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clairecrive · 3 years

Text

"Bookish talks"- Billy Russo x reader

A/n: again, not requested but the idea popped into my mind after reading @faulty-coding piece. (I think)

Warnings: a bit of angst, misunderstandings but fluffy ending

Word count: 1.5k +

Tagging: @thefictionalgemini , @tarkanelima-blog , @pansysgirlfriend , @acciorudolphx (if you want, you can add yourself to my taglist by filling this form)

My masterlists are here.

"Yeah, she's been going on and on about this book. I've got five more minutes to go."

Well, the things you find out when you turn up where you're not supposed to be.

To be fair, you didn't mean to eavesdrop. When you got out that morning you had forgotten to take your wallet. Here explained why you had returned not even ten minutes from where you first walked out. You didn't even think that Billy would be still at home, so you didn't bother with announcing yourself.

And look what a surprise you were met with.

Taking your wallet, you hurried out of Billy's apartment set on not hearing anymore.

*+* *+* *+*

The day passed as it normally would. You had pushed back Billy's words in your mind because you had work to do. It wouldn't be smart to unpack what it meant so early in the morning when you had so much to do.

You weren't mad per se. You were rather hurt that he had never told you that he didn't enjoy your talks about the latest book you were reading. So yeah, let's add "stupid and guilty" under your current mood. You didn't want to put Billy in a position where he had to bear with something he didn't like. But how were you meant to know if he didn't talk to you?

This is not the moment, you reprimanded yourself with a shake of your head.

Coherent with your routine though, at six, Billy's call came. Of course, he acted normally, nothing had happened for him, after all.

"So, you coming around tonight?"

"Nope, book club meeting tonight."

"Oh, right. Was kinda hoping you'd ditch them."

"They're my outlet for my book nerdiness, Billy. Wouldn't want to annoy anyone with my craze over books."

"Who said you do?"

"You did."

It wasn't your intention to confront him on the matter over the phone. It was an instant reaction.

Billy didn't gasp but the silence you were met with was more than enough to show you that he'd been taken aback.

"Y/n-"

"It's okay, Billy. I don't mind if you don't like listening to me talking about books. I just wish you would have told me. I wouldn't be feeling so stupid and guilty for all the time I've made you waste now if you had."

"You didn't waste my time."

From that moment, things between you had Billy went back to normal. Sort of. He hadn't confronted you on the matter anymore and of course, you wouldn't bring it back up. So you settled in your usual routine, without of course any mention of books.

"Mh," looking at the clock on your desk you noticed that if you only have half an hour to finish your last assignment and before you need to leave, " I've got to go now, Billy. I'll talk to you soon." You ended the call without waiting for a response.

*+* *+* *+*

You were currently on Billy's sofa, leaning on him while you watched a documentary on Ancient Rome. It was interesting and it made you think about a book you had read on the subject a while ago. You opened your mouth to share your thoughts with Billy but a flashback of his words stopped you.

What if he hated it when you did that too?

"You're awfully quiet tonight." His voice startled you from your thoughts.

"A bit tired."

"Haven't got any anecdotes for me tonight?"

"Nope."

Your eyes didn't leave the tv screen. Yes, the documentary was interesting but you also didn't want Billy to know that you were lying. He had the uncanny ability of sensing whenever you weren't being genuine.

Out of the blue, the documentary stopped and the sound of the control hitting the coffee table told you that it was Billy who had paused it.

His hands grabbed your arms and pulled you away from him so that he could look you in the eyes.

"You're holding back."

"You're holding me back." Was your witty yet unnecessary reply. Billy's jaw clenched but the grip on your arms didn't tighten.

"Is this about the book thing?"

"We're watching a documentary, Billy. Why would it be about the book thing?"

"You always have something to say when we watch this stuff. Something you've read somewhere, some time ago." He explained, quoting you.

"I don't want you to feel like you can't tell me stuff," he added more softly when you didn't speak.

"Oh, I know I can. You just bitch about it with your friends whenever I do though."

His eyes squinted lightly, if his hands weren't on you, you probably would have missed how his shoulders tensed too.

"So it is about the book thing," he murmured releasing your arms.

"Well, Billy, you've basically fallen under the category of the white man who complains about how annoying his girlfriend is to his friends."

"I've not said you're annoying."

"You might as well have," you huffed crossing your arms, turning away from him.

"I know I sounded like an asshole but that's not what I meant. I really don't mind when you go off for ten minutes on some book you're reading."

"Spare me the bullshit, Billy. You don't have to lie to not hurt my feelings. It's too late for that anyway."

"I'm not lying." he insisted offended by your accusation but you didn't bother responding to him.

Billy sighed, one of his hands wiped over his face as he, no doubt, was trying to think of how to make this right. But maybe it was your time to speak.

"I realise that me sharing every thought or little thing that happens can be overwhelming." Fiddling with the fingers of your hands, you tried to find the right words.

"When me and Karen chose our university major, I was sure that our friendship was going to end. It happens, you take different paths and suddenly you go from best friends t someone you say hi to whenever you meet them around." You stopped to look at him. Bily's eyes were solely focused on you, so you continued.

"To avoid that, we developed a sort of routine where we would tell each other about our days, what we did, the things that happened, people we had met and stuff like that. We'd usually met once a week if not more often and this way we managed to strengthen our relationship and here we are after ten years, still best friends."

"Even if we went our separate ways, neither of us felt left out or behind from the other's life. I knew her friends even if I hadn't met them and since she told me everything I felt like I was as part of her life as I was when we shared every class together."

"I'm a rather introverted and reserved person, Billy. I'm sure you gathered that by now. I guess sharing this kind of things, books I read, things I do and stuff is my way of making you an active presence in my life. Because I care about you and I wouldn't want you to feel left out. Also because I don't feel the need to filter myself around you." A pause. "Well, did."

During your soliloquy, you didn't meet Billy's eyes. It felt deeply personal to share this with him but you hoped it would help him understand. Not necessarily make him enjoy your bookish talk but to make him at least not think of you as annoying.

Billy didn't speak. He had let you have your moment because it was clear that there were things you had been keeping to yourself. You hadn't been dating for long, only a couple of months, so you were still getting to know each other.

Yes, Billy wasn't exactly a bibliophile but he enjoyed the thought of being someone you trusted so much to the point where you're not afraid of opening up.

He really wanted to kick himself for having ruined that. For making you feel like a burden.

Leaning towards you, he gently turned your face to him.

"What you've heard the other day was me explaining to Frankie what I was doing." His voice was soft as if he was afraid that he'd ruin the intimate atmosphere by speaking louder.

"I was listening to your message about that book and yes, it was seven minutes long and yes, you were going on and on about a character's motives and his psychology but I didn't mean to imply it was annoying." His eyes flickered between yours and he seemed truthful enough but you were still hesitant.

"It's okay if you don't enjoy it, Billy. My father hates whenever I do that but that doesn't mean that he loves me any less." You offered him another way out.

"Well, I guess this is why you told me you're not looking for a man like your father."

"Are we good?" He murmured, eyes flickering between yours. You nodded leaning into his touch.

"Trust me, you're nothing like my father." you chuckled, accepting his words for what you knew knew they implied.

Smiling at you, Billy's hands reaching to cup your cheeks.

"Do you promise to talk to me if there's something wrong?" You asked him, needing the reassurance.

"Don't I always talk your ears off when you leave your stuff hanging around?" True enough but you needed him to say it.

"I promise." He conceded, nose bumping into yours before kissing you softly.

"So, got any fun fact to share?" He asked you again, pointing to the tv with his head.

"I've got a few, yes." You shily smiled at him.

"Hit me." Leaning back on the sofa, he got comfortable as he encouraged you to speak.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #billy russo x y/n #billy russo imagine #billy russo imagines #billy russo fic #billy russo one shot #billy russo angst #billy russo fluff #billy russo blurb #the punisher #ben barnes

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marauders-venting · 3 years

Text

Pardon My French

pairing: wolfstar (sirius x remus)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

words: 3556

note: thank you to @ probably_wizardingworld_artist on instagram for helping me translate things into french. also i got some of the lines that sirius says from this website https://www.fluentu.com/blog/french/french-pick-up-lines/

a/n: if you dont speak french (like me) dont look up a translation! everything will be clear by the end of the fic and its more fun if you find out along with remus. i mean, i cant really stop you if you want to translate the sentences but thats just my advice :)

Remus was sitting in the library, a French to English dictionary open on his lap, sighing in frustration as he flipped through the pages. For the past couple of weeks, Sirius had taken to murmuring things in French under his breath and it drove Remus crazy that he didn’t know what they meant. He had asked Sirius on several occasions but Sirius always refused to tell him. But the fact that he didn’t understand the words wasn’t the only reason it drove him crazy when Sirius spoke French. It’s not Remus’ fault that Sirius sounds really hot when his lips curve around the words in “the language of love”.

Remus tries not to think about it but it’s becoming increasingly more difficult because every time they’re alone together Sirius seems to find something to say in French (if only to piss Remus off).

The last time Sirius had said something in French to him had been last weekend. It was the first sunny weekend since the winter and Marlene had suggested that they all go down to the lake for a swim.

Remus’ brain could barely form a single coherent thought from the moment Sirius took off his shirt; he was too busy trying not to stare. He remembered jumping into the lake and trying to get warm by swimming to the far side, away from all his friends. Sirius had followed him to make sure he was okay.

“I’m fine,” he had said, smiling slightly at Sirius. “Just cold.”

“Oh okay,” Sirius said, looking relieved. He had glanced back at their friends before whispering, “On devrait t’arrêter pour excès de beauté sur la voie publique” and submerging his head in the water and swimming back to James, Peter, Lily, Marlene, Dorcas, Mary and Alice. Remus had felt a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

Then there was the time that Sirius had skipped Quidditch practice to visit Remus in the hospital wing after a particularly bad full moon. James, being the captain, had been able to delay the practice so that he and Peter could come to visit as well but they had to practice for the game the following day. James had to be at the practice because he was the captain and Peter had to be there because they didn’t have another Keeper to fill in. But James had given Sirius permission to stay with Remus (which showed just how terrible he felt that he couldn’t stay as well). They watched a bit of the practice from the hospital wing but Remus was getting frustrated, having to stay in a hospital bed for so long. So, after clearing it with Madam Pomfrey, Sirius helped Remus climb all the way to the Astronomy Tower. They sat up there watching the sunset when Sirius said, “Il y a tellement de soleil dans tes yeux que je bronze quand tu me regardes.”

“Ugh, do you make it your life goal to patronize me?” Remus had said.

“Of course, Moony, what else would I live for?”

“Are you ever going to stop doing that?” he asked.

“Probably not,” Sirius had replied, grinning at him. “It’s too much fun.”

“Why do you even bother?” Remus said. “You know I don’t understand a single word of what you’re saying. Why don’t you go talk to someone who speaks French?”

“Because then they’d know what I was saying,” Sirius replied simply. He had refused to answer any more of his questions.

Remus had needed to spend that night in the hospital wing again. All night, Sirius’ voice rang through his head but every time he tried to make something coherent of it, actually words or letters or even sounds, he couldn’t. He could never remember what Sirius had said long enough to actually look it up or ask anyone.

But lately, Remus had noticed that Sirius had been repeating the same sentence in French practically every day. He recognises the sound of the words in Sirius’ mouth.

So today, Remus waited until he was alone with Sirius, waited for Sirius to say what Remus knew he would. And when he did Remus repeated the words in his head a million times until he remembered them. And now Remus was in the library and looking up the words in a dictionary.

He knew that he could’ve gone to Lily and asked her to translate it for him but he didn’t want to. He knows it’s stupid but he feels like this is something that Sirius is saying to him and only to him. Remus had never heard Sirius whisper in French to anyone else. And as much as Remus pretended to be annoyed by it, he actually liked that he had this with Sirius. He liked that they had something that was just their own. And even though it was probably nothing, he didn’t want to share it with Lily right now.

Chaque jour je tombe plus amoureux de toi. That was the sentence. Remus looked up each word individually and came to the conclusion that he must have heard wrong or maybe the words were spelt differently to how they were pronounced. Because there was no way in hell that Sirius had said these words to him. It was impossible. Right? Remus didn’t know. And he knew that the only way he could be sure was by asking Lily. He had asked Sirius a million times to no avail. And he needs to know what Sirius has been saying to him, especially now that there’s a chance… No, Remus tells himself, you just translated wrong. Don’t get your hopes up. So Remus gives in. He’d rather ask Lily and find out what Sirius has been saying to him every day for the last month than keep this to himself without even understanding it.

“Hey Lily,” he started, getting her attention. Remus had waited until the two of them were alone, just in case he had translated right. Which he hadn’t. He knows he translated it wrong. But he’d still rather nobody knew about it. “What does ‘chaque jour je tombe plus amoureux de toi’ mean?” He fumbled across the words a bit, hearing how terrible his pronunciation was. Lily looked at him, her eyebrows raised.

“Where on earth did you hear that sentence?” she asked.

“I read it somewhere,” Remus lied easily. “So what does it mean?”

“It means ‘every day, I fall more in love with you.’” Remus’ jaw dropped open. “Remus, who told you they’re in love with you?”

“What? Nobody! What makes you think someone said that to me?”

“You said that you read that sentence somewhere but if you had read it, you would have no idea how to pronounce it. Besides the look on your face when I told you what it means is more than enough. So who was it?”

“None of your business,” he said. “But y–you’re kidding, right? That’s not actually what it means. Right?”

“No, I’m not kidding, Rem. That’s what it means,” she replied, laughing at the look on his face. “Come on, tell me who it was.”

“No fucking way,” Remus said. “Besides, they’re probably joking. I mean… no, they’re definitely joking.” Lily shrugged.

“Just ask them,” she said. “And then you have to tell me who your secret admirer is.” She poked him in the side.

“Stooooop,” he said, jumping away from her and laughing against his will. “I’m going.” He got up and started walking away.

“Have fun with your mystery lover,” she called after him without looking back. Remus rolled his eyes but his mind was racing. So apparently he hadn’t been wrong. That was what Sirius had said to him. What does this even mean? He’s teasing you, said a voice in his head, like always. Sirius doesn’t love you. Not like that. But he said he does. Don’t be stupid. Sirius isn’t in love with you. He’s joking. Like always.

The next time Sirius said it, they were in the Room of Requirement. Sirius had ambushed Remus in the middle of his prefect rounds with Lily levitating a cardboard box in midair. Typical. He had practically given Remus a heart attack by interrupting his conversation with Lily, leaving Remus to wonder just how much of the conversation he had overheard.

“So have you talked to your mystery French lover yet?” Lily had teased. Remus groaned.

“No, I haven’t,” he said. “And I probably won’t.”

“Why not?” Lily demanded. “They’re being very romantic, Remus, you should at least appreciate their effort.”

“I’d appreciate it more if they’d just tell me what the fuck they want instead of sending me coded messages that they know I don’t understand,” Remus grumbled.

“Moonyyyyy,” Sirius said, coming up from behind him. Remus jumped, turning around, heart racing in his chest.

“Sirius? What are you doing here?” he asked. “You know it’s after hours, right?” Sirius snorted.

“Yes, Remus, I am fully aware of the fact that I’m breaking a school rule,” he said, smirking.

“Are you aware that technically Remus and I have to turn you in?” Lily said.

