blinked, how the hell did this happen. One minute you were both self-deprecating yourselves, then the next minute it was lips and cheesy lines of admiration for one another.

"I'm not perfect. Far from it, but just seeing you avoid me. It makes it so hard for me to ignore my own thoughts. Maybe they were right." Bruce shrugged.

You shook your head, as much as you knew he wouldn't see. He really didn't know his worth, the irony that you yourself couldn't do the same. The smile just couldn't help but finally escape your lips before you head find solitude in his chest. The sound of his beating heart could do nothing but give you a calmness you didn't think you would need in your life.

"Can we start over." You whispered, the dysfunction that was the two of you wasn't ideal and you knew whatever this might end up becoming, it wouldn't be easy. Nothing was ever easy when it comes to the life they were living. But you knew you could make it work.

"What?"

Pulling away from him. You gentle punched his cheek seeing his lack of effort to block it. He knew just as much as you did that you will never hurt him intentionally.

"My name is Y/N Y/L/N and I love you, Dr. Bruce Robert Banner."

Shaking the man's shaking hand, you smiled as his hands held onto your own tighter and accepting the shake of hand.

"Nice meeting you, Y/N." he started, voice shaky. "My name is Bruce Banner, and I love you too."

With the smile only growing you both of your faces, you leaned once again for a kiss. Things will be alright between the two of you. A few bumps in the road would be a certainty. But you'll work on it. You both will.

"Who do you think Tony would start hounding first about the trashed Training room?" You asked after a second of silence between them.

"My guess is me. Might take a while to live down what just happened."

#Bruce Banner x reader #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner angst #bruce banner one-shot #bruce banner imagine #bruce banner imagines #bruce banner one shot #bruce banner one-shots #bruce banner one shots

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winterpower98 · 4 years ago

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New Year Special - Reverse AU version

Out of the three versions that I wrote of this episode, the Reverse AU is the most different one.

First of all, it's not the White Bone Spirit and Spider Queen that try to take over the New Year, it's the Baigujing and the Silver and Gold Demons.

And I want to remind everyone that this version of the twins are both smart and capable demons, nothing like their canon counterparts.

Mei is not even in this episode because she was off dealing with some mystic dragon business, so we have one less player.

Red doesn't stay on Flower Fruit Mountain with Wukong because he's still pissed about something that the monkey kept from him. Which means that Red doesn't even know the Monkey King was captured until much later!

Instead, he spends the New Year celebration with the rest the team. That is until they have to start running away from the brainwashed people. The only difference is, once they’re all safe on Sandy’s ship, Red doesn't propose to go to Heaven to make an antidote because he didn't get the vial with the venom in the first place.

Instead the Monkie Team (Red, MK, Tang, Pigsy, and Sandy) go straight to the giant, double-colored mech to fight the Twin Demons.

Obviously enough the fight goes wrong, Yin and Jin are very strong opponents and the only time Red managed to defeat them was with Mei's help, but right now it's just him and MK fighting the two demons and it's not enough to defeat them.

During their fight, Yin tells the two kids that they have captured Wukong and that they are no match for them now. That's enough to distract Red and he gets almost cut in two by Yin's Seven Stars Sword when he's rescued by an unlikely demon. Macaque.

The monkey was walking around the city with his human disguise on when the two demons attacked and, mistook him for a regular mortal, tried to brainwash him. It didn't work obviously, and Macaque managed to run away with a vial of what the demons were using to control the humans.

So, knowing full well that if he wanted to go back to eat humans (he didn't actually do that, Mei would have been upset if he did. He just says that because he likes to scare the Monkie Team) he had to ally himself with Wukong's brat, he did the next best thing and went looking for the kid and his friends. He didn't think he needed to rescue them but, at this point, he better stop questioning the brat's inadequacy and move on.

So, once they are far away enough from the Gold and Silver demons, Macaque shows them the vial and they go up in Heaven.

Who goes to take what changes from what happens in the episode:

Tang and Mo are the ones who stay on the ship, Tang's excitement was no doubt going to ruin their plan of "go in and get out without anyone noticing us in the first place". The scholar was not happy with that choice but he wasn't going to fight the monkey about it.

Sandy and Pigsy go to grab the brazier and, when the Chinese Dogs wake up, Sandy handles them the same way he handles his cats. He smoothers them with love and affection. In the end, the two demons can walk out with the brazier and two giant dogs following them like happy puppies.

MK goes to grab the Peach of Immortality on his own, which does mean he has to fight a giant ogre on his own!

(little side note: I know ogre are present in Japanese culture but while I was researching the Gold and Silver demons I found out that, in some translations of the novel, they are also called Silver/Gold ogre. I don't know if that's a translation error or if ogre are also present in Chinese culture)

And lastly, Macaque and Red go to grab the Pills of Immortality. The two of them have a small moment to talk where Red first tries to understand why the monkey demon is helping them, then why would Mei ever befriend him in the first place, and then what the hell happened between him and Wukong. Before Macaque can bark back a comment on how he should probably ask his "uncle" about it the two of them are interrupted by two of the Twins Demons' henchman.

In the end, they all grab what they need and go back to Flower Fruit Mountain to make the antidote and then go to fight the two demons.

Meanwhile, Wukong and DBK still have their "talk" but it goes in a much different way. Because Wukong is still angry at his brother, but not because he was attacking mortals, but for what he did to his nephew (and I will explain what that is but this isn't the time for that).

DBK still frees himself and Wukong up but he's not met with the smug smirk the monkey has in the show, the ox is met with a cold dead stare.

After the last strike aimed at Yin and Jin, DBK still makes sure Wukong and Red Son don't go crashing down but he leaves the moment they are safe. Whatever conversation DBK wanted to have with Red is immediately cut off by the Monkey King and for once, Red is grateful for that.

Macaque disappears before Wukong and Red come back but not before Mei comes back from her little trip and the monkey knows, he'll be teased about helping Mei's friends till the end of his days.

#lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid au #monkie kid #monkie kid au #reverse au #monkie kid reverse au #winter rambles #winterpower98

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dessarious · 5 years ago

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Guilt and Consequences

Okay, so this is just something that wouldn’t leave me alone. It has absolutely nothing to do with my other fics and may actually be a one shot. (We all know that’s not something I do but hey I can hope). Anyway, I’ve always hated the way Lila’s character was done. For so many reasons. The biggest issue I had was that there’s never any explanation for her personality. Sure, there is a small percentage of people that are straight up evil, but not many and it’s lazy writing to make a character, villain or otherwise, with absolutely no reason to be the way they are. If you’re not going to flesh out a character don’t make them a focal point period. Okay I’ll stop ranting now. This is in no way canon, nor is it meant to be.

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AO3 Next

“You told her what?!” Adrien flinched as Lila yelled in his face but she didn’t care. This idiot had completely destroyed all her plans with no thought what so ever. How had things gotten so bad?

“It doesn’t do any good to put more pressure on the situation. I told Marinette that you’d come around once you got the attention you wanted, so she should just let it go. Take the high road.” She was dangerously close to punching him in his sanctimonious face. The only thing stopping her was that getting arrested for assault wasn’t something she wanted to experience right now. Not to mention she now had to try and fix this insanity.

“That is quite possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Ignoring things may work with paparazzi but that is not how you should deal with anything else. More often than not ignoring a problem just makes it worse.

“I’ve been ignoring Chloe’s bad behavior for years and she’s getting better.” Lila felt like her head was going to explode. As good as Adrien was in science he apparently didn’t understand causal relationships. The boy was far too dense to survive in the real world.

“As I understand things, Chloe didn’t start improving until Marinette stood up to her and Ladybug called her out on her bad behavior. Your enabling simply allowed her to continue what she was doing without consequences. People don’t change without a reason Adrien. Most need a pretty enticing incentive to do anything out of the norm.” She couldn’t deal with this anymore. Lila knew that she wasn’t going to make him see the error in his thinking. Everyone thought of Adrien as a ray of sunshine but she’d seen first hand how hard he held onto ideas even when all the evidence pointed to the opposite conclusion. Instead she turned and walked away as he yelled justifications at her back. She knew he wouldn’t actually follow her because his ride should be there any second. He wouldn’t risk getting in trouble, no matter how much he wanted her to agree with him.

She didn’t even know where she was going at this point, just wandering randomly while she thought. Everything had gotten so out of hand. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before and she had absolutely no idea how to fix it, or even if it could be fixed. She didn’t think so. It’s like the perfect storm of stupid, incompetence, and compliance had coalesced into this mass of insanity that she couldn’t see a way out of. Why did everything have to be so complicated? She’d done the same thing dozens of times with the exact same result. Why did things have to turn out so differently this time?

Before she knew it Lila was standing in front of a building she had no wish to enter. She knew she had to, but honestly she would rather step into traffic. Still, if there was any hope of salvaging things this was where she had to start. She just hoped she’d be able to get out some sort of explanation before they threw her out. She took a deep breath before opening the door.

“Good morning! What can I do for you dear?” Lila hesitated. Surely Marinette had told her parents about what was going on, right?

“Madam, my name is Lila Rossi. I was hoping to talk to Marinette.” There was absolutely no recognition in the woman's eyes. What the hell kind of alternate reality was she in? From everything she could gather Marinette had a great relationship with her parents. Even if she had let Adrien talk her into staying quiet at school, why would she hide what was going on from them?

“Of course, and you can call me Sabine dear, no need to be so formal.” She followed as Sabine led her up the stairs at the back of the bakery and into a little apartment. Lila had lived in a lot of places, but not one of them had ever said home the way this tiny space did. “Marinette’s room is up there. I have to get back down to the bakery, just knock before you go in.” Lila could only stare at the woman’s retreating back in panic. There was no way Marinette wanted her of all people anywhere near her room. She’d expected Sabine to get her to come out here. She looked back at the trapdoor with no idea how to proceed.

Eventually she worked up the nerve to climb the stairs. A few minutes and many attempts later, she managed a timid knock. There was a muffled ‘come in’ and Lila almost had a heart attack. Now what? Against her better judgement she slowly opened the door and poked her head up. She saw Marinette hunched over her sewing machine, not paying any attention to who had entered. But what caught her attention was the bruise on Marinette’s cheek and a strip of gauze around her forehead. Lila’s anger from earlier reignited with a passion and before she knew it she was in the room standing directly behind the girl.

“How could you listen to that moron’s advice?” She winced the moment the words came out of her mouth. That was not how she wanted to start this. Marinette jumped and actually fell off the chair. Lila flinched back at the fear in the girls eyes when they registered who she was.

“Wh- What are you doing here?” Marinette’s eyes were darting every which way, looking for escape routes or something to defend herself with most likely. It hurt knowing that this was all her fault.

“I… I didn’t mean to scare you.” Then why did you yell at her dumbass? “I’m here because…” Why exactly was she here? She really should have planned this out, or at least had any idea of what she was going to say. “I’m here because I need to apologize to you, and I think you deserve an explanation for why I apparently destroyed your life.” Marinette’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Lila couldn’t blame her.

“You want to apologize to me?” The skeptical tone caused her to break eye contact. It was well deserved but Lila didn’t even know where to start. She was a selfish creature by nature so apologies didn’t come naturally, but this was something that needed to be done.

“Yes. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened to you because of me. I never thought…” She couldn’t continue. No apology and no explanation was good enough for what Marinette had gone through because of this mess. Lila didn’t even know everything because apparently the class had been bullying Marinette for over a month but they’d kept it from her because she was too ‘nice’ and wouldn’t have approved. How did you even begin to make up for something like that?

“You never thought what? That your plan to take away all my friends would affect me? That you making my school life a living hell would hurt me?” The girl sounded pissed and Lila couldn’t blame her but the tone sent her into her defensive mode anyway.

“I never thought anyone would believe the garbage coming out of my mouth!” Marinette blinked at her in confusion, all the fight suddenly gone.

“What?” Lila sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Where did she even start? None of this was going to make sense to Marinette. Honestly she wasn’t certain it made sense to her anymore either.

“I should probably start at the beginning.” Marinette motioned her to continue. “My mom is a diplomat, that wasn’t a lie. She’s something of a fixer. Basically when a situation has escalated too far they bring her in to smooth things over. Because of that she gets moved a lot more often than most. I think the longest we’ve lived in one place is about nine months.”

“And that makes it okay for you to lie and bully people for no reason?” Bully? She hadn’t considered that before. From Marinette’s perspective she understood why she said it though. Especially after the bathroom incident. Lila winced.

“I didn’t mean to… The lying has a purpose but I’ve never had to escalate things before. It’s not an excuse, I should have considered things better. I just…” She just what? She’d just been so focused on her goal that she hadn’t bothered to look at the collateral damage. Hadn’t even considered that there would be. “Look just let me explain, then you can yell at me.” If she didn’t get this out now she wasn’t sure she’d be able to.

“Fine.” Lila shifted nervously as Marinette’s full attention was focused on listening to her. Having that much animosity directed at her was extremely uncomfortable.

“So when I was little the moves were more frequent. Because of that my mother hired tutors and enrolled me in online classes rather than try to attend school. There didn’t seem to be any point in having me adapt to a new place and teachers every couple of months. About three years ago things slowed down a little and she decided it would be good for me to socialize with other kids. Despite my best efforts, I was enrolled in school. I hated it.” That was a vast understatement. The curriculum wasn’t advanced enough and the kids were all immature and annoying. The teachers were boring too. Not to mention that she was used to learning at her own pace and having the ability to choose subjects that actually interested her. School was basically torture.

“I wasn’t happy and told my mother so but she thought I just needed time to adjust so she basically told me to suck it up and deal with it.” She’d had a perfectly researched and reasoned argument but her mother wouldn’t even listen to her. “A couple days later a boy was annoying me. He refused to leave me alone after I’d told him many times to stop and eventually I snapped and punched him in the nose.” It had felt really good at the time.

“Really?” Marinette sounded somewhere between horrified and amused and was obviously trying to keep a straight face.

“Really. I was sent to the principal and he called my mother. I was expelled because they had a zero tolerance policy for violence. My mother was not happy with me and lectured me about solving my problems in a different way, but she let me homeschool again because she wasn’t certain how long we’d be there and didn’t want to go through the effort of finding another school. I thought I’d won, until the next time we moved and she put me in school again.” Once again she’d argued to be allowed to stay with homeschooling. Once again her mother had ignored her.

“Let me guess, you just walked up and punched someone the first day?” Lila let out a snort of amusement and shook her head.

“No. Mother made it very clear that physical violence had far too many repercussions, so I had to get creative. I read the school rules trying to find the easiest way to get thrown out. I tried disrupting class constantly, but that just landed me in detention. So then I tried stealing. That got me thrown out quickly enough, but it also could have had legal ramifications that I didn’t understand at the time. My mother made it very clear to me after though.” Yet another fun conversation where her mother talked at her and wouldn’t let her get a word in edgewise. Lila couldn’t understand how she could be such a good diplomat and still have no idea how to listen to her own daughter.

“So you got to homeschool again?” She blinked at Marinette for a moment before nodding. She’d gotten lost in her own thoughts. “But I’m going to assume it didn’t last.”

“No. Every time we move she tries again. I don’t understand why she bothers. The next few schools I refined my technique. I found out that lying was the easiest and least complicated way to get thrown out quickly. They just don’t want to deal with it. Each school has slightly different thresholds but I found that obvious misinformation coupled with lying about medical conditions usually got me back home within a week. I thought I had it down to a science, until we moved here.”

“So wait�� you’ve just been trying to get expelled this entire time?” Marinette was looking at her like she’d grown another head. Lila wasn’t surprised. To anyone else what she did sounded insane and maybe it was a little. But it worked and she was a very results driven person. “What about the Akumatizations?”

“What about them?” Lila couldn’t figure out what that had to do with anything.

“If you wanted to be found out, why were you so upset you became Volpina and Chameleon?” Lila winced. She’d watched the limited footage and remembered how she’d reacted after. She’d been disoriented and confused and had just lashed out.

“I was expecting Adrien to call me out. The necklace I showed him came from his father’s line after all. I misjudged how involved he was in the industry apparently. I wasn’t expecting or prepared for an actual Superhero to call me out. I’ll admit I reacted badly, but in my defense I didn’t know then how little it took for Hawkmoth to Akumatize someone.” That had been a less than pleasant realization. Maybe she should try and apologize to Ladybug after this as well. It wasn’t the hero’s fault that Lila couldn’t deal with normal social interaction and lashed out when she felt threatened.

“And Chameleon?” Lila winced at the soft question. She still didn’t know what she’d been thinking when she’d threatened Marinette. Well that wasn’t completely true but she didn’t realize how far she’d gone until she saw the Akuma.

“You were the only person who seemed to have a spine and didn’t believe the bullshit I came up with. I was trying to push you into reporting me to the teacher or convincing everyone else that I was lying. I’ve never been in a situation where people actually thought that my lies were real before. Looking back it was a stupid thing to do.” And wasn’t that an understatement. “After I left I realized how harsh I’d been and was coming back to make sure you were okay when the Akuma phased through the wall and straight into me. Apparently my being mad at myself for overreacting was enough to let him in, again.”

“Why keep lying though? You had to have realized it wasn’t working at some point so why keep doing it?” That was a really good question and she didn’t have a good answer. Lila ran a hand through her hair in frustration.

“At first I thought that I just needed bigger lies. I also expected the teacher or principal to call my mother and verify the ‘disabilities’ I said I had. Other than that I guess it was just habit. It’s what I’ve always done in that situation and I didn’t know what else to do if I’m being honest. Everyday I’d tell myself that today was when everyone would see through the bullshit. That’s also why I started lying about you.” Once again, in hindsight it was an extremely stupid move. Marinette looked confused.

“You’ve been lying to the class about me thinking it would make them realize what you were doing?” Yeah, it was a really stupid plan.

“Yes. I did my research. Everyone loved you. You were the class rep for crying out loud! I thought that lying about you would get them to at least think things through. I mean they’re supposed to be your friends. They’re supposed to know your character well enough to question it when someone says you’re doing something so completely off track from your normal. I didn’t expect them to believe me without question and I absolutely didn’t expect them to retaliate and hide it from me.”

Marinette’s head snapped up in shock. She was looking for something in Lila’s eyes but Lila wasn’t sure what it was. The girl's expression softened suddenly and before she knew it, Lila was on the receiving end of a crushing hug. What the hell?

