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thewidowsghost · 2 years

Note

Blurb request with daisy.

Reader is Skye's childhood best friend (that was in love with Reader, still is. Even after ten years.), Skye runs away and they met ten years later at Afterlife, Reader has telekinesis or control and minpulation of Fire.

Fires and Quakes

Thank you so much for requesting!

I do want to apologize because I don't know if this is my best work. I really did enjoy the request, and I had a lot of furn writing it!

And also, this is a 2.2k word fic, so definitely not a blurb :)

Onto the fic!

(Y/n) (L/n) smiles as her roommate plops down on her bed. After a moment, Skye moves, resting her head on (Y/n)’s chest. For Skye wasn’t just her roommate like the sisters in the Saint Agnes Orphanage thought, but (Y/n)’s girlfriend.

“I hate living here,” Skye says, shifting herself against (Y/n); (Y/n) hums her agreement, running her fingers through her girlfriend’s hair. “We should run away,” (Y/n) shifts slightly to lie on her side, meeting Skye’s chocolate brown eyes.

“I don’t know, Skye,” (Y/n) replies honestly. “Yeah, it’s shit here, but at least we have food and shelter, and of course, each other.”

Skye softens, stretching over and placing a kiss on (Y/n)’s lips.

Ten years later

Candles are the only thing that light up the room.

Skye’s eyes flash open, and she tries to sit up, but the needles piercing her skin stop her from moving.

“Hey,” Gordon says, moving to lean over the young woman, “everything’s gonna be fine. You’re safe now.”

“Gordon,” Skye murmurs. “Where am I?”

“This is the place I told you about,” Gordon replies. “You called for me. Do you remember?”

“How long have I been here?” Skye asks.

“Two days,” Gordon answers.

“Two . . .” Skye echoes tiredly. “I need to . . .” she tries to get up, but once again, she cannot move. “I need to go. They need me. Something bad has happened. Why can’t I move?” She breathes heavily. “What are you doing to me?”

“You’re healing,” a man says, walking into the room. “Leaving now wouldn’t be . . .” he chuckles. “You’ve ever made microwave popcorn?” the blonde man asks. “Leave it in too long, and it’s charcoal. Take it out too soon and it’s a bag of kernels.”

“That’s just about the worst analogy ever,” another voice replies, walking through the same door the man had walked through. The woman steps up to the computer, typing in a few things.

“Gordo, help me out,” the blonde man says, turning to the eyeless man.

“You are on your own with this one,” Gordon replies and the woman chuckles. Skye tries to look at the woman, but she can’t. She swears the laugh was familiar. “I have to go now. You’re in very good hands. “He’s smarter than he looks.”

“How do you know that?” the blonde man asks.

Electricity crackles and Gordon walks out of the room.

“He’s been by your side since the moment you got here,” the blonde man tells Skye.

“Who are you?” Skye asks.

“I’m sorry, I thought . . .” the man looks up from the tablet he’d just picked up. “I’m Lincoln, your Transitioner. Right, I . . . I keep forgetting you’re new to this,” Lincoln says, stepping closer to Skye. “Everyone who goes through Terrigenesis has, uh, a Transitioner to help them.”

“Please cut to the chase, I . . .” Skye tries to get off the bed once again, but cannot.

“Right, yeah,” Lincoln pulls a chair over to Skye’s bedside. “Let me start from the top.” He plops down into the chair. “Imagine a thousand years of evolution taking place instantaneously. That’s what happened to you after the Mist. These treatments, we’re helping your body adjust properly to the change, transitioning you quickly and painlessly, I hope. We usually like to start the process right after the Mist, but . . .”

“How long?” the brunette interrupts. “How long? When can I go?”

“You got places to be, people to see?” Lincoln questions, smiling slightly.

“I’m worried about my friends,” Skye replies. “I think they're in danger.”

The unknown woman walks over to Lincoln, passes him a folder before she leaves the room, silently closing the door.

“You’re the one that’s in danger, Skye,” Lincoln replies, slapping the folder gently against his leg. “Remember? You’re being hunted.” Lincoln looks genuinely concerned.

. . .

Lincoln enters Skye’s room a little later as the girl is unrolling the sleeves of her long sleeved shirt.

“How are you feeling?” Lincoln asks.

“Kind of normal,” Skye replies with a chuckle.

“Hey, normal’s good,” Lincoln sets his tablet on the table.

“Yeah,” Skye smiles.

“We flushed your lymphatic and circulatory systems,” Lincoln tells her as she pulls on her leather jacket. “So, you’ll be weak for a few days, but . . .”

“I need to give a message to my friends,” Skye interrupts the taller man, pulling her hair out from under her jacket.

“Gordon’s the only one who can make contact with the outside world,” Lincoln tells her. “You can talk to him when he gets back.

Skye nods. Then she looks fully around the room. “Where exactly are we?” she asks.

“No one really knows,” Lincoln admits. “Uh, the official name is Chinese, I think, Lai Shi. Doesn’t exactly translate . . .” Lincoln jogs over and opens the balcony doors to let the sunlight flood in. He steps through the door and Skye follows. “So we just call it Afterlife.”

. . .

A little later, Lincoln and Skye are taking a walk.

“You say the name of this place is Chinese,” Skye says. “Are we in China?”

“No idea,” Lincoln replies, looking down at the brunette. “Gordon’s the only one who knows where we are, and he’s the only way in or out. It keeps us secret and safe from the outside world.”

“Or it keeps us prisoners,” Skye replies.

“You’re not very trusting, are you?” Lincoln asks.

“I woke up naked on a table in a place no one can even point to on a map,” Skye replies. “So, call me crazy.”

“You weren’t totally naked,” Lincoln retorts. “And you asked Gordon to bring you here. No one’s gonna force you to stay. It’s not a bad place. The nightlife’s a little lacking -”

“So you live here?” Skye asks.

“No one lives here, not permanently,” Lincoln answers. “It’s more like a way station. I’m from Cincinnati. Trying to finish med school. I’m brought here when I’m needed. Some people come here when they need a place to stay.”

“Why do I feel like the new kid in school right now?” Skye asks as they walk past a redheaded woman who stares at them. “Everyone is staring at me.”

“Gordon didn’t explain?” Lincoln asks with surprise.

“No, I thought you said that everyone here is like me,” Skye replies, “and that this happens all the time.”

Lincoln chuckles. “Are you kidding?” They pause in their walk. “This has never happened. Things have always been done in a certain way. These people are Descendents, yes, but most of them are waiting to be chosen. They carry the genetic marker and have been brought here to be evaluated, cultured, and prepared for the change, should they be selected.”

A figure creeps up behind Lincoln before they reach up, messing up his blonde hair.

“You did it old school,” the woman says, stepping around Lincoln, “with a Diviner, in a Kree temple . . .”

Lincoln uses a hand to push the woman away by the face. “That hasn’t happened for thousands of years.”

The woman steps back up to them, smacking the back of Lincoln’s head.

“Don’t try me, Electro,” the woman says, though her silver gaze glints with amusement.

“This is (Y/n),” Lincoln says and the woman waves, though her gaze lingers on Skye’s face, as though she recognized her. “She’s our therapist slash chef.”

(Y/n) raises an eyebrow. “You speak so highly of me,” (Y/n) says, looking up and meeting Lincoln’s electric blue gaze.

. . .

“How many of us are there?” Skye asks as she and Lincoln continue their walk, (Y/n) deciding to join them.

“No one knows,” (Y/n) replies. “Not every Descendent is found, and not everyone who is chooses to come.”

“Hmm,” Skye hums in reply.

“Gordon,” Lincoln shouts, as the man walks towards them. “I hope we’re still on for pizza tonight.”

“You hope?” (Y/n) retorts. “I’m the one who does all the cooking.”

“Not tonight,” Gordon replies. “I have to see to some pressing matters. But I’m glad you’re feeling better, Skye.”

Skye nods. “I need you to send a message to my friends,” Skye says. “Let them know I’m okay.”

“I can ask permission, but they’ll advise against it,” Gordon says. “It’s better we stay quiet for the time being.”

Gordon pushes between Lincoln and Skye before the brunette calls out to him again.

“My father and Raina,” Skye says once Gordon turns around. “Where did you take them?”

“I can’t divulge their location, just as I can’t divulge yours,” Gordon replies. “But you don’t need to worry about them.” Gordon turns, and continues to walk away.

“What does he mean ‘ask permission’?” Skye asks. “Ask permission from who?”

“The elders,” (Y/n) replies.

“You’ve made a lot of people afraid, Skye,” Lincoln tells the brunette. “Afraid that our secret won’t be safe for much longer.”

Lincoln turns so that they can resume their tour, but (Y/n) stops them.

“I’ve gotta go,” (Y/n) tells them. “Someone has to make sure we eat.”

. . .

Skye walks towards one of the gazebos, but she stops when she sees (Y/n) sitting there, her eyes closed, as though she was thinking.

At the sound of Skye’s footsteps, and (Y/n)’s eyes open.

“Oh, don’t leave ‘cause of little old me,” (Y/n) replies, her silver eyes glinting slightly from the light of the sun. “I was planning on going on a walk anyway,” (Y/n) stands up, stretching and popping her back. “You’re welcome to join.”

. . .

“This is it,” (Y/n) says, she and Skye walk to the top of the hill. “Best view in the house.”

“It’s beautiful,” Skye replies, glancing over at (Y/n).

“It’s a good place to clear your head,” (Y/n) says, looking out over the mountains. “Figure things out. But we’re here to figure out you?” (Y/n) turns, meeting Skye’s brown eyes. “Tell me about your gift.”

“Is that why you brought me up here?” Skye turns to study (Y/n) closely.

“Let loose,” (Y/n) smiles and Skye can’t help but think she’d met this woman before. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to be afraid of it.”

“We were designed to be weapons,” Skye replies. “I got that directly from the big blue source.”

“You strike me as someone who’s generally more curious than afraid,” (Y/n) allows flames to lick across her fingers before fire engulfs her whole hand.

Skye takes a step back.

“You can touch,” (Y/n) tells her, reaching out and letting the fire die down, flickering gently in the palm of her hand.

Skye reaches out her hand, allowing the fire to lick her skin.

“I can make it cooler,” (Y/n) says, making the fire colder, about the temperature of the inside of a fridge. “Or hotter,” she makes the flames hotter, keeping careful not to burn the brunette. Then the flame dies, flicking out with the gentle breeze. “I’m good for lighting candles,” (Y/n) jokes.

Skye chuckles, but then her expression shifts to a more thoughtful one. “But how is that not a weapon?” Skye asks and (Y/n) can tell that it isn’t one hundred percent just a rude question.

“Come with me,” is (Y/n)’s reply.

Skye tilts her head but follows (Y/n).

Skye’s eyes widen slightly as she enters (Y/n)’s kitchen.

“Okay, this is very nice,” Skye says appreciatively, looking around at the marble countertops.

(Y/n) flips open the grill, summons fire, lighting the charcoal.

“Is that a grill?” Skye walks over, examining the grill.

“You seem very impressed by my indoor grill,” (Y/n) says, her tone teasing.

Skye shrugs, smiling slightly.

“Feel bad I don’t have a chair,” (Y/n) frowns slightly. Skye shrugs again, jumping up onto a counter. “That works,” (Y/n) smiles slightly.

“You know, I swear I know you from somewhere,” Skye says, watching as (Y/n) cuts some potatoes for homemade french fries.

(Y/n) looks up from her potatoes, meeting Skye’s dark brown eyes. “I was thinking the same exact thing. How strange.”

Skye studies (Y/n) for a moment, “Tell me a little about yourself.” (Y/n) looks up, surprised. “You look surprised?” Skye asks, surprised herself.

“It’s not my job to talk about myself,” (Y/n) replies, meeting Skye’s gaze steadily. “I’m a therapist.”

“That can’t be healthy,” Skye replies, and (Y/n) almost thinks the brunette is genuinely concerned about her.

(Y/n) simply shrugs, turning back to her cutting board.

There is a silence for about five minutes before (Y/n) speaks again. “I grew up in an orphanage,” (Y/n) says, surprising Skye. “My mother left me on the side of the road like garbage, so,” (Y/n) pauses her chopping for a moment.

“I know how you feel,” Skye admits, making (Y/n) look up. “I grew up in this orphanage called the Saint Agnes Orphanage and it was horrible. Because I didn’t have a name when I was dropped there, they decided the only fitting name for me was ‘Mary Sue Poots’.”

Skye looks up when she hears the sound of a knife clattering onto the wooden cutting board.

“You’re my Skye,” (Y/n) says. “I was taken away when we were 17. You -”

“And I told you that I’d find you again,” Skye finishes, sliding off the counter and walking over to wrap (Y/n) in a tight hug.

Pulling back, (Y/n) studies Skye and she goes to say something, but Skye cuts her off, “I still love you.” Skye looks down, as though by admitting this, (Y/n) would be disgusted. “I know it’s been like ten years -”

(Y/n) lifts Skye’s chin with a finger. “I love you too.”

Skye’s entire expression brightens, and the room begins to shake.

“I guess that’s your gift,” (Y/n) comments, with a laugh and Skye flushes, burying her face into the crook of (Y/n)’s neck.

Word Count: 2324 words

#daisy johnson x female reader #daisy johnson x reader #daisy johnson x fem reader #skye x fem reader #skye x female reader #skye x reader

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deadbydad-writes · 2 months

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Hello, hope ur having a good day. I’m recently new to tumblr, and I just discovered ur blog today. Love it btw, u got some really interesting ideas! ^^

I was browsing one of ur previous request list and I had a request for one in mind, don’t worry I won’t request anything from ur old list rn since u have ur new one up :)

The request I would like to make from ur new list is, bully Miguelxnerd fem!reader. They could be in either college or high school, whatever u decide. Miguel likes to bully reader, nothing too violent, he mainly says a couple of mean things to her and likes to tease reader. He does this because he actually has a really FAT crush on her and doesn’t know how to properly address his feelings.

Maybe one day Miguel actually starts being more nicer to her; but he doesn’t want his “reputation” that he has among the popular people at school to be ruined because he talks to reader. Just when Reader thinks she and Miguel were actually getting along she notices his two faced behavior and decides to ignore him, giving him the silent treatment and everything lol. This becomes absolutely soul crushing for Miguel, especially since she starts hanging out with Peter instead (also a nerd, a very cute one tho lol). One day Miguel sees them studying together in the library, and easily gets jealous. Maybe he confronts them 🤔 (mainly Peter). Miguel being low-key obsessive over reader. Miguel finds a way to confess and apologize to reader for the way he’s been acting (idk how I’ll let u decide) involving lots of fluff tho plz 😭🙏🏻💕

Miguel learns his lesson and officially starts dating reader, this time not caring if his “friends” see them together. Proudly shows off his girlfriend 🥰 Man becomes a SIMP for his gf 0-100 real quick 😭 (Ps: Miguel was forced by reader to apologize to Peter about the confrontation if he ever wanted a chance with reader 😂)

Sorry for the long request, I tried to be specific as possible. No pressure if u can’t/won’t write it all :)

Thanks again, have a good one! ^^

So I actually am already writing a bully Miguel x Reader request and I won't write any more bully Miguel fics after that, but I would happily write something else from the list

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ssahotchhner · 3 years

Text

like real people do

PART TWO

hi! this is my first criminal minds fic, i haven’t watched the show all the way through in several years and while doing a rewatch discovered that i HAD to write hotch. this will be two parts, here’s the first! let me know your thoughts please, i love talking to my readers (:

words: 5837

pairing: hotch x reader

warnings: usual criminal minds nastiness, rape mention, death, curse words

Everyone knew that SSA Aaron Hotchner has been emotionally unavailable since his divorce, so everyone was that much more surprised when he kissed you at the bar in front of all your colleagues at the BAU. You wouldn’t lie, you had had a crush on Aaron for years now, but you had imagined your hypothetical romance much differently. As it was, Aaron had immediately left the bar in a flurry of embarrassment, murmuring a hurried apology on his way out leaving you to the unabashed teasing of your coworkers that you had pretended to brush off. Now, days later, Aaron still refused to so much as look at you.

“Y/N,” Morgan rolled his chair over to your desk, “I’m dying to know, is Hotch a good kisser?”

You sigh, “Fuck off, Derek.”

“Leave the poor girl alone, Derek,” Rossi says as he passes by, “Don’t you think it’s bad enough Hotch is giving her the silent treatment now?”

You tried to hide the way the tears pricked the back of your eyes at his comment, but you were surrounded by FBI profilers.

Morgan lowered his voice and reach out his hand to touch your arm, “Hey, babygirl, I’m sorry, I was just teasing, maybe you should try talking to Hotch--”

“Talking to me about what?” Aaron had been so quiet walking up on you and your head had been low, so focused on not crying that you hadn’t heard him.

“Nothing.” You say quickly, and as expected he avoids making eye contact, “Do you need something, sir?” You don’t miss the way he flinches at the formality. Good.

“We have a new case.” He says simply and walks away.

Morgan let out a low whistle, “You really hit him with the ‘sir.’” You started to get up from your desk, but Morgan put a hand on your arm again, “Seriously, Y/N, I’m sorry. If you need to talk I’m here.”

You sighed and stood up again, forcing a smile, “There’s nothing to talk about Derek, I’m fine. Now come on.”

“We have a serial rapist in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.” JJ starts immediately as everyone files in. You feel Morgan’s gaze on you the entire time and try not to get frustrated. He’s been like a brother to you since you joined the BAU a few years ago and you know this overprotectiveness was just him being a good friend, but it was bound to drive you nuts. “Victims are all white women ranging from their late teens to early twenties at a local university.”

“Why are we being called in for a rapist on a college campus?” Reid asks, “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but we all know the statistics. There are dozens of serial rapists on college campuses.”

“Because this one is torturing them while he rapes them and leaves them notes leading up to the attacks.” Hotch says as Penelope begins to pull up pictures on the screen of these women. “Slut, whore, bitch, cunt. All carved on their chests.” You do your best to hide the nausea that rises in you as you look at the pictures. Do your job. You remind yourself.

“What do the notes say?” Emily asks.

“They seem like thinly veiled threats,” Reid begins, “They sound romantic at first glance, but if you read closely you can see the context.”

“He breaks into their dorms when they’re at class or at parties and waits for them to come home and then he holds them at knifepoint so they won’t scream.” Penelope says, trying not to let her voice shake.

“Risky to do in a dorm building and no one’s seen him?” Morgan says.

Rossi ponders this, “That means he must blend in, someone no one would think twice about being inside. A student, an RA, or a university official.”

“University officials don’t normally enter student dorms unless there’s an issue, they’d be more likely to stand out and students would talk about them showing up.” Hotch muses.

“Y/N, you’re awful quiet today,” Emily nudges your elbow, “What do you think?”

You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, but Aaron’s. Still looking at his manila folder as if Emily hadn’t addressed you. As if you didn’t exist. You clear your throat, “I think the RA or student theory makes sense. We should probably interview the RA of the first victim, assuming he’s a man. It would make sense to me that he would start with one of his own students and then begin to branch out. Maybe he thought he could stop, get that release he needed after just one, but the need only grew stronger.”

“Wheels up in thirty, we’ll discuss more on the plane.” Hotch says and stands, walking out of the room without another glance.

“Did something happen last night at the bar?” Emily murmurs, the only member of the team who didn’t make it out the night before, “Hotch is acting really weird around you.”

Derek snickers on the other side of you and you elbow him, “That’s it, I’m going to talk to him.”

Reid winces, “Good luck.”

“It’ll be fine, kid.” Rossi says and squeezes your shoulder as you pass.

You take a long breath before you finally build the courage to walk into Aaron’s office where he’s packing his briefcase. “Sir, can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Can it wait until we’re on the plane, agent?”

Agent. You roll your eyes toward the ceiling, “No, sir, it can’t.” You can’t hide the bite in your words this time. He finally looks at you, really looks at you. You wonder what he sees.

“Close the door.” He says quietly and then sits behind his desk.

You walk slowly to the seat in front of his desk. This time, he watches you. “This is the first time you’ve looked at me all day.”

“I wasn’t aware you were analyzing me.”

“Are you telling me you haven’t been analyzing me all day?”

“Agent, what is this about? We have a plane to catch.”

You stare at him for a few moments longer, “Fine,” You stand, “If you want to pretend nothing happened, I’ll do the same. But if you could at least stop ignoring me, that would be great.”

“Agent--”

“And use my goddamn name, for Christ’s sake.”

He stares at you and you know he hates your emotional outburst and that in turn makes you hate yourself. “Then you stop calling me ‘sir.’” He says quietly.

Your eyes soften for just a moment and then you storm back out of his office nearly plowing over Rossi as you leave. Rossi walks into Aaron’s office to see him rubbing his forehead, “Well that doesn’t look like it went well.”

“I screwed up, Rossi.”

“Oh, come on Hotch, it was just one kiss. It didn’t mean anything--”

“It did mean something. To me. Maybe not to her.”

Rossi shakes his head, “Then why are you giving her the cold shoulder?”

Hotch sighs, “Because we work together, because she doesn’t feel the same, because she’s the first woman I’ve kissed since Haley. Pick a reason.” Rossi looks like he’s going to interject, but Hotch stands, “We don’t have time for this, Rossi, let’s go.”

Rossi sighs as he watches Aaron walk out of his office and follows after.

***

You’re quiet most of the plane ride, conscious of the looks everyone is giving you as you read the information in the manila folder over and over, trying to be good at your job instead of thinking about your boss.

“When we get off the plane, JJ and Prentiss, you go talk to the victims. Rossi and I will touch base with the police. Morgan, Reid, Y/N, you go talk to anyone you can find at the dorms, see if anyone’s seen anyone suspicious.” You make it a point not to react, but everyone else reacts anyway, watching you carefully. Hotch almost always assigns himself with you.

“If you guys don’t stop psychoanalyzing me I will eject myself from this plane.”

Everyone looks away except Aaron and when you meet his eyes, he’s smirking. Those smiles are so rare and you can’t deny how it satisfies you to know you were the reason he did so. You quickly look back down at your work, careful not to reveal anything you’re feeling.

***

“Do you have feelings for Hotch?” Reid asks without preamble when you’re in the car with Derek.

“Spencer!” You exclaim in outrage. Derek just laughs from the driver’s seat.

“What? You both wouldn’t be being so weird about one kiss if it wasn’t something more.”

“Okay, Romeo, remember that she’s armed.” Derek cautioned.

“He’s my boss, Reid. It’s weird because he’s my boss.”

“Well, sure, by definition Hotch is our superior but we all know--” Reid cut himself off when he saw the look Derek was giving him in the rearview mirror, “Yeah, you’re right, it’s weird.” He said quickly.

You sigh and turn to the window and ignore Derek and Spencer the rest of the ride.

***

“So you mean to tell me that ten women have come forward about being raped in their dorms and you told them to consider themselves lucky they weren’t murdered and sent them home without doing a rape kit?” Aaron’s furious. Furious with himself for the previous night and he’s more than happy to take out that anger on the local Milwaukee police department.

“Look, man, we get a lot of he said she said in here, we don’t have the time or the man power to follow up on every one.”

Just then his phone rings. It’s you. He wishes he could ignore the pang that goes through him just from reading your name. “Hotch.” He answers.

“Sir-- I mean, Aaron.” You correct yourself quickly, and then realize you should have called him Hotch, but it’s too late. “They’ve found a body.”

He frowns, “A body? That doesn’t fit his MO.”

You swallow, “Yeah, well, everything else does. He seems to have gotten a little carried away with the carving this time.”

“We’ll be right there.”

You hang up your phone and then turn back to Reid and Morgan who are looking over the crime scene. You sit with Victoria’s, the victim’s, distraught roommate and try to calm her and maybe get some actual information out of her. You don’t hear or see Aaron walk in until he’s already next to you, “Did you get anything from her?”

His closeness makes it hard to focus, “Just regular roommate stuff, she might be more useful once she calms down. I asked if her roommate had a boyfriend or anything like that and she said she was quiet, kept to herself. Boys were out of the question.”