“Ah, but do you really plan on doing that, Evans?” Sirius asked.

“That depends,” she replied. “Why are you here?”

“Right,” Sirius remembered, then he turned to Remus. “James forgot to put this box with the rest of the stuff for tomorrow so I said I’d take it. And you’re coming with me.”

“Remind me why again?” Remus said.

“Moony, come on, don’t make me go alone. I’ll be lonely,” Sirius pouted.

“You are insufferable, did you know that?”

“And yet, you’ve tolerated me for 6 years now.”

“Yeah, the keyword there is ‘tolerated’,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “Lils…” he started, turning to her.

“Nope,” she said before he could even ask. “No way. You are not leaving me to do these rounds alone because then I’ll die of boredom. So unless you want me to tell McGonagall that your planning something for tomorrow, you’re going to finish this floor with me and then I’ll go back to the common room and you can do whatever the fuck you want.”

“Evans…” Sirius pouted.

“Nope, that’s non-negotiable, Black. Also, do I want to ask?” She gestured to the hovering box.

“The less you know, the better,” he said. “Although, I would avoid the classrooms near the dungeons tomorrow if I were you.” She nodded and Remus thought he saw her smile slightly for a second.

“You go on, I’ll catch up,” he said to Sirius, knowing that Lily’s mind would not be changed. He couldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t have let her leave him to finish this chore alone either. She was right, it was painstakingly boring. Which is why he would much rather be with Sirius. But it was only fair that he finished tonight’s rounds with her; she did cover for him around the full moon, after all.

Sirius pouted but knew better than to argue and turned to go to the Room of Requirement. Remus watched him and he disappeared up a flight of stairs. Only then did he notice Lily was smirking at him.

“What?” he asked, sounding a bit defensive.

“So Sirius is your secret French admirer?” she said.

“W–What?” he spluttered. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, for one, the look on your face when he showed up right behind us while we were talking about your mystery lover,” Lily said. “It was the look people make when you’ve just been talking about someone and then they show up and you’re worried that they may have overheard you.”

“That… is a very specific look,” Remus said, avoiding the question she was asking.

“Then you smiled at him when you called him insufferable,” she said.

“So?”

“So it was one of those I’m-smiling-at-you-while-I’m-teasing-you-cause-I’m-secretly-in-love-with-you smiles.”

“Again, that's a very specific expression,” he said.

“Look, I know you like him, so will you just admit it already?”

“Why? What good would that information do you? It’s for me to worry about and for Sirius to never discover, ever.”

“Remus, you’re kidding, right?” she said. “Sirius literally told you that he loves you, in French no less.”

“Exactly, Lily. In French. If he actually meant it, why would he say it in a language that he knows I don’t understand? He just knew that I would look it up and he wanted to make some joke.”

“I really don’t think so, Remus,” Lily said, shaking her head. “I think he really loves you.”

“He doesn’t,” Remus said. “He can’t. Not like that.”

“Remus, do you love him?” she asked. Remus closed his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I love him.”

“So why are you doing this to yourself? Just ask him what he meant when he said it. You don’t even have to tell him anything, just ask him what he meant.”

“But… what if he says it was a joke?”

“First of all, I don’t think he will,” Lily said. “But if he does, that’s what you’re expecting, isn’t it? It won’t be a surprise or anything.”

“I know, I know, I just…” Remus sighed and looked away from her. “I don’t think I’m ready to hear him say it. To be properly rejected.”

“Oh, Rem,” she said. They had reached the end of the corridor and Lily stopped to hug him. “Obviously I’m not going to make you do anything. You know what I think. Go find Sirius now, he’ll be waiting for you. Do what you think is right.”

“Yeah,” Remus said, hugging her back. “Yeah, okay.” So Lily went in the direction of the common room and Remus went to the Room of Requirement.

He found Sirius sitting with his back against the wall, the box beside him.

“You’re an idiot,” Remus told him, trying to put the conversation with Lily out of his mind. “You’re practically begging to get caught.” Sirius shrugged.

“I was waiting for you,” he said. “Come on, let’s go in.” They paced back and forth in front of the wall three times. We need a place to hide our things, Remus thought. A door appeared and Sirius opened it, leading the box in with his wand. They had been here before to hide loads of things. The room was pretty cluttered from years of students dumping their things in it but they knew where exactly to hide the box so that they’d be able to find it tomorrow when they needed it. Remus followed Sirius through aisles upon aisles of junk, looking at all the broken, discarded things people threw in here.

They found the corner where they’d left everything else and Sirius added the box to the rest of the pile.

“Are we done here?” Remus asked.

“Yep, we can leave now,” Sirius said. They had started walking back towards the door when Remus heard Sirius say it from behind him.

“Chaque jour je tombe plus amoureux de toi.” Remus turns to him and stops him in his tracks.

“Pads, why do you keep saying that? Who are you talking to?”

“Remus, you are aware that you’re the only one here right? I’m talking to you.”

“Then why… why are you—?”

“I know, I know, you don’t understand French,” Sirius says. “That’s why it's fun. It’s amusing to know something that you don’t, for once.”

“Sirius… I know what that sentence means,” Remus says quietly. Sirius’ neck snaps up.

“What?”

“I know what that sentence means,” Remus repeats.

“No, you don’t,” Sirius says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I do. I asked Lily after the last time you said it. She translated for me.”

“Fuck, I didn’t know Lily could speak French,” Sirius says, rubbing a hand over his face. “So… so this whole time you’ve known what I’m saying? So you know that I… you know that I… oh god, Remus I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I didn’t want to… I was just…” Sirius starts to back away, shaking his head and looking anywhere but at Remus. Remus reaches out and grabs his hand.

“Don’t go,” Remus says. “Sirius. Is it a joke? Are you making a joke? Actually, no, don’t tell me. Cause if it’s a joke I’d rather you bury me under all the crap in this room and spare me the pain.”

“What?”

“It’s not a joke, is it?” Remus asked, a pleading look in his eyes.

“No,” Sirius said, softly. “It’s not a joke. I’m sorry, Remus, I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh,” Remus said, pressing a finger to Sirius’ lips. “Sirius,” Remus tucked Sirius’ hair behind his ear. Remus was vaguely aware of Sirius stepping towards him, towards his touch. “I love you, too.” Sirius gapes at him

“Really?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Remus says. He’s still holding Sirius’ hand. He pulls Sirius closer and lets his other hand graze Sirius’ cheek.

“Puis-je t'embrasser?” Sirius whispers.

“Pads, I… I don’t know what that means.” Sirius lets out a small laugh and looks down at the floor. Then he looks back up at Remus, his grey eyes glistening in the last sliver of sunlight. He’s biting his lip.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Remus says, without thinking. He feels the blush blooming on his cheeks but Sirius is already kissing him, rising on his tip-toes to make his lips reach Remus’. Remus feels electric currents dancing around his body, unable to contain the excitement. He’s kissing Sirius. Sirius is kissing him back. Sirius loves him. Sirius loves him in the same way that he loves Sirius. Sirius is snaking his hands around Remus’ waist pulling him closer. Sirius’ hair is soft, tangled between his fingers. Sirius is here, in his arms, and it’s everything Remus has been wanting and more.

“Wait, so now can you tell me everything you’ve been saying in French the whole time?” They’re sitting in the same large armchair, hands still linked together, legs tucked against their chests, knees and thighs and hips pressed together. Remus is very aware of every point where his skin is making contact with Sirius’. He’s counting them.

They found the armchair in the Room of Requirement; it’s unclear to them whether the chair is something that’s been dumped in the room by somebody else or if the room conjured it up because they were looking for it.

Neither one of them wants to go back to the common room yet. Remus doesn’t want to see Lily’s smirk and to have to admit she was right at the moment. He’ll do that tomorrow. Right now, all he wants is to be with Sirius. To press little kisses to his nose, his cheeks, his jaw, his lips just because he can.

“Oh god,” Sirius says, burying his face in between Remus’ shoulder and the back of the armchair. “It’s like you want me to embarrass myself.”

“This surprises you?” Remus kisses the corner of his mouth. Then his jaw. Then his neck. Just because he can. “Please.”

“Ah fine,” Sirius gives in. “Um, what do you want to know?”

“What did you say that day at the lake?” Remus asks.

“Oh that. I said, ‘on devrait t’arrêter pour excès de beauté sur la voie publique’. It means uh… ugh, you’re going to laugh at me for this. It means ‘you should be arrested for excessive beauty in public’,” Sirius said, blushing. Remus rolled his eyes but he felt his cheeks heat too. He smiles a little.

“What about that day on the Astronomy Tower?” he continues.

“Ugh,” Sirius buries his face in his hands. “You’re trying to kill me. I said, ‘il y a tellement de soleil dans tes yeux que je bronze quand tu me regardes’. Which means, uh… ‘there’s so much sun in your eyes that I get a tan when you look at me.’”

“You’re quite the poet, aren’t you?” Remus smiles. “And what about tonight?”

“I thought you said you knew what that meant,” Sirius says. “Or were you bluffing the whole time?”

“No, I know what it means,” Remus says. “I just want to hear you say it. In English this time, please.”

“So demanding,” Sirius teases. “I’ve said it in French a million times already and you want me to say it in English? What difference does it make?”

“Well, none to you, you speak both languages.”

“Oh, alright,” Sirius says. It’s the first time Remus has seen his face really go red. He decides he likes it. “Every day I fall more in love with you.” Remus can’t hide his smile, nor does he want to, as he leans in to kiss Sirius. He brushes his lips against Sirius’ timidly before connecting them, his hand caressing Sirius’ cheek. Remus loses count of the points of contact between him and Sirius as their bodies melt together and Remus worries that he’s about to wake up from a dream. But when he feels Sirius’ hand gently tracing the scars on his hand he knows that this is real, that Sirius can really love him. Sirius does love him.

People come to the Room of Requirement to throw things away, to hide things that they don’t want anybody else to know about, to leave things they never want to see again. But that night, Remus didn’t just leave something in the Room of Requirement. He found something, too.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #sirius black #sirius black fluff #french sirius #moony #padfoot #wolfstar #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #wolfstar fanfic #Wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar oneshot #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #lily evans #lily evans fluff #Marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders oneshot

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wkemeup · 3 years

Text

Sunrise (4)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.2k warnings: symptoms of depression, PTSD, anxiety, some really sweet moments to balance it out, more book recs 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

“You’re staring at the doors again, sweetie.”

Chin resting on your hands, arms folded out on the countertop of the library’s front desk, you tore your eyes away from the entrance to find Mrs. Jefferson peering over at you from over the bridge of her glasses. She smirked as she returned to her book, knowing she’d caught you in the act.

“Have patience,” she said simply.

“Book club is tomorrow and—” you sighed, a heaviness returning to your body as you slumped back against the counter, stare drifting back to the doors at the entrance. The sun was beaming outside, reflecting in beautiful rays as it illuminated the walkway and touched over old oak and the colorful bindings of novels.

You frowned. “I really thought he was going to come.”

“This James Barnes... he’s a soldier, yes? Like my boy?”

You nodded, disappointment burning like a lump in your throat, though you swallowed it back. “A Sergeant. Sam said he came home a little under a year ago.”

“Then he’ll come,” Mrs. Jefferson pressed confidently, sliding her glasses up her nose, the chain of purple beads clicking against the gem stones on her sweater. “Boys like that don’t break their word. Even if he is a bit of a hesitant one.”

You knew what she meant by that. Hesitant.

No one liked to talk about the dangers of a soldier post-war. It was uncomfortable; the idea that they could still be fighting a battle long beyond the absence of a weapon in their hands and the threat of present danger. Heroes weren’t supposed to have chinks in their armor. They weren’t supposed to crumble and break under the weight of what happened beyond borders and the guilt they carried.

They were supposed to be strong; a symbol of a great country and a willing tribute to place upon a pedestal. It was unacceptable to be a burden, unacceptable to do anything other than seamlessly integrate back into a society that they never really knew to begin with.

It was all a farce; a rigged game set to line the pockets of the rich and exploit everyone else in its path – sent off to fight for a cause no one really understood or believed in. It left behind good men and women to the rubble; Bucky Barnes among them.

Sam hadn’t told you much about Bucky before you met him, but you knew enough to tell that it was a struggle to get him to leave the apartment. He was isolated and quiet and hardly recognizable from the man you’d seen in photos. Only, it wasn’t the lack of his left arm that drew your attention when you first saw him, but the lingering sadness in his eyes.

Sam had a picture hanging in the office that often pulled you in. Bucky stood on his left side, smiling so wide it left lines on his face. He was bright, light as a feather, only weighed down by Steve’s arm slung around his shoulders. You wondered if the man in the photo would have flirted shamelessly with you, if he’d have corny pickup lines or offer to take you dancing. He looked like the sort of man who had girls chasing his tail, a line of heartbreak in his wake. He was beautiful.

It was strange to see him like that, comparing him to the man he was today. Now, it was like a cloud lingered over his head, draining the color from his skin and chipping away at his soul until it dimmed and crumbled and faded away.

But you’d seen glimpses of the man in the photo. He was still beautiful; a little hurt and dragging his feet, but beautiful. His smile wasn’t quite as wide and the cloud was still present, but there was a peak of sunshine peering through. A single ray puncturing over stormy skies, but it was something. He’d laughed and teased and it was more than Sam had known him to do in months. You were determined to see the sun touch his skin again. If only he’d let you guide him there.

“I’m going to go restock on the second level,” you conceded, pushing yourself up from the counter and sauntering over to the cart lined heavy with books.

“Alright sweetie. I’ll be sure to page you when your Sergeant shows up.”

You felt a heat burning in your face at the very idea of ‘your Sergeant’. Mrs. Jefferson chuckled to herself, eyes still down on her book. She waved you off, not giving you a chance to object, even if you could string together a coherent sentence.

***

Bucky couldn’t get out of bed.

He’d been in this predicament hundreds of times before; staring up at the ceiling, wasting the days away as the curtains blocked the light and shielded him from the reminder of another sun daring to rise beyond his window. His energy would be drained and his willingness to so much as brush his teeth was obsolete. He’d known what it felt like to not be able to get out of bed.

This was different.

He had somewhere to be. He actually wanted to get up. He really fucking wanted to.

But the pain in his arm had flared to one of the worst episodes he’d had in months and it rendered him useless; the arm that was both there and not there. He could feel his left hand curl to a fist, could feel the itch on his palm, but when he tried to scratch it, he was only met with thin air, his right hand sinking to the mattress in search of the sensation that didn’t exist.

It was infuriating.

The nerve endings in his shoulder were going haywire. It felt like his arm was being ripped from his body and it took nearly all the energy he had not to let it consume him. He’d even gone as far to bite off a piece of his cheek in an effort to suppress the lump in his throat.

Sam would have frowned at that, spewed him some bullshit about how crying can be therapeutic and Steve would nod his head annoyingly in agreement, but Bucky was tougher than that. He had to be tougher than that. If he allowed himself to unlatch that gate, it would consume him whole. He’d drown.

Hinges squeaked at the front entrance as the door swung open and a pair of heavy footsteps came rushing into the apartment.

“I’m coming, buddy! Hold on!” Sam called, the plastic swish of the grocery bag handing off his arms dropping to the floor. Bucky tried to concentrate on the sound of running water, the bottle of pills shaking in the small orange bottle, and not on the pain threatening to tear him in half.