“If you’re trying to suffocate me there are easier ways to do it.” The words just popped out and Lila winced again. So maybe her mom had a point about her needing more social interaction. It still didn’t mean she should be forced to endure school. She felt Marinette let out an amused huff and pulled back.

“So what brought on this need to come clean?” Lila’s eyes automatically went to Marinette’s injuries before snapping away to the wall.

“Alya slipped and told me what they did last night. I went to Adrien first since he knew Ladybug called me out to try and get him to make the others see sense, or at least help you protect yourself. That’s when he told me what he said to you.” She felt her anger resurfacing just thinking about that conversation.

“That’s what you meant.” Lila just blinked at Marinette in confusion. “When you first got here you yelled at me about taking a moron’s advice.” Lila winced at the reminder but nodded. “Apparently you’re not the only one prone to making mistakes and snap judgments.” Her tone was dry but still held a trace of amusement. Lila wasn’t certain what to make of it.

“I’ll text my mother and have her come here after work so I can explain what’s going on to her and your parents.” It was the least she could do. There was no way to fix this, but at least she could come clean.

“You can’t do that! What if one of them gets Akumatized over it?” Lila just frowned at Marinette. She couldn’t be serious. Her worried expression said otherwise.

“You can’t keep letting people hurt you because you’re scared how they’ll react. Hawkmoth is going to keep using people and that’s not your fault. It’s not your job to make everyone happy, especially not at the expense of your physical and mental well being. They need to know what’s going on so you can get out of that toxic school environment.” Marinette actually rolled her eyes.

“Just because you don’t like school doesn’t mean it’s a toxic environment.” Lila stared at her in shock. Marinette was serious. The phrase ‘what the hell’ was quickly becoming her new mantra.

“You’re kidding right? Your teacher avoids her job at all costs by making the class police itself. She blames the victims for things they have no control over because it’s easier than actually confronting someone. The principal hasn’t once tried to call my mother to verify absences or illness. That’s not even including your classmates who have gone full Lord of the Flies over a bunch of lies.” How could she possibly think any of this was okay? Marinette seemed confused as she mulled over Lila’s words. How long had this shit been going on?

“I suppose it may seem that way to someone walking into it, but I think your prejudice against school in general is part of your viewpoint. Things have always worked themselves out before and I’m sure everyone will come around eventually.” She was going to have an aneurysm. Apparently Marinette was just as bad as Adrien at holding on to things despite the evidence. She reached out and gently touched the gauze on Marinette’s forehead.

“They could have killed you. Alya especially is prone to acting without thinking things through or caring about the consequences. It’s why she posted all those ridiculous interviews. Honestly I’m surprised she hasn’t been sued yet. I took care of the site though.” She wasn’t even paying attention to the words coming out of her mouth, too focused on where Marinette’s blood was seeping through. This was all her fault.

“What do you mean you took care of the site?” Marinette’s tone was off but she couldn’t place the tone.

“Hacking is one of the things that I actually like doing. I took down everything with me and purged it from her harddrive. I also took down that stupid picture of Ladybug and Chat kissing after Oblivio. It’s not much but it’s as much of an apology I could manage to Ladybug even if she never knows who did it.” Alya had ranted for days about the Heroine’s denial. It was beyond annoying at the time.

“Why do you want to apologize to Ladybug?” Lila blinked at her before letting out a sigh.

“After my Akumatizations I said some things… let’s just say I wasn’t in a great headspace. I tend to go feral when I feel threatened. Add that to the whole lying and keeping in character to get expelled… She has enough to deal with without hormonal teenagers mouthing off at her.” Marinette was studying her again and Lila couldn’t read her expression at all. It made her more nervous than she would have thought.

“I still don’t think we should tell our parents. Maybe we can turn things around ourselves.” Damn it. The girl was out of her mind.

“That school is a breeding ground for bullies and narcissists. The administration needs to be held accountable for their neglect or who knows how many others could get hurt. There needs to be consequences or things will never change.” There was no way they could fix this themselves. She wasn’t even sure teams of lawyers and therapists could fix this at this point. Marinette was frowning again. Lila wanted to convince her this was the right thing, but if push came to shove she would tell the Dupain-Chengs the truth so they could do something about this. Her mother would just want to bury it to keep Lila out of trouble. Marinette’s parents would do what they had to to protect their daughter, at least she hoped they would.

“I don’t want anyone else getting hurt… Maybe we can talk to the principal. If we say we’re going to look into a lawsuit or call the police, maybe he’ll change.” Lila rolled her eyes.

“He won’t take anything seriously coming from two teenagers. Look, I realize your self preservation instincts aren’t very strong but you need to tell your parents what’s going on. If nothing else you can transfer schools. Honestly, you probably should.” She looked devastated at the thought and Lila’s guilt came back full force. She knew that she couldn’t control the actions of others, but if she hadn’t worked them up they never would have gone after Marinette of all people. They say ignorance is bliss for a reason. Marinette probably would have been perfectly happy not knowing what her classmates were capable of.

“I can’t just leave my friends.”

“What friends? The only person who has bothered to tell me to back off is Chloe. Something about you being more fun to square off with when you actually have a spine.” That girl was at least what she seemed. Lila could respect that far more than Adrien’s fake personality. In his defense she didn’t think he was doing it out of spite, he’d just been playing a part most of his life and probably had no idea who he was, let alone how to be himself.

“They didn’t mean it. I’m sure once they understand the situation they’ll calm down.” There had to be a way to get through to her, but Lila was getting far too frustrated to think things through properly. As usual, her mouth went into gear before her brain.

“If we tell them what’s going on now they’ll just transfer all that anger to me, assuming they don’t think you threatened me into backing up your story that is. Sadly, I have a feeling that it’ll be the second.” She would be fine with the first honestly. It would give her a reason to have her mother pull her out of school. Unfortunately given the class’s track record she couldn’t chance it. Alya could easily whip everyone else into a frenzy if she decided Marinette was forcing Lila to back her version of events. The girl hadn’t been able to find the truth yet so there was no reason to think she would come to her senses now.

“I suppose you’re right. I wouldn’t want them going after you.” She couldn’t have heard that right.

“What?”

“What you did was wrong but you don’t deserve to be bullied for it. I don’t want to be part of the reason that would happen.” Her supposed friends attacking her didn’t phase her at all, but the thought of those same friends bullying the person who’d set them on her in the first place caused her to pause. Lila would never understand that mindset.

“So can we at least talk to your parents about what’s happening? This has gone way past too far and I really don’t think we’ll be able to stop it by ourselves. Please.” Marinette finally nodded and Lila felt a tightness in her chest loosen. It wasn’t enough, but it was a start.

AO3 Next

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupen chang #lila rossi #adrien agreste

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

Photo

John Tracy hated taking public transport.

He hated the cramped seats, the invasion of his personal space, the fact the bus stopped every few minutes to pick up more passengers and the noise.

It was stressful, annoying and far too full of people.

But the astrolabs were too far from the dorm to hike it or bike it, so bus it was.

He mapped out the most direct route, left early to avoid the crowds and handled it the best he could. Earphones helped and he never travelled without his tablet and a network connection.

He made do.

He made do for over a year. Every morning and every night.

The work was fascinating and he thoroughly enjoyed it. He considered getting a car, but it wasn’t practical and parking was non-existent, so he stuck with the bus.

Despite the fact he hated it.

Every trip he buried himself in his own world whether it be his work, research, a good book or even a movie. He shut the world out and more importantly anyone who sat next to him.

Sometimes this was not possible.

Because sometimes they spoke to him.

John had been brought up polite. His grandmother would have slapped his wrist if she found out he was ignoring people. So, he always replied. Often concisely, but always watching his manners.

That often opened the floodgates. Because if there was anything common between big cities it was the people who were lost in them, desperately alone in a sea of faces.

John liked being alone to a certain extent, but he was blessed with a close and large family.

Some people had no one.

So, ever so reluctantly, he found himself answering their call for help.

The first was Mrs Bucklin. She was a tiny woman, well dressed, but slightly scented with mothballs as if her clothes hadn’t been out of the closet in a long time.

She sat right beside him and immediately enquired as to what he was doing.

At the time he was coding a new game and her sharp voice startled him enough for his fingers to slip and enter a chain of commands he had not intended. He would have sworn if he was alone, but the program righted itself and the new commands, instead of corrupting and crashing the function, actually appeared to improve it. He frowned and hastily input some bridging structures so the code wouldn’t fragment, idly wondering if the error would improve the game, ruin it, have him need to rewrite the whole section or be the spark that would initiate sentience.

Great, his tablet would rise up and eat him while he was distracted by a random bus passenger.

She did apologise and he did reassure her that it was all okay in the hope she would let him be.

She didn’t.

He learnt she had three cats, a niece in another country (he didn’t gather which because the woman’s pronunciation defied translation), that she had lost her son in the Global Conflict, she liked his hair (that was a first) and that he looked like an intelligent young man.

He acknowledged her quietly and politely as he eyed his code and the results of an initial compile test. How did it do that?

Her cats were named Scottie, Gordy and Allie.

He did blink at that, but didn’t comment.

Eventually, she said goodbye and got off the bus at her stop.

He would have forgotten about her, except she sat next to him the next day and the day after that.

Apparently, this was her route to work, and he was such a polite young man.

Three weeks later she admitted he made her feel safe just by being there. She had been mugged three times in her life and public transport was as much a bane for her as it was for him.

He actively kept an eye out for her after that.

Gus was a different matter.

Gus didn’t have a home and he often rode the bus just for the air conditioning and comfort.

He sat on the other side of the walkway to John. He didn’t say much and would likely have never said anything if it hadn’t been for the gang of boys who decided to throw verbal potshots at him one day.

John had had an all-nighter with exams coming up, so he was cranky. His latest project had stalled – the same game he had been tackling when Mrs Bucklin had startled him. The core of the program had become a little unpredictable and he couldn’t work out why.

So, when a group of teenagers crawled to the back of the bus and started needling a fellow passenger, it was not only a situation where the innocent man appeared to need a bit of a rescue, but it also pissed John off.

There were four of them. Teenagers flocked in groups apparently. He’d never been one for that formation himself, but he knew of them, had encountered them and Virgil had kicked a few of their asses for him.

John was in college now.

He could kick his own fair share of ass quite happily.

“Leave the man alone, or I will call the police.” He raised his voice, but not his head, transmitting all the body language of how beneath his notice they were and how he might respond if they didn’t comply.

“Mind your own business, kook!”

There was always a brave one amongst the group, usually the ringleader, the head dickhead.

At least they were only teenagers.

This time he did look up and put all that communication theory into the coldest stare possible. “Excuse me?”

All four of them froze. Hell, they couldn’t be older than fifteen, somewhere between Gordy and Alan. If either of his brothers acted like this, there were three older brothers who would quite firmly re-educate them on proper conduct.

Not that he thought either of his younger brothers would do such a thing.

In any case, all four of them stared at him wide-eyed. The eldest swore and climbed out of his seat just as the bus pulled up at the next stop. He snarled at John as he stalked past, spitting profanities. His cohorts followed and they climbed off the bus.

It was lovely and quiet after that and John went back to tackling his misbehaving program.

“Thank you, sir.”

John blinked up at the unkempt man who had been the centre of the teenagers’ torment.

A small smile. “You’re welcome.”

Was this variable being changed by the program itself? How the hell could it do that?

He didn’t fail to notice after that incident that Gus, as he introduced himself the next time they met, always sat near John on his rides, morning or evening.

John met other people. Mrs Magarey and her three young children always needed a hand with her pram. John sometimes took advantage of this and stuck the pram in the footwell of the seat next to him so no-one could sit there.

That made Mrs Bucklin sit behind him and whisper her stories in his ear.

He wasn’t sure if he was comfortable with that either.

Two other students from his faculty took the same bus as well. Ridley was in the year behind him and always had a friend on the phone. She chattered a lot and he learnt to tune her out.

Well, until the day he boarded the bus and found her crying into her tablet.

She had lost her entire thesis in a computer crash. He was polite. He enquired and she answered, staring up at him as if she had never seen him before. Which was entirely possible. John didn’t like to draw attention to himself.

He accompanied her off the bus that day and delved into her damaged computer. He dug up her thesis and she gushed all over him, even crying into his sweater.

He hugged her awkwardly and wished her all the best.

After that, she always said hello and had a smile for him.

John smiled back, but his program was still not behaving. It acted as if it had a mind of its own and it was very distracting.

Mrs Bucklin said it sounded like cat number two, Gordy. Never behaving, but always loveable.

John stared at her when she said that, and wondered if she knew more than she was letting on.

The day Virgil landed in the seat beside him on the way to the labs startled him enough to drop his tablet.

“Hey, Johnny.”

He fumbled between the seats for the device. “Don’t call me Johnny.”

“Sorry.” But he could tell Virgil was anything but.

His fingers touched the cool metal of his tablet and he scrabbled for it. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a brother drop in on his brother to see how he is doing?”

John eyed him. If it was Scott sitting next to him or Gordon, he might have been suspicious of any double meaning his brother might be communicating. But this was Virgil and although the engineer had a sense of humour that could cut when necessary, this wasn’t his style.

“I guess he can. But why the bus?”

Virgil shrugged. “Didn’t catch you early enough. Barely caught the bus behind you. I thought your classes didn’t start until later.”

“They don’t.”

“Then why are you up so early?”

It was John’s turn to shrug. “Just avoiding the crowds, I guess.”

Virgil eyed him with a slightly worried frown.

“And who is this lovely young man who has taken my seat?”

Oh god.

Virgil stared up at Mrs Bucklin as she bustled in to sit behind them.

An internal sigh. “Mrs Bucklin, this is my brother Virgil.”

“Your brother?” She eyed Virgil as if inspecting him for sale. “Doesn’t look like you at all. Where’s the red hair?”

Virgil arched a dark eyebrow.

“Nevertheless, Mrs Bucklin, Virgil is my older brother.”

“Then how come we haven’t met before? You’ve been travelling this route for a year now and we haven’t seen hide or hair of him.” She continued to glare at Virgil as if he was a threat.

Virgil was shifting in his seat, his expression decidedly wary.

“Virgil has been assisting my father on a project. He’s an engineer. I’m unsure what he is doing here right now.”

“Hmph, well, in my opinion, he should have been here earlier.” She addressed Virgil directly. “Did you know your sweet little brother has been a bastion of this bus route, defending and assisting all?”

What?

John’s head shot up. “Mrs Bucklin-“

“Don’t you go all humble pie on me, young man. I saw what you did to those teenagers and how you help young Mollie every week. That girl is going to work herself into an early grave. And poor Gus, you’ve given him a new reason to try. Did you know he has enrolled himself in a course? Got himself a grant from the government and everything. Got help from that employment assistance group. Not to mention that doe-eyed young student who stares at you with love hearts floating about her head. I don’t know what you did for her, but I have no doubt she would do anything for you if you asked.” She turned back to Virgil, accusation in her eyes. “Why haven’t you been looking after your brother?”

Virgil’s wide eyes darted between John and the older woman.

John had no idea what to say.

“Well?” Mrs Bucklin’s glare was determined.

“Ah-“

“Is this man harassing you?”

John looked up to see Gus looming over Virgil.

You know, the Virgil who lifted weights that weighed more than his brothers on a daily basis.

John frowned. Gus had a new coat on and was looking much healthier than the last time he paid attention. “No, Gus. This is my older brother Virgil.”

And Virgil was subjected to another staring glare. “Doesn’t look like your brother.”

What?!

“I can assure you that he is indeed my caring older brother and he is not neglecting me in any way.”

Gus grunted, still glaring at Virgil. He nodded in John’s direction. “Make sure he eats more. He’s too skinny.”

That started Mrs Bucklin off again. “My goodness, yes. John you do not eat enough. Have you tried any of those recipes I recommended?”

Gus was still eyeing Virgil.

Virgil appeared to be regretting several recent life choices.

“I’m fine, Mrs Bucklin.” He raised his hands. “And both of you, Virgil is not responsible for my wellbeing.”

His tablet beeped. A glance and he found a text message from Ridley. You okay over there?

He looked up and found her at the other end of the bus staring back at him worriedly.

A sigh.

A flick of his fingers. I’m fine.

He turned back to Virgil who was literally cornered, only for his tablet to chime again.

You free tonight?

Oh, for the love of-

“Guys, Virgil is my big brother. He looks after me. He cares. I’m fine. He’s here for a visit. I don’t know why yet. Stop glaring at him.”

Gus grunted again and wandered off to his seat. He didn’t stop eyeing John’s brother for a second.

Mrs Bucklin let off a slightly miffed sound before leaning back in her seat. “He better. Or I have a mind to bring Scottie with me next time. Or maybe Gordy. To teach him a lesson.”

What the hell?

“No need, Mrs Bucklin. I assure you.”

Virgil was staring at John as if he wasn’t sure what planet he was on.

John sighed.

Yeah, he hated public transport.

It was stressful, annoying and far too full of people.

His tablet pinged again. This time it was the program he was working on. It was claiming it was dawn despite the fact the sun had risen an hour ago. He let out an exasperated hiss.

Virgil was still staring at him.

Damn public transport.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #John Tracy #nuttyfic reblog #Ridley O'Bannon is in this but not in a shipping sense from John's perspective #She does have eyeballs for him though he ignores her completely pretty much

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andromeda612 · 5 years ago

Text

The writer vs the liar

So, remember the prompt from a few days ago? You can chek it here

Well, I made a draft for what would be the whole fic, I'm gonna start it soon and will post it in Ao3, I would make a post when is ready and with every update, if you are interested make me know, so I can tag you.

I apologize for any mistake, english is not my first language, I hope you like it!

After Mari is expelled Nathaniel and Alix are worried and confused, because there is no way Marinette did those things (Alix defended Marinette in Reverser and I like to think that Nathaniel learned his lesson, so they are less likely to believe that Marinette would do anything of what Lila said) but all the mess is confusing. They talk but can't get a good answer. They decide to relax a little in the art club, they can't.

Marc noticing their mood ask what's wrong. So they tell him, and Marc is fast to point out all the wrong things with the whole situation. The "evidence" is circumstancial, superficial and easily planted, Damocles should have called Lila's parents too, no just Marinette's, Lila should had at least some bruises but there is no one, the protocole says that they needed to make an investigation, Mari has the right to prove her innocence, but Damocles just expelled her then and there. So yeah, the school messed up, because that failure in protocole and lack of professionalism can be addressed as neglect.