“He’s escalated. Why?”

You shrug, “Could be because we’re here, that might have upset him and he lost control. But it could have been an accident, roommate says Victoria had a heart condition. The stress of the situation might have killed her.”

Hotch nods, “Good work.”

He was trying to be normal, you could tell. And he was trying so hard. “Thank you.” You said softly and then you excused yourself. Everything about him set you on edge and over and over the moment he kissed you plays in your head.

***

You’re both laughing to near snorting while sitting at the bar and Aaron can’t stop watching you, “You have an incredible laugh, you know?” He says softly when you’ve both settled down. “Sometimes when I think this job isn’t worth it, I’ll hear your laugh outside my office and just that sound…” He realizes what he’s saying suddenly and turns his head away from you smiling at his drink now.

“You make it worth it for me too.” You say and his eyes are back on you, “You so rarely ever smile, but when you smile at me… It makes it all worth it. The long hours, the horrible cases… all of it.”

When you look back at him he’s suddenly serious again. You can see his eyes calculating as he searches your face and you realize with a bit of shock that he’s trying to see if you’re lying. When his eyes finally settle back on yours, he gently reaches up, almost without thinking about it and curls a loose piece of hair behind your ear.

And then in the next second, his hand still on your face, his mouth is on yours.You forget that there’s anyone else in the world for those few seconds that he kisses you. Until everyone on the team starts jeering and Aaron pulls away like he’s seen a ghost.

“Aaron?” You say, frowning as he jumps up from his seat, not looking at you and gathering his things.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he murmurs and then runs out.

Derek’s laughing as he walks up to you, “Damn, princess. You broke Hotch! I gotta say, you’re incredibly out of his league.” You glare at him. “What? You’re out of my league too.”

You smile at that and try to act like everything’s normal, but you’re sure Spencer notices that you drink more and laugh a little too loudly.

***

You’re pulled back from the memory as JJ walks toward you, “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah,” You nod, “Fine, just needed a second alone to think.”

She stops in front of you and rests her hand on your arm, lightly squeezing, “You can talk to me, you know, about men. Even Hotch.”

You smile, “I appreciate everyone’s concern, but I’m fine, really. It’s not that big a deal.”

“It’s a big deal if it starts interfering with the job, and I can see it on both of you,” She’s stern all of a sudden, “I know he’s our boss, but underneath that he’s just any other man, Y/N. Don’t let him fool you into thinking otherwise.”

“Guys,” Derek interrupts, sticking his head out into the hallway, “You’re gonna wanna see this.”

When you come back in the room, Spencer is crouched over the body, gloves on, examining the carvings in her body, “There’s hesitation in the cuts this time and you can tell they were done after she was dead. And if you look a little bit closer…”

“‘Sorry…’” You read the small script, astonished. “Remorse. It was an accident.” Your eyes dart back and forth as you lose yourself in your own thoughts while the rest of the team discusses, “I think we can deliver the profile.”

***

“We’re looking for a white male in his early to mid twenties.” Hotch starts, “He most likely is able to gain the women’s trust, maybe he’s a student RA or a student tech worker, but they let him in without a second thought.”

“I thought he breaks into the dorms and waits for them?” A cop asks.

“He does,” You say, “But the initial access is how he chooses his victims. He’s a loner, doesn’t have many friends, certainly no girlfriend. It’s possible that he asks these girls on dates when he first meets them, and when they refuse he feels entitled to them anyway which is why he comes back for the rape.”

“What about the murder?” Another cop asks.

“We believe the death of the last girl was an accident.” Reid responds, “She had a heart condition and the medical examiner has confirmed she died from sudden cardiac arrest. The unsub even seemed to show remorse when he defiled the body after, carving the word ‘sorry’ into her body.”

“The killing has most likely set him on edge. He’s remorseful, upset, overcome with immense guilt, but he blames the women. If they had just said yes to him, he wouldn’t have to do this. She wouldn’t have died.” Derek continues, “You should be looking for someone who was soft spoken, but as the rapes started he became more assertive, maybe he had an altercation with a professor or supervisor.”

“You’ve probably interviewed him already,” You say, “He inserts himself into the investigation because he feels guilt and watching the investigation play out validates that he was right for doing what he did.” You sigh, “There’s one more thing. He didn’t intend to kill Victoria, but… He spent time with the body after she had passed. He mutilated her as well as continued his rape of her afterward. It’s possible that he enjoyed the kill and will kill the next time as well. So stay vigilant and… please tell the girls not to let any men in their dorms. Thank you.”

Aaron comes up to you, “Can I speak to you alone for a moment?”

You nod and follow him into a conference room and he closes the door behind you, “You’re really an incredible profiler, agent.”

Again with the ‘agent.’ “Thank you, sir.”

“I just wanted to assure you that I will remain nothing but professional around you from here on out.”

You tilted your head to the side and you knew the pain was evident on your face as you didn’t try to hide it, “I see.”

“You’re upset.”

You laugh, “Did you mean anything you said at the bar, Aaron, or were you just drunk?” You’re aware of how vulnerable you’re being in front of him now as you can hear the tears in your own voice.

You see him calculating what the best response is and this just infuriates you more, “Forget it, you’re just going to talk to me like some unsub, trying to best figure out what to say to calm me down.”

He shakes his head, “That’s not what I’m doing.”

You start to walk out and stop to stand next to him, “You just said yourself I’m an incredible profiler, so please don’t profile me and think I won’t notice.”

He closes his eyes as you continue walking out, “Y/N, wait.” Despite yourself, you do stop at the sound of your name. “I’m sorry, I-- I meant the things I said at the bar, I’m… But I’m your boss and I don’t want to make it difficult for you to do your job.”

You force a smile and look up at him, “Don’t worry, Hotch, won’t be a problem.”

And then you’re gone and he gets the feeling you won’t call him Aaron ever again.

***

Spencer walks in the entrance of the dorm you’ve been staking out, two coffees in hand. He hands one to you wordlessly, “Have you gotten any sleep?”

“Obviously not.” You sigh and happily guzzle the coffee, “Thanks.”

“Hotch is upset.”

“About what?” You murmur, half paying attention, half going over the case again on the papers in front of you.

“About you, obviously.”

You don’t look up, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. How do you even know Hotch is upset? He always looks like he’s pissed at something.”

“Because I’m a profiler. Everyone knows he’s off, no one will say to his face that it’s because of you.”

You sigh and look up at him, “Spencer, we’re fine, okay? We’re adults.” He’s quiet, but he won’t stop staring at you, “What?”

“I know that I’m… not the most perceptive when it comes to emotions, but… I think he’s in love with you. And I’m pretty sure you’re in love with him.”

You smirk, “And what makes you think that, Mr. Profiler?”

He smiles back, “Well, Hotch is always watching you, mostly when you’re not looking and when he does his expression sort of… softens. He almost always assigns the two of you together when giving the unit assignments, which I think is partially because he likes to be around you, but also because he’s trying to protect you, especially after that hostage situation a few months ago. He was a wreck when you were in there. Screaming at everyone, I really thought he would kill the unsub when he found him.”

“He would do that for any of us, when any of us were in danger.” You said, quickly shaking your head to dismiss the idea.

But Spencer shakes his head, “You didn’t see him. It was different.”

“Spencer, he barely gave me a pat on the back when I left that hostage situation alive.”

“That’s because he doesn’t trust himself around you. Why do you think the only time he’s ever given you a hint at the way he feels was when he was drunk?”

Your head is spinning as you look at Spencer, “No, that doesn’t make any sense--”

“It makes perfect sense and I know you know that.” Spencer’s phone rings, “Reid.” He sighs and lowers his head, “Where? Okay, we’ll be right there.” He hangs up the phone, “There’s another body.”

You sigh, “I really hate being right.”

***

“You were right,” Hotch says from behind you, “He’s discovered he likes killing.”

It was never easy looking at bodies, but somehow it was always worse when you had predicted it and still not been able to stop it, “How did he do it?”

“Manual strangulation.”

“Has anyone checked for skin or blood under her fingernails? Sign of a struggle?”

Aaron nods, “Already scraped off and sent to Garcia.”

“Even if she can’t find a match, we’ll be able to narrow down suspects by the injuries she left.”

“The school is panicking, they want to evacuate the campus.”

“If they evacuate we’ll never find him, he’ll just start again somewhere else.”

“That’s what I told them.”

You sigh, “Why are the girls still letting him in?”

“Maybe they’re not,” Hotch mused, “Maybe he’s starting to pick the girls from his classes now that we’re here.”

“The last two victims, do we have their schedules? Their majors?”

“They were both nursing majors,” Emily interjects, “Third year.”

You nod, “Okay, so by that point, third year, majority of their classes are restricted to nursing majors only.” You flip your phone open and dial Penelope.

“Hello my delightful fairy princess, what can I do for you?”

“Garcia, the last two victims, can you cross reference their class schedules and tell me if they had any classes in common?”

“Yes, just a second… Three classes in common.”

“Okay, cross reference with the remaining victims.”

“Um, okay, wow, all of them had two classes in common.”

“Shit.” You mutter, “Can you send over the class rosters of both those classes, but just the men. And also send pictures.”

“You got it.”

“Thanks, Penelope.”

You shake your head, “They were all nursing majors.” You say as you hang up, “How did we miss that?”

Reid was shaking his head, “We didn’t have a lot of time to interview the victims before the first body turned up.”

“Alright, we need everyone looking through those rosters, rounding up every male we can and interviewing them.” Hotch starts, “Y/N, you’re with me for interviews, the rest of you keep in touch with Garcia and find out anything you can.”

You try to ignore the shock you feel that he picked you this time, noting Reid’s raised eyebrows as he left the room. “You sure you want me on interviews?” You ask when you’re alone.

He’s looking at all the evidence on the corkboard, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Wasn’t sure if you would want to work closely with me anymore.” You say, standing next to him now and also looking over the evidence.

He looks at you now, “You have the same features as a lot of the victims, I’m hoping it’ll get a rise out of our unsub if we find him.”

You nod, “Makes sense.”

“And,” He says pointedly until you meet his eyes, “As I’ve said already, you’re an excellent agent and I could use your help on this.”

You heave a big sigh, “Okay, how do you wanna play it?”

He shrugs, “I think you already know what role I need you to play.”

***

This is maybe the tenth or so interview you and Hotch had done with no success. You were tired of playing this role, especially in front of Hotch.

“Jordan.” You smile sweetly at him, making sure to lean over the table just a little to give him the view he wants, “Did you know either of these girls?” You lay the pictures of the last couple victims on the table, wait to see his reaction. He brings his hands up to rest on the table and you see the shallow scratch marks on them, you share a discreet look with Hotch who barely nods in acknowledgement.

He stares for far too long. Hotch notices his hands clench into fists. He’s excited by the bodies.

“Yeah, I knew them.” He’s still looking at the pictures, “They were in two of my classes.” He finally looks up and gazes at you hungrily, “You seem awful young to be an FBI agent.”

You smile again and then look away, a sign of submission. “Stop flirting with my agent.” Hotch says placing his palms abruptly on the table. Jordan doesn’t flinch at Hotch’s presence, not taking his eyes off you. He’s more confident than either of you anticipated. Was the profile wrong or is this the wrong guy? “How did you know the victims?”

“I just told you, from class.”

“Did you ever see them outside of class?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, maybe, to do a project, not in a while though.”

“Jordan, do you know if either of the girls had a boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” He frowns, “Those two? No.” He practically scoffs.

You tilt your head to the side, “Why do you say it like that?”

“Those girls aren’t the boyfriend type. They’re whores.” There’s the bitterness in his voice.

You try to make your face as empathetic as possible, “What do you mean by that, Jordan?”

“Well, you know, they slept around… Wouldn’t give a nice guy like me a chance. You must know their type, you’re the FBI.”

You nod, “It must be so hard for a handsome, smart guy like you to get rejected. I can’t imagine why anyone would dream of missing out on that,” You shake your head, “Their loss.”

Hotch audibly scoffs and you watch Jordan glare at him. He’s getting angry. Good. “Hotch, why don’t you go get Jordan a water?”

Hotch blinks at you, trying to figure out if you had really just given him an order, “Agent, I am the lead interrogator on this case, I’m not leaving you alone in here--”

“Agent Hotchner,” You turn in your seat to face him, hoping he’ll read your expression, “Please get the young man a water, he’s been in here for hours.”

His eyes search your face for a few moments and then he leaves the room without another word. He won’t be getting Jordan a water. You know he’s watching carefully from the other side of the glass. “Sorry about him.” You say, “He doesn’t understand men like you.”

“Men like me?”

“Men who know how to get what they want.”

His face transforms as he watches you and he leans back in his chair, relaxed, legs spread to assert his dominance. “And you understand that?”

“There’s nothing sexier than a man who goes after what he wants… No matter what.”

He leans forward and whispers, “Even when they beg me to stop?”

You swallow past your disgust and, though you hate to admit it, fear, “Did they beg you to stop? Victoria and Erica?”

His smile widens as he watches you, “You remind me so much of them.”

“Can you tell me what you did to them? How you killed them?”

He licks his lips now, you think he’s lost all sense of where he is, falling for the delusion you’ve set in front of him, “You’re just like them, a dirty little slut. You want to be punished, don’t you?”

“Please.” Is the last word you whisper before he practically jumps across the table to grab your throat. Your chair falls backwards and he’s on top of you, crushing your windpipe. How could you forget that he was uncuffed? Hotch rushes in, he yells as he pulls Jordan off you, but you’re not sure what he’s saying. Then he’s cuffed Jordan and taken you out of the room.

“Sit.” Aaron says, ushering you to a chair that you practically fall into. You’re still coughing and you’re shaking a bit as Aaron gives you a water.

“I forgot,” You start, your voice hoarse, but Hotch brings the water cup to your mouth, insisting you drink before talking. You take a couple swallows, “I forgot he wasn’t cuffed.”

He shakes his head, “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have left you alone with him.”

“No, I needed you on the other side of the glass. He wouldn’t have fallen for the delusion otherwise. I needed him to forget who I was and just see me as a potential victim.” Aaron wouldn’t meet your eyes, not wanting to admit that you were right, “I’m going back in there.”

“No, you’re not, that’s out of the question.”

“Is that an order, sir?” He scans your face in frustration, “You know it has to be me. He won’t talk to you. I’ll be fine.”

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face, “Fine. Ask him about Erica, don’t ask about Victoria.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t kill Victoria himself, it’ll ruin the fantasy and he might lie to you to try to impress you. The details of the murders weren’t shared with the public, only the unsub would know how each of them died. He needs to reveal how he killed Erica to you and then we’ll have him.”

“Okay.” You stand and hold your hands behind you so he won’t see them shaking, but he’s a profiler. The attempt is mute.

He takes a step closer, “You don’t have to go back in there,” He says softly, “No one will think less of you.”

When he’s this close, looking at you with such concern, it makes you want to melt in his arms. But you had a job to do, “I can do this.”

And before he can make you think about it more, you turn away from him and march back in the interrogation room.

“Sorry about that,” You sit back down at the table and smile at him, “My partner gets a little jealous sometimes.” You lean in and whisper, “He’s usually the only one I let handle me like that.”

Just like that he’s back, “Why don’t you uncuff me so we can continue?”

You bite your lip, “I’d like to hear more about the other girls first.”

***

“Why is she in there by herself?” Rossi came up behind Aaron who was watching the unsub’s every move, ready to jump in again if needed.

“She insisted.” Hotch says simply, “She almost has him.”

Rossi sighs, “She’s stubborn. Like someone else I know.”

Hotch is quiet for a moment, “I can’t be with her, Rossi, it could ruin her career.”

“You can’t know that. And besides, don’t you think that should be her decision to make?”

Hotch doesn’t answer, he just continues watching you.

***

“Does it turn you on hearing what I’ve done to them?”

You’re sitting on your hands now, trying to stifle the growing panic in your head that was telling you to get out. He’s unarmed, he’s cuffed, Aaron is right there. He can’t hurt you. “You have no idea.” It came out breathless from your fear, but he interpreted it as desire.

“First, I knocked her out, tied her to the bed. Then I waited for her to wake up before I began. I stripped her clothes off her at that point and then I fucked her while she cried,” He’s smiling at you and you’re doing all you can to keep your expression neutral. “I took out the knife and started carving her up. You should have heard her beg. And then, when that’s all finished, I strangled her while I came inside her.” He leans over the table to get closer to you, and it takes everything in you not to move away, “Have you ever watched the light leave someone’s eyes, sweetheart?”

You calmly scoot your chair back and stand, buttoning your shirt back up and then resting your hand on your gun, reminding him of who you really are, “Thank you, Jordan. You’ve been incredibly helpful in this investigation.” And then turn to leave ignoring the way he calls after you.

When you exit the room, Aaron and Dave are both waiting for you and you sit down, exhausted, resting your head in your hands.

“Nice work, kid.” Dave says with a squeeze on your shoulder, and then he’s gone.

Then, there’s another touch on your back, more gentle and hesitant. You look up to see Aaron watching you, concern masking his face, “I’m fine, Hotch.” You say, shrugging him off.

His hand drops and you immediately regret it. “When you were taken those months ago, by that unsub…” His words are slow, as if making sure this is what he really wants to say to you. You know exactly what he’s going to say before he says it, “He raped you, didn’t he?” Your eyes snap up to meet his. “You would never tell us what actually happened, all those hours he had you, a sexual sadist.” He shakes his head, “There’s no way he would’ve been able to control himself.”

You shake your head just lightly, “I can’t do this now, Aaron.”

“Then when?” He’s frustrated now, borderline angry, “You lied at your psych eval, you said nothing happened, we let you come back after just a couple of weeks--”

“And I’m doing just fine, aren’t I?” You stand so you’re nearly eye level with him.

“You think I didn’t notice the way you almost fell apart in there?”

“But I didn’t. I finished it and I did a damn good job and you know it.”

Hotch erases all traces of emotion from his face as he stares you down, “You’re suspended for two weeks, effective immediately. Hand over your badge and gun, agent.”

You nearly stumble back from him as if you’ve been hit, “Aaron?”

“What’s going on?” Prentiss has entered the room now followed by the rest of the team, all watching with confused and worried expressions.

“You heard me.” Hotch says, never taking his eyes off you. You make no moves to take out your badge or gun, “Now, agent.” There’s bite to his words this time.

You feel humiliated. With the whole team watching, you place your gun and badge on the table and brush by Aaron without a second glance. Pushing past the team, even Spencer who reaches for you.

“What the hell was that, Hotch?” Derek says once you’ve left.

“She lied in order to pass her psych eval. I did what I had to do.” Everyone’s staring at him, but he walks by, seemingly unphased, “Good work, everyone. Get some rest, we go home tomorrow at first light.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #hotch fic #hotch fluff #hotch angst #hotch imagine #mine

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seriouslysnape · 3 years

Note

Since you’re down with writing for him, can you do a Lucius fic where the reader stands up to ole Voldy and rips him to shreds with her words for his treatment of her love (Lucius), and takes everyone by surprise because she’s usually just an observer of things? Lucius internally freaks of course because he thinks Voldy will kill her or something, but he’s actually as stunned as everyone and even impressed that she has so much nerve and such a “talent” with her words. Then once they’re alone, Lucius dwells on about how recklace that was and how he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if anything ever happened to her, especially if he was the reason. But once she gets him calmed down, he just gushes over her for being so brave, strong, loving, and protecting of him.

Sorry if this is quite long!

Not a problem at all! Thanks for requesting! :)

Words of Fire

Lucius Malfoy x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Sexual implications

Word Count: 2,117

“Nothing happened. I knew he wasn’t going to do anything.”

You fought the urge to let out a heavy sigh as you sat at the Death Eaters’ table. It was yet again another meeting with another round of Voldemort talking and no one else being able to get a word in. You rarely ever spoke at these meetings, only listening and soaking in every word that was said. Lucius was seated on your immediate left, refusing to look away from Lord Voldemort even for a split moment. Lucius’ hand was resting on your leg, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

Truthfully, you weren’t really sure what Voldemort was talking about. Your mind was everywhere but this current meeting. You glanced down at the strong hand that was on your thigh. You let your fingertips trace over his knuckles, feeling the cold metal of the rings on his fingers. He held back the urge to smirk at the feeling of your touching his skin. Your mind wandered to the night before, chills spreading over your body.

You had been up late the night before with Lucius, laid up together in his ridiculously massive bed and his bedroom that was bigger than your first house put together. He had been rather touchy throughout the day, so it wasn’t a shocker that he kept you up late with rough kisses and lots of lovemaking.

It was an intoxicating feeling, really. Lucius was very refined and well put together, never a stitch out of place. It wasn’t a surprise that he was experienced, and knew his way around a woman. You found yourself craving his touch, wishing for him at all moments of the day.

Your dirty thoughts were interrupted when Lucius subconsciously gripped your leg. You found your attention back to the meeting at hand. Voldemort was staring a hole through Lucius, which was never something you wanted to see.

“It seems that Lucius’ failure caused everyone at this table some form of distress.” Voldemort hissed, however his expression remained unchanged.

Lucius didn’t have much of a visible response to that. He was used to Voldemort often chiding him and tearing into him, but it didn’t make it any less humiliating. Lucius was very loyal to Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but lately he had failed to come through to Voldemort’s orders.

Lucius was distracted. Suddenly, there was more to his life than wealth and following Voldemort’s power. He had his heart in another place. However, whenever he messed up, Voldemort was always the first to hear about it.

“I assure you, my Lord, that it won’t happen again.” Lucius spoke, calmly and collected.

Voldemort looked doubtful at that. His cold eyes shifting to you for a moment before flickering back. He knew something was getting in the way of Lucius’ duties, and he had a pretty good idea that it was you.

“I would surely hope not,” Voldemort went on; “You would think that a pure-blood would be much more efficient.”

You felt your blood run cold. You hated the way Voldemort spoke to Lucius. Well, you hated the way Voldemort spoke to everyone, but especially Lucius.

“What is your problem?” You sneered loudly at the sunken man.

Lucius’ gray colored eyes snapped to you. They were full of desperation and fear. As a matter of fact, every pair of eyes at the long, dark table were looking at you. You were much more of a listener than a talker, and sometimes not even that. The fact that you were speaking up now (and with such feistiness) was stunning.

“[Y/N], do not-” Lucius began to warn under his breath, but you cut him off.

“I mean, seriously! Do you have nothing better to do than to nag like a prick for an hour and a half?” You questioned with a sharpness to your tone.

Lucius’ pale face had lost even more color. He was sure he’d be mistaken for a ghost to an outsider. He was fully panicking. He knew that you knew better than to smart off to Lord Voldemort, arguably one of the most powerful wizards in the world. With a wave of a wand and a simple mutter of “avada kedavra” would finish you off right then and there.

Bellatrix was watching with a face full of entertainment. She had always liked you, and was thrilled to see you standing up for Lucius like this.

Voldemort was watching rather stoically, but if Lucius hadn’t been totally about to lose his marbles, he would’ve noticed the hint of amusement in his eyes. Lucius could feel his heart pounding away in his chest, the silence in between your pauses was thick. He was trying to calm himself down. While what you were doing was unthinkable, you hadn’t yet said something that was completely impossible to come back from. Or, at least, not yet anyway.

“And aren’t you a half-blood anyway? How do you have any say over what a pure blood is supposed to be like?” You barked.

Lucius felt like throwing up. That was the final hit. He was preparing himself for the worst possible outcome. Maybe Voldemort wouldn’t use a death spell. Perhaps Nagini would make a snack out of you. A slow, painful death that was almost worse than anything else. Lucius, as frightened as he was, looked back to Voldemort with anticipation, begging Voldemort in his head not to kill you.

Lucius was sure he was hallucinating, or maybe he had witnessed your death and was having some sort of weird vision. But everyone else’s reactions were unmistakably real.

Lord Voldemort, the darkest of all wizards, began to laugh.

It wasn’t a laugh that read oh-you-should-not-have-done-that sort of sound. It was more of a shocked, impressed sort of laugh. The rest of the table began to nervously laugh in response, but eventually fell into side cramping laughter. Even you cracked a smile, not at all afraid of what was going to happen next. If you went out defending Lucius, then so be it. Lucius was too confused to laugh, or do anything for that matter.