The door to his bedroom flung open and Sam rushed in with a glass of water and his fist closed around two red capsules. He paused in the frame, a frown pushing down at his mouth, and Bucky could only imagine what he looked like; disheveled, sweating, laying in day old clothes and muddled sheets. His right hand was shaking.

“Alright, help me out, Barnes,” Sam said, setting the glass down on the bedside table. He placed a steady hand on Bucky’s back to help push himself upright. Bucky swung his legs off the side of the bed, finding his balance before Sam placed the pills in his hand.

Bucky threw them back into his mouth, holding his hand out for the glass of water that would come next. It landed in his grip and he gulped down the medication. There was no instant relief with pain like this, but the knowledge it would soon wear off to something manageable was enough.

“Thanks,” he mumbled out, voice tense as he struggled to find it.

“Insurance companies are assholes,” Sam scoffed, shaking his head, though he patted Bucky on the knee. “Cutting off coverage for a fucking vet with no warning like that? Can’t believe you’ve been without this stuff for almost a week. It’s messed up.”

Bucky had come to expect it. He knew something had to go wrong eventually with how things were starting to turn around. He’d actually been looking forward to seeing you at the library and almost went that next day if it wasn’t for the sudden attack on his own body. He'd tried to deal with it on his own, thinking he might sleep it off, but then it became unbearable. Insurance wouldn’t budge and he didn’t have the energy to argue on the phone with them all day. Thankfully, Sam did.

Except now it was a day before the next book club meeting and Bucky didn’t know how he was supposed to face you. Part of him wondered if you'd be disappointed, if maybe you’d steal a glance over the doors and hope that it was him walking through, only to be let down as each day passed by. The other half wondered if you’d care at all.

But he’d seen the way you’d smiled at him, how you’d lit up at the idea of him stopping by.

You’d care.

He wasn’t sure if that hurt worse, seeing as he never showed up.

“You could still go.”

Bucky sighed at Sam’s suggestion. He wasn’t teasing him, wasn’t wearing that shit-eating grin. He was being serious. It was the kind of look that reminded Bucky that under it all, Sam was one of his closest friends, one of the few that stuck around when everything went to shit.

“She’ll want to see you,” Sam continued, nudging Bucky’s side with a soft smile, but Bucky shook his head, unconvinced.

“What am I supposed to say to her, Sam?” Bucky groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “’Sorry I stood you up, but I felt like my hand was being sawed off on an arm I don’t even fucking have?’”

“Why not?” Sam shrugged, earning a glare in response he let roll off his shoulders with ease. “She’d understand, Buck. She knows what comes with the territory here. She’s a lot more familiar with this stuff than you think.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, a pang of jealousy burning hot in his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe you should ask her why she got involved with the VA in the first place.”

Bucky pressed his lips to a thin line, a silence coming over them. That was an immensely personal question; one akin to someone asking him how he’d lost his arm. He wasn’t sure that was an answer you’d be willing to share.

Sam exhaled a heavy breath, patting Bucky three times on the knee before he stood up. “Let the meds kick in, but promise you’ll try to go, alright?”

Bucky stared up at Sam for a moment before he conceded with a short nod. The pain in his shoulder was starting to lessen, at least. It didn’t feel like his arm was being torn from his body or a knife was plunging into a part of him that didn’t exist anymore. It would likely get back to a place he could deal with within the hour.

“I promise,” Bucky said. “I’ll go.”

***

A brush of warm air filtered in through the vents as Bucky stepped inside the library. It was bigger than he remembered with large stain glass windows on the outer walls, filtering in a colorful sunlight onto the aisles upon aisles of books. At the center, just ahead of the entrance, was a reception desk. Bucky exhaled a tense breath in an attempt to rid himself from the nerves rattling in his veins and made his way to the woman sitting behind the counter.

She was reading quietly in her seat, a pair of glasses on a beaded chain perched at the very tip of her nose. She didn’t look up in his direction until he stood at the edge of the desk, and only then, she caught glance of him over the top of her glasses before a smile rose on her lips.

“Can I help you, young man?”

Bucky cleared his throat. “I’m supposed to meet someone. She, uh, works here. Y/n.”

The woman nodded. She wore the kind of smile on her face Bucky was familiar with. He’d seen it in Sam about a dozen times in the last week; the kind of smile that said ‘I was right.’

“You must be Sergeant Barnes,” she said as she picked up the radio from the desk.

Bucky nodded quickly, glancing over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he felt jittery. He tried not to let the fact that you’d clearly talked to this woman about him throw him completely off his game. If he even had game to begin with…

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky replied with an even tone. She smirked.

“Y/n,” she called into the radio, “you have a guest at the front desk.”

The woman held up a finger to him though it trembled with age, signaling for him to wait a moment. Bucky nodded, tucking his hand into his pocket as he silently made his way over to the series of chairs lined along the wall.

He gripped his fist tight inside his pocket, trying to ignore the pulsing in his shoulder. It had lessened considerably since Sam brought him his meds, but it hadn’t gone away completely. Showering had taken longer than usual and it took him nearly four minutes just to pull a shirt over his head. His army jacket hung over his shoulders, wrapped in a protective layer, loose sleeve at his side.

“If you’re pulling my chain, Mrs. Jefferson…”

Bucky perked up at the sound of your voice. You were crossing the main entrance from the staircase, half jogging to the counter where the woman, Mrs. Jefferson, was grinning to herself from behind her book.

You draped over the counter, toes barely keeping hold on the tile floors as you attempted to reach for her book, but she snatched it from your grasp just in time. You huffed, sinking back down the floor.

“It’s not funny!” you whined and Bucky almost felt a little guilty for not making his presence known yet, but you were just so cute the way you slumped your shoulders and glanced back at the entrance.

Mrs. Jefferson pointed over to where Bucky had slowly begun to make his way towards you, but you folded your arms over your chest. Bucky cleared his throat when he stood a few paces off your shoulder, but you didn’t seem to hear him.

Mrs. Jefferson caught Bucky’s eye before she turned her attention back to you. “Sweetie, he’s—”

“He’s not coming, okay?” you groaned and Bucky felt a stone drop into his stomach. “I—I thought he would but… I was wrong.”

Bucky parted his lips to speak but suddenly his throat was dry. Mrs. Jefferson’s smile started to fade. Clearly, Bucky wasn’t the only one who heard the disappointment in your voice, the sliver of heartbreak, too. He tried to speak, to call your name, to say something, but he was marbled stone.

“I’m going back to work.”

There wasn’t time to pull his words together before you slammed head first into Bucky’s chest. He stumbled back a few paces, surprised, and you gasped, hands flying to your mouth.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t—” You stilled, taking in who was standing in front of you. “Bucky?”

He pressed out a smile, though his ears were burning red. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No! N-no, you’re totally fine! I didn’t—I didn’t think you were—” You blinked a few times before your eyes darted back at Mrs. Jefferson who only smirked from behind her book, adjusting the glasses on the tip of her nose. You turned back to Bucky, brushing out the hem of your skirt and wrapping the thick layer of a lavender colored cardigan tightly around your waist, almost like a blanket.

You exhaled a nervous breath, a nervous smile lifting into your cheeks. “I’m happy you came.”

“It would have been sooner, I swear,” Bucky replied quickly, watching helplessly as your smile brightened into a laugh. “But, um, my uh—”

He chewed on the edge of his lip. Was he really going to tell you what kept him held up in his room for days on end? Would it bitter the sweet way you looked at him to know that he was a mess under a poorly constructed surface, tied together with string and scotch tape? But you were looking at him so fondly, he wondered if there was anything he could say that could take that away.

“My arm,” he admitted, waiting for a flash of disgust on your face that never came. You softened a bit, but your eyes never left his. He cleared his throat. “It, um… It was just acting up. I ran out of meds and the pain it—it got bad. The kinda pain that sorta makes me wish I had the arm just so I could saw it off myself.”

Shit. He hadn’t mean to say that much but there was just something about the way you looked at him that made him feel like he couldn’t say a damn wrong thing. You pursed your lips, nodding in as much understanding as you could offer. You gestured to the staircase and Bucky followed you without question.

“I would have been here last week,” Bucky finished because he needed you to know. He couldn’t stand the idea of you being upset, of that sliver of disappointment in your voice when you’d accepted he wasn’t going to show. He needed you to know he’d tried.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you said simply, though he could tell you appreciated it nonetheless. You offered him a smile, one that washed away any feelings of doubt that crept up to the surface. The pain in his shoulder was long forgotten when you looked at him like that.

“I just wanted you to know.”

I just wanted you to know I’m trying.

He had something to look forward to now, a reason to get out of his bed and open the curtains and look at the fucking sun for once. He had reason to shower and go outside and shove away all the thoughts of self-doubt and paranoia because there was something incredible waiting for him beyond the door.

I just wanted you to know you’re the reason I’m trying.

“Come on,” you grinned, leading him to the staircase. “I have a few books in mind you might like.”

Your hand extended in his direction, but you caught yourself when you realized what you were doing. It was seamless enough that you easily played it off as you tugged your sweater tight around your body, but he noticed. It was an intimate gesture, a closeness he hadn’t known in years.

He hadn’t remembered what it felt like to crave something like that.

***

It didn’t take long for Bucky to settle on The Martian by Andy Weir. It was the first book you pulled from the shelves, one amongst a series of alternatives you had ready in the event this one didn’t appeal to him. All it took was a single glance over the back cover, a slight incline in his brow, and he was sold.

“I trust you,” was all Bucky had said; so simply, as if it didn’t take the breath straight from your chest.

Bucky didn’t have a library card you realized as you brought him back to the front desk. He’d sheepishly asked to check it out on your account, but you were determined to see more of him and you hoped that by getting him his own card, he might be more inclined to come back. Not that you explained it that way per say, but he didn’t object at least.

It had taken a lot less time than either of you anticipated and you found yourself following him to the exit, both of you dragging your feet.

“So, um…” he started, a nervous chuckle in his voice. “That was easy.”

“Yeah,” you scratched at the back of your neck, glancing to the clock hanging high on the eastern wall. “I hope you like it after all this trust you’re putting in my judgement.”

“I’m sure I will.”

A short silence swept over. Neither of you moving to leave. A couple swerved around you in an effort to get to the doors. The silence wasn’t awkward, but there was a nervous energy in it, like you were both waiting for the other to make the first move. Only, you both did it at once.

“Would you want to—”

“I’m off at four—”

You bit down on your lips, suppressing a laugh. You gestured for him to go first. His looked so sweet with the pink in his cheeks. A man who had been once rendered as a weapon and he wore a blush in his cheeks. Your stomach held butterflies in its cage.

“There’s a coffeeshop nearby,” he continued nervously. “I was thinking I could replace that coffee of yours I spilled last week…”

Your cheeks were starting to ache from how wide you were smiling. “Give me five minutes? I just need to wrap things up with Mrs. Jefferson and then I’m yours.”

Bucky’s eyes widened for a second, a flash of something unreadable on his face. He shook it off quickly and nodded, telling you he’d wait by the chairs along the wall until you were ready. It wasn’t until you were halfway to the desk that you’d realized what you’d said.

I’m yours.

A harmless saying; one people used every day in passing. Still, you felt that same surge of energy at the thought. From the twists in your stomach and the stammer in your heart, you knew that if he’d asked, it would be true.

***

Bucky watched as you scurried back to the main desk, a few quick glances back over your shoulder in his direction like you were making sure he was still there. You were smiling so wide, he wondered if it ached in your cheeks. He’d never known anyone to smile as much as you did, like you had this limitless supply of joy eager to be tapped into. He couldn’t help but feel a twist in his stomach, knowing he had been able to syphon some of that joy and bring it to the surface. It was him you were smiling at. It felt like a dream.

He glanced down at the book nestled into the sleeve of his bag; a stunning ombre in shades of orange to red to black, a lone astronaut in the center – like he was floating adrift. You’d told him it was a story of survival, of the intricacies of humanity and human connection. It was funny at times and filled with science beyond your pay grade, but it was mesmerizing.

There was an unspoken hope he could read in your eyes that he might connect to the main character, Mark Watney in his search for connection, in his desperate hope to free himself from the isolation, in his resilience. You’d said Mark was an exceptional character, one with courage and determination to be admired.

Bucky wasn’t sure he could stand up to the likes of Mark Watney, but he would certainly try.

The glimmer in your eye as you spoke about the book, almost as if it were an old friend, was enough to convince him. For the first time in years, he felt the urge to read when he got home, just so he could see the look on your face in book club when you realized he’d already started it. He wanted to make you proud, wanted to see more of your smile. It was his new drive.

A few minutes later, you came jogging back up to him. Your purse hung over your shoulders, a few new books of your own tucked under your arm. You’d done more than finish your shift at the desk though, he realized, because his eyes flickered to a reflective shine on your lips, one that hadn’t been there before. You’d put on lip gloss.

His heart flipped.

“Ready?” you asked, gesturing to the doors. All bright eyes and sunshine as you looked at him.

“There’s a café called Luciana’s not too far from here. I’ve heard good things about it. Might be quiet,” Bucky offered and a flash of something unreadable crossed your features. “Do you know it?”

“I go there every Sunday before book club! It’s my favorite,” you replied, nearly skipping in your steps. “Replacing my coffee and getting it right down to the same shop? I’m impressed, Bucky.”

He chuckled, hanging his head as he followed you down the descending staircase and into the heavy flow of pedestrian traffic. He’d forgotten how busy the sidewalks could get at rush hour and the smile quickly drained from his face, though he wouldn’t let you see.

Bucky tried to focus on you as the strangers circled in around him, how you were laughing at the coincidence of it all, starting on a tangent of your favorite donuts at the shop. Your voice was like a beacon and he did his best use it as a guide.

But he could feel the quicken pace of his heart inside his chest, how it thumped through his ribs and pulsed into his head the closer strangers got to him. He swerved out of the way of a tourist who was too busy looking down at his phone to notice Bucky in his path. He kept his head down, hand clenched tightly in his jacket pocket, eyes staring at the concrete.

Teenagers were whispering behind him, snickering under their breath, and Bucky could hear the harsh ‘shhh’ of a father at wit’s end. His lungs felt tight, certain that the boys were mocking the loose sleeve hanging down by his side. He could have taken it if here were on his own. His ears would flush red and a wash of shame and embarrassment would flood his senses, but he could have taken it.

Not with you by his side. Not when you could be privy to the harsh stares and the cruel voices, the validation to a fear he’d known to be true long before he met you – that he was a broken mess of who he used to be and he would never find that sense of normalcy again. He was kidding himself into thinking that you could ever want someone like—

“Bucky?”

When he looked up at you, your smile had fallen away, replaced with concern. It must not have been the first time you called his name. He didn’t know what to say. He felt small, like a child, embarrassed that even on a good day the influx of people still rendered him to a state of panic.

“Come on,” you said quietly, glancing around to an alley off your shoulder. “Let’s take the scenic route.”

He followed gratefully, staring at your shoulder blades as you led him away from the busy hustle of the crowd and along empty side streets and residential neighborhoods. It would take longer this way, but you didn’t seem to mind. You were too busy admiring the architecture of the brownstones and the beautiful array of plants and flowers hanging along the windows. In the open space, you skipped a few paces ahead, arms out wide and twirled around, simply because you could. You laughed and it echoed up along the buildings.