Thinking a little more they come to the conclusion that Marinette had been framed, but by who and why? If you think about it the only suspect is Lila, after all she was in the middle of the fire, but why would she did that? Marc asks for more background about this girl, because he only knows her because he had seen her sometimes in school and because Rose mentioned her once or twice, Nathaniel nor Alix have ever talked about her, Marinette either (and that interview on the Ladyblog is not that famous, so he missed it)

Alix explains the drama between those two, the seats thing (Marc tells them that it was wrong to move Mari to the back without asking her, maybe Nathaniel never had problem with being alone but he is not Marinette, they admit it was thoughtless from them and make a note to apologize later) and Marinette claming that Lila is a liar.

That catches Marc's atention, he knows Marinette, for him she is like a sister in everything but blood, after all she was the first person who was nice to him in school and despite not knowing in the time being that he has social anxiety she always was patient and kind with him until he was comfortable enough talking to her. Misunderstanding aside, she was the one who introduced him to Nathaniel and the rest of her friends from the art club, and they introduced him with the rest of their friends. Now he has two best friends (Mari and Alix) is dating his other bff (Nathaniel) has other good friends and is working in what he loves with his partner, all thanks to Marinette, so is no wonder that the two of them grew closer.

He knows that Mari hates liars, so if she thinks that this girl is a liar she must has a very good reason. Then Alix says that it just her being jealous because of Adrien. And yes, that may be true, Marinette tends to get jealous of any rival for the boy's affection, and can do crazy and, honestly, pretty bad stuff for him but again, he knows her and knows that at the end Marinette always admits her wrongdoings, apologizes and does better. He also knows that jealousy for itself is not a strong motive for dislike someone that much, because Chloe? is a brat, Kagami? He knows that Marinette actually helped Adrien in a date with her and now both girls are very good friends despite her knowing that Adrien actually is interested in Kagami, so if this Lila is really that good of a person then why Marinette seems to dislike her and think that is a liar? She has to has a reason.

When he says this Alix and Nathaniel have the decency of look ashamed, Marc is right, they (Alix and the girls the most) should have asked for her reasons instead of brush it off as simply jealousy, Marinette is better than that.

With his point clear, Marc asks for more details, maybe they can discover why Marinette thinks Lila is a liar. Again is Alix who talks (Nathaniel never had been one of Lila's admirers and he pays not much attention to the drama) and tells every story Lila told them (I'm not including the napkin incident because either Nathaniel nor Alix were there, Nathaniel was alone in another table and Alix wasn't in the cafeteria at all) and once she is done Marc is fast to point every single hole, contradiction and nonsense in Lila's claims.

Being a writer and a very active reader makes this kind of thing easy for him, it also helps that some of Lila's claims can be debunked with a little knowledge (arthritis doesn't work like that for example) and him has plenty of that, he likes to read about different topics, not just stories and comics, also is the fact that he makes lots of researching for his stories (the comic is not the only thing he writes for) even if they are about fantasy he likes them to be coherent and solid, so if he is going to use some topic he research to support his writing, so yeah he knows a little of many things. He also points out all the times Lila manipulated them so they did things for her, and how.

Now they know the truth, Lila IS a liar and a manipulative one.

HOLY SHIT MARINETTE WAS RIGHT! First they feel bad, they should have listened to her! They are also ashamed because now that they think about it most of the lies are dumb! They are idiots!

Marc is fast to comfort them, after all some of her lies are believable at least from their point of view, their class is not a normal one they have some famous people like Adrien a famous model, Chloe the mayor's daughter, Nathaniel is the ilustrator of one of the most popular comics in Paris, Marinette is Jagged Stone's favorite designer and has been prized by Gabriel Agreste and Audrey Bourgois, Max is a genius with his own AI, there is Kitty Section and the list goes. So, one more student with conections and awesome claims is not that difficult to believe. Also, they are being manipulated, Lila use pity to make herself look vulnerable and fragil, so they would not question her or her claims, she also takes advantage of their kindness. Being fooled and manipulated is not a crime, they are victims too.

That make them feel better, but now they are pissed, because THEY ARE BEING FOOLED, MANIPULATED AND TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF! AND MARINETTE IS EXPELLED AND ALL IS THAT WITCH FAULT!

Marc is pissed too, being the patient and quiet person he is there are just a few things that makes him trully angry, but messing with his loved ones is the top of that list, and that little bitch is messing with all of his friends and his boyfriend! She is not just liying, manipulating and using them, she also gives them false hope with all the false promises she made, they are gonna be hurt once she fails in fulfil them. And MARINETTE IS EXPELLED so yeah, that brat crossed many lines.

For now they decide to talk to Marinette, Alix and Nathaniel need to apologize, and to make her know that the three of them know the truth and are by her side.

Later they discover that Marinette's expulsion is revoked, aparently all was a huge misunderstanding and Lila herself clarified the mess. Yeah, something is off here and they are not going to let their guard down, but at least Mari's name is clean.

The next day they are in the bakery with Marinette's favorite ice cream and two draws made by Alix and Nath, a -forgive-us-for-not-listened-you-and-for-being-bad-friends- gift. Marinette is relieved and actually cries of joy for having her friends by her side and free from Lila's claws, and of course she forgive them, after all they admitted their errors and apologized, also despite the evidence against her they gave her the benefit of the doubt, and for that she is grateful.

They talk and Marinette tells them how she found out the truth the same she told Alya and Nino (Marc tells her that it was not ok to follow Adrien and Lila but unlike them he still listened to her side of the story) she also point out that she ACTUALLY KNOWS Jagged Stone.

But hey! That doesn't mean that Adrien also knows the truth?

Yeah, she also tells them that Adrien is aware of Lila's true nature and also talks about the 'high road' advice. "HE TOLD YOU WHAT?"

But before any of them could get angry with Adrien she explains that he really thought her lies were harmless, also he believed that expose her would be bad because he called her out in a friendly way and still she was akumatized, but now that she was expelled he recognized that his advice was a bad one and that her lies can hurt people, he already apologized to her, and explained that he made a deal with Lila, he will be her friend and she will be a model and in return she will bring Mari back to school. He also admited that the best is to expose her, becasue netiher of them actually believe that Lila is going to let Marinette alone.

That makes them calm down, and forgive Adrien, he apologized to Marinette too and admited his error, also they think that a deal with the devil is punishment enough, and if they think about it, probably the poor boy didn't knew better, but he does now, so it's ok.

Then they learn about the threat in the bathroom and her almost akumatization. And they are even more pissed HOW DARE SHE? They apologize again for making her believe that she couldn't trust them with that. She says is ok, that she didn't take her too seriously, and she has faith in them, and so far they proved her right. Though, Marc wish that she could have talked to him at least, maybe they would have prevented all of this, but it doesn't matter.

Well, now they have one thing clear: they need to take that bitch down. But how? Lila could lie her way out, or twist the situation in her favor, they are trying to come up with a plan, but Marc is quiet, his mind working and then he has an idea.

With a calm and cool tone he says them "Just help me with some research, I'll take care of the rest" and replacing his usual sweet and shy demeanor there is a smirk and a cold determination and confidence in his face that surprise them (Nath actually finds it kind of hot)

They don't know what is he thinking, but they have seen him angry before (and thank god they have never been the cause of it, because Marc is a cinnamon roll but is very scary when is angry) and they know what his wrath is capable of. Whatever his plan is, they know is gonna work and dammit if it doesn't. They almost feel bad for Lila. Almost.

The next days they spend time together doing the investigation (they have some fun time and an awesome sleepover too), and finally they get solid proof to expose Lila, thanks to Marinette they get a video interview with Jagged Stone where the singer claims that he never had met Lila, and thanks to Marc's general knowledge in health and some help from Nathaniel's parents who both are doctors, they also get proof to debunk Lila's claims of illnes or other disabilities (specially the lying disease bullshit) and since Marc is a good researcher they manage to find some interesting stuff, like Mrs. Rossi contact information, is all in the embassy page.

With the investigation done, all what they need to do is wait for the perfect moment to expose the liar, and the oportunity comes two weeks later in the form of a picnic that Bustier's class organize just to hang out together, naturally Marc is invited and helps to organize said picnic, almost all of the class consider him a friend and one of them despite him being in Mendeleiev's class. Mari, Alix and Nathaniel still don't know what is his plan exactly, but they trust him. Adrien is aware of his plan but he doesn't know what exactly is either.

So here they are, in the park, in a cute blanket, with some delicious food and with great company (that doesn't include certain people, aka Chloe and the liar) and of course Lila is charming their friends with other of her lies, it takes all of their willpower to not roll their eyes. And then, listening carefully Marc takes the perfect moment to interrumpt the tale, social anxiety or not, that witch is hurting his beloved ones and he is not going to tolerate it, so even if he never has talked to her, fuck his shyness, that girl is gonna face the consequences for her actions. (It also helps that he is already friends with the rest of his boyfriend's class)

So, to everyone suprise he interrumpts Lila in middle sentence to point out the holes in what she is saying.

Alix, Nathaniel, Marinette and Adrien froze in panic, what is he thinking?! A direct confrontation was a bad idea, wasn't it? Marc locked eyes with the four of them and give a look thay says 'I get this' so they let him be, but now they are really uneasy.

What they didn't know is that the last days until now Marc has been doing more than just research, he was studying his enemy. Marc is a good listener, and being someone who likes to go unnoticed he became a very good observant too, he can notice little details and patterns, also he is a sensible and sympathetic boy so is easy for him to put himself in other's shoes, that combined makes him very good at reading and analysing people. He also made extra research in psychology and behaivor. So now, he knows how Lila works, he knows what to expect and how to answer. It also helps that he is very good with words, not just the ones he writes for his stories, but the ones he says and also he is very good with other's people words, he knows how to use them. That is his plan, he is going to use all his skills and knowledge to trap Lila, she thinks that she is smart and can control the situation, but Marc is going to prove that she can and will lose in her own game. Her lies are gonna be her downfall.

Lila of course tries to make an excuse or another lie to save face, but Marc refutes her again and again, and the rest of the class? Some are confused and others seems thoughtful shit! She is losing control! She tries but this black haired boy seems to be smart, he gets her cornered until the point that she can't lie her way out, and her classmates are starting to look suspicious. She tries to change tactics, the tears worked against Marinette, they will work now. She hides her face in her hands and starts to sob.

"I just was trying to share some of my wonderful experiencies with my friends, so I could give them some advice to help them in the future. Why are you being so mean? I haven't done anything to you! " That make people like Rose or Mylene to softened and go to comfort her, and between her hands she can see Alya ready to confront the boy, but Marc is ready for this kind of tactic, is his turn to make a move.

"I'm sorry but, How does this make me mean? I just pointed some facts because honestly, I'm a bit confused. At first I thought that you just made a little mistake, but then you just said another nonsense! Why would YOU do that?"

And then she is losing the little control she manage to regain. Because no matter how much they want to comfort her, Marc has a point and what he said so far actually makes sense, at least more sense than what she said. The others start to look torn between comfort or question her.

"Well... how would you know that what I said is wrong? Where is your proof?" Lila crosses her arms and look to other side, just to hide the smirk in her face, that would be enough and that annoying nobody will learn to not get in her way.

But, much to her surprise Marc actually has a good answer to that.

"Uh... comon sense? I mean, If I'm being a little honest if you think about it, some of the things you said have no... logic. Also I like to read a lot and about different things, including what you were saying so I know for a fact that some of the things you said are wrong. And my proof? Well a quick search in google is enough to prove me right"

Lila pales, she was not expecting that answer, and to her utter horror she can see some of her classmates typing in their phones, probably fact checking for once, she need to fix this now! She looks around trying to find some sympathy or something that would help, but she only see her classmates reading something in their phones and some of them are starting to frown, then she looks to Marinette and has an idea, this would break her little deal with Adrien but is ok, she wasn't planning to leave the brat alone anyway and her model career is in his father's hands, and she already has him tied around her finger.

So, before anyone could say something she sobs more louder and points a finger to Marinette.

"This is because of Marinette, isn't it? She put you into this! I-" but she couldn't finish because Marc interrumpts her, he also is ready for Lila trying to blame Marinette and he is not having it!

"And what does she has to do with this? Is not her fault that you have your facts wrong" and now the others are starting to narrow their eyes towards her, Damn it! Well she made the baker a threat, is time to fulfil it.

Lila makes the best she can to look pityful and scared. "Well... I didn't want to say this because I thought that nobody would believe me but... Marinette threatened me in the bathroom the day I came back from Achu!" She cries to everybody's shock.

"WHAT?!" Everybody screamed that. Marinette and her we-know-the-truth squad are frozen and can't believed it, THE NERVE OF THIS GIRL!

The rest to their friends are equally stunned, because they just can't believe what Lila said.

Lila using the shock continues with her sob story.

"She cornered me in the bathroom and told me that she would turn all of you against me! And all because she is jealous! And now she is using this boy to make you think that I'm a liar, just like she said!" Lila hug herself in an attempt to look small and is crying full force now.

Marc has to use all his willpower to not scream and call her a hypocrite, but he has a perfect answer for that too.

"Marinette would NEVER do that!" And to Lila's surprise and Marinette's glee is not Marc who says that, is Alya.

"Marinette is the sweetest girl, and she is not a bully!" That was Rose, who walked away from Lila like she burned her. And the rest of the class make their agreement known.

Lila really did NOT expect THAT reaction! They are supose to be comforting her and screaming to Marinette, not defending her! It's ok she can fix it.

"See? Is this why I didn't want to say anything! You don't believe me!"

Marc takes the word again "We know Marinette, we know she has flaws but she is one of the best people we know" again everybody agrees with that.

Lila is getting desperate, this is not what is supose to happen! And where is an akuma when you need it?! But Lila refuses to lose!

"Look I know you all thougth that you knew her and that she was your friend, but the truth is that Marinette is not what she seems to be, she is a manipulative liar and is just using you!"

Again, is not Marc who talks, this time is Kim

"No, you look Lila, I have known Marinette since diapers, and I know she has flaws but she is NOT a bad person"

"Yeah, and using us? She is the one who goes out of her way just to help us! She is a caring friend! Heck! We actually had to convince her that it's ok to pay to her everytime we comission something from her!" That was Nino

"And still, she gives us discounts everytime she can, but jus for the record, we have no problem in paying the whole price, Marinette, your job is awesome and you deserve to be fairly rewarded" that was Ivan, and Marinette gives him a very grateful smile, the rest of her friends agree with him and she smiles to them too.

"But-but" Lila is in trouble, she tries to think fast, but then Max just dig her hole deeper.

"Also, what Marc just said about your story is also true, all the wrong facts and holes, I asked Markov to fact check and the evidence supports Marc, the only conclusion is that you were lying to us!"

Nonononononono NO!

"And since you told us this lie like you did with any other of your stories I wondered What else was a lie? I also asked Markov to confirm every thing that you had said to us, and nearly the 86.65% was a lie"

Marc smiles, the game is going exactly according to his plan, even some of his moves were made by others, he is happy that Marinette has friends with such a faith in her, ready to stand up for her just like she does for them. But he knows that the game is still on, Lila still has some pieces, but Marc already steal her big ones, she just has some pawns to defend her King and Marc has his army intact.

Well fuck, she is doomed, the rest of the class looks ready to attack her... and then she remember her last card, it's a wild card, her lies will not work the same way anymore but she could save face, she will, eventually, come up with something to regain her control.

Well it seems that there is a limit, so I make a part 2

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violetwolfraven · 4 years ago

Text

Crossover Headcanons

((I know I have requests in my inbox but I just had to get this out of my head. Also I probably won’t be posting those requests for a while because my writer’s block is only barely starting to lift, so...))

Anyway this is gonna start off from one perspective and go to more later. Enjoy. 💜

Tw: past death, nightmares

...

So this is a... spin-off? Of the reincarnation au? An alternate timeline? A variant? Whatever it is the newsies are reincarnated and remember their past.

Also somehow most of them are going to the same college here, (I’m not going to say which one because I don’t want to research colleges right now) even if they’ve got a wide range of majors.

There’s only one dorm building even if people are only allowed to share a room with someone of the same gender.

This works out well for Elmer, because he’s pretty happy to be rooming with his boyfriend, Buttons.

But then he gets up to the floor their dorm is on and almost drops the box he’s holding.

Because it’s fuckin her. His national-level math nemesis since 11th grade. They’ve only faced off twice, the first time with her team winning and the second with his winning, but they’re each the only one who can beat the other in a math competition.

Elmer can see the shock in her eyes as she recognizes him and shouts YOU and then she’s stomping over to him aggressively enough that he’s pretty sure she wants to throw down physically.

Jack (who’s also on that floor with Davey) figures that too, and steps in front of him before she gets too close, but that girl acts like she doesn’t even notice him and shouts I WAS HALF A SECOND BEHIND YOU SOLVING THAT PROBLEM!

Elmer is kinda terrified but he defensively shoots back well I still solved it first and moves around Jack because this is his math nemesis and his fight.

The girl scowls at him for a couple more seconds then just sticks out her hand to shake, and Elmer realizes that he doesn’t actually know her name beyond the surname he’s seen on the back of her mathletes jacket. She introduces herself as Cady Heron.

Elmer Kazprzak, he responds, and Cady looks like she’s trying not to laugh, but he figures that’s probably fair, with how ‘Elmer’ was a common name in 1885 but not so much in 2003.

Jack clears his throat so Elmer introduces him but forgets that this isn’t their high school so things like oh this is Jack. He’s basically my dad. are weird.

Cady definitely thinks it’s weird but she doesn’t question it. Instead she just asks where Elmer is living, and it turns out, of course, he and Buttons are right next door to her and her roommate, Karen.

(I say Cady is living with Karen because Gretchen wanted to live with Regina and rules be damned Janis is with Damien.)

Elmer isn’t completely sure he’s not going to get murdered in his sleep but he guesses if he could handle the 1899 Newsboy Strike and World War I he can handle Cady Heron.

Meanwhile Katherine is going to Harvard so Sarah is rooming with someone she’s never met and she’s a little nervous.

And in stomps a girl who declares I’m a lesbian and if you have a problem with that tell me now so I can switch dorms.

And Sarah responds with my girlfriend out at Harvard would be pretty pissed at me if I did have a problem with that.