Voldemort’s laughs did dwindle out into chuckles in between speaking, but even then he had a hard time piecing together sentences.

“Well, I have never seen such a fire come out of you.” Voldemort said to you.

Lucius dug his nails into his leg, not really sure if that was a good reaction or not.

“Really now, [Y/N], I do wish you would speak up more often at these congregations,” He said, rather galvanized by your choice of wording; “I must say, you have quite a raw talent for threats and messages.”

You fought the urge to beam at that. You had always been told that you had a way with words. Lucius felt the nausea pass, but he was shocked silent. You were the only person on the planet who could have gotten away with what you just did. As if that wasn’t groundbreaking enough, you were also the only person to draw an apology of sorts out of the Dark Lord’s mouth.

“Perhaps, I judged you unfairly, Lucius. However, I do expect you to fulfill your assignments next time.” Voldemort chuckled, looking at Lucius.

Lucius only nodded, still too in shambles to say anything more. Lucius finished out the rest of the meeting in a daze, though he noted you seemed to have actually enjoyed the remainder of the time. Lucius had it on repeat in his head. A million wonders and what ifs flying by him like a runaway train. That could have ended much more differently, and the fact that you weren’t even phased was bugging him.

He didn’t say much, which you noted as odd. Once you were alone in the Malfoy Manor, you spoke to him gently.

“Lucius, my love, what is it?” You asked, placing your hands on his shoulders from behind.

There was a roaring, warm fire in his spacious bedroom, heating the room in a wonderful way. He was far from comfortable though.

“Oh, it’s nothing really. Surely not the fact that you fired off to the Dark Lord.” He growled, rubbing his forehead stressfully.

You had a feeling that this was about what happened at the meeting. You didn’t say anything, prompting him to go on. He stood from where he was sitting in his living area, removing himself from your touch and standing in front of you behind the sofa.

“You must be out of your mind. Do you understand how reckless that was?” He asked, grabbing the sides of your arms.

Anyone else would’ve read Lucius' expression as angry, but you knew it wasn’t that. His eyes told a different story than the rest of his face.

He was scared.

“Nothing happened. I knew he wasn’t going to do anything.” You told him, trying to comfort him.

His eyes were wide and his lower lip had a faint quiver to it. He put his cold hands to your face, almost as if he were trying to convince himself that you were really there.

“Did you know? [Y/N], do you not understand how badly that could’ve turned out if he hadn’t found it so funny?” He questioned seriously.

You shrugged, not looking away from his gaze.

“But he did.” You answered simply.

He felt like he was arguing with a wall. You had always been a tad riskier than he was. You often played your cards without looking to see what kind of hand you had. He’d put it this way: it had shaved some years off of his life more than once. He thought about the life he had led with you thus far. You had only been together a couple of years, but it had felt like a lifetime. He couldn’t imagine his days without you. Draco had grown fond of you, despite his grudges in the beginning.

If you had been hurt or killed...it would’ve left holes in more than just Lucius’ life.

“You can be so careless with yourself. I hate it,” He admitted, his voice raising a bit; “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you weren’t around anymore. I couldn’t live knowing you were gone on my behalf.”

You felt guilty for putting him through this. You hadn’t thought that this would affect him this way. You took his hands from your face, leading him back to the couch to sit him down.

“I’m fine, Luc. I’m right here in front of you,” You assured him; “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

He sighed heavily. He had become rather...soft after meeting you. He felt more now. His voice was gentler now, but deeper.

“I know, I know, my darling. I just don’t ever want to see anything happen to you, especially because of me.” He confessed.

You nodded, caressing his cheek with your warm hard.

“You are, without a doubt, the bravest person I know. I don’t know of anyone who would stand up to Lord Voldemort that way.” He proclaimed.

You grinned cheekily. He went on before you could say anything else.

“Oh, I do adore you. You’ve always been so loving and protective over me,” He added; “You are one charming woman.”

A heat crept over your cheeks, you laughed bashfully.

“I also have a ‘talent’ for words apparently.” You reminded him.

Lucius cracked a smile as well.

“That you do, my dear. You are very quick that way.” He praised.

You hummed playfully, raising your brows a hair.

“And what else?” You prodded him on.

His smile turned into more of a devious smirk. He slowly inched towards you on the sofa.

“Intelligent, talented, beautiful,” He listed off, pushing you down onto the cushions of the couch, making you squirm with eagerness; “Sexy...”

He kissed you with such fervor that it almost made you dizzy. His lips were hotter than the raging fire in the fireplace, his lips leaving a trail down your stomach before he made it to your hips. Pushing the skirt of your dress up, before breathing out at the sight of there not being anything underneath.

“Someone was expecting to be rewarded, yes?” He razzed, kissing at the skin of your inner thighs; “Ask and you shall receive.”

You breathed out a whine, a hand above your head and one in his hair.

“Please, Lucius. I want your mouth on me.” You pleaded.

He usually would drag this out, making you beg for him until you were almost in tears. But he wanted to pleasure you, to hear your sounds as another reminder that you were there with him. He left a kiss on your heated sex, purring before pleasuring you mercilessly.

“Anything for you, my star.”

#lucius malfoy #Lucius malfoy x reader #lucius malfoy x you #lucius malfoy fanfiction #Lucius #lucius malfoy x #lucius malfoy insert reader #harry potter fanfiction #seriouslysnape

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chelleztjs18 · 2 years

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heyyy! i'm here to request something but before i start, i would like to say that i really love all of your stories and i really adore how detailed your writings are! so, i'll try my best to write this request as specific as i can so that it'll be easier for you to write :) okay uhh can i request a modern AU oneshot about gamer!wanda x reader? i think emo!wanda would be a perfect fit to imagine gamer!wanda. so it goes like this- there's this new game that has been released and wanda has been really engrossed in it until she was neglecting us for nearly a week because of it. to get revenge, we began to give her a silent treatment and wanda noticed it. so she was trying so hard to make us talk to her again like giving us flowers, writing small apology letters, calling us sweet names (for example: pretty girl, my sweet y/n, princess, babygirl, or whatever pet names that you're comfortable with ) and we are like making her sleep on the couch and just practically ignoring her. after a lot of pleadings and hard work, we forgave her and made her promise to not ignore us like that again. basically, wanda is a combination of an emo gamer and a pretty domestic girlfriend in this fic. uhh i think that's it and i hope it's not too much. you can ignore this if you are not comfortable to write this. have a great day!

Hello Sweet Anon! Thank you for this ask!

I really really appreciate your sweet words and lovely comments on my writing. I really appreciate it. Thank you for continuously supporting my blog. I'm glad you enjoyed my fics.

Thank you so much for this detailed awesome request. It really helps me to write more in details. Sorry that it took a while for me to get it done. I really really enjoyed writing it, it turns out longer and more angst than you requested, also I end it with a SMUT to add some fun in it :D. I hope you enjoy it.

I had to make it two parts. You can find them here Play It My Way (W.M) Pt. 1 and Play It My Way (W.M) Pt. 2 . Let me know what you think and if you have more request, send me the ask. I will gladly write it for you. See you in next request! Thank you! :D

Cheerio!

Chellez TjS.

#sweet anons #sweet asks #sweet request #fic request #chellez answers

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beauvibaby · 4 years

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hospital - m.barzal

requested [] yes [x] no

a/n: so no one requested this, but (prepare for a little rant) the idea came to me while I was thinking of my next dr appointment, as someone who struggles with PCOS, and never see it spoken about especially among young women, I figured I’d write this as a little something to just make myself feel like I made a small difference in normalizing it. This is based on my experience from when I had my first ruptured cyst when I was 16, it was the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life (and that’s from someone who’s dislocated their shoulder 2x), I could barely stand, and the ultrasound was undoubtedly excruciating, yet I was never really diagnosed until just a couple of months ago, and as frustrating as it is because there really is no treatment for PCOS, I feel better at least knowing that there’s a name for the issues I have, rather than just having them and no definition for it... sorry for the long note hah, I hope you enjoy the fic!

warnings: hospitals, reader pain, mentions of sex (idk if I should warn that but I did anyways)

You finally managed to trudge out of the bedroom, you’d been feeling a little crampy all morning, even though you were still well over a week away from your period, you brushed it off, thinking at the worst you caught a little stomach bug. But it couldn’t be ignored anymore, “Mat?” You squeaked out, barely able to look up long enough to see that he wasn’t there, Tito looked over. “He ran down to the corner store.” He spoke up, glancing over and doing a double take when your hands gripped your side. You hunched over in pain, nearly falling to your knees, “Y/N!” Tito shot up, rushing over to you, he knew you hadn’t felt good, which is why Mat made him stay here while he ran out to get you some stuff. “Call him please.” You whispered, leaning against the wall, blinking away the tears in your eyes, Tito moved you to the couch, apologizing repeatedly every time you winced or groaned. This wasn’t a type of pain you ever felt before, it was sharp, and nauseating. Just as you sat on the couch, finally letting the tears fall, you couldn’t be bothered to feel embarrassed, this was the worst pain you’ve felt of your life thus far, the front door opened and Mat walked in. He took in the sight of Tito kneeling beside you, phone in hand as he was about to call Mat. “Baby, hey, talk to me.” Mat rushed over, dropping the bag on the couch, he took Tito’s spot in front of you. He watched as you shook your head, crying to hard to speak coherently, “she needs to go to the hospital, she could hardly walk.” Tito explained shortly, “come on.” Mat didn’t hesitate to stand, sliding one arm under your shoulders to steady you. He walked slowly, alongside you, a million thoughts and worries going through his head but he didn’t express any of them, knowing you were thinking the same. “You gotta tell me where it hurts, princess.” He whispered as you hid in his chest in the elevator, you placed his hand on your lower left stomach, he rubbed slightly to see if it helped but yanked his hand away when you let out a strangled cry. “I’m sorry.” He rushed, sloppily tying your hair back, knowing you hated when it stuck to your face with tears.

Finally, you got to the emergency room and they took you back almost instantly, saying they needed to make sure it wasn’t appendicitis, which only made you more nervous, although they quickly ruled that out, thankfully, but the next concern was kidney stones. “We want to do a CT scan to check, they’ll be in to take you back shortly.” The doctor, who had zero bedside manner, disappeared the second he was done speaking, you had stopped crying, the pain not really subsiding but it was a mix of adjusting to it, and finally being stuck in one position long enough to not agitate it. “Hey, calm down.” You sighed rolling your head to the side, Mat’s knee was bouncing furiously, his chin resting in his hands. Kidney stones, if that’s what it was, you’d be fine, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t. “Sorry, sorry.” Mat whispered, sliding his chair closer, he leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “you’ll be alright.” He assured you, hating the pain you were in. “I’d switch places with you if I could baby.” He added, and you chuckled softly at the thought, he raised a brow at you, “why is that so funny?” He retorted, taking advantage of your momentary smile. “Because, you’re so whiny when you get a cold, if you went through this you’d go insane.” You giggled, stopping when it made your side shoot in pain again. Mat’s smile died down as well, pouting softly when you sighed, closing your eyes, only to be interrupted again by the nurse coming in to take you for the scan. Mat spent the whole fifteen minutes you were gone, texting Tito freaking out about how much pain you were in, Tito having to continuously tell him you’d be fine, you were in a hospital after all, they could give you strong pain meds once they figured out what was wrong.

When you returned, Mat helped you sit back on the bed, wiping at the fresh layer of tears on your face. The nurse smiled at you when his back was turned, you got that look a lot, especially from the older ladies when they saw how Mat would tend to you. “The doctor will be in soon to go over the results.” She spoke walking out the door, “that tube is so small.” You mumbled after a short silence, Mat laughed softly, “I know.” He’s had his fair share of scans over the years for injuries, “at least you didn’t have to go head first.” He pointed out and you shivered at the thought, “no way, not ever gonna happen.” You mumbled, you weren’t really claustrophobic, but the thought of being stuck in that tube with your arms forced behind your head made you cringe. “Well hopefully you don’t need anything from the hospital for a long, long time.” He sighed, neither of you liked hospitals, not many people did, but growing up you’d seen your fair share of them and preferred to stay as far away from them as you could.

***

“Good news.” A new doctor walked in, a female doctor, instantly your eyes shot to her badge, OB/GYN sewn into her white coat, you went wide eyed, Mat was too worried about what she was going to say to notice. You had a million thoughts running through your head, even though you knew you weren’t pregnant, they had done a test before the CT scan, but still for a second you panicked. “It’s not kidney stones, but we did find a couple of cysts on your ovaries.” She explained, you let out a sigh of relief before your next concerns started kicking in, Mat shifted awkwardly in his seat, even though you’ve been together for years, he still got a little pink at such topics. She started explaining how they couldn’t really confirm if you had a larger one that ruptured, causing your pain, but she was pretty confident based on your symptoms, then she started asking some questions, to which you could tell Mat was tuning out. But then one in particular made his eyes shoot over to you when you took longer to answer, “any pain or discomfort during intercourse?” She looked up from her clipboard when you didn’t answer immediately, her eyes darted between you and Mat, your cheeks a little pink as you gave her a look, that silently answered her question. “Not pain, but discomfort definitely.” You admitted making Mat go wide eyed, he staid silent until the doctor left, telling you that she’d be back with discharge papers soon. “Y/N.” He started, you looked down to your hands in your lap, picking at your nail polish. “Why didn’t you tell me? Jesus, how long has this been going on? Did I hurt you?” He rushed his questions together, you felt even worse for not telling him how, but you didn’t think much of it, thinking it was just an odd phase your body was going through. He felt terrible, suddenly feeling like he was forcing you to have sex, even though it didn’t feel right. “I didn’t want to say anything, it’s not your fault, I just knew you’d be worried.” You whispered, it was a stupid excuse but it was true. “Of course I would be worried! Do you really think I’d be so selfish about my own needs? How long?” He stood, getting a little wigged out over the sudden revelation, you looked away, only making him more stressed. “Like a month and a half?” You whispered, he froze, mid pace. “A month and a half?!” He whisper shouted, being mindful of the fact you were in a hospital. “I’m sorry.” You sighed, looking at him with apologetic eyes, he shook his head softly, sitting back down in the chair when he heard the doctor coming back in. She went over a few quick instructions, the usual if it gets worse or you get a fever come back, but she told you to schedule a follow up with your gynecologist, which you assured her, and Mat that you would do. The doctor could sense the tension, she looked over to Mat. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, plenty of women go through this and don’t say anything to their partners.” Her words visibly eased his shoulders, although in his mind he was still reeling in the fact that you wouldn’t say anything, especially for that long, he’d thought of all the times you’d been intimate and felt worried that he had caused you any discomfort.

The short trip back to the apartment was silent, he had his hand glued to yours the whole time though, which told you he wasn’t mad, but you still felt guilty, it was stupid, childish to not say anything. His phone rang as you walked into the apartment, he dropped your hand, you glanced back. “Go ahead, I’m going to shower.” You whispered, smiling softly, you really did need a shower, especially after sitting in the hospital all afternoon, it made you feel dirty.

“Hello?” Mat answered the phone, softly shutting the door behind him, he heard the water turn on in the bathroom, “hey, I just wanted to see how you guys were.” Tito spoke, oblivious to the bomb he had just stepped on. Mat couldn’t help but scoff, “let’s just say she was having issues and didn’t tell me, and I was possibly making it worse.” He explained without divulging any too personal information. “I’m sure she didn’t tell you for good reasons.” Tito responded, as best as he could without knowing the whole situation, “you sound like her.” Mat grumbled, earning a chuckle from his friend. “She knows how worked up you get, and with the season starting back up soon she probably didn’t want to distract you.” He assured him, “I get that, but I’m her boyfriend, she’s supposed to tell me these things, if this had happened during the season I would’ve been more distracted.” Mat rambled, Tito being the voice of reason for him. “Dude, you just have to calm down, it’s over now, don’t be a jerk, I’m sure she’s beating herself up for it now. The last thing she needs is you making her feel worse.” And with that Mat came to his senses, muttering a quick goodbye before going to the bathroom to check on you. He knocked softly on the door, making his presence known before he tried turning the knob, he furrowed his brows together when he realized it was locked. He couldn’t think of a time in your relationship where it had ever been locked. “Y/N?” He called, knocking again, he heard you gasp softly, scrambling around in the bathroom. “Almost done.” You called out, rushing to wash the conditioner out of your hair as you begged the tears to stop.

You wrapped a towel around yourself and looked in the mirror, grimacing at the puffy face staring back at you, it was no use trying to hide it, the knob jiggled again. “Baby, are you okay?” He had concern lacing his voice, you nodded, more for yourself, clearly since he couldn’t see you. “Yeah.” You mumbled, unlocking the door, he opened it immediately, the steam from your shower flowing out of the room. “What’s wrong?” He mumbled cupping your face, eyes searching yours for any pain, “you’re mad at me.” You spoke sheepishly, he shook his head. “Baby, I’m not mad, I was just shocked you didn’t tell me.” Mat assured you, feeling guilty for letting you think he was actually mad. “I guess I understand why you didn’t tell me, but you should’ve, you could’ve gone to the doctor earlier and maybe this wouldn’t have happened, I just feel bad for causing you pain.” He explained, lips landing softly on your forehead. Your gripped him a little tighter at the action. “I know, it was stupid, I’m sorry.” You sighed, he nodded, giving you a quick kiss. “Still hurt?” He asked, following you around like a lost puppy, you nodded silently, brushing your hair out. “You didn’t hurt me, you know? If it had hurt I would’ve told you, it was just different?” You tried to explain, seeing the wheels turning in his head. He met your eyes in the mirror, “I don’t know how to explain it, you wouldn’t understand.” You added lightening the mood with a laugh. He smiled, “no I don’t think I would.” He agreed, relieved to at least see you joking around. “Just promise me you’ll tell me if anything like that happens again?” He came up behind you, “of course bub.” You winced lightly, sighing at the continuing pain, they told you it would be bad for a couple of days, so you weren’t surprised. Mat on the other hand grew more frustrated every time it hurt, wishing he could do something. “I just want to lay down, please.” You whispered when he kissed the top of your head. He nodded and walked you to the bed, even though you were fully capable, you allowed him to have his moment of feeling like he helped. Which he did, just by being there, he always helped. It’s safe to say he was very hesitant to touch you for a while after that.

Taglist: @mtkachuk @softstarkey @literarycharleton @thathockeygirl

#imagine #imagines #mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal imagines #mathew barzal imagine #ny islanders #nhl writing #nhl ny islanders

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haikyuucute · 3 years

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I wanted to ask, in the lore of Untamable, what will happen if omega reader meet a kind and secure male beta? Because at the start she wanted to mate with a beta, how would Wakatoshi react to watch her going around with that beta, what if he tries to overpower that beta in front of reader to show her that he is better than this beta? That he is a better partner than that beta? Of course reader is going feral for her friend, how would that end?

Ooo interesting

So I don’t want to give anything away cuz this is pretty similar to a fic im writing for “Untamable” now (only it’s another alpha and not a beta)

But I will say, cuz he’s a traditionalist that he’d become more possessive by scenting his omega and trying to keep you as far away from this beta and though he may not show or even realize it himself, but it does make him insecure to think his omega could find someone more suited for her personality. Ushijima’s a blunt guy so I feel like he doesn’t typically feel like he needs to make a whole show of his dominance since people just know how powerful he is just by his presence and scent so he wouldn’t feel the need to overpower someone, instead he’s more likely to tell the beta to stop talking to you in the usual cold way he had when speaking. This would obviously drive his omega up a wall, where she’s likely to give Ushijima the silent treatment until he apologized.

In the end though, you’d both have to come to a compromise since he knew he couldn’t tell you who you could and couldn’t hang out with but you also had to recognize that it was in his nature of being an alpha to behave the way he had been. He finds it a lot more bearable to know when you’re hanging out with your friend, knowing you’re drenched in his scent. And you keep the hang outs to a minimum cuz you’d surely be jealous too if your mate hung out with another omega or beta too.

I hope that made sense, it’s 1:30am so forgive me if my thoughts sound jumbled lol.

#angelflower6 #untamable #alpha!ushijima

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unmaskedagain · 4 years

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Ladybug (Not) in Paris

So this is the follow up fic to my Series Ladybug in Smallville and it’s sequel Ladybug in Gotham (And Space). When i opened my asks a few days ago, i recieved multiple prompts asking for part 3. A lot people also asked for a reaction from people in Paris after Lila was exposed. I don’t think I did a fic just focused on the fallout before so I decided to try my hand at it. Warning: i’m not kind to the characters. Even the ones i usually like. Sorry.

Ladybug (Not) in Paris

Ladybug’s interview with Nadja didn’t just sent shock waves through Paris. It was a hurricane, a tornado; throwing everyone off their feet and destroying everything in its wake. Yet somehow, it was the aftermath, when everything settled down, that hurt the most…

Tom and Sabine

Four months ago, they had thought they had done right thing. Marinette, as far as Sabine and Tom were concerned, had changed too much. They hardly recognized her anymore. First the accusations of her bullying some poor girl; of being a thief and a liar. Then expulsion! But no matter how much evidence was presented against the young girl, Marinette refused to budge on her claim of innocence. Their daughter’s actions had weeks of silent treatments and disappointed looks from them. They longed to see the daughter they remembered. The one with the smiling face, looking up at them with love and trust as if they were her entire world; always believing that they had the power to make everything better. The one who they recognized. One they trusted.

Nadja had sided with Marinette and tried to convince the two parents to hear their daughter out. A furious Sabine all but threw her out the house; she didn’t need to hear anymore lies or tall tales from her offspring. Even if her friend was foolish enough to buy them.

It was all too much.

And when Gina, Tom’s mother, suggested they send Marinette to her friend. They leaped at the chance. Tom and Sabine truly believed their daughter had become toxic to their way of life, to her friends way of life.

Nadja had found out Marinette had been sent away three days after the girl was gone. She ended her friendship with Sabine right there and then.

After Marinette was gone, they waited for her to call them. Either to beg for her to allowed back; promising to change. Or just to let them know she was alright. Or just call as an olive branch, like she always did. She never called. Gina did. She told them Marinette had gotten to Smallville safely, and that was it.

It would be a month before they’d hear from Marinette; and it was only because Gina had conferenced her in. Only Tom was willing to speak with her, though he had nothing positive to say. Sabine refused to give up on her silent treatment. She would continue to refuse to speak to her daughter for months.

Sabine and Tom settled into relative peace without the chaotic presence of their daughter. Each ignoring the gaping hole she left behind. They only updates came from Gina.

Then Ladybug’s interview aired.

They had been working in the bakery at the time. A customer was watching it on his phone.

As the interview went on, and Ladybug denounced the school, the teachers, the students, and the wrongful expulsion of Marinette Dupain-Cheng; but most of all how much a liar Lila Rossi was; it was like their world crashed.

They quickly closed up shop and rewatched the interview.

Sabine had turned paler than she ever had before. Tom lost all feeling in his legs.

What had they done?

They sat in silence as the memories of the last few months their daughter had lived with them filled their heads; her desperate pleas of her innocence, her tearstained face begging them to listen. But they hadn’t. They sent her away.

They sat in silence, just watching and rewatching the video. Tears slowly slipped down Sabine’s face. A very small part of Sabine wished it would change. That suddenly Nadja would be confirming Marinette misdeeds instead. Anything! So it wouldn’t mean that Sabine had been a terrible mother, like Nadja had claimed she was when she found out Marinette had been sent away.

But no the vindictive look and overly pleased smile on her former best friend’s face didn’t change.

It was Tom that called Marinette, putting the phone on speak. She didn’t pick up the first call. Or the second. When she finally answered, Tom immediately launched into apologies. He promised his daughter the world to make it up to her as soon as she came home. Sabine just cried in the background.

Silence came from the other line. And for moment Tom thought the call had disconnected.