Bucky could have handed you his heart right then. He could have pulled it straight from his chest and set it into your palms. He wondered if you would handle it with the tender sort of care he hoped you would. His heart was fraying and damaged, after all. It required a gentle touch.

You fell back in line with him easily and you checked to make sure the next block wasn’t too busy before you led him down another side street. He tried to ignore the voices telling him he was a burden, that his baggage was dragging heavy at your feet, but it crept to the surface no matter how many times you smiled at him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled out, willing his voice to be stronger than it felt. “I don’t know why this is such an issue for me. I was fine on the way over.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Bucky,” you said gently, slowing your pace until you came to a stop.

Bucky dragged his feet, stopping along a bush of pink hydrangeas planted outside a stunning brick townhome. From the corner of his eye, he watched as your hand reached out to him instinctively, almost in slow motion, and you only paused as you realized what you were doing and pulled back. You cleared your throat.

“I’m not ever someone you have to apologize to about this stuff, okay?” you continued with a kind of sincerity in your voice, Bucky didn’t have a choice but to believe you. The way you looked at him nearly pulled him to pieces. “It comes and goes. Waxes and wanes. There’s no fault. No blame. Just tell me if something’s wrong, so I can help. That’s all I ask.”

Were you speaking from experience? Did you know someone who had been as shattered as he was? Was it the reason Sam wanted him to ask about why you were involved with the VA to begin with?

It was quiet on the side street; the only sound the distant footsteps from traffic up ahead and the low rumble of car engines in the distance. A bird chirped from a low handing branch above.

You shoved your hands into your pockets in an effort to keep yourself from reaching for his. He was surprised at the twist in his stomach when he wished you would have tried just one more time. Maybe he could have had some courage to take it.

“Okay,” Bucky agreed, feeling a weight lift from his chest. When you smiled again it was small— a little heavy— but it touched your eyes. There was a relief in it, maybe an appreciation, too. It swept away some of the anxiety from his veins.

“Okay.” Your smile widened as you continued to walk down the sidewalk. Bucky found himself feeling a little lighter as he followed behind.

When the two of you approached the main street again along the block Luciana’s was tucked away in, Bucky didn’t feel as though he was suffocating anymore. He could sense his reflexes picking up, a subtle increase in his heart rate, but he walked a little closer to you, your hip bumping against his every so often and he found that it grounded him. It kept him firm on the surface when he felt like he was floating up into a distant unknown. He wondered if you knew the extent to which you affected him.

Luciana’s was quiet inside as Bucky jutted out ahead of you to reach for the door. A soft strum of an acoustic guitar and a Spanish speaking singer’s intricate melody hummed over the speakers. He felt a solid breath of air fill his lungs, tasting of coffee beans and fresh pastries.

“Welcome to—” a voice called from behind the counter before she paused, eyes falling on you. “Y/n!”

A woman ran out from behind the counter, dressed in a stained apron and a long, bright pink dress, and held her arms out to you. You laughed as she enveloped you to her chest.

“My darling! It is not Sunday, you know. You’re getting your days mixed up!” she exclaimed, wagging her finger at you. She didn’t even give you time to explain before she turned to Bucky, who suddenly felt a burn of heat on his face. “Ah! You finally brought me one of your boys!”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, turning to you quickly. His stomach dropped.

“She means at the VA,” you explained, a little embarrassed at her implication as you shuffled your feet, eyes darting at the floor. Bucky raised an eyebrow in realization, eyes flickering back to the woman – who he assumed to be Luciana herself – as she scurried back around the counter. He noticed then that she was wearing slippers on her feet.

“Come, come!” She called eagerly, waiting with a tapping toe at the register.

You and Bucky exchanged a glance, a breath of a laugh escaping before you stepped up to the counter. You didn’t hesitate in your order, though you took some extra time in looking over the pastries and donuts after Bucky told you to pick something out for him. You put so much thought into it, it was really quite sweet. He waited until you reached down for your purse to slip his card over the counter to Luciana.

She wore that same smile he’d seen on Mrs. Jefferson at the library. That smirk. Like they knew something he didn’t.

You heard the ring of the cash registered and looked up at him, agape. You swatted his arm without thinking twice about it and there was a comfort in that. He laughed, taking his coffee and settling in at a table by the windows as you followed behind.

As he watched you across the table, your eyes glancing out to the pedestrians as they walked back, nursing the steaming mug of coffee between your hands, that morning suddenly felt like it was a life time ago.

Had he really been paralyzed with pain, unable to move from his bed, just a few hours earlier? It felt like a century had passed in between. In a rare indulgence, Bucky let himself wonder what it would feel like to spend all his time with you; if maybe time moved so fast it swept him off his feet or if it moved slow enough to allow him to catch every second.

All he knew was that he wanted more.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic

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iwantutobehapppier · 3 years

Text

Uninvited

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader, Bucky x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky end up stranded in a safe house after a mission. Should be fine, except your early heat and Bucky’s secrets.

Warnings: +18 only. Smut, knotting, A/B/O stuff, dubcon

Word Count: 3,401

A/N: Okay this is for the 6th Night of Chanukah. So sorry for the delay. I really hope you guys enjoy and I apologize for any spelling or grammar errors. I’ll read it back over later.

Bucky observed your mannerisms from the pilot seat of the Quinjet. Your scent was becoming musty and he knew exactly what that meant. In fact, his whole body knew, the way he would naturally gravitate to you when your scent took on this unique change. The raging hard-ons and the… nocturnal emissions. He felt like a teenage boy when your heat came closer.

He wasn’t sure this mission was a good idea for the two of you. It was an expected smash and grab then lay low but with your oncoming heat, faster than he recalled last time, Bucky wasn’t sure about your safety.

Not from the targets. No, you could hold your own.

Your safety from him.

Bucky wouldn’t call himself feral by any means as an Alpha but to say he was untethered around an omega was putting it lightly. Specifically you. Your smell even without the musky allure of on-coming heat is entrancing to him. He was never sure how to broach the topic of the two of you, after all, he’d have to confess to something Sam playfully jab at him about.

But Steve knew better. Bucky was a one Omega kind of Alpha, as was Steve. That’s how it was ingrained in them and no amount of brainwashing could undo instincts.

Landing the jet you jump out of your seat to get your gear on for the mission.

However, Bucky did have one other issue when it came to talking about any of this with you, your avoidance of him if at all possible one on one.

He assumes it’s his overbearing Alpha presence, in the past Omega’s had commented on his scent which made him stay clear of them. What was worse and unthinkable was your avoidance due to his past with Hydra.

You’d lost everything to them at a young age when your powers came out in their warpath to obtain you.

Shaking the thoughts from his head he clears his head to focus on the task at hand. He knew focusing would be instrumental in the success of this mission, given the thickening of your scent. Setting the autopilot to return the Quinjet he confirms the location of the safe house before exiting the Jet so it can return.

The mission was barely a success, while you and Bucky had been able to take out guards from afar your scent was spreading and alerting the enemy of your arrival. Bucky had taken lead, making you stay farther back. And finally told to go get a car for travel to the safe house

Huffing out in frustration you kicked dirt up making your way towards the already cleared front entrance. The last thing you wanted to show in front of Bucky was weakness, he was a man of duty and efficacy. He was an Alpha you admired and fantasizes about. The last thing you needed to be was a thorn in his side.

After all, you put so much effort into being an exemplary team member, not being in the way, only noticed when doing what needs to be done. Effective and unnoticeable. It was how you lived your life.

Your oncoming heat due to your designation was ruining your first duo mission with Bucky, and honestly, you would rather be shot in the head. To be an inconvenience and deterrent on a mission, to be one to Bucky no less. It made your chest squeeze, your growing heat scent sour.

Locating a quick get-away car you pull out your kit to unlock the door, your mind wandering as you began the task of hotwiring, something you could do in your sleep after years of “borrowing” cars.

What if he was hurt because you didn’t have his back?

Worse, your mind supplied, what if he’s disgusted by your heat?

Oh, that hurt.

Your stupid heat wasn’t supposed to be starting for another two days, let alone pre-heat scent spikes. Though, if you were honest the last couple of heats had been irregular in starting. One even started without any lead-up, just bam you were ruining your clothes and craving a knot like an Omega on her first heat.

It was embarrassing, and thank god Bucky had left the common room well before it started. When Nat found you, you let a comment slip that Bucky was nearby but wasn’t affected by your smell. She simply scoffed mentioning something cryptic about only one Omega for Bucky.

At that moment you thought nothing was as embarrassing as that, well tonight you proved yourself wrong. This was the most embarrassing thing ever. Certainly, after this, you’d be on desk duty for a while until your heats got under control.

The loud explosion signals Bucky’s success in taking down the hideout you wait for him to appear and he does making a brisk jog for you. Once in the car, you take off. The only conversation between the two of you his instructions to the safe house. His hand over his nose was enough to keep you silent and compliant. Clearly, your scent had gotten worse.

You two make it to the small cabin 2 hours later, and you’re sweating even in the cool temp. You tired to air the car out but the open windows only proved to push Bucky’s smell directly in your path and that only made your thighs clench, slipper with your slick. You watching Bucky shift in the seat in what you assumed was uncomfortable at your growing arousal. Missing when his metal hand rubbed on the growing erection trying to soothe his own ache.

You both jump out of the car once parked needing out of the confined space of smells, desperate to put some walls between each other. Yours out of shame, Bucky’s out of necessity.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle this. He’d never been around an Omega in their heat, sure pre and post but never right in the thick of it. He was a faithful man about Omega’s, if he’s with one that’s the one. Wringing his hand he heard you cry out in pain. He may not have experienced an Omega in their heat but he knew you didn’t have anything here to help you go through this. But he did.

He had the thing you needed, and god did he want to give it to you. You whimper out, even with a wall between you two the sound carried as if he was beside you. He was getting restless, the longer your scent permeated the air, the harder it would be for him to keep his distance. Bucky would rather have this conversation now while you were both somewhat coherent before he did something he’d regret later without permission.

With wide steps, he finds himself in front of the door where you laid. Bucky inhales deep and it was a mistake, the voracious growl he can’t stop from smelling you scares him, and the hint of sour in your smell scared you too.

Knocking is the only thing he can manage to do, the doorknob in his metal hand crunching under pressure. When you call for him to enter the knob falls and he pushes the door open. Taking a tentative step in he sees you on the bed.

Curled up, simply in your bra and underwear, skin shining with sweat or slick depending upon where he looked. The smell was better than anything he’d ever smelt.

Smelling Bucky closer, you felt your abdomen spasm and more slick produce from you. Your body readying you for the Alpha who smelled so tantalizing and forbidden. Not bothering lifting your head to see the sexual temptation of this Alpha your voice muffled. “Unless you’re here to help you need to leave now.”

“I,” Bucky pauses, “I want to help but I gotta tell you something first.” Closing your eyes tightly you were dreading his next words. Obviously, it would be just sex for him, what good are you to an Alpha such as Bucky Barnes?

“Go on,” you nod your head trying to hide your rejection before he can speak by keeping your head down in the bed, but he catches the faint sourness in your sent. He won’t let it deter him though.

“You know I’ve never been with an omega,” Bucky shifted awkwardly at his confession. Your head lifted looking at him in barely disguised shock. Never been with an Omega? It seemed unlikely, perhaps he meant since Hydra.

“Even before?” You paused not wanting to elaborate on what before was, doing your best to ignore the growing slick and cramping frequency.

“Yeah, even before. Just beta’s.” His head bobbing up and down, the metal hand running through his short locks a nervous tick you found endearing. But now, with this new knowledge, you were trepidacious.

“So what, am I some kind of uncharted territory for you to conquer?” Bucky’s eyes widen at your words, baffled you would think so little of him but then again what actions has he taken to show otherwise he thought to himself.

“What?! No! I just-” His backpedaling was annoying, you could be just sex, it would be hard to work together afterward but to be a conquest, an experiment that’s just too far.

“The connection between an Alpha and Omega is tantric and pure during a heat, you can’t do this because you just want to see what it’s like,” your ire making the room smell of burnt hair.

“I would never-” He tries once more to take control of the conversation but god you were stubborn.

“Cause Bucky if you just think I’m an object that you carve one minute and-” He cuts you off, voice raised.

“Will you let me talk!?” The boom in his voice making you cower at reflex from a loud Alpha. Your pheromones pushing out a pleasant scent to calm him.

“I’m doin’ this because I care about you,” Bucky looks down while your eyes round at his confession, you sit up on your knees edging towards the end of the bead. “I think about you a lot, and not just cause your smell is everywhere Omega.”

Looking up you’re in front of him, his eyes widen to match yours. He’s never called you by your designation before, your name, and maybe on the rare chance doll but never this. Your scent permeates the air around him.

“If we do this-”

“Okay Alpha,” your voice more confident than it had been since Bucky broached this subject.

He knew he should tell you he’d mate you, that nothing would stop him but he couldn’t find it in him with your consent, and the way you smell he fell. In an instant Bucky is on you, lips colliding, fingers digging into your flesh. You mutter against his lips. He pulls away only a fraction.

“Nest,” you whimper, slick pooling down your legs. “I need a nest.” Nodding his head as Bucky doesn’t trust his voice he kisses you once more only to disappear out the door.

When he returns he has the pillows from the couch, a throw blanket, and even some couch back cushions. Leaving once more he finds the laundry room and grabs all the blankets and sheets he can before dumping them on the bed. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up when he returns.

He leaves to get more but you call out his name. He turns back to you with a brow raised. “This is enough but clothes, I need clothes. I need your clothes.” You inform pulling your shirt from the ground where you had ripped your clothes of for reprieve from your heat.

“Right,” He rips his jacket, sweater, and undershirt off throwing them in front of you before taking his pants off to do the same.

You’re body humming with giddiness as you build the nest with his scent and yours slowly molding together to give a safe space. Too consumed in your task you miss the shift on the bed, Bucky coming behind your bent form tucking his pants into the intricate weaving you had done with the clothes and sheets.

Rough warm hand and cool sleek metal land only your hips. You whimper at the feeling, falling into the just set nest.

“Oh sweet Omega,” voice enticing against your ear while he leans over you. His chest barely touching your back but you can feel the heat radiating off of him. His arms slip down yours, intertwining your fingers. Suddenly he falls back pulling you with him to hand in his lap.

He’s hot, so hot, or maybe it’s you? You wiggle on his lap, feeling his erection bare against your covered back end. He shimmies you on his lap, the space allowing for his engorged cock to jut out between your legs.

You salivate at the sight of his large cock twitch. “You see that Omega?” a tingle slips down your spine at his rough voice in your ear.

He reaches down with his flesh hand holding your hand he wraps your fingers around the base, feeling the beginning of his knot swelling. It’s just the faintest bulge to the eyes but in your hands, it feels fully formed. You know it’s not, your omega instincts tell you it’s not but you shake your head anyway.

“Too big,” is all you can get out, heat consuming any syntax.

“Oh my sweet omega,” mewling at his endearing words he chuckles. “It’s not even near popped, but it will be.” his hand leaves yours holding him. “Once I’m rooted deep here.” His hand covers your mound, pushing the soaked fabric to the side he slips his fingers between our swollen folds. Twirling fingers along your clit you buck on top of him, crying out.