The girl lets her guard down, explains that she comes from a small town, and says her name is Alyssa Greene.

After that little bump, they get along good. Alyssa explains that her girlfriend, Emma, registered late and couldn’t get a dorm with who she wanted.

And Sarah’s just kinda like wait Emma as in Unruly Hearts Emma? Alyssa’s just like yeah!! I’m so proud of her!!

Sarah brags a bit about how Katherine is studying to be a journalist with a specialty in queer stories and long story short they become besties and eventually Alyssa introduces Emma for real and Sarah introduces Smalls and Sniper.

Emma and Alyssa are a bit thrown by the whole nickname thing but hey whatever now they have a Lesbian Club!

They do meet up with the boys occasionally but the Lesbian Club meets on a video call with Katherine every Saturday.

Anyway Jack meets Janis in art class and initially they kinda think each other is weird because their styles are very different but then they get in an actual conversation and get along amazingly.

Jack is definitely a fan of Janis’s philosophy of when someone hurts your friends you attack and grind your foe into the ground.

Janis tells her new bestie about Cady and Damien (and Regina, Gretchen, and Karen, though she still keeps Cady and Damien closer than the former Plastics) and she’s honestly shocked by the amount of friends Jack tells her about.

She does recognize some names, though. Romeo and Damien are both theatre majors and they’ve become friends.

But anyway Jack and Janis are like. Super good friends. Art buddies. Mlm/wlw solidarity. Protective friend pals.

Janis is pretty surprised when she introduces him to Cady and they’ve already met, and apparently oh fuck your math nemesis is Jack’s Elmer???

Jack’s just going oh fuck Elmer’s math nemesis Cady is Janis’s Cady???

Also Regina met Spot and Sarah at the gym and now they meet up with a few other people every other week to throw down like their own personal fight club.

At first Regina was just angrily trying to fight with no technique, but don’t worry, Spot and Sarah teach her.

There weren’t a ton of out gays at Northshore High, so yeah the Mean Girls crew definitely gets along with the Newsies crew out of solidarity.

Janis and at least one of the Plastics but I can’t choose which one(s) join the Lesbian Club.

Meanwhile Race is super hyped to meet Emma cause like I choreographed a dance to your song wanna see???

Emma is flattered but kinda weirded out and she mentions her friend Angie who’s a dancer too and Race is just *error 404*

Cause of course he saw the news story and knows Emma knows these 4 big Broadway stars but it just. Hasn’t connected until this moment that she like has their numbers.

He tries not to freak out too much cause he knows that’s weird but Emma eventually goes do you wanna meet her? And Race goes do I wanna meet her? She’s only my IDOL!! she’s been dancing like 20 years and she’s still got it!!

Emma calls Angie partially because she likes her new dancer friend and wants to make him happy and partially because she wants to prove to Angie that people do appreciate her zazz and despite how she was just a chorus girl until a few months ago this random boy from New York has been a fan since he was 12.

Angie can’t exactly fly over at the drop of a hat but she watches some videos on YouTube of Race dancing and like holy hell this kid is good. And his friends are too but this kid right here has zazz off the charts.

When she finds out he’s an orphan she’s lowkey can I adopt him??? but then she finds out he already has an adoptive mother and it’s Medda Larkin.

Medda Larkin who did more than a few shows with Angie when they were young but left Broadway to open her own theatre.

They fell out of touch years ago but still follow each other on Instagram and stuff.

But Angie shows Barry and Dee Dee and she’s super excited like remember Medda Larkin??? THIS IS HER ADOPTIVE KID AND HE’S AMAZING

And they watch YouTube clips of Emma’s new friends in high school shows and like wtf these kids are fuckin talented why aren’t they on Broadway???

They almost tell Emma to tell her friends to drop out of college and come straight (haha not that straight) to Broadway but Trent is like wtf no education is important.

Whatever the actors aren’t that relevant.

Sarah has a nightmare about her death one night. And with the others it’s not as big of a deal because they’re all rooming with each other, but Sarah’s roommate isn’t one of them.

She thinks Alyssa is asleep so she calls Katherine crying about how scared she was, how guilty she felt to be leaving her brothers and friends and Kath without a goodbye.

And Alyssa isn’t quite awake, but she’s awake enough that she hears Sarah whisper about how everything is just so stupid complicated. I shouldn’t be afraid of dying when I’ve done it before—when we’ve all died horribly—but I still am, Kitty. I can’t stop being afraid.

Alyssa is out of it enough that she falls back asleep, but when she wakes up she knows what she heard. That her roommate thinks she had a past life and died and implied that all her friends did.

Emma notices she’s acting weird and when she asks what’s wrong she tells her.

They both know it sounds crazy, but...

Emma tentatively points out some weird things about their friends from New York.

She’s study buddies with Race and occasionally he points something out she got wrong on her history homework. Something so small and inconsequential that it would’ve been almost impossible for him to know unless he was there and remembered from experience.

Smalls and Sniper have a habit of jumping apart if they were so much as holding hands and someone walks in on them, even though they come from a mostly accepting city with an accepting friend group.

That whole group straight up skipped history class the whole week they were learning about World War I and refused to make up the work.

They bring the half-baked theory to Janis who immediately remembers all the times she’s seen Jack draw small war-torn towns in France and dirty city streets and an outdated skyline as if seen from a rooftop, all of them too detailed to be anything but directly copied from something Jack has seen before.

But the question is if they’re drawn from a reference photo or a memory.

Cady realizes, upon hearing the theory, that Elmer and Buttons never take her up on offers to come to football games because they don’t like the noise.

More specifically, she remembers the look on her nemesis/frenemy’s face when he said he didn’t like fireworks.

Aaron notices that Davey always solves math problems by hand. He never uses a calculator unless someone reminds him it’s an option. And half the time, he defaults to using his right hand with terrible handwriting even though he’s left handed. Almost like he was raised with the whole ‘left hand devil’ thing, which doesn’t make sense because he went to a public school; not a religious one.

Damien realizes that Romeo has a habit of correcting the costume department, like he knows the period clothing for Hello, Dolly! better than they do. It annoys the hell out of them because upon some research, he is always right.

Regina notes how Spot and Sarah fight like they’re fighting for their lives in a street brawl. She knows that because she started taking karate in an attempt to win fights. She noticed months ago that her friends use technique that’s barely sustainable, like they’re just trying to stay alive until they can run or backup comes.

However all this is just fun and games, a crack theory they’re all mildly creeped out by but don’t really believe, until Gretchen finds it.

An article on the Newsboy Strike of 1899.

There’s a copy of the Newsies Banner, written by Katherine Plumber, which references strike leaders Jack Kelly and David Jacobs.

But they could write that off as just a creepy coincidence if not for the photo.

It’s the one Katherine and Darcy took that first day, which is in black and white and not the greatest quality, but clearly shows a lot of familiar faces.

A later story by this Katherine Plumber documents lives of street kids with interviews from kids with the same odd nicknames as the group they know.

Regina was the most cynical about this theory and even she can’t deny it now. There’s just too much evidence.

Especially when Karen finds Crutchie’s obituary, but Regina stops her from showing it to anyone else because that’s just too creepy.

The Mean Girls crew and Alyssa and Emma are... unsure if they should confront their friends about this, because a) this is freaky and b) the newsie gang is clearly still harboring trauma due to their deaths.

Plus, as Damien points out, being gay was illegal in 1899. Do you think they want a reminder of how they had to hide their feelings for each other back then?

Emma and Alyssa share a knowing look because they know what that’s like.

In the end Karen lets it slip when she asks Davey a question about her history homework involving World War II, mistakenly believing he was there.

Davey naturally questions her about it and she spills the entire story about how Alyssa heard Sarah’s phone call and they figured everything else out from there. She even shows him the article with the 1899 photo and the Newsies Banner.

And... shit, there’s a lot of memories behind that picture. And that’s them, over a hundred years ago, when they were kids and they weren’t all the same age like this time around.

The old Davey looks so big compared to Romeo and Elmer and god was Specs tall for a 15-year-old.

Davey didn’t even meet Smalls and Sniper in this lifetime until they were 16, but in that picture they’re only 13 and they’re so small.

A sidenote on Katherine has a picture of her in a hairstyle he hasn’t seen her in since 1917.

It’s a mixture between ptsd and nostalgia and Davey can’t decide whether to freak out or be happy.

He takes the article to Jack and tells him about how Gretchen found it and their non-reincarnated friends know.

Jack’s silently cursing the fact that he really should have been more careful with what he drew around Janis, but it’s kinda a relief that they know, honestly.

He shoots a quick text to the group chat and then turns his phone on do not disturb mode while he sits Janis down for a little chat.

He doesn’t go into graphic detail, but he does tell her an abridged version of everything. How they were basically a family and all lgbt+ in the early 20th century and how they died before their time and got a second chance.

It’s more than a little freaky for Janis, but it does explain a lot.

Such as how Jack demonstrates on a dare that he can still do some parkour because once upon a time, he used it to run from the cops.

Elmer tells Cady he’s so quick at math because he used to have to calculate change quickly and later had to help Jack and Davey come up with battle plans based on numbers vs tactics and terrain.

Regina definitely trusts Spot’s combat advice a lot more now because he was essentially a gang leader as a teenager and it has literally saved his life.

Race admits to Emma that her song made him cry because... in this lifetime he might not have had to be closeted, but in his last he was constantly worried about getting arrested or worse if people found out not just about him and his boyfriend, but his friends. His family.

Emma may or may not collaborate with him after that to write a song about how much it hurts to be closeted for your own safety and how much better it feels to be free to be who you are. Race dances in the music video and many of the other newsies make appearances but it’s mainly him and Emma. Spot and Alyssa cry when they see it. Damien does, too.

Who am I kidding everyone cries.

They get like 4 million hits on YouTube and it’s amazing.

The title is probably In the Light or something.

Also Cady, Aaron, Kevin, and Elmer form their own college level mathletes team and no one can beat them.

(Kevin’s not as close with the main group literally only because I don’t know that much about him as a character.)

(Also Stacy, Kailey, and whatever their boyfriends’ names are might be there somewhere but I don’t know them either.)

Katherine does get to meet the new kids in person eventually. And also I didn’t mention this earlier but Specs goes to Harvard too and he comes to visit too.

The power when the Lesbian Club finally gets to meet all in person? Unparalleled.

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ironmanstan · 5 years ago

Link

Rating:Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:Graphic Depictions Of Violence (tw for: self-harm, vomiting, canon-typical violence, intrusive thoughts, self-worth issues)

Categories:F/F,Gen

Fandom:Apex Legends (Video Games)

Relationship:Wattson | Natalie Paquette/Wraith | Renee Blasey

-----

-Renee Blasey felt like the name of someone else. Like the name you found in the back of the book you bought at a thrift store. Foreign, strange, completely removed, yet tied to you in a small, tenuous connection. A name where you know of the owner, but they will never know of you.'

Renee Blasey didn’t, and would never know Wraith. But Wraith felt like she was learning more about her everyday. ---

Wraith thought she stopped being afraid a long time ago. The voices disagree.

-------

This is a fic I've been wanting to write forever, the voices of the voice always struck me as similar to my intrusive thoughts, so this is my interpretation of Wraith having OCD. This isn't beta-read so please let me know about any inaccuracies or grammatical/spelling errors.

Reblogs > Likes :)

--------

Renee Blasey. 32 years old. Home planet: Typhon, destroyed decades ago.

None of it seemed to fit.

She’d thought finding answers, having a place to start, would make everything feel worth it. But it only brought on more questions. More fear.

Typhon, where the IMC tested their fold weapon? Were her parents IMC? Was that how they evacuated the dying planet after she was born? Were they still alive. Still working for the IMC, stealing from the world like a blight of roaches?

She may never find out.

It didn’t discourage her. But it felt… Weird. She’d thought she’d have a moment when she heard her name for the first time. It’d fit like a missing puzzle piece and it would sound familiar. She’d wear it with pride and regain a part of her identity.

Renee Blasey felt like the name of someone else. Like the name you found in the back of the book you bought at a thrift store. Foreign, strange, completely removed, yet tied to you in a small, tenuous connection. A name where you know of the owner, but they will never know of you.

Renee Blasey didn’t, and would never know Wraith. But Wraith felt like she was learning more about her everyday.

She didn’t often think about her home planet. There was nothing remarkable she’d found about Typhon from her searches. A research outpost for the IMC’s ARES division. Destroyed in the battle of Typhon. All she was left with was knowledge of a place that no longer existed. Typhon was gone, just like Renee. She didn’t have a home waiting for her. She wasn’t even sure if she had any family who would be waiting for her.

The most home she had was here. The Apex Games were, ironically, the most stable thing she’d had in her new life. No more worrying about where to sleep, or whether she’d eat that day. She had her own apartment in the dorms provided by the games. She hadn’t known what it was like to have a place to call her own before.

She’d wake up and go eat breakfast in the commons. Watching the resident nerds, Elliott and TaeJoon, bickering over engineering schematics. Usually ending in Elliott pouting and TaeJoon rolling his eyes. Ajay smirking as she pissed both of them off with a “Why dontcha just kiss already!”.

It was always strange when a newcomer joined at first. But over time they always melded with the group. Natalie was a great example. Renee could often find her with Caustic. Talking in that bright, sweet voice of hers, as she rambled about her inventions. The fact that he never told her to be quiet or to stop talking surprised pretty much everybody.

Wraith wasn’t sure if, after all this time, she’d melded like the others.

There was that separation she couldn’t help but keep up. The internalized fear that wouldn’t go away. The pain and the memories of the facility she’d been trapped in since she’d woken up. The IMC was ruthless, and crafty. She wouldn’t put it past them to send someone after her undercover. A legend infiltrating the games to carry a mission out for them was a plausible worry.

At least, that’s what the voices said.

The voices were the other thing that kept her from getting too close. They’d gone beyond their usual problems. Which were their constant chatter, and warnings. A few had split off, and become paranoid.

The anxiety she felt from them wasn’t normal.

The paranoia was intense, and seemed never-ending in the moment. When she got stuck in a cycle of it it felt like she was trapped. Everything was worrying and nowhere was safe. She was a bird in a covered cage. Or rather, a bird in the trunk of a moving car. Scared, alone, and not sure what the hell was going on.

The paranoia was strange. It always found some arbitrary thing, some stupid, small detail to hook its claws into. Then the voices would obsess, and obsess, and obsess . No issue passed without being checked from top to bottom for something to worry about.

Like Bangalore mentioning the long lost IMC scientist, Renee Blasey. It obviously meant she knew that was what Wraith really was. It meant Bangalore’s life as a soldier was a cover story, a lie. It meant she was here to capture her for the IMC.

Obviously.

The IMC was dead, defunct. Even Bangalore couldn’t find their survivors. Even if the IMC was looking for Wraith, seeking to dispose of their experiment gone wrong, they would’ve found her by now. How long had she been a legend, known to the Outlands as the universe’s only voidwalker? If they weren’t competent enough to find her by now, she shouldn’t worry for the future.

And yet their mantra would circle her constantly, for hours on end.

The IMC will find you in your sleep. They’ll find you and kill you. They’ll kill everyone else too. You’re not safe here, and you never will be.

She couldn’t be afraid forever.

The conclusions she had to jump to, to confirm the thoughts, made no sense in her moments of clarity.

And those moments were far and few.

She always had to disorient her mind to see things for what they were. These voices loved it when she was tormented, in pain. Hurting herself, wasting her time, disrupting her body. It was the only way they could be satisfied, the only way to quiet them.

They craved power over her actions, forcing her to do against her will. But the blurry state of mind after she did what she was told made it harder for their words to hit their target.

She couldn’t sleep until she did what she was told, she couldn’t do anything. She wasn’t allowed to, or else bad things would happen.

But tonight she’d done what she was told. For once she’d given in. Fingers down the throat made quick work of it. Vomit it out, flush the thoughts away, take it all away. A quick burn for a night of peace, why won’t you just get it over with? Do it. Do it now. please PLEA̢̽Ś̯͇̽Ẹ̌ ̼͕͍̄̉N̜͍͎̟͕̋̓̏͐̋O̹͉̜̠͊͒̍̚͘ͅW̢̗̰͎̌̿̎͆͜͠

The voices were convincing, to say the least.

Vomit in the sink.

Vomit on her fingers.

Vomit on her lips.

Renee’s breaths were slow, and reverberated on the tile walls of her bathroom.

Her mind was silent for the first time that night. All she could hear were her shivering fingers hitting the porcelain of the sink, muffled by the hum in her ears. The hum being the hundreds of thousands of voices, the other Wraiths. They were all stirred together in her mind. It'd sounded like they'd melded into a singular tone once she started vomiting.

She didn’t do this often.

Often enough.

Only when she needed the voices to stop.

The sinking feeling in her chest told her what she was doing was wrong, dangerous even. She buried it, shoving it down. What else could she do? Let the voices scream and wreak havoc? Let her brain catch fire every time someone looked at her wrong?

She turned the faucet on, washed her hands, her face, and brushed her teeth. She turned the water off, and looked in the mirror.

If she was seen by anybody else, they’d think she was like them. Not always hearing voices from other worlds. Not paranoid and terrified at every waking moment. Just her. Thirty-two year old Renee Blasey, standing in her bathroom, getting ready for bed.

She watched her reflection a few more moments. She sighed in relief when she didn’t see her eyes shift. They always did when the voices spoke to her. She pulled her gaze away, stepping off the bathroom carpet and leaving to her bedroom.

It wasn’t always like this.

She sunk back into the softness of the pillows and fresh sheets around her. She stared at the ceiling. Her thoughts for once not racing, no stray voices crying out in fear every few seconds. She shut her eyes, feeling herself start to drift. All she could hear were the comforting voices. The familiar ones who’d been with her from the start. The ones who caused her pain, who made her go through task after task, ritual after ritual until it all felt right--until it felt safe ; those ones had shown up later, and made themselves right at home with the rest.

She was fine. She could deal with it. Another obstacle in her way. Nobody needed to know, nobody could help her anyway. The worst they even did was disrupt her in the arena. They’d never come on strong enough for her to not resist them. Yet, she still worried. Whether it was the paranoia overtaking logic, or the tasks they made her carry out to be relieved from the pain, she knew her mind was a risk.

Without the voices there to spiral her thoughts she brushed the worry away with relative ease. Vowing to think about it in the morning. For now, she slept.

-----

This is stupid, I don’t need to do this.