“I understand,” Marinette’s voice rang out through the living room. “Thank you for apologizing.” That was it. That was all said. There was no forgiveness in her voice. No love in her tone. “I love you. I do. But I will not be returning to Paris.”

Tom burst into tears right then and there.

When the call ended, neither parent knew what to say; just wondered how much of their relationship with their daughter was left to salvage.

For the next month, both parents would try to call their daughter every day. Most days she wouldn’t answer. They understood why but that didn’t stop the dreadful feeling they had for every call that went to voice mail. The only she called them was to tell them the farm needed to be repaired and that she would be living with Clark and his husband.

They longed to see their daughter’s smiling face, looking up at them with love and trust as if they were her entire world.

It would a few months later that they did see it. Sabine and Tom were watching on of Sabine’s favorite red carpet events: the Wayne’s Annual Gala. It was a charity event that all the celebrities went to. A show Tom barely paid attention to.

However, his wife’s gasp got his attention. She pointed to the screen, and then it was Tom’s turn to gasp.

Their daughter was on TV, on the red carpet with Bruce Wayne, Clark, and the rest of the Wayne family; fitting in seamlessly with her dark hair and her blue eyes, in the most gorgeous pink dress they’d ever seen. Marinette easily passed as Bruce and Clark’s daughter. The press there screamed questioned about adoption or another love child.

Bruce seemed to take great pride in showing off his new ward; bragging about her accomplishments and that she made all of their outfits of the night. Clark, while didn’t brag, didn’t hesitate to tell everyone how amazing his niece was. Marinette just laughed; looking happier than Sabine or Tom could remember her being for a long time, even before she left.

The part that broke their hearts? Was their daughter’s smiling face, looking up at them, Bruce and Clark, with love and trust as if they were her entire world; like she believed that they had the power to make everything better.

From how wonderful their daughter looked, and how much better off she seemed to be. The two men had.

Clark and Bruce did the one thing Sabine and Tom forgot how to do.

Be there for their daughter.

Alya and the rest of the Students

Four months ago, Alya had partied with her entire class over the fact that they had gotten the biggest bully kicked out of school. All the kids enjoyed the peace that had filled the classroom after her departure. They had another party when they learned Marinette had been sent out of the country. No one in class spared too much mind toward theirs ex-friend, apart from a few scathing remarks about her.

Alya was glad the dark presence in their life was gone. Happy that her bestie Lila didn’t have to worry about the awful bully anymore. Everything was good again. Everyone was happy. Everything was peaceful.

Then Ladybug’s interview aired.

They had been at school, in class. The bell had just rang for lunch when Alya got the Ladybug alert on her phone. She was sitting next to Nino, texting Lila to hurry up and make a move on Adrien. She was surprised to see the hero giving an interview as she hadn’t had much time to so much as glance in Alya’s direction. With Bustier’s permission, Alya played the interview on the white screen of their room; with a little help from Markov.

The entire class cheered when the interview started as they all ate their lunches in class.

The interview had started off great. Ladybug had a new costume and Nadja asked about it. The hero showed it off a little. Then it got serious.

Ladybug said Chat Noir was never returning; confirming something Alya had suspected for months.

Then she mentioned the Ladyblog…

“Bad journalism,” Ladybug said. “That’s all that blog is. It’s poorly researched and full of lies. I’ve seen better research from the magazine that said Bigfoot’s having an affair with the Lochness Monster.”

“What Lies?” Nadja asked.

Alya nodded. “This had to be a mistake. Everything I write is true!”

Nadja pulled up the Ladyblog on the screen behind them.

“Well, for example, who the hell is Lila Rossi?”

Silence filled the classroom. Everyone’s eyes on the screen. Lila froze in her seat.

“That girl is not my best friend,” Ladybug stated. “I saved her from her own akuma save five times now. That’s it. I don’t know the girl. I don’t like the girl. What was written would only serve to put Lila in danger. And what’s this about Lila saving Jagged Stone’s cat? From a plane? Which airline was this? Who could be so careless?”

After that the reporter and the hero ripped the Ladyblog to shreds; dismantling each and every lie on the blog.

“Every reporter should know one cardinal rule,” Nadja said seriously to the audience. “Check your resources. Don’t be like the writer of the Ladyblog.”

Alya seethed in her seat, throwing furious glares at Lila who had paled and looked read to flee the classroom. No one else in class knew what to say or do. Lila was lying? How could Lila be Lila? It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be true.

As the interview went on, and Ladybug denounced the school, Bustier and a few other teachers, the students, for the wrongful expulsion of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“I heard one poor girl even got expelled,” Ladybug shook her head. “From what I’ve heard, there was no investigation, just word of mouth, easily planted evidence, and then expulsion. I’m surprised I didn’t have to deal with her Akuma.” Ladybug’s sad tone was clear to hear. “I looked into the incident a bit. A rather brilliant Robot name Markov had been recording the room at the time.” Marinette nodded to the screen. “I had them blur the students’ faces for security reasons. The girl with the short hair is the victim in question.”

The video played. And it was clear that a long haired girl had stolen the answer key from the teacher and planted them on the victim. Another video played of Lila taking the necklace she said Marinette stole and planting it in the bluenette’s locker. It was a damning video.

After the videos, the students and teacher were stunned. Too stunned to move. Too stunned to speak.

“From what I understand only a teacher named Mendeleiev actually tried to do something about the whole mess,” Ladybug praised. “She had been filing complaints with the school board for months. She and a majority of the staff, actively protested the expulsion of the victim before and after it happened. They stood strong against bullying. Even of the threat of being fired hasn’t stop Mendeleiev. That is the type of teacher, the type of person everyone should aim to be like. She should be the principle.”

Ladybug went on to full tirade against school. She ripped the principle and teacher Bustier to shreds. For allowing bullying of students, victim blaming, and sheer negligence. Reciting how many times Ladybug had to deal with akuma from that school, particularly from Bustier’s class.

“I just wish I could’ve helped her,” Ladybug sighed. “The victim. She lost everything; all her friends, her family, because of this and the actions of a seriously disturbed girl who was nothing more than a liar. I can’t help but wonder what happened if I had found out sooner. If Lila Rossi had never lied. Or if the Ladyblog had fed into them. After this, I will never work with Alya Césaire, author of the Ladyblog, again. She is terrible journalist and from what I understand, and equally terrible friend. Everyone at that school should be ashamed of themselves.”

“I know the girl you’re speaking about,” Nadja frowned. “She’s stronger than she looks. Still, she deserved better. I swear to you that I’ll be leading the charge in investigating the wrongful expulsion. Justice will be had.”

The fallout was epic. And started seconds after the interview ended with Alya launching herself at Lila, ready to strangle the girl, tackling her as rage and misery filled her.

It took Nino and Kim to pull her back.

“How could you!” Alya screamed, tears building in her eyes. “I trusted you! We all trusted you. You! You! You Monster!”

No bother to help Lila off the floor. Her hair was a mess and her nose was bleeding. She looked around her help, as she struggled to come up with a lie to spin everything in her favor. But video proof and a national icon denouncing you on public TV was a hard thing to spin. The class looked at her with cold hatred, already laying all the blame at Lila’s feet.

Lila didn’t get the chance to come up with a lie.

Mendeleiev along with two other teachers and the gym coach arrived before she could.

“Rossi,” Mendeleiev growled, fury in her eyes. She had warned Bustier and Damocles about the girl, had filed complaint and complaint with the school boarding regarding Marinette. The fool Damocles had threatened to fire her if she didn’t stop but she hadn’t. Mostly because it was the right thing to do. Partly because she knew he didn’t have the balls to do it. “You’ll be leaving with me now to the Principal’s office. Your mother is on the way.”

Lila paled. Suddenly remembering that Ladybug had said her name on live TV. Her mother probably saw everything. She’d kill Lila for this. Her mother had to move to France after Lila had gotten in trouble at her last school for lying. Yet the trouble she was in now was far worse than she’d ever been in.

She cursed the fact that Hawkmoth had already sent so many strong akuma. He’d be too weak to send anymore.

Mendeleiev turned her attention to the class with cold eyes. They were just kids so the teacher didn’t blame them too much. Kids made mistakes. She hoped they would learn from this. Grow from this. “Class, Miss Ashton will be your teacher for the rest of the day.” The English teacher stepped forward. “Miss Bustier will be coming with me.”

Caline Bustier nodded, not even bothering to argue. She knew her career was over. Her teaching license would be revoked. Her name smeared across the papers. Still a part of her wanted to cry that she thought she had done the right thing. Everything had be so obvious, all the evidence there. However, the more she thought about it, the more she realized she should’ve been suspicious to how easily the so called evidence was found.

The students watched as Mendeleiev marched Lila and Bustier out of the classroom, the teachers besides Ashton joining her.

The bell rang. Ashton gave the class a kind smile, “I think me maybe your teacher for quite a while.” She told them. “So today, I would like to discuss Shakespeare’s JULIUS CAESAR and the book the Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas.”

“The Ides of March. Wrong imprisonment,” Max answered his face forlorn. He knew what the teacher was getting at. “Both are famous for the betrayals in them. Each main character were betrayed by their friends.”

Ashton’s smile suddenly looked a lot colder. She turned around and write on the white board in Giant Black Letter. “Et tu, Brute.” She read off the board. “Et tu, Brute is one of the Shakespeare’s most famous lines. Historically inaccurate but still used very much today. It’s usually said to one friend from another when a harmless betrayal happens. I, myself, said it just last week when my boyfriend stole last piece of pecan pie. I deserved it once when I erased his futball game off the DVR to make room for the newest episode of the Flash. What about you? Have you ever done anything to deserve it?”

No one in class said anything. They all knew they had.

When class let out, they flood the bluenette’s cellphone with apology texts begging her to answer. Alya had called her bestie a dozen times but not one call got answered.

When Alya got home, she was met with the disappointed faces of her parents and sister. She had tried to explain her side of things but they wouldn’t listen.

Then her sister said, “We need to get a lawyer.”

Her parents nodded, resignation in on their faces. Alya balked, “Why? We didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything.”

“Your website told lies about famous and powerful people,” Her mother explained, with a slight fear in her voice. “They could sue us for defamation of character.”

And they did. In the weeks after Ladybug’s interview celebrity after celebrity, or at least their lawyer contacted their family lawyer. They were all pretty lenient as no one wanted to be seen suing a teenager girl over a fanblog but the terms were clear. The Ladyblog had to go.

Her life’s work was deleted on a raining Tuesday. Alya stilled blamed Lila for her sorrows. The Italian girl had been expelled and sent far away by her mother.

Everyone in class blamed Lila for what happened. For getting poor Marinette expelled. Marinette who still didn’t return their calls or texts.

Alya knew she had done wrong to Marinette but it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know Lila was lying. She made a mistake. Everyone should just move on.

Unfortunately for her, they did move on. Damocles and Bustier were fired. All of the students in Bustier’s class was put on probation for their bullying of Marinette. (One toe out of line and they would be expelled.) Most of the student body avoided the lot, fearing they’d be tarred with the same brush. They were persona non-grata.

Alya parents took away her laptop and forbid her from creating another website. She was forced to attend mandatory therapy session; something about owning up to her own mistakes.

Alya wished that everything would go back to normal. She wished her bestie was back in Paris already. So Marinette and her could go back to giggling over boys and dreaming of their futures. Planning to rule the world as the dynamic professional and extremely successful women they were sure they’d become. Her bestie who was always there for her, always willing to listen, always on Alya’s side, unlike everyone else in the world at the moment.

Weeks passed and no one heard or seen a hair from Marinette. Most of the class just knew if they could just apologize to the girl everything would be alright again. They’d be friends again. Alya was certain of it.

Still more time passed, and nothing.

Finally, one girls’ night, after they all finally finishing being ground, they all met up at Rose’s for a sleepover. They laughed and did each other’s make up, ate greasy food, watched trash TV and felt at peace for the first time in a while.

Rose shushed her friends at the Wayne Gala started. “Doesn’t Gigi Hadid look amazing!” She exclaimed.

“Please, look at Beyoncé,” Alya said. “Now that’s a queen.”

All the girls pointed out their favorite celebrity and gushed over their outfits.

“Oh it’s the Waynes,” Rose chirped excited. “They always look amazing. Is that… that’s Marinette!”

All the girls’ eyes were glued to the screen because sure enough Marinette Dupain-Cheng was on the screen being escorted by Bruce Wayne.

“She’s in Gotham?” Alix pointed out. “I didn’t know she was in Gotham.”

Mylene’s eyes were wide. “I wonder how she likes it. I heard Gotham was pretty scary.”

“Screw Gotham,” Alya yelled a giant smile on her face. “She knows Bruce Wayne. She knows the Waynes!”

Bruce Wayne introduced Marinette as the newest addition to his family and went on to rave about her in a proud fatherly tone. His husband Clark Kent doing the same.

Rose awed, “She designed that dress. It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.”

Alya wanted to high five someone. Her bestie was Bruce Wayne’s newest kid. She had to text. She needed all the details. What was it like? How rich were they? How rich was she now? Could Alya come visit?

The glasses-wearing girl was filled with hope. Maybe Marinette would give her an interview, the exclusive. Maybe one with her new family too. An interview with Bruce Wayne would be amazing. Maybe Alya would get to meet Clark Kent, he was a famous reporter. He worked with Lois Lane.

Alya gasped. What if she got to meet Lois Lane? Marinette had to know her. Clark and Lois were best friends, everyone knew that. She was even the surrogate for Clark’s son Jon. She was practically Marinette’s aunt now. Maybe Marinette could get her an internship at the Daily Planet. That would show everyone. They’d all see that Alya was some stupid kid pretending to be a journalist. She was the real deal. They’d see.

…If only she could get Marinette on the phone.

A month and then two went by and still no answer from Marinette. Alya figured the girl had lost her phone. Marinette could be pretty careless sometimes. And forgetful. Alya thought that until she got to class one day, and Juleka was telling everyone that Luka was going to Gotham.

“Marinette invited him,” Juleka said, her eyes a bit sad, but she was otherwise happy for her brother. Luka had been the first to make it clear that Juleka, and the others, were in the wrong and it was up to Marinette to forgive them if she wanted. “Her new guardians are paying for him to come. Her Birthday’s coming up. It’s going to be this huge event for the Princess of Gotham,” She giggled at the name the media had given the bluenette who had earned their love quickly and easily. “She really loves it Gotham.”

“Girl, have you been talking to my bestie?” Alya accused. “Behind my back. Seriously!”

To her credit, Juleka didn’t bat an eye in the face of the girl’s anger. “I haven’t spoken a word to Marinette. Luka talks to her almost every day. They’re friends.”

“Does she get a new phone?” Alya asked quickly. “Or maybe she had a new number! Can I have it? Call Luka and get it!”

“She did get a new phone,” Juleka confirmed. “But she has the same number as before.”

Alya huffed, “Then why isn’t she answering! Why is she talking to Luka and not me?” She was Marinette’s bestie. Alya was the one who should be talking to her every day, not some random guy. She was one who should be flying off to Gotham to attend Marinette’s extravagant birthday party. HER!

“Luka and Marinette are friends,” Juleka repeated. “Last time we talked to Marinette, we all made it clear we weren’t her friends anymore. Why would she talk to us? After what we did?”

Alya gaped. “I’m not the one who lied.”

“No. You just helped bully her.” Juleka shrugged. “We all did. Or at least didn’t stop it. We hurt her. And that’s not something we can blame on anyone else. It was our actions helped Marinette get kicked out of school. That’s not just one Alya. That’s on us.”

“We really hurt her,” Rose whispered. “We made her cry a lot.”

“We shoved her,” Alix looked down.

“Destroyed her homework,” Kim said, regret clear in his eyes.

“Ruined her designs,” Mylene added as she teared up.

“Sent horrible texts,” Sabrina said looking anywhere but at the white board.

“We left her all alone and told her she deserved it,” Juleka clenched her fists.

“We sent viruses to her computer,” Max winced. “Made it more useful as a paperweight.”

“Or we did nothing at all and just let it happened,” Ivan swallowed hard. “And that was just as bad.”

“Because we were scared,” Nathanial said between clenched teeth. “We were cowards who didn’t want the same thing to happen to us.”

“We betrayed her,” Nino admitted. “Every last one of us. That wasn’t Lila. Because Lila was never her friend. Betrayal doesn’t come from your enemies. It comes from your friends.”

The weight of the world seemed to hit her, as Alya plummeted back down in her seat, feeling numb. Her eyes on the white board. The giant bold words screamed at her. She could hear them in her head, repeating over and over again, all in a familiar voice.

“Et tu Brute,” The ghost of Marinette whispered, seemingly more alive in the classroom, than ever before. “Et tu Brute.”

Alya wanted to protest, scream that it wasn’t her. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t fair. But she couldn’t find the words for once. The memories of all the harm she had caused her bestie, her former friend filled her head. Everything her other classmates had done, Alya did twice over. She even convinced Marinette’s parents of the girl’s wrongdoings, turning them against her. Lila wasn’t to blame for that, not entirely. It was all of them.

It was Alya. She betrayed her best friend. Everyone in class betrayed the Bluenette.

And much like the Ides of March, they had all taken turns at stabbing the girl. Even when Marinette had tried appealing to Alya, her best friend, but Alya stabbed her. She could still remember the disbelief on Marinette’s face as she left.

Alya swallowed hard. Tears prickled her eyes.

Et tu Brute, indeed.

Adrien

Four months ago, the kindest girl Adrien had ever known was expelled from school. He had only given a weak protest when it happened. Tried to get Lila to reverse it. But nothing worked. And when he heard Marinette had been sent away. He decided to move on, not make a big deal out of it.

The whole ordeal had been terrible. Before she left, Marinette kept calling him and texting him to get him to help her; reveal that Lila was lying. Adrien refused. Everyone in class liked having Lila there and she wasn’t hurting anyone.

It got to the point where Adrien just ignored her calls and texts. He even had Nathalie tell her that he wouldn’t be getting involved, and that maybe they should take a break from each other for a while.

To make matter worse it had come after Fu had taken back the ring; declared Chat Noir and unfit superhero. It was all too much.

Yes, it was better to just move on. Everything would go back to the way it was soon enough. Marinette would come back. Lila would be better and not lying so much. They’d all be friends again.

For now, Marinette was probably happier where she was. She’d move on. The class was happier with her gone. Everyone should just move on.

And they did.

The class went back to being a happy and friendly place. They all went back to being the amazing friends they were. It was a little strange without Marinette but it wasn’t like the girl had been active in his or any of their other friends’ lives. Her accusations against Lila had gotten her the cold shoulder from the class.

Adrien had warned her to stop. If only, the bluenette had listened. But girls always seemed to have trouble listening to him.

Like Ladybug.

If Ladybug had just gone out with him, he’d still be Chat Noir. They were soul mates, why didn’t she see that?

It took the blond a while to get used to not being a hero anymore, a while before he’d stopped unconsciously complaining to Plagg whenever they were alone.

It was fine though. Adrien moved. He and Nino hung out more. It was easier now that he didn’t have to worry about getting so much cheese or coming up with excuses to fight Akuma. Ladybug come back soon enough, he knew. She needed him. They were a team. He was sure of it. Just like he was sure Marinette would come back to class and everyone would be friends again; everything would go back to the way it was.

For now, he would just enjoy the break.

Then Ladybug’s interview aired.

And once again, Adrien’s world was thrown up balance.

Ladybug’s interview had been cruel. She had depicted a coldness Adrien had never seen from her before. She tore everyone to shreds. She tore the school to shreds. It was like she didn’t care who she hurt. Or how many people would be hurt by the truth being out there like that.

He had thought she was the type of person to take the high road. It wasn’t like Lila had been hurting anyone. And Alya had made a simple mistake. Nothing that could be fixed, right? Everyone would get over it. They’d move on.

And they’d be better off for it.

All of Lila’s lies were revealed like Adrien always told Marinette they would be.

The Italian girl got expelled that same day; which Adrien thought was a bit harsh. Bustier and Damocles were fired, again harsh. The class turned again the liar and laid the blame entirely at her feet; that Adrien found was fair.

Then he waited with a big smile in his class the following Monday after Lila’s expulsion. Waiting for Marinette to walk through the door with a happy smile on her, excited to be back. They’d all apologize and everything would be alright again.

However, Marinette didn’t come back on Monday. Or the next day. Or the day after that. She never came back.

No one in class could get a hold of her. The Bluenette didn’t reply to their texts and never answered a call.

It was so unlike their everyday Ladybug. She couldn’t still be mad, right? Even if she was, they were friends. You have to forgive your friends right. No one could be angry forever.

Mariette would get over it. She’d come home soon. Adrien just knew.

Adrien didn’t call her or text. He knew it was best to wait. Marinette always was the one to make peace. It was just the way she was.

So he waited.

And he waited.

And waited.

Weeks turned into months. But there was no sign of Marinette anywhere. His phone making it glaringly obvious that the girl never called.

How were they supposed to go back to being friends if she never called? Didn’t she care?

Adrien wondered where Marinette was.

He found out during guys’ night when Alya texted Nino to turn the TV channel. And then they all saw her. Marinette smiling brightly on the red carpet, looking more beautiful then he’d ever seen her before. She was in Gotham, living with the Waynes’. She was Bruce Wayne’s new ward. Everyone knew that every time Bruce Wayne got a new ward, they always got adopted. Always.

By the time, Adrien got home that night the news was filled with articles like:

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the newest Wayne?

Who is Marinette Wayne, and why you should love her!

Marinette: Secret love child of Bruce Wayne!

Marinette’s name was in lights. All world was talking about her. She was famous.

Which was why Adrien became even surer that Marinette would call. He was the only other famous kid she knew. He could help, be there for her to talk to. It’s what friends did. Marinette would call soon.

The next morning his father joined in for breakfast for the first time in weeks. He only ever did it when he wanted something from Adrien.

“Did you know Miss Dupain-Cheng was in Gotham?” His father asked.

Adrien shook his head, “No. I didn’t know what happened to her when she left school.”

Gabriel nodded. “You were friends, yes?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He had always counted the Dupain-Cheng girl as one of Adrien’s few likeable friends. “Nathalie told me you two had a falling out.”

“We took a break,” Adrien corrected. “We need a breather from each other. Things had gotten pretty bad because of Lila.”

Gabriel frowned. What happened with Lila Rossi had been a blow to the stock prices of the company. They had endorsed the girl whose name made headlines after Ladybug denounced her and publically revealed her lies, and that she had been willingly working with Hawkmoth. Shareholders didn’t like that. “Miss Dupain-Cheng lives with her Uncles, Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent; two notable figures in society. Reach out to her, end your ‘breather’, reconfirm your friendship. A connection with the Wayne family will take us far.”

“Yes, dad.”

Adrien was still reluctant to reach out first. Marinette just needed a bit more time. When she was ready, she’d call him. She always did. She was their everyday ladybug, and that meant something.

However, Nathalie made sure he did. She made sure Adrien sent every text his father wanted him to.

His first text was simple: hey, how’s it going.

There was no reply.

He asked when she was coming back to school. Told her they all missed her.

No reply.

At Nathalie behest, he asked about Bruce Wayne and the other Waynes. What they were like? If all their suits were custom made.

No reply.

He asked if she wanted to get lunch when she got back to Paris.

Nothing.

He never received a single reply. His father was disappointed. Until Adrien suggested that maybe Marinette changed her number. That wasn’t something either them could control. His dad backed off, and Adrien breathed a sigh of relief.

Adrien found out that wasn’t the case when he heard Juleka telling Rose that Luka was going to Gotham. Then Alya started in on the quiet girl about going behind her back.

Then Juleka had said something that shook Adrien a bit.

“She did get a new phone,” Juleka confirmed. “But she has the same number as before.”

Adrien first thought was that he hoped his dad didn’t find out. That would be bad. And ugly.

“Luka and Marinette are friends,” Juleka repeated. “Last time we talked to Marinette, we all made it clear we weren’t her friends anymore. Why would she talk to us? After what we did?”

Then the happy vibe that the classroom had started with went away. Each student admitted their wrongdoing, telling how they hurt Marinette. How they betrayed their once friend. It was awful.