“I think my Omega is ready,” you writhe against him, moaning in agreement at his words. You were beyond ready, you had been ready the moment you stepped into this cabin but you had to wait. Had to wait for your alpha “Present.”

Your omega instincts move you immediately to your hands and knees. Bucky’s metal hand slides up your spine to between your shoulder blades pushing you down to your elbows and your ass up higher. Satisfied with your position he raises to his knees.

Pulling your underwear down to your bent knees at the same time he takes his red cock weeping cum from the tip. He feels something crawling just below the surface, a sensation he’s never had when fucking a beta.

It had been bubbling at the surface when he began to smell you but now, with you presenting, his cock head slotted at your entrance you rock back pushing his cock head but not entering just yet, needing more force to take such a bulbous tip, something is slipping away.

No, you shouldn’t be trying to take it. He snarls at your movements and you freeze. Satisfied at your response he pushes in, it’s almost impossible, but when he swivels his hips and growls your name he’s in. Then he’s pushing all the way in, your walls suffocating him, struggling to take him. But you will take him. Slick is pouring around him and out of you, your body desperate to take everything he gives.

Blood is rushing in his ears, he can barely make out the sounds you are making. All he can feel is your body beneath his, the way he’s dominating you, how your pheromones release the most exquisite sweet smell when he enters you. Had he known, if he had only known…

“Bucky,” you sigh in relief when he bottoms out, your full, more full than any time you could recall. It was like he was made to reach every part of you. He growls out and you’re quick to correct yourself. “Alpha.”

“Fu-uck,” he gets out, eyes squeezed tight. “I never knew-” he can’t finish his words.

“I know,” you concur, “I know.”

He pulls back and slams into you faster than you’re prepared for. You wail and your arms collapse under you but you turn your head, pushing one side of your face into the mattress that smells like you, like Bucky. Together.

Fingers dig into the sheets, drool pouring out your mouth and your eyes roll back when he pulls back to shove himself back in you, your body jerking forward at the force.

Something wicked is climbing up Bucky’s back with each thrust, the sensation mudding his brain but it’s different from the brainwashing. It’s different from anything else he’s ever felt. It’s part of him but something he’s not familiar with. As he continues to thrust back and forth you move with him.

He holds your hips still, hissing as he slowly pulls back. Punishing you for trying to take control. A pitiful wail falls from your mouth when he eases his hips forward into you. “You are mine Omega,”

You nod your head against the bed, anything to stop this slow pace. “You will submit to your alpha.” You whimper out a scratchy “Yes Alpha.” It’s enough.

He pounds into you, no not pound, pummels. His pace is fast, unforgiving, and more pleasurable than anything you’ve felt before.

Your hair falls in front of you, displaying your mating gland to him. It calls to him, the rush of blood making it swell, preparing for him, for his mark. He just knew it. Never mind it was always inflamed during an omega’s heat.

The wet slap of flesh meeting, his staggered breaths, your moans growing in volume, the taste of your sweat when he licks a trail up your back, the smell of your fluids combined that’s squelching out with each thrust, it’s all a new symphony to his senses.

One that sends him further to the place he’s wanted to be for decades. When he swivels his hips moving in and then out of you you’re crying, gushing out around him, cumming so suddenly you’re gasping for breath.

Your limp but Bucky holds you up by your waist, Your plaint body swaying with his thrusts, never once losing his tempo. He’s chasing something, something a fleeting thought that he may not want to do so but it was too late. Too late and too good.

When you finally regain the sensation of your body he’s never stopped once. For a moment you’re worried but remember Bucky is more than a simple Alpha. He knows you’ve returned to your sense before you can say anything.

He hooks his arms in yours, pulling them back behind you at your elbow joint. Thrusting wildly your breasts bouncing with each thrust.

“Are you ready to take my knot?” He growls, his voice is deeper than anytime you’ve heard before. If it wasn’t for the heat fuzziness overtaking you maybe you’d register the warning sign.

“Yes Alpha, please.” You whine instead, begging for what your body craves, the very reason you’re in this position.

“Are you ready to be marked?” He nuzzles into your neck, licking your mating gland. Something doesn’t feel right about that.

“Alpha?” Your head moves to the side to move him away but Bucky remains steadfast in his attention on your gland.

“Mine forever,” his voice is garbled, you’re fairly certain his smell has taken on a spicier sent. He’s in a rut. The base of his cock is swelling, catching almost in the last thrust. He pushes in all the way and it pops.

“No!” you try to struggle but he has you prone to his desires. “What are you-”

It’s so much at once, his knot is caught and you feel his cum flooding your insides. Nothing slipping out at the pulsing knot keeping you sealed

You cry out when his teeth land on your matting gland piercing with ease. The groan that vibrates from his chest shakes you. There’s a pop and then snap sensation that reverberates through your whole body as the mark takes.

He pulls his teeth back, licking and humping against you, pushing himself further into you though it’s impossible to give you more his instincts demand he is rooted to you. After a few more seconds he is rolling you both to your side, releasing your arms and warping his around you to cocoon you in his sent.

“You’re it for me,” his voice is rough but he sounds like your Bucky. “There’s no choice.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #alpha bucky #omega reader #alpha bucky x omega reader #James bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #smut #18+ only

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trumpkinhotboy · 3 years

Text

All in good time

Pairing: Jacob Black x f!reader

Type: Not requested

Genre: Kinda fluffy i'd say

Warnings: None!

Rating: g

Requests: Open (for Narnia and Twilight, maybe?😳)

A/n: Alright, alright, I know I said this blog was going to be centralized on Narnia stuff, but lately I've really gotten back in my Twilight phase🥴 Plus, I had a really shitty week and needed a pick me up. Jacob is one of my biggest comfort characters so I felt it was only suiting. I hope you'll enjoy it😬 I suggest reading this while listening to any kind of Twilight ambiance playlist.☺Also, I know my title sucks HAHA. Couldn't think of anything better so yea, I'm sorry, but this is what you get

Update: changed my title huhu!

* gif is not mine!!

There were days that just deeply and inherently... sucked. Days where everything seemed out of rhythm, where no matter how hard you tried, it all seemed wrong; it all fell apart.

Today was one of those days. When your dad jokingly said: "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." you did not think it the tiniest of bit funny. When you opened one of the kitchen cabinets to get your favorite brand of cereals and found an empty box, you almost threw a full-on seven-year-old crying on the floor tantrum. Especially when you saw the half-emptied bowl sitting in the sink. Too bad, no breakfast for you this morning. Ridiculous, immature, and not changing anything? Yes, of course, but you still did it out of pure spite. As if that would punish anyone else than you.

Like any other day in Forks, it was raining, nothing awful here, if it was not for the fact that the window on the driver’s side hadn’t been properly closed. Your seat was by now totally drenched. With your pants completely soaked you rode to school, your knuckles turning white from angrily gripping the wheel. Once you arrived, it seemed that everyone was annoyingly happy and enthusiastic while you just couldn’t get out of your personal, unchangeable, black cloud. Not to help, your friends only kept making fun of your moody behavior. Could you not be taken seriously on one of your worst days?

In your least favorite class, you were horrified to see written in big letters on the board:

“20% exam!! Leave your personal effects in front of the class.”

You would have run away if it wasn’t for the flow of students coming in to push you further in the classroom. Convinced the exam was for the next week, you did not even open the pages of your manual concerning the subject. It is with panic and exasperation that you sat at your desk waiting for your doom. Did you need to add that along with all that bull crap of a day, the only person who could have made your day a little less annoying was, once again missing. No calls, no texts, no news, nothing. Probably on another mission with the rest of his mutant gang. You got to the Rez after school, hoping you would see him, but were only welcomed by Leah and Seth. It almost felt like they were waiting for you as they were sitting outside of Billy’s house. Why they were the only ones left here was a mystery for you. The pack usually always stayed together.

- “Where are the others?”

- “On some kind of mission around the lands.”

- “Is everything alright?” They nodded nonchalantly. “Then why are you two here?”

The answer Seth gave you while chewing loudly on yet, another snack, made you grith your teeth so hard he thought they were going to fall out of your mouth.

- “To protect you.”

- “I thought it was nothing, so why would I need protection?”.

- “You should talk about it with Black. He’s the one who ordered us to stay to watch over you or something.”

- “I am PERFECTLY capable of WATCHING OVER MYSELF.” you answered a little louder than expected, anger rumbling in your chest. That earned you some awkward looks from your two friends, but at this point, it didn’t even matter, you were seeing red.

Leah, never intimated by you, shrugged her shoulders. Seth looking a little bit more nervous still laughed at your display of anger. Jacob was the one assigning babysitters over you? Of course, you and he would have a little discussion, that mutt would not see it coming.

When you got back home, you called your father to warn him; there was no way you would be cooking dinner. With your luck, it wouldn’t be a surprise if you burnt the whole house down. Fortunately, he was in good mood (unfair) and answered there was no problem; he would get pizza. He got home with the box in hand and a “Hey sweet...heart”. One quick look at your rough appearance and frustrated expression and his mouth closed shut. He dropped politely, almost carefully, a plate with a slice of pizza before quickly leaving for the couch. You mostly played with the food, incapable of swallowing it down, looking at the forest many times, waiting, expecting to see a tall figure appear on its verge but nothing. Time passed, still no sign of life. There was no way that by now Leah or Seth didn’t give him your message. You had time to wash the dishes, do some homework, and get in your sweats. At 7:30 pm you gave up; he wasn’t coming. Your father was still watching TV, completely oblivious to your growing anger. You picked up his plate to put it in the sink but tripped and dropped it, the delicate plate exploded into a thousand pieces.

- “Y/n? Everything okay?”

- “Y..ea.. an accident. I’ll pick it up.”

There was a slight tremolo in your voice. That was it. Your day had been terrible with no sign of sun, and this broken plate would be your breaking point as ridiculous as it sounded. You leaned on the counter, head hanging low, feeling tears of frustration swelling up in your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you looked up; in a second you were out the back door.

- “Where you going?” you heard your father ask.

- “Getting the trash out.”

The figure backed in the woods as you rushed into them without hesitation. You smacked against something big and warm, warmer than it was normal to be, yet you had become quite accustomed to it.

- “You little piece of shit.” your index finger digging in his chest. “You weren’t even here today, and it was terrible, and you can’t do this. I do not need any PROTECTION. Oh my god, do you really think I am weak and helpless without you or Leah or Seth or ANY werewolf to protect me?!”

He didn’t interrupt your monologue, only looking at you spitting your anger out.

- “You are SO annoying. Honestly who- who do you think you- are?! I’m- I am not, I can DEFINITELY, I don’t ne-eed any-one.” Your speech was becoming less and less coherent, your emotions taking control of your mind.

Without waiting any longer for you to finish your incoherent thought, he pulled you in for one of his signature bear hugs.

- “You can’t do this to me I’m an-ang-angry...”.

- “Shhh, it’s okay.”

- “You-you weren’t there.” you gave up fighting him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

- “I’m sorry, Leah told me.”

- “Wh- why didn’t you come sooner?” you continued, sobbing.

- “Some wolf things, Paul got in trouble.“ you backed off, immediately lifting your head at the mention of one of your friends in trouble.

- “Is he okay?”

- “Of course, he is, but Sam was very upset this time.” he stroked the side of your face with a small smile. “Enough with the boys, tell me what's wrong.”

- “Everything. I left my car window opened my seat was drenched. At school, everyone was disgustingly happy and in a good mood. I did not know I had an exam, I didn’t even study the subject. And this morning, my dad half ate the rest of my favorites cereals, and then I didn’t eat anything else as a silent protest, I know that’s stupid, but”

- “You didn’t eat anything else?”

- “Yeah, but I…” you lifted your gaze to meet his disapproving one. “I mean, I must have eaten a snack at lunch today…”

- “Must have?” he looked angrier.

- “Y/n??? Where are you??”

The calling of your father interrupted your conversation; he looked in its direction.

- “You should go back inside before your dad comes out.”

- “What? No, please. Can’t you kidnap me for tonight?” he chuckled lightly.

- “Trust me, go back in, okay?”

You looked at him unsure, even though you knew he was worthy of your trust. You finally nodded before running back inside.

- “What took you so long?”

- “Oh, uh, I thought I saw something and got a little carried away.”

- “Mokay, I don’t like you being so close to the woods. We’ve still had a few complaints about some trekkers finding traces of big animals in the woods. I’d prefer you be careful, alright?” You held up a smile, thinking about your friend just outside.

- “Sure.”

You stayed in the middle of the living room, expecting, waiting to see Jacob’s next move. You expected something quick, but when ten minutes later, there were still no signs of him, you felt frustration rising again. Not sure what to do now, you sat next to your father, half paying attention to what was happening on the screen. If he just left you, he was going to pay for it. You needed him, and just like that, he was gone? Probably, got called away by Sam again. Maybe it wasn’t in his control? But if it was…

Knock. Knock.

You looked up, surprised. The door opened with a creaking sound.

- “Oh, Jacob. Hi, what are you doing here?”

- “Hi Charlie, I heard Y/n had a pretty bad day. Came to kidnap her, if that's okay?”

- “Bad day? That’s an understatement. I swear, at one point, I thought she was going to scream at me. I ate her last bowl of cereal this morning; the thing was disgusting, I only ate half of it. I don’t think that helped.” You heard your friend’s low chuckle. Your dad seemed to feel pretty guilty about his crime, which did make you feel a tad bit better. “But yeah sure. Y/n! You have a visitor.”

You walked to them, Jacob awkwardly fitting in your small house; he seemed so disproportionate with his imposing size. For once, he was wearing actual clothes, a shirt and a pair of jeans, a sign he wasn’t planning on having to transform tonight. A sign that he was planning on being entirely dedicated to you.

- “Ready to go? I’m kidnaping you.” He said that last part with a smirk, a hint to your previous request.

- “Sure.” You grabbed your coat, said goodbye to your dad, and left without waiting any longer.

First, he took you away to get some food in you. It wasn’t until your teeth were digging inside a delicious burger that you realized just how hungry you were. Jacob being the glutton that he is, ordered two cheeseburgers along with a pack of large fries. You went for a milkshake, the perfect dessert for a night like this, and took your victuals to the La Push beach. It was empty and peaceful; the sun was slowly going down, the wind just a whisper in the night. It wasn’t even that cold, but the excuse to snuggle into Jake’s wolfish warmth was too good to pass.

- “Feeling better?” he asked while wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

- “Yes. Thanks, Jake.”

- “Kidnapping mission was a success?”

- “Yes, it was.” You answered with a smile.

- “Alright.” He muttered under his breath, looking in the distance.

You stayed for a while in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the other’s presence.

- “So, what were you saying about me not being there today, like that made your day worst?”

His question took you by surprise. A look at his cocky expression was all it took you to punch him in the ribs as hard as you could.

- “You wish idiot.”

He laughed at your attack, he probably didn't even feel a thing but leveled his face with yours in all seriousness.

- “You can avoid this conversation for now since you had a shit day and all, but keep in mind, it’s not over.”

- “And you keep in mind that our discussion about you ordering werewolves to stay behind to protect me, is not over. You won’t get away easily with that one Black.”

He laughed again, visibly amused with your threat. You laughed too but were slightly less amused. These two conversations were important ones, although one you apprehended way more. You looked at Jacob's happy expression and felt a fuzzy feeling warming your body. No, right now was not the time for such serious topics.