She shook the thought away as she pulled the elastics of her face mask behind her ears.

It was morning, and she was getting dressed. The walk from the apartments the legends stayed in to the drop ship that took them to the arena wasn’t that far. She was still worried. Recognition from fans was one thing. Recognition from an IMC agent is another.

The chances were slim, sure. But, the fact there was a chance at all, was too big a risk to take. The voices would rationalize. And after all, even if there was no danger, wearing a mask and a hood wasn’t hurting anyone.

She checked the sides of her mask in the mirror, making sure they were secured. The front was decorated with pale pink cherry blossoms, like her legend card.

She’d seen Crypto drawing once before they dropped in for a match, and asked if he’d help her with a design for her mask. He still had her on edge with his whole act of being touchy, secretive even. Especially when people asked anything personal. But he hadn’t done anything to give her a reason to think he was IMC.

Not yet anyway.

She shut her eyes, taking in a breath, ignoring the voices. She pulled on a hoodie and sunglasses, to hide her eyes, and made her way to the door. The constant heat and humidity of Solace City hit her face like a bucket of water. The sweat was worth relieving her of fear.

It wasn’t long after she’d left her house when Natalie spotted her. No matter how hard she tried to hide herself, Natalie always was able to pick her out of a crowd. Maybe it was the way she walked, or the fact she looked so covered up on a planet stuck in endless summer. Either way, Wraith would never know.

“Bonjour Wraith!” Natalie called out from across the road. Wraith waved in response as she crossed over.

Natalie was wearing her signature chunky sneakers. A light denim jacket, adorned with patches covered a white t-shirt she wore underneath. All paired with white shorts. She’s so cute. Wraith caught herself thinking, almost blushing in embarrassment at her own thoughts.

Natalie was picking the threads at the ends of her jacket sleeves and smiling. Wraith couldn’t help but stare. At the light freckles dotting her full, round face. The way her blonde hair was frizzy, standing on end in the summer heat. Her bangs making a curtain over her blue eyes, glinting in the sunlight.

Wraith couldn’t pull her eyes away, even if she wanted. Natalie seldom made eye contact anyway, Wraith wasn’t worried her staring would be noticed.

“Sorry I didn’t swing by your room yesterday.” Nat started, grabbing Wraith’s hand loosely and walking alongside her. She struggled to keep up since her legs were a bit shorter. Wraith held her poker face, though inside she was on fire. She couldn’t tell if she was imagining how warm and soft Natalie’s hand was. “-But I was really busy working. I thought of new ideas for my interceptor pylon, and how I could make it more useful in the ring you see!”

Wraith looked over to her and nodded, humming an “Mhm?” in response. Natalie loved electricity and all the different ways she could harness it. Wraith often heard her in the mornings, talking over its properties and uses with Caustic. Both of them having intense discussions over coffee.

It’d been a while before Natalie started opening up to her about her interests. A little ramble when Wraith asked a question here. A squeal of delight when she thought of a solution there. And bright, beautiful laughter that Wraith thought she would die from if she listened too long. Lighting up the room with pure joy, paired with her stimming her hands, when something went right. That was all Wraith would catch a glimpse of before they really got close.

And she was glad they did. It felt like she could hear Natalie talk about anything for hours on end. No matter the subject. It didn’t matter if she understood the technical terms, or wrapped her head around how it worked. The pure joy in her voice was fulfilling enough. She wanted the melody of Natalie Pacquette’s voice to envelop her completely as she melted at her words.

What if that was her plan all along?

She jumped out of her thoughts at the voice chiming in. Natalie stopped mid-sentence and looked over, brows raised.

“You okay Wraith?” Her hand held on tighter, squeezing Wraith’s gloved one in reassurance. Wraith screwed her eyes shut and muttered under her breath at being so noticeable.

“Yeah I- I’m fine don’t worry about it.” She waved a hand, like she could brush the issue away. Talking about her problems was moot. It made the people around her feel bad for her. And that didn’t help anybody. She especially didn’t want to do that to Natalie of all people. She had enough shit to work through, she didn’t need to hear about what the voices did to her everyday.

“Are you sure?” They’d stopped walking, stuck at a crosswalk, waiting for traffic to pause for them. “You’ve seemed sort of, on edge the past few days. And I don’t know if I remember the last time you hung out with us, or even left your room this week.” Wattson burrowed her other hand into her pocket. She was bobbing her head, moving along to music that wasn’t there.

Wraith sighed out of her nose. She pays attention to me enough to notice that? She held back her smile at the thought. Turning back to Natalie’s concern.

“I’m, good I just, feel kinda out of it lately. The voices y’know, sometimes they can be overwhelming.” She tried not to get too in detail.

Natalie didn’t need to hear about how her throat was still burning. How she’d go into a frenzy, holding her head in her arms and crying, trying to scratch the thoughts away. How she’d stay up all night cleaning and organizing her apartment because what if they find me and I can’t get out of my room fast enough.

What if Natalie’s one of them??

The thoughts were overwhelming. It felt like she was strapped to a chair, forced to look at something she didn’t want to. The harder she tried to shut her eyes or turn away, the clearer they became. She often ended up shaking her head at them, shutting her eyes or plugging her ears. Trying to get away from her own brain. Even if she resisted, and did nothing, it just felt like acceptance.

“I get feeling overwhelmed,” Natalie replied. Her voice lower, more monotonous as she dropped the peppy mask she often put on. “When I get overwhelmed it’s like everythings closing in and I can’t get away. I’ve got to push it all out and curl in on myself until I feel better. It’s awful.”

She re-threaded her fingers through Wraith’s and smiled up at her. Her bright, half-lidded eyes, filled with understanding. “If you need to talk about it more, I’m always here for you Wraith.” She paused, biting the inside of her cheek before continuing. “I-It’s hard for me, to tell how others view me, but I hope you can see me as someone to trust.” Her voice was quieter this time, but still filled with the same softness, and genuine love.

Wraith felt like she was going to burst at the seams.

“Y-yeah I. Of course I trust you Natalie. You’re one of my closest friends here, I’d trust you with anything.” She let the words spill out, curiosity and concern jumping out at the pain she heard behind Natalie’s words. The voices stirred, uneasy. She could feel them analyzing everything Natalie said, trying to find all the wrong ways to interpret it.

Don’t let her tell you we’re hurting you.

She raised a brow. So that’s where they’re going with it.

They continued, ignoring her casual observation, drowning her out.

Who was it who saved you from the lab?? Who did the Voidwalker say to trust???

She shook her head, willing for them to go away. But as usual, nothing happened. Luckily for her, they had other things to focus on. They’d arrived.

The gates to the boarding area for the dropship were in front of them. The rest of the legends were gathered around waiting to board. All except Elliott, who’d probably woken up late again. Wraith wondered how angry Anita would be with him this time.

When they finally boarded, she stayed in her area of the ship. She could hear the stories the others told amongst themselves. But she stayed alone. Stuck with her voices as company. The quiet wasn't ideal, but it was better than talking to people. Their words were ammunition for the storm in her head.

She wants you to stop listening to us. She’s trying to take your power away from you. She's with the IMC͙̑ ͇͗Y̱͠OU ̝̂KN̬̊O̢̾W S͚̒HE I̻̮͑͂Ŝ̙.̰̙́̀

She bit down on her lip and hoped the flight wouldn’t be long.

Her back hit the ground with a heavy thud.

You’ve let your guard down.

She grunted, eyes opening, then squinting at the brightness of the sun. Her ears were ringing, and her body was sore. Her back was raw like she’d been dragged. Her chest heaved. She winced at the burn in her throat, and pushed on the ground to lift herself up.

It was the second-to-last ring. They were in the endgame of the match. This was what they’d been building up to. Her, Wattson, and Bangalore were on a squad. The three of them working in almost-perfect harmony.

Almost.

The match had been wearing down on her. They barely had time to loot for supplies, to find higher ground to survey from. Squad after squad rained bullets down on them. For once ultimate accelerants were a thing of desire. The three of them were tired. But they had to press on. They’d almost won this.

The last squad they’d downed was Octane, stuck by himself after his team had died to the ring. Wraith might’ve been fast, but he was faster. She was down before she could blink, crawling away in fear.

There’s no more respawn beacons. We’ll lose if I die now.

He’d crept after her, ready to finish her off, when, in the distance, Bangalore took her shot. A loud crack echoing across the canyon. Wattson rushed down after Bangalore killed him. She'd ran out to get Wraith up under the cover of smoke Bangalore had thrown down.

“Wraith, let me help you!” Wraith paused at Wattson’s voice. Her vision was still blurry, but she could hear Wattson loud and clear. She let herself be guided into a sitting position. And shuddered as she felt Wattson kneel over her. Wattson's hand hovered over Wraith’s chest ready to inject her with the syringe.

“You ready?” She asked softly. Most other legends would just hit you with the needle without warning. Wraith always felt a sense of fondness tighten her chest when Wattson asked first. She nodded in response, and gripped the hand Wattson offered to brace herself.

This time, it didn’t happen like it usually did.

The smell of fire, the ringing in her ears, and the needle piercing her body. It was too similar, it felt too much like a memory she’d thought she’d forgotten.

The soreness in her head grew instead of lessening as the medicine entered her body. The comfort she felt was replaced with fear and anxiety. She could almost smell the scent of rubbing alcohol. The smell that’d lingered in every crevice of the medical facility she was kept in so long ago.

Her hands shook. Her armband, a gift from the Voidwalker, beeped. Telling her that her portal was ready. The familiar noise drew her further into the fear.

It’s just like before it’s just like before it’s just like before it’s-

Calm down, it’s okay. It’s okay, she’s just trying to help.

As the syringe released its last drop of fluid she let go of Wattson’s hand. Wattson gasped as Wraith suddenly lurched backward. Her legs kicked about, sloppy from the after-effects of the medication. She couldn’t think straight, overwhelmed so suddenly by the voices, it was all too much. She grabbed the syringe out of Wattson’s hand and flung it away into the swamp grass.

Both her and Wattson stared after the syringe in the grass as Wraith’s breaths slowed. God damnit. She didn’t want to act on her impulses , especially not in front of Wattson.

She slowly crawled out from underneath the other girl and stood to her feet. Trying to move on from it, she reloaded her weapon and turned to Octane’s deathbox. Wattson sat there for a moment longer, before she got up and joined Wraith in looting.

“Are you alright Wraith?” Wattson whispered, glancing at her face as their hands brushed together. She’d already noticed Wraith seeming antsy, on edge because of the voices. Sure if she was having trouble it would be a hindrance to their game. But a loss was a loss, Wattson would live through it and try again. It was Wraith that she cared about.

Wraith pursed her lips and nodded, feigning interest in the large array of healing she’d found in the box. We can handle it, it’s fine. The less she knows, the better. Besides, what if she’s looking for information on us? The voices were quick to share their distrust. Wraith went along with them out of convenience. There was no point in worrying her, especially this late in the game.

They’d find the last two teams, take them out, and be done with it. The voices would calm after the match, they’d have nothing to discuss. Simple.

The sound of gas canisters being thrown in their direction was the first sign of her plan going downhill.

They were down in the stream where Bridges used to be. A ravine of sorts. Perfect to line with toxic gas and trap the two of them in. Caustic didn’t think twice about taking his chance.

Wraith’s voices, the good ones, the ones she trusted, hit their target first.

There’s a shooter, move.

Traps being placed, it’s not safe here.

Two sentences, calm and collected. That was what the voices should always be.

She grabbed Wattson’s hand and outstretched her free arm, opening a portal through the void.

“Someone’s got a shot on me, pretty sure. Let’s move.” She turned to see Wattson nod in response, her question to Wraith forgotten. Wraith pulled her through the portal behind her. They ran. Circling the broken-down buildings and heading to a zipline. Riding it up to where Bangalore was sniping.

“Caustic’s close by, probably up at the top near you, we’re heading over.” Wraith spoke into her ear piece. Bangalore copied back with an “Affirmative.” And their plan was in motion.

They lurched out of the void together as they reached the top. Bangalore was already in combat. Caustic was with Bloodhound, both of them trying to force Bangalore out of hiding behind a boulder further up on the cliff.

Bangalore aimed and took her shot, and a loud ‘crack’ split the air. She didn’t have much, but she did have a Kraber, the strongest, and hardest to use, sniper in the outlands. And had downed Bloodhound in a single hit.

Wraith ran up alongside Wattson. She slid behind the boulder with Bangalore, pulling out her own sniper rifle, a Triple Take. She leaned it on the rock, preparing to take aim, when the voices shouted.

He’s throwing something, MOVE.

She dropped down, a loud hiss moving over them, before a cloud of toxic gas filled the area. She felt her eyes burn, and her lungs heaving as she breathed in the fumes.

Wraith choked and coughed. She pushed through the burn as she trudged forward in Caustic’s direction. She switched her weapons, pulling out her R-99, raised it up, and looked through the sights, trying to spot him. She heard movement behind her, and turned on her heel, but Caustic shot before she had eyes on him.

Wraith fell to the ground, coughing up blood and wheezing as her gun was kicked away.

What’s wrong with us what’s WRONG WITH US GET UP NOW.

Trap this is a trap this is a trap it’s a tRA-

Caustic aimed his gun down at her, ready to finish her off, when Bangalore’s Kraber echoed through the canyon a second time. He fell, standing on his knees for a moment, before his body dissipated. Leaving behind his deathbox of items.

Wraith leaned back on her hands, gasping for air. She wasn’t fully downed again, so she got back to her feet. Her hands were trembling around her gun, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

The voices were scared. They watched every direction, scanning the world for its dangers. Hundreds of thousands of eyes staring from the void, circling her head. Are there more? Are we safe? Where are the others? We’re going to die that was too close too close too clOSe we need to watch out, watch out, watch out-

She paused.

Anxiety. It’s anxiety. Calm down.

She tried to tell herself that. She wanted to believe it was anxiety so strongly. But it felt wrong, like she was lying to herself. The voices had their own verdict.

Our chest is so tight̤͂.̻̇ W̝͘H̨͗y̞͐ ca̤̔n̙̎;t ͎wḙ͂ ̖̺̏̏b̲͈͊͛r̒͟EA̘̝̐̔th̢̅e.̪̤̌̌? ? ? ̨͋WHERE AR̛̲E T̛̟̒͢H͕̩̀̚E̲̰̍̑̚ͅ Ř̺Ĕ͎͍͒Ŝ̫͠ͅT̤̝̟͖̙̋̒̇͊̈́

̟͍́̒?̣̞͞ ͙̞̣̲̌̋̓͜͠͝?͚̜̱̥͊̓̌̊̚͟ ̤̮̣̘̰̌͌̀̾͠ ̧̦̖̠̀͐̋̓̈́͢?̖̥̱̼̬̿̂͌͠

It was louder, clearer. She could feel them filling her ears, screaming. ͈͂LIS̪͋T͓̉E̽͜N̜̼̎̌ T̎͢O̜̒ Ǔ̩̝̆S̹͚͂͗ͅ ͔͐P͚̲̦̐̇L̗̏Ę̫͙̲͆̓͠͠AS̗̲̬͋̇́Ȩ͉̠̲͑̏͆̚͟͠.̡̠̼̯̺̈́͐͊͌͘

She could hear Wattson calling for her to come loot with them in the distance. Bangalore yelling, asking if she was okay. The two of them, realizing something was off, calling across the cliff what was wrong. Feet hitting the ground as Wattson jogged over to her.

Her breaths were going faster, faster, faster . She could barely hear over the screaming in her ears.

Danger, move.

She couldn’t tell between the real warnings and the paranoid ones.

Her hand reached up to her forehead. Digging into the skin. Like she could tear the voices out of her mind. She dug her nails further. Stop stop stop please just stOP.

Her knees hit the ground. She screamed. Mouth still closed. The noise rumbling in her throat. Warmth ran down her hand and stained her forehead. Blood blood blood… Faster. Faster. Her breaths were going faster.

The whir of Wattson’s interceptor, usually held on her back, drew Wraith’s attention. She jolted at gloved hands touching on her shoulders. She could barely hear now. The voices. Everything. It was all just so LOUD.

Run.

Get away from her get her away from us now now run rUN.

It was all they could agree on. Get away, get to safety, from one voice. Get away, don’t let them see us like this, from the other. Either one worked.

So she did.

She shoved away from Wattson’s touch, heels kicking into the ground before she burst into the void. Bangalore and Wattson left behind as she ran through the opening in the mountains. Running. Running. Running. Through the Repulsor Station. Down the stairs leading to the Swamps. Run. Keep running. Don’t stop. Not until we’re safe.

The swamplands were just ahead. Filled with enough buildings and crannies for her to hide away. Perfect. Behind her, she heard their voices. She jumped out of the void. Staying in too long made her feel like she was burning.

Bangalore and Wattson's voices echoed on the buildings around her. Sounding like they were still back at Repulsor. She threw her arms behind her, and holstered her weapon. She zipped in and out of the void to lose their trail.

Don’t let them find us get away get away we’re not safe here.

She crossed a shoddily-made bridge across the swamp water, and slid into a house. She slammed the door behind her and sat there, gasping for breath.

What the fuck am I doing.

She couldn’t stop her thoughts from swirling. She felt like throwing up, or crying. Anything to pour it all out. She couldn’t focus on the game. All she knew was that she was in the ring. She could hear her team, both of them both shouting on her ear piece. Wattson, desperately asking where she’d gone. Bangalore telling her they needed her back in the game. They both knew Wraith was too serious to play around. Something was wrong.

She pulled the piece out.

Break it break it what if they find us what if they find us and CATCH US.

Don’t let them find us don’t let them find us.

Sparks jumped under her boot as she stomped it into the wooden floor beneath her. The shouting of her teammates silenced.

She couldn’t see. She couldn’t hear. She clapped her hands over her ears as she shook. She fell to her knees, and lowered her head. Her whole body was trembling. Every breath strained against her lungs. Air felt scarce. She felt light headed.

cant breathe cant cant cant see what is, whats what happening

how do we calm down how we calm down how do we

Her hands clawed at her throat.

Everything was so… Loud. Gunfire. Shots rumbled beyond the windows of the building she hid in. Her own breaths were so much for her to hear. Her throat felt like it was closing. Closing… Cutting our air off. Can’t breathe. Can’t hear. Her grip on her throat tightened. More. More. Until she was dry heaving. Head thrown back. Eyes wide. Staring at nothing. Burning bright white.