Adrien nearly interrupted to tell them it would be alright. Marinette would forgive them. They’d all be friends again. It wasn’t that bad. They’d move on like none of this had ever happened.

But Ivan spoke before he could, “Or we did nothing at all and just let it happened,” The bigger boy said. “And that was just as bad.”

No it wasn’t. All they did was stay out of it. All Adrien did was stay out of it. It was the right thing to do. Everyone was arguing and fighting. Adrien getting involved would only make it worse. Right?

Right, Adrien thought firmly. He ignored the pit that seemed to appear in his stomach.

Adrien spent the rest day re-convince himself that everything would be alright. Everyone just needed to calm. Marinette also needed to come back. Or at least answer their calls. Then they could tell her everything was good again. Lila was gone. Time to celebrate.

However, while Adrien was getting ready that night, he got a text from Nino. It was of a video of Marinette at her new school. Luka had gotten it from her, with the blessing to spread it around; show everyone that she was fine.

And she was.

Marinette looked happy in her new school uniform. She was surrounded by friends and seemed be having a ball.

She had moved on.

It was what Adrien had hoped would happened, he remembered, so many months ago.

He had hoped Marinette would move on. That everyone would move on.

And she did. And everyone was starting to.

So why did he feel so bad?

Maybe because he was having a hard time moving on to?

Maybe it was because a part of him finally realized that nothing was going to back to the way it was?

Why didn’t everything go the way he thought it would?

“It should have,” Adrien frowned, turning to speak to Plagg. “Right?”

There was only silence to answer him.

“Oh… yeah.” Adrien said remembering, again, that Plagg was gone. Just like Chat Noir. “That’s right.” He’ll get used to it. He was used to it.

It wasn’t like it was a big deal.

Right?

Marinette

Marinette didn’t want a birthday party. She told Bruce she didn’t want a birthday party. She told Clark she didn’t want a birthday party. Yet somehow she was getting a birthday party! She knew the accidently slip to Kara that she spent her last birthday alone had been a mistake. Marinette’s got sad eyes from her new family for a week.

When it became clear that the birthday party was happening to matter how much Marinette protested, she decided to try a different. She made it clear that she didn’t want a big birthday party. She wanted something small with just her new family and friends. However, the more she said it, the bigger the party plans got. First the justice league got invited. Then the Teen Titans, and then young justice. Then all her school friends. Then all the friends she made while on the Kent farm. She was fine with that. She had invited Nadja, Luka, Kagami and even Chloe to her birthday; the only friends she had left in Paris. She invited Jagged and Penny and Clara.

And yet the party just kept getting Bigger and bigger…

Until it was some extravagant event all press talked about. Her birthday was trending on social media. But did that stop Bruce? Nooo?

Then it just got bigger and bigger.

Until celebrities were tweeting that they RSVP’d already. It was as big as any red carpet event.

Marinette glared at her guardian from the across the breakfast table.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Bruce said. “The party will be fun. You’ll love it.”

“She did want something simple, Bruce,” Clark shrugged.

“Said the guy who invited the Justice League.”

Clark narrowed his eyes, “Said the man who paying One Direction over three million dollars to get the band back together for one night.”

“One Direction was her favorite band!”

“Then why did you invite Shawn Mendes,” Clark asked smugly. “And Taylor Swift. And Maroon 5. And BTS. And Ed Sheeran. And Billie Eilish. And Lizzo. And who knows who else you got! Not to mentioned the cast of Riverdale, supernatural, Vampire Diaries, Teen wolf, and the new Spider Man movie. Bruce, you’re throwing your own Teen Choice Awards.”

Marinette blinked. And then blinked again.

Then she got up and walked away from the table.

She needed to find Alfred. She needed to find someone remotely sane to talk to. Which was a hard thing to come by at Wayne Manor.

Marinette loved Gotham as much as she had loved Smallville. She loved working with the Justice league. She loved her new brothers and sisters. She loved them she really did.

But she’d be the first to them to take a chill pill.

Starting with Bruce, then Clark, the Dick.

Followed up Oliver Queen and Arthur Curry; otherwise known as the Green Arrow and Aquaman.

Every time Marinette visited the watch tower, Oliver would shove his son Roy at her. Once literally. Then Arthur started doing the same his kid Kaldur.

This displeased her guardians. Both had taken to glaring at Green Arrow and Aqauman during meeting. Arthur backed off a little. Oliver not even a bit. The man had plans.

Marinette didn’t find Alfred, as he had left on errands. Instead she found Tim on the coach. “You’re the third sanest person in this house… when Luke’s not here.”

“Alfred, you, me, Adds up,” Tim cracked a smile at his little sister. “What’s up?”

Marinette plopped down next to him, “Make them stoooppp!” She whined.

Tim gave her a look, “You want me to stop Batman and Superman.”

“Well, when you say it like that its sounds dumb.”

“And impossible.”

She pouted, “What should I do?”

“You willing walk aboard this crazy train,” Tim shrugged. “Now you just have to enjoy the ride. It’s the only thing you can do.”

“And try not lose my sanity too in the process.”

“That’s a good princess.”

Marinette sighed. She hated her new nickname but the press ate it up. The party was just making it official.

But what could she do? She loved her new home, her friends, and her family. Marinette was finally getting everything she ever wanted.

Her birthday would be one of the biggest events of the year. She was having a party fit for a princess.

The princess of Gotham that was.

Because that was who Marinette was now.

She wasn’t just Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She was just Ladybug.

She was Marinette: Princess of Gotham.

#ml salt #ml fic #Marienette Dupain Cheng #Marinette deserves better #adrien salt #alya salt

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sunfetti · 4 years

Note

Hi! I saw you from a shout-out/reblog, and came to offer my support! I also wondered if I could ask for a Hanako and/or Mitsuba x reader, in which they’re trying to earn their girlfriend’s forgiveness after they make her so mad, she cries, and then she gives them the silent treatment? I’m always on the lookout for mild angst. I hope I’m not asking for too much, but if I am, feel free to ignore me! I wish you luck with your blog!

An: Thank you so much for the support!! I’m extremely grateful to that shoutout (not only was I starstruck over being recognized by one of my favorite blogs) but it lets me write for so many new people and make them happy with my writing! This is my first time writing headcanons (if you wanted a fic or an imagine I sincerely apologize!!) for characters, so hopefully I did this request right and was able to create something you enjoy! ( I once again sincerely apologize for how terrible I am at them)

Hanako with an upset S/O

RED ALERT!

You know how he was when Yashiro was upset? Multiply that by a billion and that’s what happens when his s/o gives him the silent treatment.

Utter panic.png

He hadn’t meant to make her upset, it’s just she absolutely refused to back down when he said to stay away from other supernaturals (after all they were dangerous in his eyes) and he kinda just snapped at her.

Keep in mind that even though he has been a school wonder for over fifty years, he is still a teenage boy

So he’s still inexperienced with relationships and how to act, especially during disagreements

“You’re such an idiot, why won’t you just listen to me!” Hanako yelled, glaring at his s/o in anger—arms crossed in front of his chest.

Though that glare faltered when he saw the tears start to roll down her face. Guilt overtook anger as he tried to reach out to his s/o only to be shoved away.

“Fine! I’ll just leave you alone then!” You yelled, running off—needing to be away from him for now

The guilt only worsened when you started avoiding him everyday, barely sparing him a glance..

.He started to become upset and even Yashiro and Kou were starting to become worried

.Hanako was rarely sad, and yet here he was looking like a dejected puppy who got scolded?

It threw Kou through a loop honestly

Finally after a week of this, Yashiro drags him by the collar to his s/o and makes you both face each other (Kou puppy-guarded the door so they couldn’t run).

There’s a few minutes of awkward silence, the only sound being shoes scuffed against the ground. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Finally Hanako, taking off his hat—gives the best most genuine apology he can muster.

it was actually quite sweet and you forgave him and also apologized for giving him the silent treatment (and also agreed to talk about problems instead of running around them).

There was lots of hugs and cuddling afterwards

Mitsuba Sousuke with an Upset! S/o.

You guys playfully bicker but it really never went beyond teasing.

Though one day it seemed as though the teasing was taken too far. It was a petty argument really, something that didn’t matter and was caused by your usual playful bickering.

Much like Hanako, he hadn’t meant to make his s/o upset, but you simply were just having an awful day and you weren’t in the mood to bicker.

“Hey idiot! What’s up with your face? You look like that weird spider dude!” Mitsuba says, floating by you—poking you on the cheek constantly.

Normally stuff like this was welcome in your relationship and you’d usually throw a funny reply back but today was just the worst day and this was the tipping point.

Mitsuba kinda jumped back when he saw tears pooling in your eyes, a frown prominent on your face.

“Hey what’s wrong with you idiot?? Why are you crying like that?” He asks, a nervous smile on his face, though you instead of yelling at him—just walked away.

You were already so angry that you didn’t want to spur him on with an insult back.

The next few days were quiet for Mitsuba, you didn’t visit nor did you make an effort to see him like you usually did.

It left a kinda empty feeling in him, yet he stubbornly refused to approach you—after all for such a cute ghost like him to grovel before an idiot like you? Impossible.

This silent period goes on for even longer than Hanako and his s/o’s silent period—mostly due to Mitsuba’s stubbornness and your avoidance.

Eventually it’s left up to Natsuhiko to ask if you two had broken up for Mitsuba to realize just how much he missed you.

So after a few pointed insults under his breath to Natsuhiko, Mitsuba set off to find you.

It didn’t take long, as you were sat taking photos outside—one of the things that made Mitsuba warm up to you in the first place and it made his heart ache again.

“Hey id—y/n.” He mumbles crouching down beside you, causing your gaze to turn towards him.

“I feel bad seeing you upset and it’s lonely without your nagging.. So I’m sorry..” He says, not meeting your eyes and instead poking at the dirt.

Though a bright blush bloomed on his face when he felt you embrace him. Mitsuba opened his mouth to protest but it died in his throat and instead he just awkwardly hugged you back,

He had really missed your hugs...

#mitsuba sousuke #hanako kun x reader #hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #mitsuba sousuke x reader #headcanon #I'm sorry these suck #i'm really really sorry

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rainbowbutterfrosting · 3 years

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The Revived - Chapter 4: Reunion

This is chapter 4 of the dream smp fic @dramaticsnakes and I are writing. Thank you to @r0w3n-1n-d0ugh for beta-reading this chapter!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Tubbo, and Ranboo

Word count: 2,988

Cw: discussions of burns, medical treatment, mentions of hospitals, implied anxiety, implied suicidal behavior, crying

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

Tubbo led Wilbur over to a room near the entrance of the house. It was mostly empty except for some boxes labeled with markers. From where Wilbur was, nothing seemed special at first. There were some labeled with clothes, furniture, and pictures, but there was a box named ‘Michael’ that was unlike the others. The peculiar box had some drawings on the side of it. There were three… people in it? The drawings were too shaky to be easily determined, and Wilbur didn’t have the time nor patience to decipher them.

Tubbo caught where Wilbur was staring, “Oh, don’t mind the boxes. We know which ones will have the medkits.” Wilbur nodded as if that was the main question in his mind. Yet, he didn’t want his reunion with Tubbo to be filled with him eavesdropping on his new life.

“Where should I sit?”

Tubbo looked away bashfully, “Oh! I uh, we mostly just sit on the floor.”

Wilbur walked towards one of the walls and slouched against it. His legs still ached from his fight with the ghast, and he gave himself a moment of peace as he closed his eyes.

Apparently, he gave the peace to Ghostbur too, “Thank you. It was starting to hurt again.”

Wilbur mouthed, “No problem,” before realizing that Tubbo and Ranboo were staring at him, with Tubbo looking him directly in the eyes and Ranboo focusing on his burns.

Wilbur propped himself up slightly, “Am I in the way of something?”

Tubbo pursed his lips, “No, it’s just-” He exhaled, “Nothing.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes, “Tubbo, if I’m in the way you can just tell me.” Though Tubbo just shook his head and smiled awkwardly in response. Ranboo kneeled down next to Wilbur and opened the medkit. There didn’t seem to be too much in it, but Wilbur couldn’t judge since he didn’t need a hospital to treat his wounds.

Ranboo quietly asked something he couldn’t hear, with Wilbur’s confused glance, Ranboo said it slightly louder, “S-so Wilbur, uh, does it hurt right now?”

Wilbur barely resisted the urge to scoff at him, “I wouldn’t be here if they didn’t.”

“Wilby, that wasn’t very nice,” Ghostbur commented.

Wilbur sighed, “Sorry, I’ve had a rough day so far.” His words grew quieter near the end, embarrassed that he needed to apologize to someone he barely knew.

He might’ve expected Ranboo to make fun of him for not having armor or say he was an idiot for going alone, but the boy only nodded and slightly tilted Wilbur’s face towards him. A focused expression came across Ranboo’s face as Wilbur held still.

Ranboo looked somewhat relieved when he said, “Second-degree at the chin, but uh, first-degree at the surrounding area.”

Tubbo nodded, “Do you know what to do?”

Ranboo shifted his focus to Tubbo, “N-not exactly, but I’ve got a general idea. Sorry, I-” Ranboo tightly closed his eyes and hid his face with one of his hands. An enderman vwoop came out in small chirps. Tubbo kneeled down to where Ranboo was and held his other hand. His eyebrows were knitted together with concern, but he tried to have a small smile on his face.

Tubbo’s voice lowered to a whisper, “Hey, Boo, it’s alright. How about we head outside?” Ranboo responded with a shake of his head. Then came another enderman vwoop, one that sounded like a constant buzz that made Wilbur slightly cringe from the unpleasant sound. Ranboo nodded and stood up, still covering his face with his hand, and Tubbo stood up with him. Tubbo mouthed something to Wilbur that wasn’t clear to him as the married couple exited the building.

“Aww, poor Ranboo. Ranboo said he’s never met you before but I can explain! Sometimes, he gets… how did Tubbo describe it? I- I don’t think I can remember.” Ghostbur sighed.

Wilbur shifted slightly to look around the corner, and when he couldn’t see anyone, he whispered back, “It’s alright if you don’t know the exact wording, just give me the general idea.”

“Well, I’m not too sure. All I know is that it can be really unpleasant for him. Once when it started happening, Tubbo started counting. I’m not sure why though, maybe Ranboo really likes numbers.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes and made a sharp exhale out of his nose that could have been recognized as a laugh, “I don’t think-” Did Wilbur want to ruin his fun? The ghost was already in limbo. The most he could do was play around with his silly ideas. “Yeah, maybe he really likes numbers.” Wilbur could barely keep himself from laughing at himself saying the statement.

Ghostbur gasped excitedly, “You really think so? Hm, maybe you should ask what his favorite number is.”

Wilbur wanted to close his eyes and rest, but he didn’t want Tubbo or Ranboo walking back in seeing him talk to himself. “Mhm, that’s a… good idea.” Wilbur yawned near the end, his adrenaline crash hitting him rougher than he expected.

“Are you okay?”

Wilbur nodded then remembered that Ghostbur couldn’t see him, “Yeah, yeah. Just a… yeah, I’m fine.”

Ghostbur’s confusion showed in his tone, “I’m not sure what the word for it is, but you seem pretty… the word isn’t sad, because it’s not exactly an emotion, but it takes over your head like the sad thoughts would.”

Wilbur sighed, “Tired?”

“Yeah! I’ve heard that sleeping helps when you’re tired. Not sure though, I haven’t tried it out myself. Maybe you could ask Tubbo and Ranboo.”

Maybe the exhaustion was making Ghostbur… not exactly funny, but somehow adorable in a way that made him want to giggle along with him. “I’ve… I’ve tried sleep… pretty nice.”

“So if you’ve done it before, why aren’t you sleeping now?”

“Supposed to be polite and shit. Not polite to fall asleep in someone else’s house.”

“But didn’t you fall asleep in Techno’s house?”

Wilbur made a confused noise, “Nah, I fell asleep in Phil’s house.”

Ghostbur huffed, not understanding the situation, “But Phil is a someone else, so therefore, you already slept in someone else’s house.”

Wilbur chuckled, “Oh, Ghostie,” Wilbur heard footsteps walking along the spruce floor, and stopped whispering to his counterpart.

Tubbo peaked his head out, holding a silver bucket in his hands. He walked towards Wilbur’s direction, looking calmer than before as he sat down next to him and grabbed a rag from the medkit.

“What’s all that noise?” Ghostbur asked.

Wilbur needed to lay down some rules for communication for Ghostbur, but he decided not to do it while Tubbo was there. “Is he alright?”

“Yeah.” Wilbur raised his eyebrows, expecting some kind of explanation, but he supposed it wasn’t his business. Tubbo dipped the rag into his bucket of water and gave the rag to Wilbur. “Hold it where it hurts the most.” Wilbur held it to his chin, both him and Ghostbur giving an exhale of relief.

“It doesn’t feel as good as the stuff from before. Can we go back to that?”

Tubbo gently grabbed the hand that wasn’t holding the rag and Wilbur winced from the pain before realizing that his hand wasn’t even burned. When he dodged one of the fireballs he must’ve scrapped his hands on a wall along the way. Tubbo laid Wilbur’s hand down, grabbing another rag from the medkit and dipping it into the water.

“This might hurt a bit,” Tubbo stated as he dabbed the wet rag onto Wilbur’s hand. Once most of the dirt was cleaned, Tubbo looked closely at the skin and let out a sigh of relief. “I don’t see anything inside your hands so that’s good.”

“Wait- Ranboo told me there were veins and blood inside hands. Did you lose those somehow?”

Wilbur barely held back a giggle, “Yeah, that’s good.”

Ghostbur gasped, “No that’s not good! Your hands won’t have any circulation!”

Wilbur laughed but tried his best to cut it off short with a cough after seeing Tubbo’s concerned glance.

Tubbo looked skeptical as he placed a hand on Wilbur’s forehead. “Have you been coughing a lot?”

“Not really, just happens every now and then.”

“Hm. Let me have the rag for a second.” Wilbur gave him the rag as Tubbo redipped it into the water. “Continue holding it to where it hurts, but hold it with the other hand.” Wilbur nodded and did what he was told. Tubbo grabbed the now free hand and cleaned it like he did the other one. Some dried blood came off which caused Tubbo to frown.

Tubbo fished around the medkit before he grabbed a small tube. It had a label Wilbur couldn’t read, but he wasn’t too worried about what it was. He taught Tubbo all the medical knowledge he knew during one of the first wars. He would’ve told it to Tommy, but he didn’t have an interest in it.

Tubbo uncapped the tube and rubbed the semi-transparent paste onto Wilbur’s hands. He winced at the pain, but Tubbo kept going.

“Wilbur, Wilbur, Wilbur,” Ghostbur hissed. Wilbur wished he could comfort Ghostbur, but he remained silent throughout the ghost’s pleas.

Tubbo grabbed a roll of gauze and started carefully wrapping it around Wilbur’s hand so it would hold itself together. He tucked in the end and gestured for Wilbur’s other hand. Wilbur complied and tried to hold the rag in a way that didn’t touch any of the bandages that were already done. Tubbo raised an eyebrow, “Where are your gloves?”

“Most likely in my pocket…” Wilbur mumbled as he hung the rag on the side of the bucket. Tubbo continued rubbing the paste onto Wilbur’s hand, then wrapped the gauze around it as well. After searching his first pocket with no success, his second one had both gloves in there. He sighed in relief and put on both of his gloves once Tubbo put his hand down.

Tubbo gently grabbed the bottom of Wilbur’s chin and tilted it upwards. He made a sound of worry then let his hand fall from the man’s face.

“I don’t know how to handle burns,” Tubbo quietly stated.

“That makes two of us,” Wilbur shrugged. Although he was slightly disappointed that Tubbo didn’t learn how to, he couldn’t blame the boy either.

Wilbur started to get up when Tubbo brought Wilbur back down using his arm, but instead of yanking him backward, it gently brought him to the wall he’s been laying on. “What are you doing?”

Wilbur slightly tilted his head, “I’m leaving?”

Ghostbur whined, “Aww, but we didn’t even get to have any fun.”

Tubbo looked at him with disbelief, “We haven’t even treated your burns yet, you can’t leave.”

Wilbur groaned, closing his eyes in frustration, “You’re not my dad.”

“Don’t worry, he should be here soon. Well- him or Techno.”

Wilbur sat up immediately, “What!?”

Tubbo’s casual expression shifted into one of worry, “I said that Phil or Techno should probably be here soon. Did you hit your head too?”

“No no, I-” Wilbur’s mind flashed with his and Techno’s fight. He didn’t even say goodbye to his father before he left. He’d be lucky if either of them would even look him in the eye, let alone help him medically. “I just have to go.” Wilbur shakily stood up, exhaustion filling his mind.

Tubbo’s voice turned shaky, “Wilbur, just talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Wilbur?” Ghostbur was quiet compared to how loud Wilbur’s mind was.

Wilbur ran a hand through his hair, “It’s fine, it’s fine, I’m fine. It’s all just fine, and I’m good to leave!”

Wilbur moved towards the exit before Tubbo stood in front of him, blocking his way out. “Wilbur, please, at least let us treat your burns. I- I know you hate me but you don’t need to leave so soon.”

“Wait, you never told me you hated Tubbo,” Ghostbur’s voice creaked with melancholy. “Is there anyone you like? I- I don’t like jumping to conclusions, but first, you don’t like Techie and now you don’t like Tubbo either. D-Do you also not like me?” The last words wavered more compared to Ghostbur’s typical tone.

“It’s not like that- it’s- it’s more than just that.”

Tubbo looked confused, and Wilbur was reminded of past betrayals and moments of heightened caution. He was reminded of young Tubbo, hesitant to take a stand, his voice now booming with strained determination. Tubbo yelled, tears on the verge of spilling, “Then tell me!”

Wilbur spent so long in limbo he forgot that people might still have attachments to him. He almost hoped that everyone would forget so that he could go back to being himself without any problems. “Tubbo…” Wilbur stepped forward slowly, showing Tubbo he wasn’t going to do anything sudden, and in exchange, Tubbo watched his every move. His eyes occasionally darting to other parts of his body. When Wilbur was right in front of the boy he stopped walking.

A moment of silence was exchanged between the two before Wilbur bent down slightly and hugged Tubbo. At first, Tubbo didn’t reciprocate, but seconds after, he slowly put his arms around Wilbur. The grip was weak, probably to give Wilbur time to pull away, but he soon tightened his arms around Wilbur, exhaling in relief.

“W- Wilbur?” Tubbo’s body shook with a sob, but he mostly tried to keep his cries quiet.

“Yeah, Tubs?”

“Are you j- just gonna leave again?” Tubbo’s voice broke at the last word, his composure only lasting so long. Wilbur squeezed tightly in response.

“Why… haven’t you responded yet?” Ghostbur wasn’t crying yet his voice mimicked the sadness in Tubbo’s.

At least a minute stretched between them before Wilbur pulled away. Although he wanted to view Tubbo as a pure equal in the situation, he couldn’t help but give him pity once he saw the boy’s red-rimmed eyes.

“Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to get so emotional,” Tubbo sniffled and whipped his face into his sleeve.

Wilbur put a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder, “It’s fine. You’re allowed to have your emotions.” Although he didn’t mean to, his voice softened into a warmness that he rarely presented.

“Does this mean you’re staying?” Ghostbur’s hesitance spoke more than his words ever could.

Wilbur took a deep breath in, “Tubbo, you’re not an idiot so I’m going to be honest with you.” Tubbo slowly nodded. “I… I can’t really promise myself staying.”

“...okay.” His voice harmonized with Ghostbur’s.

“Okay.” Wilbur gave Tubbo’s shoulder one last part before removing his hand.

“Just-” Tubbo’s words came out slower than they normally would have, “Next time you go and… get a life taken away, just please say goodbye before you do it.”

Wilbur gave Tubbo a confused look, “I- Tubbo I just meant I can’t stay at the mansion.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He did mean that he couldn’t stay at the mansion, but what he heavily implied was one of his main thoughts at the moment.