All in good time, right?

...

Tagging my two gals because they know how nervous I was😭...@imjustdreamingig @gonzalezyon I did it gals🥺 I hope you'll like it, thank you so much for your support💕💕

#ilya writes ❤#jacob black #jacob black x f!reader #jacob black x reader #jacob black fic #twilight #taylor lautner #twilight saga #wolves #werewolves

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rickywritesstuff · 3 years

Text

less than a friend - bill s preston esq x ted theodore logan

warnings: mentions of homophobia, mentions of abuse, f slur

desc: Ted is acting strange, and Bill intends to find out why, but Ted won't even look at him. When Ted finally talks to Bill, he reveals he doesn't want to be friends anymore.

The first couple of times, Bill had convinced himself Ted simply hadn't heard him. He grew more concerned, however, when he noticed Ted look at him and still avoid him. Had he done something? Ted would tell him if he did, right?

When Bill saw Ted getting things from his locker, he fully intended to keep on walking; he was clearly too occupied to talk to Bill, and if he wanted to talk to him, he would do so. That was the plan until he caught a clear glimpse of a bruise on Ted's arm.

"Ted?" Ted flinched, clearly able to hear Bill, but didn't move in his direction. "Please don't ignore me, Ted." He spoke quietly. He noticed Ted's busted lip, which wasn't noticable earlier because Ted's face had been hidden behind his hair. "Did you get hurt, Ted?"

The halls had begun to clear out as the bell rang. Ted took a breath. He didn't want to do this. But he had to for the both of them, right?

"We should talk, Bill," Ted stated in a way that told Bill something was very, very wrong.

Bill nodded, waiting for Ted to continue. When he didn't, Bill asked, "What is it, Ted?"

Ted hid his face behind his hair again. He could feel how fast his heart was beating. He didn't want to do this. He wished he didn't have to. But his dad would kill him if he didn't.

"Bill, I don't-" Ted could feel the tears threatening to come up, heard his voice crack, and cleared his throat. "I-I think we sh-should- stop being, uh- stop being friends." He paused to let the both of them process what he had just said. "The bands over, too, Bill. I'll come over later to get my stuff."

Bill stared at Ted, dumbfounded. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Bill. It's not your fault, I just- it's better this way, y'know?" Ted half-lied. He really wasn't sure if this was better or worse.

"Y-you- Ted-" Bill fought back the tears he knew would come up sooner or later. He felt his heart sink. Was he joking? He didn't look like he was joking. Ted wouldn't make this kind of joke, anyways. Bill wished he could get one single coherent thought out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Bill. It's not your fault, really." Ted began to turn around, stopping and turning his head to face Bill again, giving him a sad smile. "You were a good friend, Bill. Please don't forget that."

With that, Ted left Bill standing alone in the hallway, his mind reeling. It wasn't his fault. Ted had said that, and he wouldn't lie to him. But something inside him told him he had done something wrong, something so bad that Ted didn't want to talk to him ever again.

And then it hit him. He was alone. He was completely and utterly alone, with not even Ted to comfort him. He always had Ted, no matter what, that's just how it had been since they were little kids. They had never had anyone but each other, and now they didn't even have that.

Bill ran to the bathroom, locking himself in one of the stalls. He began sobbing without checking if anyone was in the bathroom with him. He didn't give a shit if anyone heard him, anyways. His best friend didn't want anything more to do with him, he should be allowed to cry as much as he wanted.

As Bill sobbed loudly, his shoulders shaking rhythmically with each sob, only one thought came and went through his head; today, after school, would be his last chance ever to talk to Ted.

—————

Neither Bill nor Ted said anything on the ride back to Bill's house. Missy had no idea what was going on, and the boys' peculiar behavior only made her increasingly concerned with every passing second.

"I won't be home for a while, I've got some errands to run. Have fun, boys," Missy called out with a smile as they approached the Preston residence and the boys got out of the car.

"Yeah," Bill muttered, kicking a pebble in front of his foot.

Ted gave as convincing a smile as he could. "Bye, Mrs. Preston."

Missy waved, smiling, too. "Bye, Ted." And with that, she drove off.

The two stood there for a few moments, but to them it felt like forever. "So- I- I think you've got a few things in my room. I don't know. We can start there."

Ted shrugged. "You can keep whatever's in your room, dude. I just need whatever's in the garage."

Bill's heart ached. He really didn't want to keep any of Ted's stuff. He thought it would hurt too much. He nodded, anyway. "Okay. Garage it is, then, duder." He tried to keep his voice from cracking or shaking. He didn't think he was very good at it.

Bill pushed past Ted, doing his best to avoid any eye contact with him. He didn't want to see whatever emotion Ted was feeling right now. He opened the garage, faced with their instruments and small stage. The instruments and stage he would most likely never use again.

Ted pointed to the right of the garage. "I'll start there, I guess."

Bill nodded. "Oh, wait- don't you-" He could feel his voice start to crack. He hated this. He just wished he could fix whatever was going on between him and Ted. "Don't you want your guitar, dude? I think you should get that first, so you don't forget it."

Ted looked at his guitar sadly. It was leaned against the wall next to Bill's. "No, you should keep it. My dad would totally kill me if I had that thing in the house." He laughed slightly, like everything happening was just a joke to him. Bill didn't know if it pissed him off or made him even sadder. "I'm sure you'll find some other bodacious dude to start a band with, and you can give them my guitar."

Bill's heart sank deeper. He didn't think that was possible. It hadn't even occurred to him that he might continue Wyld Stallyns without Ted. He didn't plan on it. But Ted moved on, he would have to move on eventually, too. "Yeah, maybe," Bill mumbled, dragging his feet as he walked to a small table set by the stage. He took a breath. "Y'know no one's gonna be as bodacious as you, though, Ted," he said quietly, unsure of how he would respond.

Ted chuckled. "Yeah. You- you too, Bill."

Bill wanted to cry again. But he couldn't, not right in front of Ted. He sucked in his breath, holding it for a few seconds before releasing again and grabbing a box below the table. It had a collection of random things pertaining to the band, merchandise they had hand made, a few scrapped song lyrics.

Pictures of the two of them together.

Bill reluctantly grabbed a photograph of the two. It was a picture of them Ted had taken; behind them, the beginning of their band set up. This photo was from a few years before, when they had first started their band. They seemed so happy. He wondered if he would be able to go back in time, to experience it all again. Probably not.

Bill let out a shaky breath, a low sob-like noise. Ted turned around. "Dude? What's up?"

Bill sniffed. "Nothing, Ted, sorry. Just- uh, nothing."

Ted crouched down on the floor with Bill, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Bill, it's okay, really. Whatever it is, you can talk to me about it. I promise." He smiled reassuringly. "Just because we won't be hanging out anymore doesn't mean you can't talk to me about- y'know, your problems and stuff."

Bill let out a loud sob, letting go of the photo and setting his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, Ted, I just- I know you said it's not my fault, and I trust you on that, but- I just- I know there's some reason, that something obviously happened between us, and whatever it is I'm sorry- and- I- I don't know. I just can't move on as fast as you, Ted. I'm sorry."

Ted was quiet, and Bill didn't realize he was crying, too, until he started talking. "Dude," he said quietly, his voice cracking. "I don't want to stop being friends with you-"

"Then why!?" Bill yelled, breaking down into sobs once more. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I don't want to yell. Just-" He took a breath, lifting his head to look at Ted. "Why?"

Ted stared at him, obvious sadness in his expression. "I can't explain it, Bill. We- we just can't be friends anymore. I don't-" He took a breath. "I don't think I could handle it. And my dad wouldn't like it much, either."

"Screw your dad, Ted!" Bill paused. "I- wh- what the hell do you mean you can't handle being friends with me? Did- did I do something?" His expression turned into that of fear as he searched his brain for anything and everything he'd ever done wrong.

"No, Bill, of course not. I don't think you can do anything wrong, really." Ted stared at Bill for a minute, then sighed. "I can't explain more, Bill, I'm sorry. I don't want you getting more mad at me than you already are."

"Mad? Ted, I'm not mad. I've only ever gotten, like, slightly annoyed with you, like, twice for totally stupid reasons. Just tell me, Ted. I won't get mad." Bill was confused, but he knew if he continued pressing he would get at least a slight explanation as to why his best friend completely left him.

Ted sighed. He stared at nothing for a few minutes, contemplating whether he should even say anything. He felt like just being here would send his dad some sort of distress signal or something. "Bill, I-" He let out a breathy sob. "I'm a total faggot. And- and my dad found out and he thinks if I spend any more time with you it'll only get worse, and honestly, I think I agree with him."

Bill's face scrunched up in thought. "Dude, I don't care if you like dudes. Shit, is it because I called you a fag? I-"

"No, Bill, it's not about that. I mean, kinda, but- it's more about what dude I like. And how my dad found out." Ted didn't want to say it. He hoped Bill would fill in the blanks.

"I'm not following, dude."

Ted swallowed. "Okay, so, I- I was working on a song for this really bodacious dude I know, and my dad found out and- he found out who it's about- I mean, his name is in the song, y'know? So, yeah, he-" Ted turned to face Bill again, who was looking at him with wide, seemingly hopeful eyes. "Bill, why do you think I can't talk to you anymore, dude?"

Bill stared at Ted. "Dude." He lifted his hand to Ted's cheek, letting gentle tears flow from his eyes. His voice was shaky and squeaky as he said quietly, "I love you so much." He pulled Ted into a quick kiss, laughing happily. "And your dad's a major dickweed. You can stay here as long as you need, dude."

Ted smiled weakly. "My dad would totally kill me, Bill, you know that."

Bill was quiet for a moment. Reluctantly, he said quietly, "Y'know, I never said you had to leave anytime." He squeezed Ted's hand. "I would love to hear that song sometime, though."

Ted laughed, squeezing Bill's hand back. "I'll totally play it for you soon, dude." He was quiet. "Y'know, I think you're right. My dad is a total dickweed. I think I will stay here for a while."

Bill laughed, too. "Good."

They were quiet again, still in the same position they had been in. Then, Ted adjusted himself, touching his forehead with Bill's. "I'm sorry, dude. It was most uncool of me to completely avoid you all day. I love you."

Bill felt butterflies in his stomach. As much as it was totally uncool to ignore him all day, he understood. "It's okay, Ted. You're here now, that's all that really matters, I think." He paused. "I love you, too."

He loved being able to say that to Ted. It felt real, because he really did love him, and he felt like breaking into sobs all over again, because here he was, holding the hand of his best friend since kindergarten. He would be more than content if they stayed like that forever, never leaving each other's arms.

#ghqhdjf this was so fun to make even tho it did make me cry a bit lol💃🕺#f slur tw #bill and ted #bnt #bill s preston esquire #ted theodore logan #bill and ted fan fic #bill and ted fanfiction #bill and ted fanfic

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gojo-x-reader · 3 years

Text

Confessions in a Drunken Night

Relationship(s): Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

Warnings: excessive drinking, mentions of sex (not related to drinking), getting drunk, job stress

Tags: communication is key

AO3 Link: here

Words: ~2k

Request: “ Hey, I hope you're doing okay. I have read your scenarios and I fell in love with them They are so cute and adorable . If you take a request would you mind taking mine. About a f/reader who is depressed about her job pressure and Gojo not being home lately so she would be drinking at home not knowing that Gojo had arrived and was sleeping and he would wake up because of sound and he would find her saoul , and he would try to make up with her , with a lot of fluff please , thank you .”

You heard the door hurriedly slam from the other room and sighed. This was the third time just this week alone that date night was interrupted with you and your boyfriend, Satoru. Every time, he promised that nothing would come up, but every time something did. You didn’t understand why exactly his job was so important for him to just leave like that. He was just a high school teacher.

You sighed again, then picked up the uneaten dinner you cooked for the both of you. You placed the food in containers for later, if there was a later with him. You might end up eating both portions by yourself. You finished up cleaning up the romantic date you had prepared, now incredibly sad and frustrated.

You started pouring yourself a glass of whiskey. You weren’t a fan of the stuff straight, but tonight seemed like the night to drink. How many hours of overtime did you put in this week just to try to have an evening off to spend with your boyfriend? How much sleep did you lose just to stay ahead? How many times did your boss scoff because you asked off not one night, but three nights this week? You’d be lucky if you could get another night off in a month after this week.

You sipped on the whiskey, cherishing the warmth it brought to your core. You grabbed the bottle and glass and took them the to couch. The whiskey bottle was less than halfway finished; might as well finish it tonight. You lounged on the couch as you brought the glass to your lips and reminisced about your relationship with Satoru.

You had been together for over a year now, but it didn’t feel like it. You were practically in a long-distance relationship, despite only living twenty minutes from each other with how scarce you got to see him. He was always busy on “business trips” or whatever for his job. The thought that he was cheating on you crossed your mind a time or two, but Satoru didn’t seem like the type.

The two of you met in your favorite bakery just down the street. You had fought over the last piece of tiramisu, which he eventually gave you in exchange for your number. He was incredibly easy to talk to and within a few weeks, the two of you were going on your first date. He was suave, but you soon learned that was just a front he put up. The true Gojo Satoru was a dork with an almost insufferable personality that somehow you were able to stand.

You were sure that in the year you had been dating, you had only gone on three successful dates with Satoru and well over fifteen attempted dates. The three successful dates all had a special place in your heart.

The first successful date was your first date. It was a cozy café date followed by a nice walk through the nooks and crannies of Tokyo you never saw on your work commute. You remembered how you gained the confidence to hold Satoru’s hand on the first date, only feeling like there was a literal wall between you two for a few seconds. It was strange, but it was the only incident, so you never brought it up to him.

The second successful date was a few months later with another failed attempt in between the first and second. This one was a trip to a fancy restaurant in the heart of Tokyo. This was the date you learned that your boyfriend was loaded. Not just well off, but rich enough he could spend a couple hundred thousand Yen and it was just pocket change to him. Somehow, the reveal left more questions than answered them; namely, how did he become so rich with a teacher’s salary? Was he part of some kind of Old Money or something?

He never told you where you were dining, so of course, you dressed like it was a casual outing. Before heading to the restaurant, he bought you a dress that was worth more than two years of your yearly salary (against your protests). It was a gorgeous dress, in your favorite color. It still hung in your closet; while you wanted to sell it for some extra money, you didn’t want to upset Satoru.

The third and final successful date was your first anniversary. Neither of you wanted to go out, so you both stayed in. The two of you cooked dinner together; you were pleasantly surprised to learn that Satoru had a talent for cooking and wanted to taste more of his cooking. He insisted you were a much better cook than him, but you disagreed.

After dinner, one thing led to another until you were swept off your feet literally to the bedroom.

You smiled fondly at the memories of your first time together. It was only two months ago, but nothing had happened since then even though you desperately wanted a repeat of your anniversary tonight. Ah, you remembered why you were drinking. You swallowed the rest of the whiskey in your glass, grimacing as it burned in your throat.

You were already tipsy after one glass. You were a lightweight; you were sure you would be shit-faced before the end of this bottle. Satoru never drank, yet he always had the audacity to make fun of how much of a lightweight you were.