The voices were screaming .

Her nails dug in further.

Need, air. Need to BREATHE.

The dry heaving kicked up.

Her stomach lurched.

She snapped out of it and fell. Body falling in a heap. Eyes rolling back as vomit flowed out of her mouth. She laid there for a moment.

Vomit on her lips.

Vomit on her face.

Vomit on the floor.

The voices had fallen back to a hum. She didn’t have long. She could still feel them. Like the water in a pot before it boiled over. She clenched her teeth and balled her hand into a fist. She pushed herself up from the floor, and staggered to her feet.

Her eyes rolled forward. Returning to their usual piercing blue.

“Wraith!”

She jumped back at Wattson’s voice. Which didn’t sound too far off. The paranoia had settled. For a moment. She still felt uneasy. Her hand hovered over her gun in its holster.

Wattson hesitated before she knocked on the door. She’d been running around, looking for Wraith for a few minutes now. Searching while Bangalore closed off a spot for them to spend the final ring in.

We don’t have time for this. The thought had crossed Wattson’s mind many times by now, but she brushed it away. Wraith knew better than any of them not to mess around in the games. Something wasn’t right.

“Wh-What do you want.” Wraith's voice was scratchy. A side effect from the vomiting. And it quivered, sounding weaker than her usual stoic tone.

“I just want to know what’s wrong. This isn’t like you.” Wattson stood her ground with baited breath as she waited for a reply. She heard shuffling, and then a sigh.

“I-I don’t, I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Wattson’s face fell further, a pang of sympathy echoing within her when she heard just how small Wraith’s voice was. Shaky and scared. She took a few steps closer to the building. Her hand settled on the front of the door, as she eyed the handle. She edged her hand closer to it, but stopped when Wraith started talking again.

“It feels like everything's swirling and I can't tell what’s real anymore. All my thoughts are awful and I can’t think straight. I-I mean I know the awful ones aren’t mine. But, I just. I don’t know. I-I aaAHH!” Wattson flinched as a sudden ‘thud’ hit the wall. Probably Wraith’s fist.

“Can I come in, Wraith? Are you okay?” Maybe she had a bad reaction to the medicine. Maybe it messed with her voices. Theories ran through her head. She could never be sure. Wraith was the one who knew the voices best after all. She waited for a response, but she got none. Her hand reached for the door handle, and pushed slowly, when it slammed shut from the other side.

“Just leave me alone!” Wraith hissed out. Her voice was.. Off. It sounded like it wasn’t just one of her talking. Like the voices were bleeding through, and talking alongside her. Some were lagging behind, making her sound glitchy, and skewed. Her eyes were visible to Wattson through the dirtied glass of the door. Wide, and crazed.

White as pearls.

“Why do you wanna help anyway??! Just leave me here and win the match without me.”

“I-I care about you Wraith. I don’t care about the game if something’s wrong. I want to help.” Wraith stepped back from the door when she heard that. The voices in her head were tugging her in all different directions. She couldn’t tell what to do.

She’s lying!!

She just wants to help!!

Tell her to fuck off!!

Let her in!!

“You only- You’re only here because you’re with them aren’t you. You don’t care about us. Y-you want to hand us back over. Their expe̤̿r͖͞i̹͛ṃ͂ē̟̻͠ṋ̡́̅t̼̪͎̦͚̐̇̒̿͛.”

Wattson’s brows furrowed in confusion. She didn’t know who they were. Or what experiment she was referring to. She drew her hand around the door handle, and cracked it open slowly.

“I don’t know who or what you’re talking about Wraith,” She said softly. “-But I’m not here to hurt you. I love you, mon ami, I need you to try to breathe, and stay calm. Let me help you.”

She opened the door wider. Wraith was crouched back in the corner, R-99 raised at the ready, aiming for Wattson’s arm.

“Don’t, move.” Her words were slow, and surprisingly calm. Dried blood was caked on her forehead, and vomit still coated her teeth. Her eyes were wide, and white. A stark difference from her voice.

Wattson wondered if her Wraith was the one speaking.

“Wraith, please. I know you’re in there. If you just let me i-” Wraith stopped registering her words as soon as she took a step closer. It was probably absent-minded. She probably didn’t mean to encroach on her. She probably didn’t mean to go against what she’d just asked.

The voices didn’t care.

She’s going to hurt us she’s going to hurt us she’s going to hurt us she’s one of THEM.

“Wraith, please,” Wattson said softly. She leaned closer to Wraith, reaching her hands to pull her up from the floor.

BANG!

Time seemed to slow.

Blood flew past the two of them, less than Wraith thought would. As her eyes adjusted after the muzzle flash, she saw why.

Metal scraps flew through the air. One of Wattson’s jacket sleeves had torn and burned at the gunshot. Revealing the synthetic metal arm underneath. Wattson’s arm was scorched and dented after being hit with bullets. She looked down at Wraith in shock. Her outstretched hands hesitating before she turned her attention to her broken arm.

“Wrai- Wraith, merde. What the hell-” Her wide eyes caught on Wraith’s frantic ones, clouded with fear. Wattson ignored her arm for the time being. Teammates were unable to permanently harm each other in the arena, she wasn’t worried for herself. It was the fact that Wraith had acted out so violently. Shooting her like it would do something, like she needed to protect herself from Wattson. It worried her more than the sparks bursting from her sleeve.

Wraith crawled back. Furthering herself from Wattson and fumbling with her grasp on the gun. Her portal armband beeped, signalling her portal was charged again, and turned her head.

She raised her arm behind her, wind whipping up from out of nowhere, and a hole to the void ripped through the air. She raised her gun again at Wattson as a precaution, and pushed herself backward, lurching into the void.

“Wraith wai-!” Wattson’s words were cut off as Wraith disappeared. All that remained where she’d been on the ground were purple wisps of smoke.

---

She gasped for breath as she fell through the other side. She stood on her hands and knees, coughing, rubbing a hand across her face.

Around her, all around her, everyone was trying to cage her in, catch her off guard, make it easier to capture her. We told you so didn’t we. But no, you didn’t LISTEN.

The tears fell fast, but she brushed them away. Crying didn’t have a place in the face of danger, and she couldn't afford to be more distracted than she already was.

BEHIND YOU!

A shot hit her side before she could react. She spun on her heel, firing two blindly at whoever was behind her. She let herself fall a bit when she heard a cry of surprise, and a thud on the ground. She grunted at the swivel, the wound on her side ripping further. No worrying now, no time.

She sprung forward. Hissing at the pain. She chased after her attacker, before they'd have a chance to recover and run.

A few feet away from where she stood in the mud of Swamps, was Mirage. He was hiding (or at least trying to) behind the pipeline stretching the ground between them like a line in the sand. Blood was settling in the pools of water around him. And his leg was drawn close to his chest, a long tear across his pants gushing with blood.

“I know we’re fightin’ and all Wraith,” She heard him call out between swears and gasps of pain. “But like, are you good?”

She heard him hiss out “Fuck this burns,” Before he continued. “You don’t "ty-tycip-typical,” He stuttered, cursing under his breath as he thought of another word. “You don’t often cry after seein’ my good looks.”

She didn’t care to roll her eyes at him, she couldn’t risk letting her guard down because of a stupid joke. Even if she could hear the concern dripping through his tone.

She shut her eyes. The voices knew what to do. They were here to keep her safe. She took a step. And another. Her pace quickening with each one. She pulled herself over the pipe, and leapt forward. Closing in on the hobbling Mirage, trying to escape the inevitable.

She ignored the shots that landed in her arm, she ignored the dirt that kicked up into her face. She unclenched her teeth, closed her eyes, let out a breath, and crackled out of existence, into the void.

Mirage stood his ground. Blood dripping from his leg and his mouth, bubbling in his throat, ears ringing like a fire alarm. He took his window of time to pull the mag out of his gun and swap it for a fresh one. His fingers shook as he pushed the bullets into his Wingman. Wincing as he tightened his grip on the grooves of the pistol’s handle.

“Damnit Wraith.” He swore under his breath. “One on one, one on one. I can do this. We’re both wounded, it’s fine.”

He didn’t say another word that match.

Wraith, no. The Voidwalker, ripped back into reality. Behind him.

She didn’t give him time. Not to turn. Not to scream. Her kunai blade, usually held at her hip, was in and out by then. Resting on it's strap in her belt as he fell to his knees. His gun skittered away from his hand, sinking in the swamp mud. His respawn card glowed against her blood-smeared face as she crouched over his body.

He’s got healing, shields. Need to protect ourselves. Keep us safe from the others.

She pulled what he had, dropping it in her bag, when her vision obscured. The world went dark, and her limbs went numb. She stood up, spinning around in the darkness, reaching for something, anything-

Then the words pierced the silence.

You are the Apex Champions.

…

He was the last one.

They'd won.

Nothing was wrong.

She was safe.

“Oh no.”

---

“Wraith, Wraith over here!” She walked past the reporters, ignoring their desperate pleas. “What happened out there? What were you saying to Wattson when you shot her?! Are you working with the criminal TaeJo-” She tuned them out. Wraith’s eyes hadn’t un-widened from the shock at what she’d done. She looked like a ghost, living up to her name. Trailing through the lobby, walking the red carpet laid out for the winning team. Her hands were shaking. And the voices, of course, were silent.

Natalie and Anita trailed behind her, both of them quiet. Wraith couldn’t bring herself to face Natalie. Nat had reached over before, when they’d left the hospital wing. She'd tapped her on the shoulder, startling Wraith.

“Wraith, what’s going on? What happened out there?”

She’d walked away without answering.

---

The voices were quiet that day.

And the next.

And the next…0

It felt like the first time she’d truly had her mind to herself in months, maybe years. It was so quiet. Almost too quiet.

Whatever space the voices left for her was filled with her own rushing thoughts. Screaming internally over everything that happened. Every time she saw Natalie she averted her eyes. Every time she heard her tell-tale, skipping footsteps, she turned in the other direction. She couldn’t think about it, she wouldn’t let herself. Thinking about it meant remembering how awful she was, how she’d hurt Natalie. Thinking about it meant scratching at the healing wounds up and down her arms, put there in the first place when the voices got to be too much. Thinking about it meant retching from the anxiety that it gave her to recall the look of horror and disgust on Nat’s face when her arm had been shot through by Wraith.

She could barely tell what was real and what wasn’t anymore.

She knew when it was real, she could feel it, whether it was a gut feeling, or something striking a chord with her soul, she didn’t know. She always could tell just by instinct. But it was so hard to believe what she saw, even when it was right before her eyes.

She hates me she hates me she fucking hates me.

She’d gotten nothing but smiles and kind words from Natalie all week. She’d apologized to Natalie, (“Oh don’t worry Wraith! Are you.. Feeling okay? You seemed very on edge.” “Oh yeah, I’m fine it’s nothing. Just kinda spooked is all.”) Nothing to tell her the contrary of the fact that she’d forgiven Wraith. She couldn’t accept it, she just couldn’t. Nobody gave that kind of mercy to Wraith. Maybe they gave it to Renee Blasey, but she wasn’t Renee anymore.

Renee died in that lab.

She was Wraith now. An experiment gone wrong. An error in the system. Something that wasn’t supposed to exist but damnit she was here to stay.

Didn’t mean she deserved to stay.

Or that anyone was happy she was there.

She was used to the hard stares, the cold expressions, the whispers behind her back, the loss of trust. She was well acquainted with the fear glossing over peoples eyes when she leaned over them, pressing them against walls, gritting her teeth, asking for answers.

Nobody trusted the Voidwalker. Nobody spoke ill of the Voidwalker. Nobody acknowledged the woman behind the wraith.

So when Natalie played off that she’d even had her arm shot through, sparks flying, fear in her eyes as Wraith had leaned over her, gritting her teeth, asking for answers, it didn’t compute.

What is she pulling? What's she going to do? Are we in trouble? Is there danger whATS GOING ON-

Even the voices didn’t have a clue, with all their paranoia scattered around, they couldn’t land on a single conclusion.

The idea that anybody willingly would care for Wraith and try to understand her as a person was so unbelievable she didn’t allow herself to seriously consider it. She’d spent countless nights fantasizing, imagining finding that perfect person. Someone who understood her flaws, her issues, her past, and loved her for it. Someone who didn’t care that she saw herself as wrong, a bastardization of the woman Renee Blasey should’ve been able to be.

She thought of Renee Blasey often. In a guilty sort of way. She’d researched the name thoroughly once she’d found it in the uncovered lab in the canyon. An old recording from Renee had stuck with her. She played it every once in a while, astonished at the weirdness of hearing your own voice saying things you couldn’t remember saying, or even understand. She’d never been drunk (at least while being Wraith) so she couldn’t relate the experience. Renee’s calm voice listing off the formulas and the evidence behind her theories for Project Wraith were often played before she slept. The only time of day she felt somewhat clear headed.

Every morning her eyes were red, and puffy. Often enough where nobody wondered if she’d been crying all night, sobbing at the fact that she’d stolen this woman’s life, and work, and everything she’d worked towards, and turned into an anxious, paranoid fuck up. Something nobody wanted to get close to.

She thought about every time someone had tried to get close, and gravitated away, realizing the layers underneath the exterior were too much for them to handle.

She thought about how Natalie didn’t back away.

And then she forced herself to face the reality that Natalie would never extend herself and try to get any closer than she already was to Wraith. It was selfish, childish, and downright stupid to think so.

Wraith called herself Wraith because she didn’t deserve to parade around using Renee Blasey’s name as her own. She wasn’t a thief, and even then, she could never live up to the void scientist’s name even if she tried.

And heaven knows she’s tried.

Every day she’d tried to do her best.

It’s never enough.

Maybe one day, when she died, she could meet Renee Blasey. The woman she couldn’t be.

Every night, after she’d cried her eyes out, and her throat ached from holding in the sobs l’est someone heard and pitied her enough to check in on her, pretending to care only because they’re people, amazing people, and felt empathy towards her. She stared at the ceiling, thinking above it, to the stars, the galaxies, and everything beyond, and hoped that Renee was somewhere out there, watching what's become of her corpse.

She hoped she'd be proud.

- -

Why do things always have to happen like this?

It never felt like she could have a break, between fucking up, and having things around her be awful. Either the lab was getting uncovered, and she was forced to relive the memories of being trapped inside, or she was hurting Natalie.

This time, it was closer to the former.

Things were bad enough when Revenant had joined the games. A demon forged through metal. She’d tried her best to avoid him. The voices rang out so clearly around him, more than around any other “person” she’d met. Wraith didn’t fear anyone, but if she never had to be near him another day in her life, she wouldn’t object.

Then Loba joined.

And more IMC and Hammond tech was uncovered.

If the screams of the voices were audible, they would’ve deafened her by now.

“We’re dropping at Salvage.” The idea of seeing the wreck of the first place she remembered living in made her stomach quiver like nothing else. She’d never thought that match with Natalie would be topped, but she was so, so wrong.

“Watch out, they’ve laid traps.” She spoke over comms to her team. Her feet hit the dry ground, kicking up dust clouds as she turned the corner.

Stop, danger.

She skidded as she realized she was at the edge of a cliff, freshly made once half the fucking canyon had collapsed. She stared out for a moment, eyes captivated by the glimpses of metal, ruins of old lab rooms and hallways scattered amongst the rocks belows her. Cold, white, metal rooms. Scented with rubbing alcohol and gun metal. Suffocatingly small, and hundreds of feet underground.

She couldn’t hear the yelling of her teammates in her ear piece. She couldn’t remember to grasp her weapon. Her knees buckled before she could say a word. Eyes rolling back as she fainted, falling over the edge.

---

WHAT’S WRONG WITH WRAITH?

WRAITH FREEFALLS, OFF THE EDGE, AND DOWN THE LEGEND RANKS.

The articles written about her performance didn’t hold back.

The other legends didn’t either.

The concern the concern the conCERN.

It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real.

They were never mad at her for losing. For ruining their game. Fo R FUCKING UP OVER AND OVER AND OVE-

“Are you alright mon ami?”

Natalie had walked into the common room, and noticing movement on the balcony, saw Wraith standing alone, clutching tightly to the railing, staring out at nothing.

Back heaving as she tried to control her breathing.

The glass door had slid open silently, and with the voices rambling on and on, Wraith hadn’t noticed Natalie stepping up behind her. She jumped, whipping around and moving her hand in front of her in defense. Natalie looked over her spooked figure and felt apologetic immediately.

“Aah I’m sorry!! I didn’t mean to startle you Wrai’, I was just checking on you.” She waved her hands around as she spoke, over-expressive as always, and mentally felt like kicking herself. Natalie slowed down when she looked past the shocked and curious expression on Wraith’s face and realized how red her eyes were, and how the moonlight glinted off of her wet face.

“Really, Wraith, are you okay?”

Natalie asked, hiding the uncertainty she felt, but it still stewed underneath. The unknowing at how she was supposed to handle situations involving other people. Day to day chatter she’d gotten good at, once she’d been told, either through people ignoring her, or full on yelling in her face, about how much they didn’t want to hear about whatever project she was working on.

Wraith and Dr. Caustic were anomalies on that front.

Am I supposed to comfort her? I don’t know how I'm supposed to. Do I hug her?? I’ll just, I’ll just do how Ajay did for me when Papa died.

Wraith just stood there, frozen. Hands shaking at her sides as she felt the pressure build up inside her. She didn’t feel Natalie brush her hand down Wraith’s arm, wrapping her fingers around her palm. She barely registered her arms pulling her close.

“Wraith, what’s the matter?” Her voice was so soft, barely audible above a whisper, each sentence ending with a tone of unsurity. It made Wraith’s heart swell, that she was trying so hard. Natalie barely talked to anyone outside of her and Caustic, and maybe Octavio, just because of how hard it was for her to talk to people. And here I am making her do all this just to check on me being an idiot.

She sat there, numb, unmoving, as Natalie held her in a stiff embrace. She didn’t mind it, she knew the effort she put behind trying to comfort anyone and appreciated it all the same.

Wattson lowered the two of them to the ground, holding Wraith snug to her chest. She gripped her tight, just as her papa had when she was having a meltdown . Like a weighted blanket helping to ground her.

“You don’t need to tell me what’s wrong if you don’t want to, I mean, I don’t want to-to force you to talk you know?” Wraith shivered from the chilly air around her and pondered for a minute.