But Tubbo took this lie gratefully, “Oh! I- Oh wow, I really took that the wrong way.” They both awkwardly laughed to themselves.

They stood like that for a little, when Tubbo’s expression suddenly shifted, glancing at a couple of the boxes around them. He bit his lip nervously. “I uh, need to go do something real quick.” he rubbed the back of his head, “I’ll be right back!”

Wilbur nodded in response, as Tubbo walked to a nearby box that Wilbur couldn’t make out the words on, and picked it up. He walked out the door, his posture certainly a little more sheepish, and Wilbur was left alone.

“What happened? Where’d Tubbo go?” Ghostbur asked, his voice quiet, yet less sad than before, “And what was that nice feeling?”

“Hm?” Wilbur asked.

“That nice feeling, like being close to Friend, or… Like safety, wrapped around me?” Ghostbur tried.

Wilbur inhaled, “Oh.” he said. That made sense, perhaps. Ghostbur had felt the relief from the wound being treated too. “I hugged Tubbo.” Wilbur said, feeling a little awkward saying it out loud, “You must’ve felt that, somehow.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s really nice!” Ghostbur said excitedly, “Can I feel everything you feel? How exactly does all of this work?”

“I’m not… Certain.” Wilbur replied honestly, “But perhaps.” his voice turned a little quieter at the last part, as he thought of the implications of that. Because if Wilbur getting hurt, would keep hurting Ghostbur in return, that made the entire thing so much more difficult. It was simpler, when it was just Wilbur, piecing himself together, and taking what belonged to him, despite what it would cost him in the end. But if this voice, that held a tight involuntary grip around Wilbur’s mind, would be affected by all of it too, it made decisions so much harder. It made Wilbur’s plans so much harder because some things couldn’t just be explained away, and the mere thought of those painful screams from before, made Wilbur shiver.

And a brief thought was clear to Wilbur in that moment even if he didn’t say it out loud. He needed to get Ghostbur out of his mind, whatever that would mean. Wilbur needed to keep all of this to himself, because if he ever wanted to complete any of his plans, then dragging around a ghost like that… Someone who remembered so little, yet experienced things just as vividly, would make everything Wilbur wanted to do impossible.

Wilbur heard Tubbo shuffling around with things upstairs when he saw his chance to leave. He had things to get done, and a mind to quiet down. He rushed to the front door, turned the handle and opened it, just about to run outside, when he saw them.

A nervous Ranboo, hunched over, behind a figure that stood tall and confidently. Someone who looked at Wilbur with an expression of cold aggravation. Wilbur swallowed something in his throat. “Hello, Techno…”

#c!tubbo #tubbo #ranboo #c!ranboo #Ghostbur #Wilbur #c!wilbur #dream smp #dsmp

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dramaticsnakes · 3 years

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The Revived - Chapter 5: Domestic Peace

This is chapter 5 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @rainbowbutterfrosting and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

Also! We recently started up a discord server for the fic just for fun, so if anyone reading wants to come hang out with us and get updates on the writing and new chapters, here's a link!

Thank you to @ r0w3n-1n-d0ugh for beta-reading this chapter.

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur, Technoblade, Ranboo, Tubbo, Michael

Word count: 3651

Cw: medical treatment, pain, injuries, uncomfortableness, mentions of begging, mentions of burns, worry, cursing, implied anxiety, light discussions of food

If Wilbur had been asked to guess where he would be a few days after his revival, after thirteen and a half years in limbo at a train station,then sitting on the floor of a mansion, Technoblade looking right past him as he treated his burn wounds from the nether, would not have been his first thought. It was one of those experiences Wilbur had, where he felt as if maybe, he should’ve done more to avoid such a situation. Technoblade was holding Wilbur’s chin, barely having made eye contact with him at all. He was looking closely, as if Wilbur was not a person, but a broken table Techno had been considering putting out for a yard sale for years now.

Tubbo was still upstairs and had gone a little quieter since before Techno arrived. Ranboo was standing in the corner of the room as if he was trying his best not to be seen. A backpack stood beside Techno, and he rummaged through it, audible clicks of bottles coming from it. Techno poured some liquid on a piece of cloth and handed it to Wilbur silently. With a sharp exhale, Wilbur placed it against his burn. He heard Ghostbur hiss slightly but didn’t say anything himself.

“Why is everyone being so quiet?” Ghostbur asked, sudden desperation in his voice, “You- you didn’t leave, did you?”

Instead of responding, Wilbur placed his free hand against the floor and pressed down. Just as he’d suspected, he heard a relieved sigh from his mind.

“Did you say it was second-degree burns?” Techno asked, turning towards Ranboo.

“Ye- yeah!” Ranboo said, “From the nether.”

“Mhm.” Techno hummed, moving Wilbur’s hand away to get a good look at the burns. He rummaged through his bag once again and picked up a crimson red potion. He swirled it around, “I brought a potion.” he said, and while he didn’t look at Wilbur directly, it was the first time he had addressed him since he arrived, “But I’m not sure if you really need it.”

Wilbur scowled, though he wasn’t sure if Techno saw. It was an instant health potion, that Wilbur knew brought a great deal more pain than the ones of regeneration, that he knew for a fact Techno had at home too. He inhaled sharply, “Well,” every instinctual wording in his mind urged him to refuse, though the thoughts of Ghostbur’s screams once again plagued his mind. “I mean, it would be nice to have.”

Techno huffed, and added with precision: “I mean, after what you said this mornin’, I don’t think you really want it.”

Wilbur’s chest was burning with aggravation because he knew exactly what Techno was doing. Faint memories of the times, where playfulness would hide in Techno’s words, were present, though this was something different. This wasn’t just a game, but rather mocking. A spite that lingered in the air, leaving the tension unbroken. It would’ve been all the more reason to refuse Techno’s offer, if it wasn’t for the ghost, hearing every word.

“No! We do want it, right? It hurts still.” Ghostbur said the last part strained.

“...sorry,” Wilbur mumbled, barely audibly.

“What was that?” Techno asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I said fucking sorry,” Wilbur said darkly, and Ghostbur gasped.

“Could you repeat that?” Techno asked.

Wilbur breathed deeply with frustration, “I’m sorry, alright Technoblade? Is that what you want to hear?”

“Sure is a start,” Technoblade said, throwing the potion towards Wilbur, who barely managed to grab it in time. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of Ghostbur hearing the shrill sound of broken glass for the first time.

He uncapped the bottle, and took a sip from it, testing the level of pain he and Ghostbur would feel. It surprisingly wasn’t much, mainly a small pinch.

“If that’s how you’re gonna drink the potion then we’re gonna be here for a few years,” Techno began packing up the stuff into his backpack.

Wilbur almost rolled his eyes but knew that maintaining a good relationship with Technoblade would be good in the long run. With that, he took a bigger sip, and once he swallowed he could feel the immediate burn of it going down his throat, where the pain transitioned into a pulsing feeling in his chin and hands. While Wilbur only winced, he could hear Ghostbur’s small pleas but tried to focus on anything that wasn’t him or the pain. He decided on the potion bottle itself. The glass bottle had some scratches on it that contrasted the red liquid inside that slightly sparkled.

Once most of the pain was gone, Wilbur raised the bottle to his lips when Techno interrupted him, “Drinkin’ the whole thing at once will make it more effective.”

Wilbur knew Techno was right, but he didn’t want to admit it out loud. So instead he nodded in response, closed his eyes tight, and downed the whole thing. Wilbur regretted it immediately, closing his hand into a fist and punched the air, although it didn’t help much with his pain.

What might’ve hurt more was Ghostbur’s cries from the almost burning sensation. “Wil- Wilbur, make it stop.” There was a sob at the end that painfully reminded Wilbur that Ghostbur had a lower pain tolerance than he did. “I- I know you can’t make it stop right now, but please do it soon.” Wilbur would have preferred Ghostbur to be angry at him for getting hurt in the first place over the apologies that he heard in his mind. They were quieter though, as it was a private conversation that Wilbur was never supposed to hear, but Ghostbur didn’t have anyone else to talk to so it must’ve been to him.

Most of the potion’s pain transitioned to his palms and his chin, the burning out of his throat now. A quiet, ‘fuck’ came out of Wilbur’s lips, tears threatening to spill out of his closed eyes.

Techno stood up, grabbing his backpack and the bottle from Wilbur’s hand. He looked around the house, a confused look on his face, “Ranboo, isn’t this place a little big for a military base?”

Ranboo’s shoulders slightly went up, “Oh! It’s just uh- just in case we need to store more stuff.“

Techno walked towards the exit of the mansion, “That’s reasonable, but it’s three floors tall. I don’t think we really need that much space.”

Ranboo gave an apologetic glance towards Techno, avoiding looking in his eyes, “Well- I was thinking that we could mimic the look of a woodland mansion so that way people will be like ‘Oh that’s a woodland mansion, not a secret base!’ Y’know?”

Techno chuckled, “Alright, stay safe.” Although he looked at Ranboo when he said it, Wilbur could feel the words piercing through him.

“We will!” Ghostbur cheered. Technoblade walked through the doors of the mansion and closed them behind him.

Ranboo seemed to immediately relax, his posture becoming slightly looser than it was during his interaction with Techno. However, when Ranboo looked back at Wilbur some of his uncomfortableness returned. “So uh…” Anything Ranboo might have said died before it could reach Wilbur’s ears.

A moment of silence stretched between the two before small thuds that sounded like quick steps littered the lack of sound between them. “What’s that?” Wilbur asked as he heard Ghostbur say it in unison.

Ghostbur gasped, “Jinx!”

Ranboo didn’t directly answer Wilbur’s question but muttered, “I should go check on Tubbo.” Wilbur nodded understandably, watching Ranboo go up the stairs two at a time. Seeing Ranboo walk so quickly reminded him that he had been sitting down for most of the exchange, and slowly stood up. However, black spots rippled his vision with his legs slightly shaking under him. He relied on the wall for support as it took seconds before everything felt normal to him again. He waited for anything from Ghostbur, but all he heard was the ghost humming a song to himself, which he took as a good thing.

However, once he focused on the sound that he previously heard, he heard muffled snorts that he’d heard from Technoblade many times.

“Is Techie still here? I thought he left.”

“I thought so too,” Wilbur whispered slowly. He walked up the stairs as quietly as he could, cringing when he heard one creak under him. As soon as he finished going up, he saw doors to his right labeled ‘Construction in Progress’ yet the noise seemed to be coming from behind there. He tiptoed next to the door, hearing muffled voices from the other side.

“We have to stop him before he runs off again.” The voice had a familiarity to it, Wilbur assumed it was Tubbo. However, the tone was clear with worry.

“I mean how would we even do it?” The voice was deeper than the previous one, yet it was laced with concern that mimicked the other. It was shakier than the other voice, but not by much. Only enough that Wilbur only noticed when he paid attention to it.

“I have this, but I’ve never tried it out before. I’ve just heard that it works.”

Ranboo sighed, “Part of me feels like this is the wrong thing to do.” A strange melancholy was hidden behind it.

“It’s for his own good.” There was some kind of fabric rustle heard, two things softly colliding into each other.

“I know…” Wilbur could barely hear it, but he knew he needed to leave sooner rather than later.

“What were they talking about?” Wilbur resisted sighing at Ghostbur’s lack of understanding and settled on an eye roll.

It had only been a matter of time, before someone would try such a thing, of course. Wilbur had had a big enough impact on history to be worth fighting, it seemed. And while he hadn’t expected it from someone like Tubbo, a lot could happen in thirteen and a half years. It was not the first time someone intended to target Wilbur with the strike of death, and being back for this long was perhaps an achievement on its own. Not that he was going to let them kill him, because he wasn’t easy to get rid of at all. Sneaking around by the door, he attempted to gain any information he could about it. Perhaps avoiding the strike, from one of his previous most trusted companions, was going to be exactly what he needed to regain his force and power. In fact, he was almost a little impressed and proud, that they had enough spine to attempt something so conclusive. That was the kind of certain drive and spirit, Tubbo had lacked back in L’Manberg.

But they weren’t in L’Manberg anymore. Tubbo kept his own secrets, or murder plans, behind closed doors. Wilbur couldn’t let Ranboo nor Tubbo know that he was listening. They were working together after all. He held his breath as he slowly walked down the stairs. Which step was the one that creaked? Wilbur cursed himself for not remembering, and gently pressed onto the step in front of him. He applied slightly more pressure, and finally, put his whole foot on it. He let out a breath when it didn’t creak, but felt it in his gut that the next one would make a sound. As Wilbur skipped the step directly in front of him, the step after that must have been the one that caused a creak as when he pressed most of his weight on it, it made a sound that wouldn’t have usually been loud. Yet, with most of the house remaining quiet it was the only thing to hear other than the whispers upstairs. Even then, those stopped when the sound played aloud.

Wilbur flinched, as the door opened, Tubbo looking outside. He locked eyes with Wilbur, who wasn’t entirely sure what to do now. Perhaps his best call would’ve been to run, though running was such a dull way to solve anything. Then, despite the thousand reactions Wilbur would’ve expected, Tubbo gave a relieved sigh. “Oh! Hi again, Wilbur. I was a little jumpy there for a moment.”

Wilbur looked at Tubbo with disbelief. “Uh, well-” he said, still standing on the steps when he heard the same snorts from before, and soon, right behind Tubbo’s legs, Wilbur spotted a zombie piglin. And Wilbur truly didn’t have the slightest clue of what to say to that. Ranboo was standing awkwardly behind Tubbo, picking up the little zombie piglin, with a particular gentleness, Wilbur hadn’t quite expected either. “What?” he eventually ended up saying.

Tubbo chuckled nervously, playing with his hair. “I uh, I suppose I haven’t introduced you yet. Sorry for the secrecy we… We didn’t want Techno to… It’s a long story, but,” Tubbo gestured to Ranboo, who was holding the little one, “This is Michael!” Tubbo said, “Our… Our son!”

At the words, little Michael squealed with joy, as he jumped out of Ranboo’s hands rushing to the confused Wilbur, who managed to walk up the rest of the stairs right before the zombie piglin wrapped his arms around Wilbur’s leg. Wilbur stared at the child blankly for a few moments, blinking once or twice. Then, he started laughing, covering his face with his hands. He kept laughing, and as he looked up, he noticed Tubbo and Ranboo, looking at him confusedly.

“What was funny?” Ghostbur asked, interest in his voice, “Did someone tell a funny joke? Oh no, did I miss it? Also, was that Michael? I nearly forgot about the little guy!”

Those words just made Wilbur laugh harder, despite the staring. When he finally stopped, however, the zombie piglin child was looking at Wilbur expectedly. “Hello, Mi- haha- Michael,” Wilbur said, bending down slightly to pat the child on the head.

“It looks like he likes you,” Ranboo said with a hesitant smile, his voice a little more confident than the other times Wilbur had heard him.

Wilbur kneeled down while Michael was attached to his leg, but when the child saw the opportunity he ran into Wilbur’s open arms. Wilbur smiled as he reciprocated the hug and picked Michael up. The toddler wrapped his legs around Wilbur’s abdomen as much as he could while Wilbur held his back and bottom, resting his chin over Michael’s shoulder. The boy squeezed the back of Wilbur’s coat, but he couldn’t grab much due to his small hands. Wilbur realized in that moment that he would die for Michael if he had to.

“Aw, almost makes me wish I had a little brother growing up,” Wilbur softly said, hugging Michael to his chest.

Tubbo held a fondness in his eyes that Wilbur didn’t know if he’s seen before, “He’s our little angel.”

Ranboo quietly laughed to himself, “When he’s not trying to run away while we have guests that is.”

Tubbo chuckled, “I would drink to that if I legally could.” A look of realization came across Tubbo’s face, “Hey, little M, are you hungry?” He walked around so he was behind Wilbur and able to see Michael’s face. Part of him impulsively thought that Tubbo was going to stab him in the back, literally. Yet, he continued holding the boy, if he was going to kill him, he was going to go down holding Michael.

When he felt Michael nod, Tubbo clapped his hands together. “Alright, how’s dinner gonna work tonight?”

“Well, you’re going to eat it, I swear- people can be so silly sometimes,” Ghostbur huffed in annoyance. Wilbur silently laughed knowing Ghostbur probably wasn’t making a joke.

Ranboo diverted his attention from Michael and brought it to Tubbo, “I’m guessing it’s going to be the usual routine of one of us cooking and the other taking care of Michael. We can bring out the steaks tonight since we’ve got a guest.”

Wilbur turned around so he could see Tubbo’s reaction, “Sounds good to me, I’ll get some carrots. Maybe cut a bit of steak for Michael...” Tubbo started to head down the stairs, “I better get started, you three have fun!”

Ghostbur gasped, “He’s finally including me!”

Wilbur delicately broke the news of who the third person was, “So, Ranboo, is there anywhere Michael usually plays? Or runs around? I’m honestly not sure what kids do nowadays.”

Ranboo laughed, “We’ve got most of his stuff in the room we were just in, but he’s got a different room planned in the long-run.” Ranboo opened the door behind him, holding it open for Wilbur.

Wilbur smiled softly, “Thanks.”

Wilbur looked inside the room and found a strange nostalgia in it despite it not being from his past at all. The walls were decorated in a mix of crimson and warped wood, some vines dangling from the ceiling, but few were low enough to grab. There was a small yellow bed in the corner of the room with blankets untucked and one of the pillows on the ground. There was a blue kids table in the center of the room, with some books and paper on it. Next to that, there were some wooden cabinets made out of birch. From one of the open drawers he saw a few toys that weren’t organized in any specific way.

Ranboo looked at Wilbur, a little calmer than before, yet he still seemed small. Wilbur had yet to talk to Ranboo alone, and he wondered exactly what kind of person had managed to get that close to Tubbo in all this time. That was not the first question on Wilbur’s mind however. “Before I came in,” he tried, “What were you discussing?”

Ranboo’s cheeks seemed to turn a faint red. “Oh.” he said, “Well, Michael kept running off, so we were uh, thinking about how to keep him near us. Just for his first couple of walks outside, you know?”

Wilbur had the urge to break out in laughter once again, though he managed to stick to a sudden huff and a smile. “Aha,” he said. So, the inevitable betrayal wasn’t coming from Tubbo and Ranboo.

And Tubbo had a son. That was new. For a brief moment, the thoughts of his own son flashed across Wilbur’s mind. Though the more he let the thought linger, the more the bells of war seemed to ring through his mind, and he cut it off the second he could. Not now.

Instead, he smiled contemplatively, “Is Techno your enemy?”

Ranboo looked surprised to have been asked such a question. “Huh?”

“Well, you seemed to hide something from him,” Wilbur said, raising his eyebrow, intrigued. His mind was buzzing with excitement, at learning more about the current political situation, “You said this was a military base. Tubbo was clearly hiding boxes away.”

“Oh! Oh no no no.” Ranboo said quickly, moving his hands back and forth, to deny the claims, “I live with Techno actually, I… I trust him!”

Wilbur chuckled. “But not with the knowledge of your home?” he paused, another thought hitting him as he looked at Michael, “Or with your child?”

“No it’s-”

“Oooh!” Wilbur said, suddenly, perking up, “Unless it’s me, you’re hiding something from? Is it me?” he said, beginning to get a little excited.

Ranboo looked as if he’d been accused of something terrible. “No! It’s uh…” he took a deep breath as if he was calming himself, “It’s nothing like that, it’s just… We’ll tell him eventually, I mean, we have to, but…” he closed his eyes momentarily, and opened them again, “Snowchester is a bit of a government, you know? And Techno doesn’t quite… Like those?”

Oh. Now, that made sense perhaps. “So, he is your enemy?” Wilbur asked for clarification.

“No, we just… I don’t really have any enemies, per se…” Ranboo said quietly, “We just have to find the right way to tell him, is all. At uh…” He cringed, “At some point...”

“You don’t have-” Wilbur was baffled, and he started laughing again, “You don’t have enemies, you say?”

“No no, it’s more than that. Like-” Ranboo frustratedly sighed, “I don’t think enemies should be chosen because they’re on a different side. They should be chosen because they specifically hurt you or someone you care about. Like- Dream is an enemy.” Ranboo shrugged off the last sentence as if it was a universal concept that didn’t need an explanation.

Yet, that wouldn’t align with the facts. For one, that was a rather useless way to look at things. In a perfect world, choosing people would be possible, but this was anything but a perfect world. In truth, Wilbur wondered if Ranboo had the slightest idea what he’d believe in on his own, without the mutual enemy he could pretend was the only issue. And sure, Dream was against L’Manberg, but Wilbur had to admit that the man had proper reasons. He was wrong, but his reasons weren’t. Dream even brought Wilbur back to life despite all the trouble between them. “How can you just say that?” His tone quickly turned defensive as he didn’t realize that he was defending a man who wasn’t even in the room, “Dream revived me, is that something an enemy would do?”

A look of quiet shock came across Ranboo’s face that made him purse his lips and look towards Michael instead of Wilbur. However, this silence was returned back to him as Wilbur looked at him expectantly for an answer. After moments of thinking passed, Ranboo opened his mouth at the same time there were three knocks on the door. The door opened and Tubbo poked his head into the room and opened it, “Dinner’s ready!”

Michael snorted and wiggled out of Wilbur’s grasp. The toddler ran to Tubbo and tried to get past him and downstairs, making soft shoves that were ineffective, but the most he could do. The adorable scene almost distracted Wilbur from the fact that Ranboo didn’t answer him.

Almost.

#dream smp #dsmp #wilbur soot #tubbo #ranboo #c!tubbo #c!ranboo #c!wilbur #technoblade #c!technoblade #ghostbur #revivedbur #fic #The Revived

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satsuma-saturn · 4 years

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The Green-Eyed Monster - Leviathan x Reader

A/N: I literally started and finished this last night, so the writing may not be the best lmao. I’ve opened my ask box for requests, so I’m going to start on those, hopefully getting them out as soon as I can

WC: 1672

Warning(s): cursing, possessiveness

fic below the cut

Envy is a hideous emotion, bringing pain to those who suffer from it and those around them. Sufferers of Envy can never be satisfied, always pained by the sight of another’s good fortune. As in the play, Macbeth, Macbeth is envious when he learns from King Duncan that Malcolm will be crowned king next. Being king is what he so desires after the witches tell him of his prophecy. In order to remedy his situation, he resorts to assassinating King Duncan so that he may become king, his wife being the catalyst for his actions. You see Envy as a daily occurrence, when someone wants what others have, but their object of desire is just out of their reach. Even if they obtain their object of desire, when they see something that another has that they want, they are suddenly filled with an envious rage, always wanting to have the best, to be the best.

Yet, when you look into the eyes of Envy, you never see the so-called “Green-Eyed Monster.” Instead you find yourself greeted with soft, golden eyes, filled to the brim with doubt and self-loathing. Sometimes, in your peripheral, you can spot another emotion: longing. When you turn to look at him, he looks away, turning into a blushing, stuttering mess. However, that blushing, stuttering mess is no more when Envy sees you appearing to give more attention to his brothers, always viewing himself as lesser than them. It isn’t fair. Why won’t you pay attention to him? Would you rather be with one of his brothers? Perhaps Lust, or even Pride? Is he not good enough for you? He can be better, as long as you remain his and only his. You can be happy with him, just don’t spend too much time with his brothers. That will only anger him.

“Leviathan.” Your voice is soft as you attempt to get his attention. Still, he refuses to look at you, those golden eyes glued to his tv. The blue light illuminating his face causes him to look washed-out, drawing attention to his already pale skin and the dark circles under his eyes. He’s always tired, but refuses to sleep, unlike Belphegor, who you feel sleeps too much. Rather than sleep, he stays awake, vigilantly watching his social media feeds for the release of a new game or anime. “Leviathan,” you repeat, your stubbornness surfacing as you try, to no avail, to grab his attention. Of course, he hears you calling out to him, but he chooses to pretend you aren’t there. It’s less painful than the reality. You hate him. Why else would you go out with Beel to dinner? What does Beel have that he doesn’t? Sure, he isn’t tall or muscular like Beel, but he can be good to you. Perhaps it’s because he’s a yucky otaku that you don’t like him. It isn’t fair. His brothers always had what he wanted, your attention and praise. Still, even as you try to talk to him, his eyes remain glued to his screen, his attention to his anime unwavering.