Who knows how long passed before you finally swallowed the last drop of whiskey. At that point, you were fighting your eyelids that were trying to close. Without Satoru there to entertain you as you were tipsy, you became a tired drunk. You just wanted to go to sleep but didn’t want to leave the couch. If you got up, you’d probably stumble and fall back anyway. So, you grabbed the blanket draped across the couch and wrapped yourself around it.

A sudden wave of sadness washed over you right as you closed your eyes. You missed Satoru, desperately. It felt physically painful being away from him at the moment. You brought a hand up to your eyes and wiped them, rolling over and finally going to sleep for good.

You woke up to the feeling of someone shaking your form. You groaned. Your head was pounding from dehydration, you were still sleepy from the alcohol; who dared interrupt your sleep?

You blinked a few times to find Satoru and his beautiful blue eyes staring at you. He appeared slightly worried, but also tired.

“Time?” you asked, not even forming coherent sentences yet.

“Almost 3am,” Satoru answered.

You groaned. “Let me sleep.”

“How much did you drink?”

“Does it matter?” you snapped back. You then realized how hostile you sounded, then started crying. “Please don’t be mad at me,” you said between hiccups.

Satoru took you into his arms, soothingly rubbing your back to calm you down. You suddenly felt worse because you were a mess, just because he left for an emergency with work? Pathetic.

Your sweet, incredible boyfriend helped you slowly sit up, then obtained a glass of water for you to drink. You chugged it, not even realizing how thirsty you were. Satoru refilled it for you, urging you to instead sip the water.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru asked as he sat down next to you on the couch.

“...Nothing,” you answered.

“Nothing? I come home to find my girlfriend passed out on the couch drunk off her ass and sad. You’re upset, and I want us to work through this. Now, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sad,” you admitted.

“Obviously.”

“I don’t feel like you--” hic “--love me as much anymore. You keep leaving during our dates, you don’t spend much time with me anymore, and my job is just so stressful because I keep having to work overtime to get days off and I doubt I can get another day off for a month now. That just makes me so fucking sad because I wanna see you every day but I can’t--”

Satoru gently placed a hand on your cheek. His gaze was filled with so much love it rendered you speechless. “That all?” he asked. You nodded.

Satoru tenderly placed a kiss on your forehead. “I’ve been keeping a secret from you,” he admitted. Suddenly, your brain raced through all of the possibilities, fixating on the idea he was cheating on you. Oh, no, here it comes…

“I’m a jujutsu sorcerer.”

“Excuse me?”

That was not at all what you were expecting. What did that even mean?

Satoru backed away. “Here, try to grab my hand.”

You reached out to him, feeling the familiar wall like you did on your first date. “Oh!”

“This is Infinity,” he explained. “As you get closer to me, you slow down, unable to reach me. It’s a jujutsu passed down through my family.”

“I think I’ve felt it before. On our first date.”

Satoru sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I always keep my Infinity going at all times, 24/7, even when I’m asleep. I only let down my guard around you because I trust you with my life.”

“So. What does this all mean? What else are you keeping a secret? Your job too?”

“No, I really am a high school teacher. For the first years, to be exact. The bunch this year are… interesting to say the least. So I’ve been having to stay late to train them, and I actually do go on business trips. A lot of them are overseas.”

“What are they for?” You were now very invested in your boyfriend’s secret life he had been hiding from you all this time.

“We exorcise curses.”

“Curses?”

“The evil beings of the jujutsu world. I have to go on more missions than the average person because I’m one of the very few Special Grade jujutsu sorcerers in the world. It’s the highest rank a jujutsu sorcerer can reach. And your boyfriend is the strongest in the world.”

“Are you really, or are you self-proclaimed?” you asked, knowing his personality. Satoru pouted. You pinched one of his cheeks gently, then dragged his face to your lips, pressing them against his cheek. “I’m just kidding.”

“I really am the strongest, though,” Satoru continued to pout. “Anyway! I think it’s time for us to sleep. Tomorrow, I can take you to see my school and you can meet my students!”

“Really?” you asked, excited. Finally, your boyfriend was allowing you into the part of his world you were always curious about.

“Really,” he promised.

You yawned. The sun was just starting to peek through your windows. Suddenly, you felt yourself being lifted and carried to your room. You weren’t quite sober and made sure to warn Satoru about that, lest he moved you too fast and caused you to throw up on the two of you.

(“It wouldn’t get on me, though,” Satoru argued. “I can just activate my Infinity and I’ll stay clean.”)

Satoru tucked you into your bed, then made his way to your side. You were actually kind of glad you decided to get drunk tonight, as the liquid courage gave you the confidence to speak your mind to your boyfriend instead of keeping your feelings inside like usual. Tonight, you learned a side of your boyfriend you never thought existed. It brought you relief and curiosity to learn more about him and his life.

But for now, you needed sleep. Meeting part of Satoru’s world could wait until tomorrow.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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soulmate-game · 3 years

Text

This is an alternate ending for my Bio!dad Joker / Bio!mom Harley AU. Or really, the timeline itself will be entirely different starting from the moment that Marinette’s plane lands in Gotham. If you haven’t read the original, you can do so here.

—*—*—*—*—*

“He’s going to find out, Mom.”

“No he won’t, don’t be silly! I’ve been very careful about hiding you from him, Nettie-pie.”

“Mom… I just have a bad feeling. I don’t think we can hide who I am from him. If he sees me, I think he’ll know.”

The phone went silent.

“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. If I was crazy about him, Sugar, then I’m head over heels for you. Not even he can stop me from caving his skull in if he tries his usual tricks with you.”

“... My plane leaves soon, I’ll talk to you when I land. And mom?”

“Yeah, honeycake?”

“I love you.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette often hated how accurate her intuition tended to be. She had barely even stepped out of the airport before she had felt the prick of a needle in her neck and the sensation of being shoved into a small, dark space before her vision cut out.

Looks like her mom wasn’t able to hide her existence away as well as they thought.

And unfortunately for Marinette, her darling asshole of a father had apparently had ample time to plan his first meeting with her. If he had just used the much easier to acquire Chloroform on her, then Marinette likely would have woken up early enough to come up with a plan. Chloroform was unreliable and wore off fairly easily. But no, he had actually had the time to steal hospital grade anesthetic.

Which meant that Marinette woke up with her wrists zip-tied to heavy links of chain above her head, and her ankles connected to the chain below her with what felt like ten layers of duct tape.

Lovely.

“Ah, there she is! Good morning, sleepyhead!” Those were the high-pitched, dramatic words she heard when she came back to consciousness. She didn’t even need to open her eyes to know who the speaker was— she had watched enough videos online and not-so-legally obtained Asylum and Prison footage to immediately recognize the speech patterns and tone that was echoing around her.

Apparently keeping her eyes closed was not allowed, because it was only a few seconds later that Marinette felt a harsh slap sting her cheek and whip her face to the side. Oh, that would become a bruise without a doubt. Her teeth betrayed her, cutting into the inside of her mouth with the force of the hit. So, when Marinette opened her eyes to glare at the sperm donor responsible for half of her DNA, she aimed her bloody spit right at him. It landed on his shoe, which only a few seconds later slammed into her gut.

Marinette gasped for air even as the chain she was on swung violently, making her dizzy and upsetting her stomach. Too bad she didn’t have anything in there to throw up on him, she thought angrily. The chain links rattled loudly, ringing in her head alongside the electric pain of both of her newly forming bruises.

“Honestly, is that any way to treat your dear ol’ Daddy?” Joker cooed with false offense, one hand over his heart. Marinette glared at him as best as she could as she continued to sway in the open air, the chain she was tied to being the only thing keeping her from plunging straight down into a vat of sickly green, bubbling liquid.

Marinette didn’t need to be told what that liquid was. And joker knew that, the moment he saw her look down at that vat and saw the realization almost immediately cross her face. So instead of explaining, he laughed. Loud, high, and deranged.

“Good, good! That idiot Harley kept you educated, at least,” he said between psychotic chuckles. “Ah yes, and she somehow managed to choose the perfect name,” he glided over to her, as if he was some ethereal demon of chaos instead of a human. His paper-white hand reached out, grabbing her chin in a crushing grip and turning her face this way and that. Inspecting her as if she was a piece of china and not a living being. “So easy to adjust. Right now, you’re Marinette. Just like how, all those years ago, your mother stood here as Harleen. But just as she was dunked into acid and became my harlequin,” he stepped back and grabbed Marinette’s shoulders. He spun her like a top, making the metal chain creak and clink as it wound into a few weak coils and then released back out, trying to go straight again. It sent Marinette twirling through the air in a horrid half-spin, one-eighty degrees one way before sharply spinning to the other side. Joker laughed.

“Just like that, you’re gonna go from boring old Marinette,” he stuck out his tongue like a child, as if the mere taste of her name was bitter. “And you’ll be reborn as my new little Marionette. Aren’t you excited?!”

“Fuck you,” Marinette spat, even as she tried to blink and return her vision to normal. She was far too disoriented to even come up with a plan— but she was still coherent enough to register that the sky was dark outside the high windows of the factory she was apparently in. She had been missing for a few hours then, which meant that her mom and Momma Ivy would have called for help a long time ago. Maybe if she just stalled long enough, it would get there in time. “I’m not a puppet. Not for you, not for anybody!” She snarled.

Joker rolled his eyes, but his smile still widened. “Oh, that’s what they all say. In fact, your mother put up a good resistance there for a while, but her inner chaos couldn’t resist me. You’ll bend even easier, I have no doubt,” her ran his hand along her cheek in a motion that was so gentle that it felt foreign, wrong, to her coming from him. She knew what he was doing. He was trying to whiplash her, take all her hope away before dangling the option he wanted her to choose in front of her like a carrot on a stick.

Too bad he didn’t know her at all. She cringed away from his gentle touch, revolted by the mere feel of his skin on her’s.

“And your accent is a nice touch,” he cooed as if her reaction didn’t bother him at all. It probably didn’t. “Exotic. Just the thing I need to freshen up my usual act a bit, the Boston twang my old Harlequins had is just… stale by now, don’t you agree?”

Marinette clenched her jaw at the reminder that he had tried to pass off a cheap look-alike as her mom when she disappeared, back when she was pregnant with Marinette, to hide her baby from Joker. How he had discarded that woman like trash when Harley went back to him, only to replace her again when her mom left him for good.

No matter how badly Joker spoke of her mom, Marinette knew that Harley had been the only Harlequin of his to actually last. The only one he kept around, and there was a reason for that. Now, he was looking for another replacement. One that was more than a cheap knockoff, and he was hoping that a teenager with not only Harley’s genetics, but also his own, would be the exact kind of right-hand prop he wanted. An obedient little puppet of chaos, just for him.

But Marinette was nobody's toy. She had been used and taken advantage of enough back in Paris, she had spent her whole life struggling to escape the side effects of her parentage. To deal with the things she inherited.

The obsessiveness, the way she was so quick to get attached. She knew she inherited that from her mom. But there was also the rage, the anger that Marinette constantly had to stuff down. Hide below the surface before it hurt someone. Keep under a tight reign and hide away in the back of her mind, her own dirty little secret.

The constant reminder of just who her biological father was. Because that anger, that viciousness, could only have come from him.

She had spent her whole life trying to carve herself her own identity, to create beauty with the chaotic elements she got from her blood. And she couldn’t blame her mother, not really. Her mother at least did her best to help, and always leant an empathetic ear when Marinette needed it. But Joker?

Oh, she could, and would, blame him even long after he was dead and gone. Because he was the one who hurt her mother, he was the one who twisted her and drove her to feel unfit to be a parent. And sometimes, Marinette thought it would be better if Joker never existed. Sure, that meant she never would have been born. But wouldn’t that have been easier, too? To not ever have to experience the struggle that came with being his daughter, a title she never consented to?

But she couldn’t change the past. She was alive, and she would use her life to spite everything that the Joker stood for. That would be her revenge. He wanted a toy?

Joker had been monologuing, but Marinette drowned it all out as she kept her periphery vision on the windows above her. Shadows moved out there, with familiar bright yellows and shadowy blacks. The bats were there. She just needed to stall.

She opened her mouth. Joker pulled a lever.

Marinette dropped.

Wire whizzed through the air, knocking the breath out of Marinette as it wound around her torso. She was barely able to piece together what was happening; one of the bats shot a human-safe grapple to try and pull her away from the acid.

But the chain and her restraints were stronger, heavier, and just dragged the grapple down with her body.

The impact sent a large wave of sickly green liquid surging over the side of the vat, and Marinette was dragged from view underneath the surface.

It burned.

She distantly felt the tape around her ankles peel itself away from her skin, the combination of acid and wetness rendering it useless. She felt the chemicals burning at her, sending painful tingles across every last inch of her skin. It got in her mouth, she didn’t have any breath in her to hold and ended up swallowing some. It seared her throat and created a river of lava inside her. It hurt.

It hurt so bad, she just wanted out. Out. Out. Out!

Someone pull her out now!

The zip tie around her wrist loosened enough for her to pull herself free, right as something heavy slammed into the heavy metal bowl. The entire container sloshed, slamming to fall onto its side. Marinette’s body was pulled alongside the rush of liquid as it flowed out, and she was able to breathe air again. Sweet, cooling air.

And then she hacked up acid, spitting and spewing it in an attempt to purge every last drop she had accidentally ingested. Like a cat choking on a hairball, she coughed and hacked and her chest convulsed and contracted to try and help her. Her ribs ached, she figured that the grapple that had tried to save her had ended up fracturing or breaking a rib or two. But all she cared about was breathing and getting rid of the chemicals she had inhaled. She needed it out. All of it. Out. Out. Out of her!

“Try to take a deep breath,” a gruff voice commanded, soft but solid. Something stable for her to cling to. So she did as it asked, forcing herself to stop hacking and instead focus on inhaling. As slowly as she could. It was difficult, the first few breaths cut themselves off with more involuntary coughing, but the owner of the gruff voice stayed nearby. Repeated it’s request. “Deep breath. Steady, now. In. Out. Good.”

Marinette was just starting to calm down, just starting to claw herself out of the haze of panic and adrenaline, when that wretched laugh cut through the air again.

“There you are! Heheheheh! My cute little Marionette!”

Marinette froze. She could barely think, barely understand her own emotions. But she knew she was different now. She knew there was no way back, he had taken it from her. He had taken her normality, he had taken all of her years of hard work and burned them right in front of her.

He had won. The bats hadn’t been fast enough. But, if her foggy mind was correct, Batman was the one trying to bring her back to lucidity. Batman was the one trying to help her get air back in her lungs.

Not her so-called father.

If he wanted a toy, she’d be a haunted doll. She’d harass him, haunt him, until he wanted nothing to do with her. She’d come back, like a possessed porcelain doll refusing to be thrown away. She would make him regret ever awakening the monster that she had spent so long forcing down. Because she was her father’s daughter, yes. But she was also her mother’s daughter.

And most importantly, she was Marinette Quinzel-Isley. Her own damned person. The Chosen wielder of the Creation miraculous. And she would never bow down and be used by anyone, ever again.

Tikki’s words from so long ago echoed in her mind. Resounded even louder than Joker’s laughter;

“That’s all order really is, Marinette. The decision to take all the chaos and madness around us, and make it make sense. Make it do something good.”

And wasn’t that everything Marinette had ever done? It was a part of her now. Like a tattoo she had inked into her very soul.

She took the chaos she was given, and turned it into something beautiful. And right now? Right now, the most beautiful thing she could think of was Joker’s face when she slammed her fist into it.