Don’t tell her she doesn’t need to hear this from us right now you’ll just be bothering her.

“I-I… “ Her voice trailed off as she searched for something to say. Natalie had taken to brushing her fingers through Wraith’s hair, which just made it harder to form a coherent thought. The voices commanded her to keep her mouth shut.

“I lied.”

The words hung in the air, Natalie stopped brushing through her hair to glance at her face, and didn’t get anything out of Wraith’s blank expression. Wraith sat there in her lap, eyes wide, mouth parted.

Screaming

All she could hea r was scREAMING.

Her body started to shake as she heaved on another sob, holding it in so Natalie didn’t hear. Stupid stupid stupid why did I SAY that it’s so loud it’s so loud. Tears threatened to spill over the edge again, and her cheeks flushed red. Hold it in, hold it all in you have to-

“-I lied when I said I was fine. After everything, you know.” She couldn’t bring herself to meet Natalie’s eyes. She didn’t get any indication of how she was feeling from her body language. Her hands didn’t shake like Wraith’s did when she was nervous; her breathing didn’t hitch when words wouldn’t come; her eyes didn’t spill over with tears she wouldn’t let anybody see.

She envied her in a way.

Then again. She remembered how it was when her dad had died. Nobody saw her for days, until Ajay and a few others had found her hiding under a table in her house. She hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept, hadn't spoken to a soul since they put him in the ground.

It struck her as similar to herself in a way.

Both of them quietly felt their pain until someone came to tell them it was okay.

Maybe that’s why Natalie was sitting here on the balcony, holding Wraith’s head to her chest as she listened to her try to explain what Wraith barely understood herself.

Don’t get too hopeful there.

Nobody’s that nice.

“Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you lie about how you felt?”

Genuine curiosity strung through Natalie’s voice and Wraith couldn’t tell if she was listening too hard for it or if she had been blessed in some way in the form of Natalie Pacquette. No matter what she saw herself as being more deserving of, Natalie had asked a question, and who was Wraith to not answer?

Natalie had already seen her like this. If she was going to be abandoned or seen badly, it was too late to fix anything. She may as well accept her fate and lay her cards on the table. Maybe she’ll understan- no.

Don’t get your hopes up.

“The voices don't always help me. Sometimes, they get paranoid, and scared, and act out. And it’s overwhelming. I can’t tell sometimes which thoughts are me and which thoughts are them .”

“Sometimes that means I feel like everyone hates me and I’m going to die, and-”

“Sometimes, it makes you fear that we’re a danger to you. That you have to protect yourself from your own friends.” Wattson finished for her, raising an eyebrow as she questioned whether her addition was correct.

She looked up in shock at Natalie’s face. She’d told people about this before yeah, but she’d never gotten a hand reaching out to grab hers in the darkness. Nobody ever tried to understand before labelling her a freak. She’d been scared when she first made it known she even heard the voices of the void. But she’d been too scared to speak further on it.

“E-exactly.” She was speechless. Her eyes locked onto Natalie’s as she tried to process but the words wouldn’t come. Just speak. Keep going keep going!! She’s listening to us!

“Why didn’t you just say that though? We could’ve talked about this, or you could’ve gone to the medbay for help?”

“And get treated even more like an outcast? Like I’m not human anymore I’m just the freak everyone always assumes I am? You think you’re the first person I’ve told this to before?? How do you think EVERYONE else reacts to this shit?!”

She hadn’t meant to sound harsh but it still came through in her tone. Confusion turned to compassion turned to frustration. WHY is she listening to me?? Why is she acting like this is normal is she stupid?? It’s not fucking normal what the fuck is she doing???

Wraith stood up out of Natalie’s lap and took a few steps away, her shoes sounding against the wood of the balcony floor. She stood there, quiet, fingers curling and uncurling into a fist. Natalie stayed where she was, knees slightly drawn up as she watched Wraith stand there in silence.

“I’m, I’m sorry I didn’t think about it like that. I get it, in a way.” She stood up and approached Wraith. She hadn’t reached out like before. She kept her hands to herself, fiddling them together as she rocked on the balls of her feet.

“It’s not the same, but people always told me I was annoying or weird for talking about things I liked, things that were close enough to me to be a part of me,” She started. She couldn’t see Wraith’s expression, and reading the room was hard enough. She let out a breath and continued, hoping to everything that she was saying the right things.

“I get not feeling comfortable telling people about these things I mean. That’s, that’s a big thing to tell people about and I’m glad you told me, especially if it was hard for you. It- it shows how much you trust me. Honestly you and Dr. Caustic are the two people I’d trust most to talk to about things like this and I’m-I’m glad you feel the same as far as I can tell Wraith, I really am.”

She’d been watching the floor while she spoke, she barely looked at people while she talked anyway, why should I when she’s got her back turned. She glanced up when she was done though, and almost jumped when she saw Wraith was watching her, turned to face her now, closer than Natalie remembered her being before. Natalie looked up into her eyes and felt her heart strain at the fresh tears resting in the corners waiting for their release.

Wraith started gasping for air and Natalie was confused, until she realized, with mild shock, that she was sobbing. Nobody’d seen Wraith cry, let alone sob so freely before. She almost felt privileged, but didn’t have time to think over the implication of her being the only person Wraith allowed herself to break down and look weak in front of.

“Breathe Wraith, breathe,” Wraith could barely focus her eyes on Natalie’s face but she did as she was told. Shutting her eyes, relishing a bit in the way her name sounded when Wattson said it.

She reached out and hugged Wraith, properly, holding her close and shoving down the fear of overstepping their boundaries, just for then.

She felt Wraith’s breaths shuddering against her chest. She didn’t know what part of what she’d said had hit her, but she was glad she’d made an effect at all. Sometimes what she said missed the mark, sometimes it hit far too close for comfort. She’d learned by now the look on people’s faces when she finished talking was the easiest identifier of when she’d crossed a line.

“It’s okay ma chérie, I’ll stay here with you, I promise.”She said softly. Her voice was so quiet, so gentle. Wraith could barely be in the moment, but she’d heard that. She wasn’t sure if it was Wattson’s promise to stay, or the way she’d said it. But tears welled back up all the same. Rolling down her cheeks silently and wetting Wattson’s jacket.

“ I’m s-sorry I’m so fucking sorry.” Her voice was so small but it reflected exactly how she felt. Oh she’d yearned , for a moment like this. To hear words like that from someone. She’d never felt this, unconditional love expressed to her when she told someone about the pain she went through every day and every night. She wished it hadn’t had to come to her hurting Natalie to show a sign of something being wrong. She hated that it had gotten so out of control that she risked her relationship, risked losing this moment, and risked hurting her.

“ I’m so sorry for-for everything, fuck.” She buried her face in more, and they leaned back, sitting in one of the few chairs decorating the balcony. She tried to ignore the way her heart sped up when Natalie pulled her further in her lap, and felt guilty in a way. Her thoughts focused on light-hearted stupid things. Like how she could smell the sweet scent of conditioner still lingering in Natalie’s hair while her head rested on her chest, or how nice it was when she trailed her fingers through Wraith’s hair.

“If I’m being honest, it feels like you do more apologizing than anything worth saying sorry for.” Natalie remarked with a slight laugh, looking up at the sky around them and breathing a sigh of relief. “It’s not like you hurt me back there. Our wounds are healed after the match, and you hit my false arm, it’s not your fault mon ami. I’ve forgiven you to the moon and back for that.”

Tears welled up again. She pressed her face to Natalie’s chest and let them fall. She breathed her in, the vague scent of metal lingered in her hoodie she was wearing, but Natalie herself smelled... Like lemons. Tangy, exciting and electric, just like everything else about her.

Wraith couldn’t explain the sensation she felt. Little did she know Natalie was mulling over the same thing. The feeling of utmost safety and comfort, like she could bleed every scar she’d bore over the years and Natalie would still wipe her tears away and call her a piece of art.

The reality of night settled into her thoughts, her eyes closing against the fabric of Natalie’s hoodie as her sobs turned to sniffles and hiccups. Natalie’s fingers gently ran down her scalp, brushing through her hair, nails scratching ever so slightly, in rhythm with the low hum Wraith heard building in her throat.

I’m going to die. Wraith thought. I’m going to die right here right now in Natalie’s arms oh my God.

“ Je t'aime toujours ma chérie. No matter what’s bothering you. I’ll stay here with you, I promise. As long as you’ll have me.”

#apex legends #darksparks #wraith apex #wattson apex legends #natalie paquette #renee blasey #apex wraith #apex wattson #apex fic #apex fanfic #dark sparks #wraith #wattson #fic #ravagingvaliance #yeah its me lmao hi if u saw me writing on my old blog no you didnt

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saintheartwing · 5 years ago

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The Continued Targeted Harassment Campaign from the Troll Mundo De Bee, aka Debtoons, Aka Dedehbee

I'm sure this particular person I'm thinking of who recently sent me some VERY unkind guest reviews on my "The Pigshit Troll" tale on FF.Net will find out about this. I didn't WANT to talk about them anymore but then they kept sending more and more vitriolic reviews. Not just to me, but to my friends.

See, here’s some of the things they said along with accusing me of trolling their fic, which I didn't, my critique was that their story seemed to be overlooking the fact Zim had done the mass slaughter of innocent humans and enslavement on top of that, and was Dib and Prof. Membrane hostage and can kill them at any time...all to make Gaz love him. So there's an inherently abusive power dynamic. But this person who I...at FIRST...was reluctant to name disregarded these very real issues I brought up and just told me, and I quote, "Go away, then. This story is happening whether you want it or not. :/" This happened months ago. In fact, I brought attention to what they said back in OCTOBER on my DA account. So now you’re getting an idea of what they’re like. In response to a reasonable critique about problematic undertones, they just basically told me to get lost, then blocked me before I could respond to that. I tried to reach out to her friends after she complained about my review, and then she got mad about my "Jeremy" story, seemingly thinking that because I did a story about dark subject matter, I was being a hypocrite for complaining about what Zim did.

Uh...that’s NOT HOW IT WORKS.

The issue was the story wasn't addressing what Zim did as bad, my story made it REAL DAMN CLEAR what Jeremy had done was a tragedy and horrible, and that what he'd been through WAS VERY BAD.

But YOU? YOU didn't do that in your story, it almost came off like you were putting Gaz in Stockholm Syndrome and going a kind of "Twilight" route of sort of glorifying a very problematic relationship. Now, I didn’t SAY specifically that in my review, do I actually think that what’s happening IS Stockholm Syndrome or exactly LIKE Twilight was, but it’s problematic in a SIMILAR VEIN. And THAT was my problem. Not the dark subject matter, but you not caring about the implications...at least, that's how it looked to me. Or at the very least, not, in-story, treating Zim like what he'd done was wrong when it was.

Anyway, that was months ago. I had basically forgotten about them until just I got these three anonymous guest reviews. I'm guessing that because they blocked me, they had to do it that way, they don't want to unblock me to leave a normal review. The reason why I'm pretty sure it's them is because they said, in their review, AND I QUOTE...

"And if my story had ANY grammar/spelling mistakes, that must be because I'm... not from U.S.? And don't speak English fluently? As a matter of fact, if you speak "only" intermediate English in my country (like I do), that's already one hell of an accomplishment. That's already getting xenophobic, ok?" Okay one, me criticizing spelling errors isn't xenophobia, how am I supposed to know you're from another country unless I actually go to your webpage or the like, and I'm not going to see that if I'm just replying to a review. So that's one reason I think it's her.

Another is that she wrote, in her third reply, from "Opinadora (Guest)". Since that's Portuguese, and it happens to be the most spoken language (based on my Google research) in the home country this person says she's from on her homepage, i was damn sure it was her. She saw my Pigshit Troll story, thought it was about her even though the story was really more about addressing the...well, the actual, real life Pigshit Troll going around FF.Net, while also doing a critique both of common tropes in typical Zim story fare and also critiquing the common critique. It was me addressing issues with my own stories just as much, with Gaz forcing Dib to realize his own flaws. It wasn't really about this person who happens to be from Brazil (if her page is to be believed). They also said stuff like "I would say you draw like a 12 years old, but that would be a compliment, 'cause when I was 12, I used to draw at least three times as better than you" and "Also:I forgot, but if we're talking s*** about each other's works: not only you draw like a 8 years old, but the titles to your stories are also so f*** creepy that they make me nauseous even before reading the first chapter".

So "Frost" is creepy? I can get why "The Pod People Invasion" is creepy, but a title like "Don't Read This Book" isn't inherently creepy. "Soft Hands" isn't. You're kinda just cherry picking. I made this journal pot on DA because she had decided to keep this "thing" going on going by leaving those guest reviews and assuming the story of “The Pigshit Troll” was about her, and she was just a total jerk about it. I had left her alone for weeks, MONTHS even until she popped up making those guest reviews again. And then she wrote "P.S.S.: If you give my name out to anyone who has nothing to do with this, and tell them to hunt me down, like you did to my watchers (which, BTW, wouldn't surprise me if you did), that just proves you're indeed a troll, and no better than PigShit here, okay? ".

I was trying to be civil... despite how INCREDIBLY PISSED I am at you. And she also kept calling me a religious fanatic and other crap to her friends. I'm not, a simple look at my journals on DA or my posts here would prove that, so it amazes me that you couldn't be bothered to do research on me yet you expect me to instantly know you're from Brazil. So I find it interesting you expected me to look you up and find out things about you so I wouldn't leave a review you could find objectionable...but you couldn't be bothered to do any research about me. I mean, you seem very liberal, concerned about LGBTQ rights, worried about the deforestation in Brazil, those are big issues. And I sympathize also with having a fascistic leader in charge. You got Bolsanaro, we have Trump. I get how it feels.

That doesn't excuse how you behaved towards me. I'd stopped reviewing your stories, you're the one who brought all this back by reviewing mine. So if you want to talk, unblock me on FF.Net or here, and let's talk this out like adults. If you've got a problem with me, actually outright say it, don't leave it in a guest review.

Now, if she’d said "Look, ZAGR is just what I'm into, it's just a fetish of mine", then fine! FINE. She should have just SAID that to me. But don't just dismiss the moral questions I had by going "Don't like don't read". Because that's a fallacy. A story can start out great, but turn bad. Or start out bad, but turn better. And how am I supposed to know if it'll do either if I don't keep reading? Take, for example, Star Wars's sequel series. Started great! Amazing!...ended poorly. Star Wars prequels! Started bad! But the ending was pretty darn good! So don't just go "don't like, don't read/watch", because that's not a real, actual good argument.

I had hoped, writing all this, she’d actually try and reach out. Or she’d stop.

But she didn’t. Let me quote what she sent to me next. "I was only mad because you plain trolled me on your review. Did you ever heard of "common sense" or "constructive criticism"?"

Which my critique was.

It was a critique of the character behavior of the main characters, not trolling. Bringing up the fact that Zim had taken Gaz's family hostage and could kill them at any time, but we were supposed to overlook that is a perfectly reasonable critique.

But instead of responding normally, you just leave another guest review. I was willing to talk to you normally and to work things out fairly, but you keep being a jerk. Everything you've said hasn't been an actual, reasonable, fair criticism of any of my stories. It's just been 'ad hominem'.

What IS ad hominem? That’s when you don't address the SUBSTANCE of someone's argument, you just attack the person arguing. Like if someone says "I think your story is glorifying abusive, unhealthy relationships" and you go "Yeah but you're into the inflation fetish so there"! That doesn't actually address the problem brought up about your story, it's just you attacking the other person. And she was doing that.

For weeks I was nice enough to not bring up your name, but I said “if you keep it up, I’ll reveal your screen name because you're the one being unreasonable now by keeping this going, when I was willing to let sleeping dogs lie.”

Her response?

“Opinadora:I find it funny how you know you can't strike me back, because you know that I'm ten times more talented than you and that you're just jealous of me... u.u I'm not one to talk down on other artist's work, but that's what you get for being a snob. You're no better than me and you know it. In fact, you're no better than ANYONE, and I say that because you really are worthless. Yet you like to act superior and talk down on everyone to have some fun or... IDK. People like you shouldn't even be called "people". You're just psychos.”

She was engaging in the very behavior she said I was doing. I don’t get how she functions like this. This was getting insane.

BUT WAIT! THERE’S MORE!

She posted a of blog entry and I'll quote what they said. "I've been contacting a troll of mine" Anonymously, you did it via guest reviews on my story, you started all this again after I left you alone for months with three meanspirited reviews insulting me and my work when I'd been leaving you alone. And yeah, I responded by making the "fight" public, you refused to speak to me normally. I was willing to speak with you normally through notes or PMs on FF.Net or DA, you were the one who ignored that and kept insulting me in guest reviews because you still have me blocked. "He's not being civil enough to keep anyone anonymous." I haven't used either your real name (which I don't know) or your screen name. So this is just a lie. "He's going after my watchers to complain about me" I contacted ONE of your watchers who I knew that also made a story in which an entire chapter was deliberately invoked to insult me because an obvious villain character with my SCREEN NAME was used as an easy enemy for Zim to blow up. I contacted them to say "Can you please tell your friend to stop". Here's the full text, basically. "I’m sorry I keep sending these messages to you, the only reason I decided to note you to begin with was because your friend (NAME REDACTED) sent me three anonymous guest reviews, and called me a bunch of names like “douchebag” while insulting my art at the same time. I was willing to ignore her until she sent not one but THREE meanspirited shots at me. And I can’t reach her, so..." So it wasn't "your watchers" plural, it was ONE watcher whom I knew you knew because I couldn't find any other way to contact you, because, again, you childishly blocked me and refused my olive branch. "He should have enough common sense to know that his issue is with ME and none other." But you refuse to let me talk to you openly. On top of that, you're the one who blocked me, not the other way around. "He's such a lunatic he said he would give out my REAL NAME, if he knew. O.Ò" I never actually said that, I was clearly referring to your screen name. "I was nice enough to not bring up your name, but if you keep it up, I WILL use your screen name, because you're the one being unreasonable now by keeping this going, when I was willing to let sleeping dogs lie. " So now you're just lying. Plain and simple. I would say you should be ashamed of yourself, but it appears you don't understand shame. I know some people say "don't feed the trolls" but that doesn't always work. Sometimes shining a light on them is the only thing that does. And I swore to publish every word they've said to me if they kept doing meanspirited guest reviews done solely to insult me.