A small sigh escapes you as you stand in his doorway, unmoving. In most cases, you are the unstoppable force to Levi’s immovable object, but you’re tired. To you, it is clear that he won’t give you the time of day. It has been almost twenty minutes since you first tried to get his attention. Twenty minutes too long to be spending in the doorway of someone giving you the silent treatment. Truth be told, you have no idea why he’s angry at you, which is what you’re trying to figure out. Even if he were to scream at you, it would be better than the silence you’re receiving. At least you would know why he’s angry. If he wants to be angry, then he can be, but you’re not waiting any longer for him to come around. When he’s ready to talk to you, he knows where your room is.

Silently, you exit his room, leaving him to his own devices. You’re sure he doesn’t notice you leave his room, being consumed by whatever brightly colored anime he’s watching. Disappointing, but you should have expected it. He is Levi, after all, the self-proclaimed otaku. It would be like pulling teeth to try to steal his attention from an anime. However, you know that’s not why he’s ignoring you. No, it’s for a different reason, and you’re not sure what. Levi isn’t the type to bottle up his feelings, as he’s normally very open and you will know when he’s upset and why he’s upset, but at the moment, you’re still in the dark. It hurts. Why is he acting like this? Did you do something wrong? What happened to you being his Henry? The Lord of Shadows would never ignore Henry like that.

When you leave, he notices. He’s disappointed and feels a little betrayed at your disappearance, wishing you were still talking to him. Eventually, he planned on responding, but he wanted you to stew in silence first. Clearly, that was the wrong approach. All he’s done is upset you. With a small sigh, he reluctantly stands up to follow you to your room, craving the attention that he’d been receiving from you a few seconds prior. A knock on your door and you’re quick to answer. His heart pangs when he sees your face drop at the sight of him. You were expecting someone else, weren’t you? Maybe you were seeking Mammon, who you’ve been spending a lot of time with. Why does he always get your attention? What makes him so special to you? Why can’t he have what he has? It’s hard for him to understand why you’d even want to give that greedy scumbag the time of day.

“What do you want?” You ask, your voice no longer holding its soft, concerned tone. Why had he sought you out, especially after giving you the silent treatment? What, did he want to hurt you more? Maybe he’s pissed that you left and now he’s come to give you a piece of his mind.

“I…” Levi had followed you to apologize, but now he just wants to know. He wants to know why he isn’t good enough for you. Why do you prefer his brothers over him? It’s not fair!

A sigh leaves your lips. “If you have nothing to say, then I’m shutting the door. Don’t follow me inside. I don’t understand why you’re cross with me, but I’d rather you tell me what I did. Instead, you ignored me. It hurt my feelings, Levi. We’re supposed to be friends. Friends don’t give friends the silent treatment.” You press your lips into a frown, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

The purple haired demon opens his mouth to explain, but speaks before thinking. “You went with Beel to dinner. At Hell’s Kitchen. You spent a lot of time with him there and I got jealous. Of Beel. What does he have that I don’t? It’s not fair that he gets to hang out with you. It’s not fair that he ate dinner with you when you should’ve been in my room, watching anime with me. Why do you like him more? Do you hate me? Am I not good enough for you?” His questions fly out of his mouth, rapid fire, not giving you the time to consider one question before another one is asked. All you can think is, what the hell?

You laugh, humorlessly. “You’re pissed because I went to dinner with Beel? What the fuck, man? He’s my friend, just as you are. There is no reason to be jealous. You’re just being shitty right now. I probably hang out with you the most, but that’s not enough? You are good enough, and I don’t hate you, but I’m pissed off right now. I’m pissed that you’re angry because I was hanging out with someone other than you. You’re acting so self-important. I don’t want to talk to you right now. Goodbye.” Of course, constantly hanging out with him isn’t enough. He’s the Avatar of Envy. Jealousy consumes him when he sees you with his brothers. It’s too late for more excuses, you decide. Maybe you’re being irrational, but so is he, and two can play at that game. So, you shut the door in his face, leaving him staring at the door, unable to see behind it.

Dejectedly, he trudges back to his room, head hanging low. He fucked up, royally, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. The hurt in your eyes was all too clear, even to a socially inept otaku like himself. Still, he feels as if you could have made an effort to understand him. Despite what he may seem, he is still a demon. Demons aren’t quick to change nature, especially not him or any of his brothers. They each govern a different Sin for a reason. Now that you won’t be spending your evenings with him, who will you spend them with? Maybe Belphegor? The Avatar of Sloth was fond of cuddling you while he slept. Though, why would the demon who killed you deserve your attention more than he does?

The Green-Eyed Monster sits in his dark room, alone and heartbroken.Tears roll down his cheeks and snot dribbles from his nose as he clenches his fists in frustration. You are supposed to be his Henry! A sob escapes him and he wipes his nose on his sleeve, leaving behind a trail of snot. Envy is a miserable, lonely emotion. Perhaps he could have had you, but you slipped through his cold, clammy fingers. Maybe it’s what he deserves for being a yucky otaku, a shut-in. Why can’t he have you? It isn’t fair. What makes his brothers more deserving of his attention? The Avatar of Envy will never know the truth, especially when he only sees through the lenses of his Sin. He is Envy and Envy is he.

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rina-writes · 4 years

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Read This

Summary: You, a long term friend of the twins, notice that Ethan has been acting strange. After beating around the bush for a couple months, Grayson breaks down and tells you what’s going on. You decide to show Ethan something that you never intended for him to read...

A/N: When I started this side blog, I wanted to make it such that it would only feature my writing of who I am obsessed with at the time. I really wanted to comment Ethan’s battle with acne, but didn’t want to take away from the purpose of this blog. So, I put it in this short fic. I hope you all enjoy!

You could see the concern in Grayson’s face as you trudged toward Ethan’s room, your long cardigan flowing majestically behind you with the quick movement. Grayson lurched forward to grab your wrist and you looked at him with a frown.

“I don’t think you understand the state that E is in right now.” Grayson said, looking at the ground instead of meeting your eyes. “I know you’re a fan of tough love, but I don’t think this is the greatest time for it.”

“Grayson, I’m not an asshole.” You said, pulling your arm away from him. “I’m not here to kick him when he’s down...I just want him to see something that I wish I had seen in my most insecure moments.”

Grayson seemed hesitant. You couldn’t blame him. The three of you were usually goofballs, pranking each other and roasting each other whenever you got the chance. It was weird for you to see Grayson so serious and using an inside voice. It was weirder not seeing Ethan at his side. It felt like the world was topsy turvy enough with everything going on, to see your friend group shattered as well pushed you to want to do something about it.

“I’m giving you 10 minutes.” Grayson said after some thought with a sigh. “But, leave the door open.”

“Okay, mom!” You punched his arm, playfully.

Grayson wagged a finger at you putting on his best scolding face before laughing softly. He gestured for you to go up the stairs and you nodded, turning from him.

The walk to Ethan’s room felt longer than usual. You realized it was because you were a bit nervous and it caused you to drag your feet. You took a deep breath and added some pep in your step. This wasn’t the big bad wolf, this was one of your closest friends. If you went in with that mindset, this whole thing was for naught.

As you got closer to Ethan’s room, surprised to see the door already open. You knocked on the door gently as you walked in. You frowned seeing Ethan laying in bed, his head pressed against a pillow with his eyes glued to his phone. He looked paler than you’ve ever seen him and his hazel eyes glossed over as though he was in his own dream world.

“Hey, it’s me.” You said, walking toward him. You tried to put a bit of normalcy in your voice. You hoped he didn’t hearing it quiver.

“Hey...” Ethan said, not enthusiasm in his voice. He didn’t really move. His head was still pressed to the pillow, but he used his feet to clear a space on the bed for you to sit.

“Oh wow the royal treatment.” You grinned. You walked over to him and he turned away slightly.

“Uh, I should let you know, my face is kind of a mess right now.” Ethan said, his words muffled slightly.

You sat on the edge of his bed and looked at him. You could barely see his face, but from what you could see, it didn’t look that bad. If he didn’t bring it up, you probably wouldn’t have noticed.

“Ethan, you’re talking to me.” You pointed at yourself. “If I didn’t apologize for literally every hair disaster I had in the last four years, you shouldn’t apologize for this.”

“They weren’t THAT bad...” Ethan said, finally locking his phone, but still avoiding your eyes.

“Your mom and the other hair stylists staged an intervention because of my last dye job.” You leaned forward and narrowed your eyes. “They emptied the store and had chairs in a circle like freaking Alcoholics Anonymous.”

Ethan laughed softly, a sound you realized that you had missed from the moment you entered the room.

“The chairs were such a nice touch.” Ethan joked doing the ‘chef’s kiss’ motion with his hands. “I wish I could take credit for it, but pretty sure it was someone at the salon.”

“My point is...” You said, moving right along as you resisted the urge to touch your hair now just to check if it was okay. You smiled, “...we’re friends, Ethan. We don’t have to apologize for things like this...”

Ethan went silent. You gulped worried that you went too far already. Now you understood why Grayson was acting they way he was downstairs. You wondered how many times they argued and how many times they shut each other out over the past couple of months. With them, there were two kinds of fighting. There was the fighting when they were both yelling and pushing each other. That was the norm. But, then there was the fighting where they both spoke in the quietest of voices. Where they didn’t make eye contact and only said a few words, usually sandwiched with swears. These were the arguments that worried you most because it usually meant one or both of them was hurting.

“I want to show you something.” You said, pulling out your phone from the front pocket of your jean shorts.

For the first time since you walked in, Ethan looked at you. This also meant that this was the first time you got a good look at him. He did look bad, but not because of his skin. His eyes looked so cold. It was like he was staring through you. You’ve seen him beam at complete strangers and now, he was staring at you like you were invisible.

You controlled your reaction, not wanting him to misunderstand your surprise. You softened your face, but dared not smile. He would be able to see through a phony grin. You looked own at your phone and started to get ready to show him what you planned.

“Grayson doesn’t let me see Twitter.” He said, before glancing away. “If that’s what you’re going to do...”

“Well, thank goodness I’m showing you Tumblr then.” You said, still looking at your screen as you typed in your search.

“Here...” You handed it to him and Ethan took your phone.

“What is this?” He asked, squinting at the brightness of your screen. At the top was ‘ethan dolan’ which searched all the Ethan Dolan tags on Tumblr.

“It’s the top results for Ethan Dolan on Tumblr.” You said, resting your hands on your lap. “I looked it up a long time ago to tease you guys. As you can see there are a lot of edits and stuff, but there’s also fan fiction.”

“I’ve read this stuff.” Ethan said, handing it back to you. “Clearly, you don’t watch our videos.”

There was a hint of a smile as he teased you. With it, you saw a glimmer of the Ethan Dolan you were waiting to emerge. Baby steps.

“Trust me.” You said pushing the phone back towards him. “This is nothing like you have ever read before.”

“You don’t even know which one I’m going to read.” Ethan rolled his eyes.

“Your fans are a lot more...eh, mature in their writing now.” You blushed softly. “Trust me.”

Ethan looked annoyed, but he decided to read one of them. You watched uncomfortably as his face turned redder and redder.

“Why am I spitting on her?” In the most deadpan voice, Ethan broke the silence and asked, looking at you.

“Oh my god!” You yelled, getting embarrassed. “I don’t know! I didn’t write it.”

“Do people think I’m that mean?” Ethan asked, looking back at the phone. “That I’d choke my girlfriend because she said that she was going to go ask Grayson to take care of her. Like OKAY, you do that...”

You snickered. As if Ethan would have such a chill reaction to something like that.

“Oh come on, E.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re not innocent...you know what fetishes are and that some people like being dominated.”

“Are you saying some people because you mean yourself?” Ethan quirked a brow, looking at you with a smug expression.

He was totally messing with you! You have been upset if you weren’t completely relieved

You narrowed your eyes, not giving away you position. “Anyway...now, I want you to go to the recent tab.”

You watched Ethan’s eyes search the screen and then his thumb move to the top of the screen to click on ‘Recent.’ He scrolled down more, his face turning more red.

“Well, that’s a very graphic description of my penis.” Ethan put your phone down and crossed his arms over his pillow, looking at you with a soft smile. “Did you come here to get laid?”

“Ugh, no!” You rolled your eyes. “You’re missing the point...”

“You just had me read written porn about myself...I’m not sure anyone would get the point.” Ethan said, the smile on his lips getting wider as his eyes started to regain the playfulness you had grown to adore.

“What was the difference between the fics in the Top section and the Recent section?” You asked, trying to give him a hint.

“Oh, you’re so acquainted with them that you call them fics?” Ethan asked, leaning back. You could now see that he was shirtless, in long gray sweat shorts, his stomach and chest exposed as he laid back on his head board.

“Alright, that’s it.” You said, pretending to leave as you snatched your phone.

Ethan knew you were bluffing, but he was too nice to call you out on it. “I’m sorry,” He gave you a little pout. “Don’t go.”

“Answer the question...” You said, sitting back down and crossing your legs.

Ethan stuck his hand out to take your phone and you unlocked to hand it to him. He switched between the two tabs.

“Uh, the ones in the top are a lot dirtier, I guess?” He narrowed his eyes. “Not by much though.”

“Okay, what about the gifs and stuff?” You asked. “Still seeing thirst comments?”

Ethan chuckled. “Yeah...about the same.”

“That’s kind of my point, E.” You took your phone and stared him down so he couldn’t look away. “For your fans, you’re still so hot that they want you to choke them and make them beg for you. You’re still their soft boy that they want to spoon and pamper. You’re still their sweetheart that...in all honesty, was probably the first love for many of them. They haven’t noticed your pimples...E.”

Ethan opened his mouth to say something, but you put up a finger.

“But they don’t know how bad it is.” You said in the deep, husky voice you use to imitate him along with your signature arm flex gestures.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “They really don’t. I mean look.” He pointed to his forehead.

“I’m going to lick it.” You said, lurching forward.

“HOLY --- Don’t you dare.” Ethan said, sticking out his foot to stop you.

You laughed, loudly and eventually, Ethan did as well.

“Every time you say something like that’s I’m going to lick. Then you’ll have acne and my spit on you.” You stuck out your tongue.

“I’m going to have nightmares.” Ethan joked, smiling softly.

You slapped his thigh and grinned. “Look, I’ve been kinda where you are. With my skin, with my hair, with my weight...all of it. I kept thinking I didn’t deserve to have fun until I looked perfect. All the while, the people around me didn’t even notice. I bet you probably don’t even remember when I’m talking about...”

Ethan shook his head. He turned his head to look out the window and then realization washed over his face.

Ethan paused for a moment. “I only remember that one day where you didn’t want to go to the beach and then someone told me it was because you didn’t want to go swimsuit shopping...I didn’t really get it at the time. I was just upset because that was the first time we were going to hang out in months and it was the only time Gray and I were free.”

“That’s how I feel about this.” You smiled softly. “To me, Gray, your friends, your family, your FANS...” You pointed to your phone. “We don’t get why you don’t want to come to the beach. We don’t give two hoots how you look in the swimsuit, we just miss you.”

“I can’t say I feel 100% better.” Ethan admitted. “But, I’m feeling a little less...shitty.”

“A little less shitty. I’ll take that.” You smiled, standing up.

“I half expected to come in here and slap me across the face.” Ethan laughed softly.

“Good god, do both Dolan Twins think I’m an asshole?” You put your hands on your hips.

“Oh Tin Man, you do have a heart...” Ethan joked.

You grabbed one of his pillows and hit him with it. He grabbed another and hit you back, your laughter filling the room.

“Wanna get something to eat? Or at least go downstairs?” You asked. “You know how Gray gets when he’s left out.”

You imitated Gray hunched over and pouting looking at Ethan from the corner of your eye.

“Yeah...” Ethan smiled, getting off the bed and standing up. “Imma tell him you did that.”

“Heh, do it.” You scoffed. “I’m not afraid him...Just uh, let me start my car.”

You reached in your pocket to pull out your keys and pretended to remote start you car by pointing it at the window.

He gave you a tight hug. “Thanks, kiddo. You’re not half bad most of the time.”

“Yup.” You said, hugging him back lightly. “I’m the best, I know.”

“So be honest....” Ethan asked “...how many of those fics of me have you read?”

Your eyes widened slightly. “What? Grayson, are you calling me?!” You yelled speed walking toward the door.

“Gray! Y/N is lusting after.” Ethan yelled, following you out the door. “She’s prying on your brother in his moment of weakness.”

Grayson smiled as he heard you two thundering down. 9 mins and 35 seconds...not bad at all.

#ethan dolan #dolan twins #ethan dolan blurb #ethan dolan fic #ethan dolan fanfic #grayson dolan #ethan dolan scenario #dolan twins scenario #dolan twins blurb #fic-read-this #r-writes-fic

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trashmenofmarvel · 4 years

Text

Undercurrent

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You disobey Steve’s orders one too many times and have a close call on a mission. Bucky doesn’t handle it well, and takes decisive steps to make sure you learn how to follow orders.

(For @marquiswrites Follower Challenge! Congrats, friend!)

Prompt: “when the party’s over” by Billie Eilish

Warnings: Explicit sex scenes, semi-dark Bucky, dubcon, blood, wounds, violence, PTSD, mourning, Bucky is a hell of an unreliable narrator

Note: A lot like a Billie Eilish song, this fic is depressing and horny. It does have a hopeful ending, for those of you who can’t read unhappy ones (like me). Bear in mind that this Bucky is dark(ish) and a lot more broken and traumatized than the Bucky’s I usually write.

The summary is a little vague so let me be clear: Bucky’s bark is worse than his bite, and the aforementioned trauma/violence is done by others, not him.

Word Count: 5k

AO3

Bucky paced restlessly like a caged animal. Back and forth, back and forth. It put you on edge and was perhaps the reason you flinched harder than you needed to while Dr. Banner cleaned the wound in your side.

“Sorry,” he apologized with a wince. “Guess my hands aren’t sturdy today.”

“Your hands are fine,” you said flatly. It was Bucky that was the problem. His agitation was contagious. He hadn’t said a word since you’d returned to the tower after the mission. A bad sign.

The mission had gone well, at first. Get inside the HYDRA base without detection and steal what you could from their internal servers. Steve, Nat, and Bucky were lookouts from the ground while Clint and Sam covered the rooftops. You were put on hacking duty, breaking down firewalls and dismantling security protocols with your custom-made viruses.

Straightforward and simple, at least until a group of HYDRA agents stumbled onto your group and one managed to radio for help before your teammates could take him down. That’s all it took, one mistake for the entire mission to be compromised.

Weeks of intel-gathering thrown out the window. Unacceptable.

When Steve had told you to pull out, you’d disobeyed orders, fingertips flying over the keyboard as you transferred the data directly to the external drive you had hooked up to the data port. You could hear your teammates, overwhelmed by the onslaught of HYDRA soldiers, but you didn’t stop. Not even when Bucky had yelled at you to listen, just for once. You’d remained silent and focused on your task, and Bucky had broken from cover to run back for you.

It was the reason you were still alive and had received only a graze from a bullet instead of being laid out, cold and unmoving on a slab. The first shot the HYDRA agent took was partially deflected by Bucky’s vibranium palm, and the enemy never got a chance for a second shot.

Even if the close call hadn’t been enough to stop you, the missed bullet through the bank of computers did. You’d ignored the blood spilling down your tac suit and pulled out the external hard drive. The biggest concern on your mind had been that you’d gotten enough intel to make the mission worthwhile.

Bucky had remained silent as he’d covered your retreat, but the severe crease of his brow and the harsh scowl on his face had told you everything you needed to know.

He was pissed then and he was pissed now. Despite the fact you were safe in the tower being tended to in the medbay by Dr. Banner, Bucky was still on high alert.

“All done,” Dr. Banner said once he had finished wrapping the circumference of your waist with bandages. “It’s not deep but the glancing impact bruised some ribs. Lots of bed rest for the next couple days, okay?”

“Thanks, Bruce,” you said, consciously forcing the warmth into your words.

Bucky said nothing.

You didn’t bother to put your tac suit back on; it was torn and covered in dried blood, so you left the medbay in only your undershirt and leggings. You could sense Bucky at your back, looming like a dark cloud at your shoulder.

He remained laconic all the way back to your floor, his eyes straight ahead in the elevator. He avoided acknowledging you were there, and yet smothered you with his silent presence at the same time.

When you finally entered your shared residential suite and you heard the door slide shut behind him, you turned and opened your mouth.

Bucky never gave you the chance to speak. He grabbed you by the arm and spun you, shoving your back against the door. A pained breath left you at the jostling of your wound, but Bucky didn’t let go. He held you by both of your biceps as he glared down into your face.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” His voice was a low hiss and his eyes were dark coals.

You’d known this was coming, but you still baulked against his accusatory tone.

“I was thinking the mission took precedence. I was thinking there was no point in pulling out because the files were nearly downloaded.” His glare sharpened, but you didn’t relent. “I was thinking I wasn’t going to fail to do my part just because Steve wanted to play it safe.”

“Steve is the leader of this team,” Bucky growled, “which means you follow his orders. He wasn’t playing it safe, he was being smart. If HYDRA knew what we were doing, you don’t think they wouldn’t have taken steps to make sure the data we took would be useless? That hard drive is probably scrambled to shit, or worse, contains their own countermeasures to infiltrate our system if we’re stupid enough to upload it to our servers.”

You opened your mouth… and quickly shut it.

“Yeah,” he said very quietly. It wasn’t a nice kind of quiet. “Steve took all possible options into account. He made a call. You ignored it, because that’s what you do. You never listen.” He squeezed his fingers for emphasis.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek to keep from reacting, to keep from saying something stupid, but your mouth got the better of you.

“I did what I had to, and you can bet I’d do it again.”

You saw it in his eyes. The moment you fucked up and went an inch too far.

“Right,” he said. “Okay.”

He grabbed you by the wrist and hauled you from the door, dragging you toward the bed.

“Bucky!” You tugged hard but he was much stronger than you. “What the fuck—“

Without warning, he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder, lifting you as if you were nothing more than a toy. The breath was knocked out of you from the pressure against your side, but before you could struggle he shoved you down onto the bed. He followed you up onto the mattress and straddled your hips, grabbed your wrists, and wrenched them above your head.

Too late did you see the metal in his hands, and with a click he had you handcuffed to the headboard. These were not police-issue handcuffs either; they were electromagnetic restraints he must have taken from the armory.

You yanked hard against the cuffs, smarting your wrists against the unyielding metal. You glared up at him and tried to throw him off, but Bucky held you down by the shoulders.

“Stop that,” he growled forcefully. “You’ll hurt yourself worse.”

The surprise from his rough treatment turned into boiling anger.

“I’ll hurt myself? You have the fucking gall to say that after cuffing me to the bed?!” You spit fury and venom as you continued to try and buck him off. “Fuck you. Fuck you for even—“

Bucky mashed his lips against yours, cutting off your curses and rendering you helpless against the onslaught of his kiss. It was hard, sloppy and forceful, but when his tongue slid into your mouth you automatically tipped your head upward to meet his mouth more firmly.

When Bucky finally pulled away, your lips stung and your heart was racing. His expression hadn’t changed, as severe as before, only now his lips were swollen form the attention on your mouth.

“Finally. I was wondering if you were capable of being quiet for more than two seconds.”

You bared your teeth and were about to tell him off again when he moved. You thought he was going to get off the bed, but instead he shoved your thighs apart with his knees and pressed his hips against yours. You could feel the erection straining against his tac pants.

“Is this what it’s gonna take?” His sharp blue eyes watched you like a wolf closing in on its prey. “To get you to listen? You don’t seem to learn any other way.” His hand slipped under your thin shirt, calloused fingers running delicately over your bandage until he cupped your bare breast.

You pressed your lips tightly together, clenching your jaw and refusing to make a sound as he rubbed your nipple. They’d been hard before he’d even gotten there.