What was their response to THIS? Well, they called me a retard.

"Seu retardado:It isn't Stockholm syndrome...? And I KNOW that nobody will believe you 'cause you're just using ANONYMOUS reviews against me. Now, you've been quoting me on your tweets nonstop even after I blocked you. Just so you know, I ALSO reported you for abuse multiple times." "But go ahead. Do you really believe that they'll take your side of the story? I only gave out your name to warn my watchers about you ONCE, but you just keep quoting me when I blocked you, so we'll see what happens THEN." "VSF:Wow... You must REALLY be retarded. And here I was just saying that to insult you. O.Ò But I'm not apologizing for that when you didn't apologize for flaming my story, attacking my watchers, nor even trying to act superior, when... You're not. O.Ò And still you want to believe that you're a better artist than me. I should be laughing about that. 9.9 Seriously, what did you take? "

I’D HAD ENOUGH. Because they didn’t JUST call me all these names. They started going after fellow artists on FF.NET and friends of mine and leaving insulting guest reviews too. So...

What’s their name? I dunno their real name. But their screen name is Mundo De Bee. AKA Debtoonz AKA Dedehbee.

This is their page.

https://www.deviantart.com/mundo-de-bee

This is their Twitter. Both normal AND NSFW

https://twitter.com/Bee_Zorra

https://twitter.com/Bee_Zorra_Total

Their current FF.Net account (or at least I BELIEVE it is) https://www.fanfiction.net/u/8252861/Debtoons

And their instagram. https://www.instagram.com/bee.zorra/

They keep leaving really nasty reviews on my work. You can find some of their “samples” here. https://www.fanfiction.net/r/13241492/0/1/

Here's what they've also said.

And this:

They also said this on a friend's story in an anonymous review.

""Debtoons chapter 1 . 3h ago

You think Shaeril McBozo did all this? You're mistaken troglodytes. Shaeril McBrown is a stand by, she works for me, doesn't have a choice in the matter. Pigshit is an urban legend, he works for me. You're all such fools, you have yet to realize there is more to come, much more, and I will bring you all down. I have not forgotten what you all have done. I'm always watching, you're all my pawns, the game is mine, and I play to win. La Cefiera Queen Bee AKA Debtoons Also, stop copying my ZAGR ships, yours suck was."

I've tried to ignore her. But this has now been going on for MONTHS. I am done trying to be NICE, and trying to hold back. So I’m exposing her for what she is. She’s a bully. A hypocrite. A troll. She NEVER ACTUALLY RESPONDED to any of my actual problems about her story, instead just DEFLECTING and misrepresenting my points, then attacking the misrepresentations.

I wasn’t even sure, at first, it was her Even after getting another anonymous review from someone who said "I already know your name. Shaeril and little Debbie told me. Hi I'm Striberz. Actually, I'm anyone I want to be, but let's go with Striberz for now. Good to meet you b***!"

Little Debbie. Debtoonz.

She also sent THIS anonymous review to me.

The way the review is written, the style, the little details, bringing up "Oompa Loompa" and the like and other little things that I never brought up publicly...this is why I believe Mundo De Bee, aka Debtoonz, is leaving me targeted harassment reviews.

But even THEN. After ALL THIS. My online friends suggested hold on, slow down. One of them said "I'll ask her about this". To try and get her side of the story. MAYBE it wasn't her. MAYBE it was just someone posing as her and trying to emulate how she talked. Months later, Mundo had written another story called 'Something called love', another ZAGR and DATR story. In the story, Zim was 20 years old, but Gaz was only 16. A friend of mine reviewed the story, making mention of the age gap and said 'Wait, that's illegal'.

It was mostly a joke review but in all of five minutes, Mundo furiously spouted off not one, not two, but THREE pissed off PMs, calling my friend “Some Dude Who Likes To Write” on FF.Net retarded and the review retarded. Pretty horrible. Nevertheless, Some Dude wanted to be diplomatic, even after Mundo left a super nasty review of my story. Theyw went to her Deviantart and asked if she left that revieand she said 'No', but the second they brought up the 'Oompa Lumpa' insult, a comment that Mundo had used directly to me in a note, well...she hid the comment and then ignored the other ones that were left and blocked Some Dude, pretty much indicting herself.

Then, several weeks later, guess who leaves a review in which she accuses Some Dude of being a xenophobe, transphobe, misogynist and homophobe? Well, Some Dude knows someone who knows Mundo. They ask to talk. She PM’s them, she asks "What do you want to accuse me of now”. Some Dude says he’s not accusing her of anything, they just don’t like being called a bigot. Her response was to just deny leaving that review...and then to block them AGAIN. Then we see a series of dozens of insult reviews, false accusations against myself, Zim’sMostLoyalServant and Some Dude along with others, all being attacked by her. She also evidently admitted to Some Dude that if she came across any review Nick and I left, even if it was positive, she would report it and tell the admins we sent the authors death threats. Which would be a LIE.

And so...that’s what happened. Now you all know the truth. This woman from, I assume, Brazil, has been harassing me for quite a while. Me AND my friends.

All this...because I wrote a bad review of her story asking why the story was glossing over Zim's cruel behavior and how much the story seemed to be like "Twilight" in a problematic way. I could have overlooked Zim falling in love with Gaz easily. My issue was why the story was overlooking his blatantly evil mass murder/blackmailing stuff and not acting like these were bad things at all.

Her literal response was, and I again, I quote from her directly, "Go away, then. This story is happening whether you want it or not. :/" So no actual response as to why the story wasn't addressing the elephant in the room. Just that...and then blocking me when I tried to reply.

I call that "cowardly".

She's always responded like that. She never unblocked me, she just sent nasty guest reviews to me instead of reaching out to me directly on DA, or Twitter, or a variety of other methods. It can never be her directly putting her name on anything because she didn't have the courage to do that.

She's a coward, she's a bully, she's a troll, and she's a hypocrite, doing all the things she's accused me of. What projection. How disgusting.

When I have an issue with a story, you know what my issue usually is? A moral one. And I'll say things like "This looks like domestic abuse, why are you acting like it's a you-go-girl moment for Gaz" or "Why is the fact Zim caused millions of deaths just casually overlooked".

It's not "YOU SUCK!" or lots of swears or insults or all caps. Cuz that sort of thing IS a flame. That IS a troll.

Saying things like "Why is the story acting like this character is a badass when their behavior's morally repulsive" isn't a flame. Or being a troll.

Anyway, now you all know. Mundo de Bee, Debtoonz, La Cefiera Queen Bee, Dedehbee , whatever you wanna be called, this is what she’s like.

SHAME. ON. YOU.

#Debtoonz #debtoons #Mundo de Bee #La Cefiera Queen Bee #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction net #fanfiction.net #troll #trolling #Dedehbee #call out #call out post #Invader Zim #ZADR

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seokjinsdisciple · 5 years ago

Text

Riddikulus- five

jungkook x reader, hogwarts!au, enemies to lovers!au

Warnings: fingering, oral, very public sex, degradation,(all of that is NOT with Jungkook so youve been warned), language

Word Count: 2.6k

THIS IS UNEDITED

series masterlist

You were writing an essay for potions in the library, the events of last night out of your mind as you researched how to make the Draught of Peace. You weren’t paying attention to your surroundings, something you realized too late as a cough rang out from beside you. If you had been paying attention, you wouldn’t have jumped, but here you were, sitting scared next to a grinning Jungkook.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, raising your eyebrow at his open potions book.

“You promised to tutor me,” He stated, leaning back in his chair and giving you a cocky smirk. His eye was bruised, and he had a small cut on his lip, all evidence to the shit he had put me through this past week.

“If you honestly think I am gonna help you after the shit you pulled, you’re dumber than I thought, Kook.”

You tried to return to your work, but with Kook sitting next to you, you knew this silence wouldn’t last long.

“Listen, I know you aren’t going to believe me, but I didn’t send that note.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you,” you added, shooting a glare at him as you started to read your book, clearly trying to send him the message that you didn’t want to talk.

“Please help me, my parents expect me to be an Auror, and there is no way I’ll get a high enough O.W.L.’s score without your help.”

Now, this was interesting. In all of the times that you have known Jungkook, he has never begged, not for a single thing. To say your interest was piqued would be an understatement.

“And if I help you, what do I get?”

At this, Jungkook let out a huff, “What am I supposed to help you with, you are like the smartest person in our year.”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face, and he realized he had made a mistake in letting that out.

“Shut up. I take it back,” he tried, rolling his eyes at your smile and looking away.

“I didn’t say anything,” you chuckled, “Plus there is no way I’m letting you take that back.”

A comfortable silence fell between us, both of us returning to our respective papers. Once again, you found yourself completely focused on your research, and before you knew it, you were writing the last sentence. You took a quick glance at Jungkook’s paper, he had only written a paragraph, and what you read was riddled with grammatical errors and with false information about the draught.

“What mark do you need on the potions O.W.L. to make the N.E.W.T level?” you asked him, his concerned eyes meeting yours and making you laugh.

“Exceeds Expectations,” he gulped, following your scrutinizing gaze to his only paragraph, “This is why I need your help!”

You snatched his paper off the desk and read the whole thing thoroughly. He was watching you intently, his eyes hesitant to trust that you weren’t about to rip his (slim) progress to shreds.

“It’s not too bad, but we are gonna need to meet twice a week if you hope to get an EE on the exam in the Spring,” you stated, nonchalantly throwing his paper down on the desk in front of him, his mouth agape at my sentence.

“Wait, you are going to help me?” He questioned, taking a look at the paper in front of him before scratching his head, “but I can’t give you anything in return…”

“About that,” you started, grabbing the supplies you had strewn across the desk and beginning to pack up, “you claim that you didn’t send the note, right?”

At my question, Jungkook sighed, “I already told you I didn’t send it.”

“Alright, alright,” you conceded, raising your arms up, “do you know who did send it?”

Jungkook just sat there for a minute, as if thinking through how he should answer my question, “Yeah, I know who sent it, but that doesn’t mean you should know.”

“Well that's the deal,” you said, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder, “You tell me who sent the note after I help you get an EE on your exams.”

You gave Kook a smile and started walking down the row of bookshelves, “The ball is in your court, Kook. How badly do you want that grade?”

You didn’t really want to help Jungkook, god knows he would deserve to fail, but you wanted to know who sent that note. They had crossed a line, and you wanted them to suffer because of it. Call you an evil Slytherin if they like, but you were sick of being made fun of. Plus, you had to study for your potions O.W.L anyways, whether Jungkook was there or not.

You arrived back into the common room, the sound of the crackling fire calming as you made your way over to the couches that your group claimed. Jimin had quidditch practice, and Yoongi was still pissed about the fight. So you weren't surprised when you found yourself alone on the couch. You stretched out, grabbed your Transfiguration book from your backpack and started reading. The common room was a surprisingly good place to read, the idle chatter and laughter made great background noises to distract you from your thoughts and help you focus. Well, usually they did, but today you were completely focused on that goddamn note. If Jungkook hadn’t sent it, then how did he know (in general) what was on it? Plus, he had been so willing to say it was him in front of everyone else. You let out a deep sigh, closing your book a little too harshly.

“You ok there, princess?” Seonghwa questioned, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“Just thinking about some things, Hwa,” you smiled as he pressed a kiss to your temple. You lifted your legs as he sat down, allowing him to scoot closer and rest your legs in his lap. Seonghwa had been acting more domestic recently, and as much as you hated to admit it, you kinda liked him. This wasn’t something that you were used to, you were normally just a fuck kinda girl and without all of the frills of romance, it was just easier. But as Hwa started rubbing your calf, you couldn’t help the butterflies that filled your stomach.

“Did you hear a thing I just said?” Seonghwa laughed, you joined him as heat flooded your cheeks.

“Sorry… I was thinking,” you nudged him with your foot, “tell me again?”

“Oh no, princess, you have to tell me what had your pretty little face scrunching up,” he winked at you, squeezing your calf lightly, but you couldn't meet his eyes.

“Hwa,” you started, glancing quickly at him, “I know we agreed that this was just a sex thing, but… I think I like you.”

At this, Hwa just laughed. “Princess, I really wish you would have just heard the entire speech I just gave to prove to you that I like you too,” he just smiled as you looked quickly up at him.

“Wait, what?” you asked, sitting up quickly as he nodded his head, a grin growing on his face. His lips found yours, the passion and sincerity of both of your words melting into the kiss. Passionate kisses quickly turned into frantic hands, and thank god that the couch you and your friends frequently sit in is in a more secluded area. If it wasn’t, you might have been a little bit more hesitant to have Seonghwa slipping his hands under your skirt. His fingers found themselves in your folds easily, slipping inside your heat. Had your lips not been occupied with Seonghwa’s, you would have let a moan slip out as he curled his fingers, pressing directly where he knew your sensitive spot was.

“Shh, princess,” he whispered against your lips, “be good for me, ok?”

His lips made a path from your jaw to your neck, taking their time to make a mark whenever he wanted. His fingers kept their pace, and at the rate you were whimpering, it didn’t surprise you when you found his free hand covering your mouth. You mewled as his lips finally made contact with your core, his tongue swiping at your clit, before pressing a soft kiss to it.

“You better be quiet, or you will be punished later,” he added, his lust-filled eyes meeting your desperate ones as he returned to your center. His fingers were slamming into you with a precision that only Seonghwa had, you had been together so many times that he knew exactly what to do to make you unravel. With the combination of his tongue and fingers, the knot in your core was growing tighter and tighter, and he could tell. He shoved two fingers into your mouth, giving you something to suck on as he continued his ministrations. Right as you were about to cum, he pulled away, giving you a warning glare at the whine that was about to leave your lips.

“You only get to come around my cock, today princess,” he growled, slipping his hard member through the zipper of his pants, “come sit, baby.”

You took a look around the common room, a few people lingered, but it was still relatively empty. You hurriedly straddled him, pressing a hasty kiss to his lips as you sank down his length. Your hips rolled slowly so that if anyone looked over, it would just look like the two of you were making out. You could feel his length pulsing in you, eyes fluttering shut as he met your hips with subtle thrusts. The pleasure wasn’t overwhelming like it normally is, but you knew the thing getting the both of you off was the fact that there were people around, and anyone could see the two of you. The thought had you clenching around his length, Hwa letting out a quiet growl as you did.

“Do you like this, princess?” he asked, “like the idea that anyone can see what a good little slut you’re being for me?”

Now, it was your turn to moan, Hwa’s words were just what you needed to be thrown over the edge.

“That’s a good girl,” he smiled, running his hand down your face and rubbing it gently with his thumb, “cum for me, show everyone here who you belong to, hm?”

You rested your head on his shoulder, biting lightly to try and stop yourself from moaning. His hands landed on your hips, one hand encouraging you to keep moving, and the other rubbing gently. Your lips found his again, and when he grunted into your mouth, body shuddering you knew he had finished. The two of you sat like that for a second, his cock softening as you lazily kissed. You frowned when he pulled away, he just chuckled, pressing a kiss to your nose to placate you.

“Be my girlfriend?” he asked, hands tucking the messy strands of hair behind your ear.

“Of course,” You huffed out, falling gently on his chest out of exhaustion. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, before urging you to get up.

“C’mon princess, we gotta get cleaned up.”

It took a lot for you to stand up, but Seonghwa helped you, laughing a little at the wobbliness of your legs. He helped you to the girl’s staircase, pressing a kiss to your lips before watching as you went down the steps to your room.

You found yourself arriving in potions before Jungkook, something that rarely happened. Yet here you were, reading the ingredients list as grabbing enough for the two of you to start on time. He came hurrying in, right as the bell rang, sending a sheepish smile to Slughorn who just waved him off. As he slid into the seat next to you, he whispered a quick thanks as he held the extra bezoar in his hand. Slughorn’s lecture today was pretty dull, even by your standards, but Jungkook was focused, taking diligent notes as he talked. When Slughorn let you create the potion he had been describing, you turned to Jungkook.

“Why are you trying so hard?”

“Well,” he started, shrugging as he said, “I am gonna take you up on the deal, and I know how much you hate it when I copy your notes so…”

“So you took notes yourself, I’m impressed Kook,” you smirked, starting your potion, “We can meet every Tuesday and Thursday if that works for you.”

“Actually, I have quidditch practice on Tuesdays, maybe we could do Thursdays and Sundays? But only if that works for you...”

You glanced up from your potion, he genuinely wanted to make sure you would be ok with that plan. Kook was not one to be told what to do, so you were a little taken aback that he would even consider the fact that other people had schedules too. “Yeah, that works for me.”

“Cool,” he said, adding a bit too much rosemary to his potion for it to be perfect, but it wouldn’t ruin it, “so you and Seonghwa, huh?”

“Yeah, we're kinda a thing now,” you said, glancing at him as he nodded his head a little too forcefully.

“I didn’t think you were the dating type…” he added, watching you intently.

“Neither did I,” you laughed, taking in his weird behaviors.

“Have you told Joon yet?”

You just sent a look his way, and he held up his hands, “Okok… it was just a question,” he added.

“I’m gonna tell him soon, I just, well he’s not exactly the biggest fan of Seonghwa.”

“Trust me, princess. I know,” he groaned, “I’m the one who has to hear all about it from Jin.”

You just let out a laugh, “I’m sorry you’re stuck hearing about Hwa.”

He laughed for a second, glancing down at his potion and going quiet. He was acting so strange today, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

“Just be careful with him,” he said softly. Ignoring your eye roll at his statement.

“God, Kook, you sound like Namjoon.”

“I know, I’m sorry, it’s just- Seonghwa isn’t as sweet as you think.”

“Ok Kook, I’m sure you know my boyfriend so much better than I do.”

“I know what he’s capable of doing,” Jungkook added, angrily throwing in some herb that you knew didn’t go in this potion.

You just scoffed at this, going back to your potion and ignoring Jungkook's lingering stares. It seemed like anytime you and Jungkook made any progress with being nice to each other, one of you would say something stupid, and it would be back to square one. So you sat in tense silence until Slughorn checked your potions and dismissed you. You ignored Jungkook’s goodbye and smiled as he angrily threw his backpack over his shoulder and stormed out. You ignored Jimin’s questioning glance as Jungkook pushed past him. You just grabbed your stuff and followed a confused Jimin to your next class.

#jungkook gryffindor #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook enemies to lovers #bts enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #hogwarts au #bts hogwarts au #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #riddikulus

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