His eyes narrowed, and with a quick movement he grabbed the collar of your shirt with his metal hand and ripped your shirt in half.

“Bucky!” you squeaked indignantly. You liked that shirt.

He ignored you and pulled off the shredded remains, leaving your chest exposed to the chill of the room. He bent down and licked one nipple, toying with it with his tongue as his cool vibranium fingers played with the other.

You flexed your hips upward, trying to push him off, but it only made the friction against your core worsen. You tugged at the restraints and whined, needy and unable to be quiet about it. He knew your body too well.

Bucky moved downwards, dragging soft lips across your stomach and rolling your leggings down your hips and thighs as he went. Warmth was already pooling low in your belly, and you couldn’t hide the slick wet of your folds, fully on display for him as he laid you bare.

Parting your folds, there was tightness in his voice as he said, “Don’t have much to say now, do you?”

You hissed and tried to push against him with your legs, but Bucky held down your thighs with his arms, and keeping your folds parted he pressed his lips against your bud.

The whine in your throat escalated into a cry as he licked and sucked at your clit, relentless and greedy and driving you fast toward the edge. You couldn’t even feel the ache from your wound, his deft tongue filling you with sharp pleasure you had no defenses against.

“Oh, God,” you moaned harshly, “Bucky, I’m gonna—“

He pulled away. The pressure building in your core instantly came to a standstill. You gave a strangled noise in frustration, wriggling your hips, but he held them down as he stared you straight in the eye.

“I didn’t say you could come yet.”

You watched, shocked, as he got up from the bed and went to your shared dresser. He opened the top drawer, the one that contained your underwear, and riffled through it.

“It’s all about control with you. You don’t know how to give it up, and that’s why you don’t listen. You come from civilian life, I get that, but it’s no goddamn excuse to treat each mission as if you’re expendable. You put your teammates and yourself in danger.”

“I don’t,” you said, breath still labored as your limbs shivered. “I don’t act like I’m expendable. I just complete the mission at all costs. Isn’t that what you soldiers do?”

Bucky didn’t respond, and instead pulled out his quarry, the pink bullet-shaped vibrator you kept hidden in your drawer. You didn’t even know he knew it existed, let alone where to find it.

“Soldiers listen to orders.” He closed the drawer with an angry snap and returned to the bed. “Something you’re going to learn before you go back into the field.”

“What?” He couldn’t possibly be saying what you thought he was saying.

“You’re a liability out there,” Bucky said with a scowl. He kneeled back on the bed right between your legs. “And until such time as I deem it, you’re going to be benched. When I see you’re willing to listen to orders, I’ll give Steve the go-ahead to let you back on the team.”

“You can’t!” He couldn’t do this to you! Being on the team, a part of the Avengers, it was your entire life!

His eyes narrowed dangerously, and he brought the vibrator up to your clit. “Actually, I can.”

As soon as he flicked on the switch, your mind was gone, your body a twisting, writing mess of wanton need and undulating pleasure. The vibrations traveled up your bud and throughout your thighs and lower belly, and somewhere in the haze of euphoria the irony wasn’t lost on you that a “bullet” was the cause of your problems twice in one day.

Just as you were about to reach your peak a second time, Bucky removed the vibrator and turned it off. You bit your lip and tried not to cry in frustration.

You had more strength than this, you weren’t weak, but you were tired and worn down and needed the release he denied you. More than that, you wanted Bucky to stop being angry at you and hold you in his arms, a comfort after the brush with death that did affect you.

You were also too stubborn to admit it. You glared up at him balefully, pressing your lips together as you defiantly jutted your chin.

Bucky scowled and leaned over you, his thighs once again holding your legs open. He dipped his fingers down between your folds, and the coolness of his vibranium startled a flinch out of you.

“Still not listening. Still can’t follow orders.” Bucky pushed, his fingers slipping past your entrance, made easier but your slick juices and eager body. “You know what your problem is? You can’t give up that control. You don’t trust anyone. You believe you know best and you can control everything that happens.”

“You sure… you’re not projecting?” you hissed out.

Bucky’s scowl darkened and he snapped his fingers forward, burying himself knuckle-deep before pressing his metal thumb against your clit.

You bit down a cry, refusing to surrender, no matter how unbelievably good it felt as he began to move his fingers. The warmth of your juices slipped down your ass, your walls tightening around him surprisingly fast.

“Jesus,” he breathed, “look at how wet you still are. Maybe you’re incapable of ceding control, but your body is more than willing.”

You shook your head and closed your eyes, chewing on your lip as you tried to relax your muscles, knowing that tensing up would only bring the impending orgasm that much faster. You couldn’t say quiet when he curled his fingers and rubbed against the sensitive bundle against your wall, and you bucked your hips against his hand.

“Eager, are we?” he practically purred. “I still didn’t say you could come yet. Open your eyes.”

You did so, unwillingly, but the sight of him looming above you, face flushed and his pupils blown, was an alluring picture you couldn’t look away from. You could feel it the moment your resolve began to crumble, and your lip trembled as you whispered, “Please.”

His brows rose and his voice dropped. “Please what?”

“Please let me come.” No, that wasn’t quite right. “Bucky, please, I need you to fuck me.”

“Are you going to listen from now on?” Bucky’s glare only intensified as he continued to fuck you with his metal fingers. “Are you gonna follow orders?”

“Yes!” Your mental armor cracked and crumbled into pieces, and you couldn’t stop babbling once the dam had broken. “Yes, I’ll listen, I’m sorry, I never meant to screw up so badly, I just wanted to finish the mission, I’m sorry—“

Bucky’s fingers were gone in an instant and he reached up to power off the electro-cuffs, throwing them to the side after freeing your wrists. His movements were barely controlled as he quickly removed his clothing, and he didn’t waste a second in pulling your legs around his waist as he bent forward and lined up his cock with your entrance. He pushed in, not slowing even when you whimpered, until he was fully buried inside you.

He crashed his lips against yours, less aggressive than before but with a taste of desperation guiding his movements, as if he couldn’t get enough. Tongue and lips clashing, his hips against yours in a steady rhythm, giving you everything you had asked for. Bucky’s hands curled into your hair, pulling your mouth even harder against his, hungry with desire as he plucked at your body like a tightly-wound snare.

Your orgasm hit hard and fast, leaving you crying and clinging to him in its wake. He buried himself in you up to the hilt, a choked, strained groan deep in his throat as he throbbed and spilled inside you.

He didn’t move away, his weight a comforting blanket as he panted into your neck, muscles slightly trembling. You pulled him close, leaning your cheek against his shoulder and running your fingers through his hair. Even after both of your bodies descended from the high, his light shivering didn’t stop.

You knew why, just as surely as you knew that slowly rubbing your fingers into his taut muscles was the only thing that would allow him to eventually relax.

You wished things could be different. That Bucky hadn’t been so broken down and shattered over the course of his unnaturally long life that he didn’t revert to this colder persona when something like this happened.

But that simply wasn’t the man Bucky was now. This is how he coped with fear and pain and trauma, and you’d known what you were getting into from the start. You were with him all the way until the very end, and sometimes he needed to be reminded that he wasn’t going to lose you. He had lost so much already.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I love you. I’m so sorry.”

Bucky’s trembling softly subsided but he kept his face hidden in your hair, his voice broken. “If anything happened to you… that would be it for me. You’re all I’ve got left. If I lost you—”

“You won’t.” You pressed your lips to the side of his jaw. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

***

In the end, it wasn’t a bullet that got her. It was the serrated blade of a knife.

Bucky had glimpsed the bright slash of metal too late. Quarters were cramped, the area badly lit, but it wasn’t a good enough excuse to not see the HYDRA agent before he plunged the knife into her back. Just to the left of her spine, adjacent to the T12 and L1 vertebrates, slicing open her left kidney and piercing into her stomach.

That’s what Dr. Banner told him later. At the moment, all Bucky could focus on, his vision narrowing down into a bright tunnel, was that she was on the ground, a pool of dark red seeping out from underneath.

Denial spilled form his lips as Bucky dropped to his knees, shoving his vibranium hand under her back and forcing his fingers into the breach, trying to stem the tide of crimson.

Please, no. Please, please, please. Not her. Not her!

She stared up at him, somehow able to focus her glassy eyes on his face. Her shaking hands gripped the sleeve of his tac vest, her face pulled into sorrow.

“I’m… sorry….”

Bucky shoved away his choking fear, pulling his focus to steady his voice even as he wanted to scream. “Nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. You did everything right. It wasn’t your fault, it was mine—I fucked up, just, don’t talk, okay? Don’t say anything, you’re gonna be fine.”

He was babbling, he knew he was. He pressed the comm in his ear, demanding to know where the fuck the medivac team was, but Bucky never removed his hand from the spurting wound.

He never let her go, even when her eyelids fluttered closed, her body lax in his arms. He didn’t let go, even when Steve tried pulling him away. He snarled like a wild animal, holding her close to his chest.

She said she wouldn’t leave. She’d promised.

Eventually they pried her out of his arms, not too difficult when he had held her like she was made of brittle glass. He was out of control, lashing out at anyone who got to close, and he knew he was being a complete asshole, but he didn’t care.

Steve eventually had to put himself between Bucky and Stark when the billionaire had threatened to “light him up like a Christmas tree” if he didn’t stop “punching my guys.”

When they returned to the tower in a haze of confused noise and the chaos of jostling bodies, Bucky let the numbness overtake him. He heard the words but they barely registered as Banner explained they had taken her to surgery, but her kidney was ruined and her stomach had been punctured. He said they would do all they could.

Even through the cold that surrounded him like a cocoon, Bucky knew that was bullshit. He could see it in Banner’s eyes.

By the time he returned to their shared room, it was late into the evening. They would be eating dinner by now in the common room. Should have been. She should be here right now, not Bucky, and there was no one left to argue his point in the empty room that stared back at him.

He stood there and simply stared at the landscape that had been their life, seeing her everywhere he looked. Even now, a part of him expected her to walk through the door, eyes sparkling as she caught sight of him.

Bucky never understood why she looked at him that way, as if she was happy to see him, but now he’d never see it again.

He sat down on the mattress, hard, and hung his blood-stained hands between his knees. Each breath he took was one she didn’t, and that cruel calculus was the final blow to the façade.

He buried his head in his hands and wept.

***

It was a sign of how large the hollowness that occupied the space in Bucky’s chest had become when half the world could disappear with the snap of someone’s fingers and he barely noticed the difference. Everyone said the world seemed bleaker, less color and joy in it, but Bucky assumed it had been that way all along.

The Avengers hadn’t escaped the Decimation unscathed, but the original core team were still alive. And Bucky. In a cruel twist of fate, he had survived. He would have given anything to trade places with Sam, or Rhodes, or T’Challa. They actually deserved to be alive and could be a resource in the hard days to come.

But Bucky kept his resentment to himself and carried on. There were still missions, always more missions, and he executed them with the cold efficiency he had known as the Winter Soldier. He knew Steve worried about his return to “old habits,” but unless Bucky actually went AWOL and started turning his guns on allies instead of mission targets, then he didn’t truly have any cause to take him off the team.

And then, there was a mission that should have been like any other. Those were the ones that tended to go to shit, if Bucky’s experience was anything to go by. There was some kind of machine, nasty old HYDRA stuff that had been pulled from one of Red Skull’s old vaults.

Bucky didn’t understand how it worked, something to do with Tesseract-powered tech like those power cells they’d used back in the war, and Stark had a solution. Blow it up with a big-ass bomb. Typical.

They hadn’t anticipated the specially lined walls of the underground bunker would interfere with the detonation signal. There was no way to trigger the bomb unless by physical access.

Bucky didn’t even bother to volunteer—he simply broke from the group and disappeared into the catacombs.

“Buck!” Steve’s voice came to him over the channel, crackling from the increased interference. “Where are—you—goi—ng!”

“Someone’s gotta set off that bomb,” he said, not slowing his pace as he rounded another corner. “I’m almost there. You guys have two minutes to get out of the blast zone. Better time it, because I’m about to lose radio contact.”

“No! Bucky, STOP!”

“Sorry, Steve.” He slowed his footsteps and shone the muzzle flashlight of his carbine onto the bomb, so small and innocuous. Stark certainly had made his killing toys more efficient. “I’m really sorry.”

The channel was dead and silent like a grave. Bucky thought that was about right.

He settled in, sitting next to the bomb and resting his weapon on his knees. He could hear someone coming, several someones, the practiced rhythm of their rapid footfalls telling him it wasn’t the team. HYDRA must have known what they were up to.

“Too late, assholes.”

They rounded the corner, and Bucky opened fire. The first wave all went down without a fight. The second managed to get a few rounds into his chest and stomach.

It was all right. He was where he needed to be. There was no fear, barely any pain, and he felt alive for the first time in months.

“I’m glad it was me,” he spat, the taste of iron hot on his lips. Something was broken inside him, even his super soldier abilities weren’t able to heal it fast enough, but that was okay.

“I’m glad it was me who took you fuckers down.”

Bucky jammed his closed fist against the button to open the control console on the bomb, entered in the bypass code, and with a red-tinged smile, hit the detonation switch.

***

“Bucky?”

He startled awake, his breath choking in his throat as he looked around with the stark fear of a wild animal.

You wanted to reach out and touch him, but you knew that was precisely the wrong thing to do when he was caught in the throes of panic.

“Hey,” you said quietly. “It’s okay. Bucky, look at me.”

His blue eyes settled on you, still too round and frightened. He blinked, confusion framing his brows as his gaze went from you to the bedroom at large, dim but lightening from the golden light of dawn peaking behind the blinds.

Bucky turned back to you and his face crumpled. With a strangled cry in his throat, he gripped onto you tightly and buried face into your chest. You returned the gesture, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressed your lips into his hair, not caring it was damp with sweat.

“Another nightmare?” you asked, even as you already knew the answer.

He nodded wordlessly, otherwise not moving as he pressed his ear firmly to your chest.

You knew it wasn’t just a simple embrace; he was listening for your heart, assuring himself it still beat at a strong and steady rhythm. As he always did after that, Bucky moved his flesh hand over your back, pushing up your nightshirt so he could trace his fingers next to your spine. He released a trapped breath when he found the evidence of the old knife wound, puckered but healed over with scar tissue.

You pulled back from him, only far enough to cup his face in your hands. Bucky was a mess, his hair rumpled and his eyes red and glassy, but he was lucid and aware of where he was. You much preferred that to the mornings when he couldn’t wake up, screaming and fighting with terror and you had to call Steve or Tony to hold him down until he woke up.

“Which one?” you asked softly, searching his eyes. You wondered if it was the one where he hunted down the remaining heads of HYDRA. He always died at the end, gunned down and left in a pool of blood.

Or maybe it was the one where everyone disappeared in the Decimation. Those nightmares were always worse for him, where he survives but everyone around him vanishes into dust.

Bucky tightened his jaw. “The… bomb one.”

You tried not to flinch, and probably failed. That was your most hated one, because it was mostly based on real events. At the time of that specific mission, it would still be weeks before you would pull out of your coma, and Bucky had nearly gotten himself killed trying to be the martyr.

The only reason it hadn’t worked was because Tony had disabled the on-site detonator purely for that reason. He’d known Bucky was reckless to the point of self-destructive, and because of his foresight, Bucky hadn’t been able to go through his plan. He had survived.

Barely. He’d still had to recover from several bullet wounds, some of which had shredded some pretty vital stuff, but there had been no trace of them by the time you’d woken up. You’d learned all of this secondhand from Steve, and it had taken all of your control not to tear Bucky a new one for being so unbelievably stupid.

But then again, how many times had you scared him to death on missions with your own reckless behavior? You’d’ finally understood then where all that anger had come from.

You released a slow, heavy breath, and pulled him forward, pressing his mouth against yours. Bucky melted, his lips pliant under yours, and you breathed him in just to reassure yourself that both of you were still here.

You pulled back and leaned your forehead against his, brushing your thumbs against his jaw.

“I told you, I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, leaning forward to bury his face in your neck. By the trembling of his muscles you knew he was still upset, and you could guess at the black thoughts running through his mind. Not as bad as they used to be, but still there and always would be.

“Promise?” he asked, his voice an unsteady croak.

You tightened your hold on him. “I was stabbed, you were gunned down and nearly blown up, and we both survived the end of the world.” You couldn’t help but smile a little. “I think we’ve proven how stubborn we are, at the very least. But yes, I promise.”

When he finally pulled away, you asked, “Breakfast?”

Bucky looked at you thoughtfully, but then shook his head and lay back down on the bed. Before you could go anywhere, he caught your wrist and tugged you down on top of him, forcing you to straddle his hips.

Oh, you thought as his growing erection pressed against your stomach. It was going to be one of those mornings. You liked those mornings.

“Later.” He traced his tongue over his chapped lips. “Come here.”

His words might have been an echo of an order but you were the one who took the lead, catching his lips as you pulled off your nightclothes, needing just as much assurance as him that you were all right, everything was all right. Each touch and caress told you that it was, or at least it would be, as long as you still had each other.

Through the heat of your bodies and the squares of sunbeams slowly traveling up your walls and filling your room with light, the cold darkness of the fear and the nightmares were chased away.

#marquiswrites100challenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #reader fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #for a friend

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planetsam · 4 years

Text

This is a quick follow up to my previous Buffy fic (Tumblr or Ao3: Space Junk). I also want to give a huge shout out to @savethedots. I took a long break from the fandom but was upset about Buffy-gate. I didn’t realize how upset I still was until I read their meta and then had to write something about a way that Buffy could go to Alex.

“Buffy!”

Buffy tries to take off like a rocket and Alex leans back, gripping the leash so he doesn’t lose her. His balance is thrown horribly off and Buffy makes a gagging noise as her collar goes tight. He opens his mouth to reprimand her and she unleashes a series of sharp barks before turning back to straining.

“No!” Alex says firmly, “we’re not going over there. Buffy, come!” Instead of obeying his sharp command she barks louder and strains harder, “it’s not safe over there.” To his surprise, Buffy gives him a sharp look but relaxes. Alex breathes a sigh of relief and steps forward, “that’s a good—“ there’s a sharp yank and he finds himself in the dirt with the leash out of his hand, “Buffy!” 

The beagle takes off. Alex gets quickly to his feet, fixes his prosthetic and takes off after her. Adrenaline slams into him. He may not have been looking for a dog and Buffy may have had the great misfortune of being here because of him, but the idea of the dog getting hurt isn’t one he can stand. The expertise and diet has worked too well. Buffy could aways put on speed when needed but her endurance is way up.

The site where Crash Con went up in flames isn’t one that Alex wants to revisit.

But it’s where Buffy is headed so he finds himself ducking under the pathetic excuse for a fence they’ve erected. It’s not like they have any great need for security, everything is either gone or it’s ash at this point. Still, Alex doesn’t like revisiting places where he almost died and his darkest secrets got revealed. But he likes the idea of Buffy being hurt a hell of a lot less. Buffy stops abruptly and immediately starts digging at the ground.  “Buffy,” he catches up to her but she ignores him, “Buff, come on,” he says. When he reaches for her she moves away and continues to dig, “fine, but if you have to go to the vet you can’t guilt trip me over it this time.”

Buffy huffs and keeps digging, pausing only to shove her nose in the hole. Alex looks for anything sharp but it just seems like the worst she’s going to wind up with is a bath. Which he’s sure he’ll get the silent treatment for tonight. By the time she’s done digging, Buffy can practically fit her entire upper half in the hole she’s made. Alex fights the urge to groan. Buffy hates getting her ears cleaned and that’s where this is headed. Her tail starts wagging and she dives headfirst in, so the only thing sticking out is her butt and her tail.

“Wow she’s fast,” Michael says as Alex jumps out of his skin, “sorry.”  “What are you doing here?” Alex demands.

“Same thing your dog is,” Michael says.

Alex frowns and looks down. This isn’t safe for either of them really. For a whole host of reasons. They all stay away from the crash site as much as possible. Or he thought they all did, it seems like Michael hasn’t been following that rule. Alex realizes he shouldn’t have thought for a second that he was, but he had. Briefly.

“I thought we were staying away from this place,” he says.

“Yeah I—“ Michael trails off, “I wanted to see if there was anything left.”

He doesn’t apologize and Alex isn’t sure why he wants him to. This wouldn’t be a big deal if not for the decade that came before. They are both trying very hard to move past it and maybe Michael’s having more luck but Alex finds himself constantly having to steer his thoughts away from it. Constantly not wanting to find a way to rip apart space and time until he can go back and make their younger selves not cause so much pain.

“You could have told me,” Alex says quietly.

“Yeah, I should’ve,” Michael agrees.

Before Alex can say anything else, Buffy pops up from the hole and bounds over to him. He sighs because she’s covered in mud and very pleased with herself, but she doesn’t look harmed. So at least there’s that, though he’ll save being sure of the until after he gets her clean. Buffy sits in front of him and looks at him purposefully until he realizes she’s got something in her mouth. Bending down, he sticks his hand out and she drops a piece of muddy glass in it before shoving her nose into his hand to be rewarded.  “Good girl,” Alex says, scratching behind her ears as Buffy beams up at him. She’ll sulk otherwise, though he knows that teaching her to do what she just did is dumb as hell, “what did you find?”

He wipes the piece on his pants. Michael steps forward and looks at it. It takes Alex longer than he wishes to admit to realize what he’s holding. The hungry look in Michael’s eyes is the give away since there’s nothing remotely alien about the piece. It’s not until he deposits it in Michael’s hand that it glows. It’s not the pink of before, instead it’s a violet sheen but it glows all the same. When Michael rubs his thumb over it, a handful of sigils flash a bright blue.

“Does it say anything?” Alex asks.

“Not that I can understand,” Michael says with a tight smile.

Buffy catches sight of the piece glowing and barks loudly. Her tail bangs against the ground as she looks at Alex expectantly. He looks away from the piece to Buffy who puffs herself up. When Alex just stares at her she looks fractionally unsure before looking at the piece and then back at him.

“Does she know what this is?” Michael asks.

“No,” Alex says instantly. Michael raises his eyebrows, “I mean, I don’t think so?” Alex looks at Buffy whose gone from proud and excited to swinging between unsure and confused. Not at the piece but at Alex’s reaction, “Here, good girl,” he says, offering her a treat and bending down to pet her, “you did good.”

Buffy puffs up again and take the treat, rolling onto her back to show her stomach for more pets. She’s already so filthy Alex can’t scold her for that and bends down to scratch her belly. She very rarely feels secure enough to do it, but it seems this is the reaction she is expecting. She closes her eyes in full and utter contentment.

“I think she knows,” Michael says unnecessarily, “I saw things about beagles who do scent work and shit, when I was coming up with her stairs,” he adds, “maybe she was trained for it.”

Alex feels fresh outrage because that makes a whole lot of fucking sense. He’d always assumed that the dog had been adopted right before Forrest came to Roswell, precisely to get to him, he hadn’t considered that the dog was with Deep Sky for longer. Or that she had training.

“I figured she ran up to me—“ he swears, “but Maria was right next to me.”

“Shit,” Michael mutters. Buffy pants happily in the mud, “I’m glad I built your super beagle a way to get into the bunker,” he says.

Alex wonders briefly what their lives have come to now that he’s only mildly surprised by this talent Buffy has. Apparently their ability to find and work with aliens is just another thing that made him and Buffy useful to Deep Sky—until they weren’t.

“Do you, uh, need a hand bathing her?” Michael asks. Alex looks over at him, “I was working on planting some stuff before I got here so I have the hose all set up.”

Alex recognizes the apology for what it is. He’s able to give her a bath but it’s not exactly a pleasant experience. Baths are not Buffy’s favorite thing. Michael looks at him anxiously, looking like he wants to take the words back but can’t quite figure out how.

“A leg,” Alex says. Michael looks confused, “I need an extra leg bathing her. Helps with the balance.”

Michael stares at him for a moment before he laughs, relieved.   “I can help with that,” he promises.

#michael guerin #alex manes #michael x alex #malex #Buffy the beagle #Buffy manes #malex fic #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #roswell nm fanfic

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