“Easy,” Batman repeated, but for a different reason now. Marinette’s lungs still stuttered a little, but her breathing was mostly under control. Now, he was saying it because Marinette was forcing herself to her feet. Her legs trembled under her, threatening to lay her out on the floor again. But she was every bit as stubborn as Joker, which made for a terrifying combination with her all-consuming fury. The acid had broken the mental chains Marinette had been using to hold it back, and now it burned fierce and bright in her eyes.

So Marinette kept herself up right, cognizant of Batman’s hand on her shoulder but ignoring it. She grit her teeth against the burning light of the room, everything suddenly too bright and colorful. Too vibrant. But it did little to distract her. She realized that one of her hands still gripped the heavy chain that had sent her drowning in the acid, and sent a snarl at her darling, jackass of a father as she whipped it out right towards him.

“Marinette!” Batman yelled, his grip tightening on her shoulder. But he didn’t pull her back, which spoke louder than any words he could have said to her right then. He wouldn’t save Joker from his daughter, he knew the man deserved at least this much pain. And sure enough, the metal links slammed right into Joker’s side, winding around him like a crushing whip.

But that was all Marinette had the strength to do. As soon as she saw Joker’s body hit the floor, writhing in agony and painfully loud cackles, her hand let go of the chain and her body tumbled down. Batman caught her.

“Red Hood, Nightwing, get Joker back to Arkham,” Batman’s order faded in and out of focus. Now that her most pressing desire was taken care of, the effects of the acid reared their ugly heads with renewed ferocity. Everything was too bright, too loud, and her thoughts echoed in her head like voices wrestling for supremacy. “Robin, Black Bat, stay on alert. Harley said that she’s incredibly trained,” he warned his partners. Marinette didn’t begrudge him, the only other two people who had survived being dunked into those chemicals hadn’t exactly treated him with kindness and pacifism. But she could barely focus on them anyway, too distracted by trying to reign in the chaos in her mind.

But Joker would never stay silent, even as he was dragged away in chains.

“Hehehahahahaha! Paper white, paper white!” He jeered cheerfully. “That’s my girl! Violent just like Papa!” Red hood knocked him out with a harsh punch to the side of his neck before he could say another word. But it was enough— enough for Marinette to gasp in realization.

Her skin. It was paper white, just like his. Not even Harley’s skin had been bleached like the Joker’s after her dip in the acid. That had always been makeup. Her mom had a healthy, peachy complexion like anyone else. A complexion Marinette had shared— until now. Now, she was unhealthily pale. Just like him.

A painful screech tore itself from her already raw throat, and Marinette’s fingernails immediately began to tear at her own skin. Red. Red was better than white— she didn’t want to look like him. She couldn’t. White was bad. Bad. Bad. Bad.

“Marinette! Stop!” Strong hands clamped around her wrists, pulling her hands away from herself even as she wriggled and tried to keep clawing at herself.

“No! No no no!” Marinette howled. “I don’t wanna look like him! I don’t wanna be like him!” She managed to get one hand free and immediately tried to tear away at her face. Batman was able to wrestle her arm away before she could do any damage besides a few angry red lines. “I refuse! I refuse! I refuse!” She shook her head, not feeling as tears flung themselves off her cheeks.

“Okay,” Batman’s voice was solid again, soft and grumbly and stable. She grabbed at it again, drawn to anything that might help bring her stability. She needed his unflappable attitude right then, and he probably didn’t even realize how badly. “That’s good. But you don’t need to rip your skin off to do that, you know that right?”

Marinette hiccuped, finally sinking down to sob as the weight of everything she had lost pressed down over the chaos of deafening light and blinding sound that continued to jumble around inside her head. “He changed me,” she choked out. Batman nodded even though she wasn’t looking at him.

“He did.”

“Th-that f-fucking bastard,” Marinette managed a sad chuckle before devolving right back into sobs. “I wo-worked so h-hard. N-never hurt any-anybody. Never… never yelled. Ne-never hit… Not people who didn’t attack f-first.”

“I know. Your mom told me,” he confirmed calmly. Solid, tethering. Marinette swallowed another gulp of air, trying to calm down. But everything was too much.

“Mom!” She suddenly realized out loud, turning and grabbing at Batman’s chest, clinging to his uniform. She didn’t even care that she almost sliced herself on a batarang, she clung to him desperately with wide, crazed eyes. “G-get Mom and… and Ivy! They… they can help. They know—“ Marinette paused to breathe, then resumed. “Momma Ivy— she gave me—gave me a diluted… th-thingy, years ago, I can’t remember—“ Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed as she tried to get her mind to calm down. To work.

“The serum she gave Harley?” He asked. “The one that made her immune to poisons, and gave her increased physical abilities?”

“That!” Marinette agreed frantically, nodding. “I was too— too little, to give the real thing, so she diluted it,” she swallowed her spit and winced when it burned her throat. “It… I think it’s helping with the—the—the—“

“The chemical’s effects?” Batman suddenly sounded like he was paying much more attention than before, his shoulders a little straighter at her explanation. “You think it’s slowing down or numbing what it did to your mom and Joker?” Marinette couldn’t talk anymore, it hurt too much. Everything hurt too much, so she just nodded. “Good. That’s good, Marinette. Robin! Get Harley and Ivy down here, now!”

That was when the voices started. Sometime during the ten minutes it took to get her Mom and Ivy to her, they had apparently been waiting nearby anxiously incase the Bats had needed backup, the voices had built from ominous whispers to devious shouts, ordering her to do things like slam her elbow into Batman’s throat or see what happened if she splashed Robin with some of the acid that was still on the ground.

Her body didn’t move. She kept herself carefully still, focusing on ignoring her impulse to listen to one of the voices. She was still lucid enough to know that she would regret it if she did any of that. That the Bats were more on her side than any of the voices or the Joker were. But it was growing painful, and Harley and Ivy walked in to Batman trying to keep Marinette from hitting her own head. She had devolved to trying to knock herself out to get the voices to be quiet.

“Shut up,” she hissed, her voice hoarse and gravelly. “Shut up, shut up, shut. Up!” She was clearly talking to herself, her eyes screwed shut as she continued to try and hit her head. Harley gasped, hands flying to her mouth and eyes watering at the sight. This was something she had hoped she would never see.

“Harls,” Ivy spoke softly, putting a gentle arm around her wife’s back in support. It hurt Ivy to see Marinette in so much agony, but she knew it pained Harley even more. And much more personally. “Come on. We can help.”

“Y-you’re right,” Harley agreed shakily, taking a deep breath to try and compose herself before they both approached their daughter. Batman didn’t let go of Marinette, but did lean out of the way to give them access to her.

“Honeycake?” Harley called out softly, a little unsure how the chemicals were affecting her baby’s personality right then. The first few days were going to be the worst, and she knew that. The Dunk never took it easy on it’s victims. Marinette gasped, stopping her muttering and raising her head to look at Harley with wide eyes.

“Momma?”

Harley had to swallow heavily to shove back the sob that wanted to bubble up out of her. She had to be strong for her baby. She couldn’t break yet. But Marinette hadn’t called her Momma since she was little, now she called Pamela ‘Momma Ivy’ and her just ‘Mom’.

“It’s me, sugarplum,” she assured her daughter, kneeling down and cupping one of Marinette’s cheeks in her palm. And that was when she noticed it, and couldn’t help but widen her eyes in shock. But Marinette’s senses were so sensitive that she noticed it right away, and stiffened.

“Wh-what is it?” She grew frantic when Harley didn’t immediately respond, only winced in sympathy. Marinette knew that wasn’t good. “Mom? What is it? What did he do? What else did he do to me?”

“Darling,” Harley started, licking her lips nervously. “My sweet baby girl, your right eye… it’s green now, sugar.”

Marinette’s world froze. She tried to smile, but it came out lopsided and disbelieving. “No,” she somehow managed to breathe. “No, mom, I have your eyes. Your blue eyes. I love your eyes,” Her voice steadily got more and more panicked as she went on, not wanting to accept what her mother was clearly seeing. She watched as Harley’s face broke a little, a few tears escaping before the older woman could stop them. Marinette shook her head again, slipping her tiny wrist out of Batman’s hold and raising it to her eye. “No. It’s one of his tricks. He—he must have slipped a contact in my eye when I was passed out, that’s— that’s— that’s all—“ but her fingertip met her normal eye. No contact to be felt. Marinette’s hand fell into her lap limply. The room was absolutely silent as everyone gave her a few seconds to process just how much she had been changed, entirely against her will. She opened and closed her mouth, not sure whether she wanted to yell or curse or cry. Instead, her voice just came out in a very tiny, broken:

“...fuck.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette had gone mostly mute. She would say a word here or there, but for the most part she was doing a good impression of a vegetable. She stayed silent, as still as possible, and just stared at the ceiling of her hospital room.

She had been like that for the past two weeks they had been monitoring her in the Acid’s aftermath. Her ribs, which had turned out to only be bruised thankfully enough, had healed. Her cheek and torso were healed up too, only the barest hint of sickly yellow to show as a reminder of Joker’s hits on her. Sometimes the cameras would catch her talking to seemingly empty air, only for a nurse to rush in and see that Marinette had gone silent yet again.

Tikki was doing her best to help. She had been separated from Marinette, but Pamela had found Marinette’s purse and returned it— and subsequently Tikki— when they had gotten her to the hospital. She was the only person Marinette regularly spoke to, because Marinette knew Tikki understood. Tikki had been around since the Big Bang, she had seen worse things than a little insanity. Tikki had always been there to help her feel at ease with her mind and body. She shared a piece of Tikki’s soul, even, according to the tiny god.

But talking to anyone else was too hard. Too scary. She still had those damned voices at war in her mind, trying to convince her to do things that made her lock her joints and keep her body absolutely still before she acted on any of the coaxes. Possibilities she had never considered before came startlingly easy to her mind now— like how it would only take two seconds to tear her IV out and stab it into her nurse’s eye. How she could use her blanket to strangle Momma Ivy, or how she could fake jumping out the window and Harley wouldn’t waste a second trying to save her.

They were horrible thoughts. Intrusive, ugly, and far too loud. She didn’t want to act on any of them, but sometimes she found her fingers twitching only a second before she could follow through on one.

She spent a lot of time meditating, because of it. Which is why most people thought she was ignoring them. She didn’t mean to, she just needed to meditate. It was like her brain was a giant room filled with filing cabinets that held her thoughts and emotions. Her whole life, Marinette had carefully kept this room alphabetized, organized, and neat. Every file in its correct drawer. Until Joker had come along, and ripped the entire place apart. Tore certain files in half, broke her cabinets, ruined her filing system. And now she had to put the room back together, one drawer and piece of paper at a time.

That’s what the meditation was doing. She was getting reacquainted with herself. Learning what had changed in her mind and trying to adjust. She couldn’t be the old Marinette anymore, but she’d be damned if she let the Joker turn her into someone ugly like him.

So she needed time.

One day, towards the end of those two weeks, she got a visitor slipping through her window. Considering her room was on the tenth floor, she had it pretty narrowed down as to who it could be. Batman had visited her every night, a silent shadow in the corner, but he had already left for the day so it couldn’t be him. None of the other bats had dropped by after the second day.

She turned her head to see that that was now changed; Red Hood sat on her windowsill with one leg inside the room and the other bent on the sill itself. He looked the very picture of comfort despite being a stiff wind (or quick shove— no, bad brain) away from falling to his death. And then Hood took off his helmet, which was ugly enough to inspire some of the more violent suggestions in her brain and make them seem appealing.

“Ya know. Red Hood used to be what Joker called himself,” were the first words out of the vigilante’s mouth. Marinette’s eyebrows pulled down, and it was clear she was confused (and a little angry) at what he told her. He grinned, his eyes still hidden by the domino mask on his face. “Eh. The bastard killed me, ya know. I was the second Robin, a lifetime ago.”

Marinette’s eyes widened at that, and the violent voices dimmed and seemed to grow muffled. Marinette couldn’t quite understand what they were trying to tell her anymore, which made her figure that she had better pay attention to what Hood had to say. She licked her dry lips, and spoke softly. Her throat was still damaged from the acid, so she couldn’t speak very loudly yet.

“Then how are you… you know, here?”

The man chuckled. “Another group of assholes happens to have a magic pit in their basement. It’s a glowing green lake, ten different types of bad news. But it brings people back to life, and they dunked me in it without even caring for a second if I even wanted to come back.”

Marinette’s shoulders relaxed all on their own. It seemed to sink into her brain all at once, a simple:

Oh. He gets it.

“I guess the water doesn’t take it easy on your brain, either?” She hazarded an educated guess. He laughed, shaking his head.

“Not at all. I went off the deep end for a while, and killed a lotta people. They deserved it at least, but I don’t like how violent I was back then. Before I learned how to cope. Attacked people who were innocent. Red Robin almost died when I attacked him, back then, when he was just Robin.”

“Then why’d you keep calling yourself Red Hood?” She asked, tilting her head. He finally turned his head to look straight at her instead of just staring out the window. His grin widened, but it was lopsided. The grin of someone who was healed from some serious shit, but knew that it would always ache. A bittersweet expression.

“Cuz he doesn’t own that name. I made it into something that stands for at least a little good. Something that scares the assholes who don’t care about killing or abusing innocent people. Hell, some people take comfort in the name Red Hood now. And you know what that means?”

Marinette shook her head, and his grin widened into a shark-like smile.

“It means I stole it from him. The name Red Hood. He’ll never use it again, and now it stands for the opposite of anything he’d agree with. You can do that too, you know. Find something to steal from him, or use something he gave you, and make it your own.”

“Turn the chaos into something good,” Marinette said dreamily, clearly quoting someone. Red Hood nodded.

“Exactly. It’s not gonna be easy, but you got the choice here. You ain’t going back to who you used to be, but you can take the victory away from him.”

“... make him regret ever dunking me in that stupid vat,” she agreed, narrowing her eyes as they filled with determination for the first time since her body hit the acid. “He wants a puppet, an obedient little doll, I’ll give him Annabel.”

“There ya go,” The vigilante slid off the windowsill and approached her bed, holding out his hand for a shake. “I can help you get to that. What do ya say?”

Marinette was silent for a long minute, staring straight into his masked eyes. And then, a slow smile spread over her lips. “I got one question, Red Hood.”

“Shoot.”

“How do you feel about black cats?”

—*—*—*—*—*

This took four hours, holy hell. I’m actually happy with how this turned out. What do you guys think? I even got to max length on Tumblr 😂

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #jasonette #bio!dad joker #bio!mom harley quinn #Poison Ivy x Marinette #platonic brucinette

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star-spangledstud · 3 years

Text

SELF-DEFENSE

Request: Um can I request something with steeb🥺🥺👉👈 Maybe him teaching a reader to fight or drive or work out! Thank you❤❤ @donutloverxo

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (female!) reader

Warnings: smut (18+), PIV, lil bit of slapping, nothing crazy.

Word Count: 3062.

Note: Thank you for the request. Sorry it’s taken me so long, I’ve been afk from Tumblr for a while. Hope you still like it!

It’s entirely too early in the morning when your phone rings. Shrill, high tones jolt you out of peaceful slumber. The sound forces you to open your eyes, brain ripped from the dream you were having but already can no longer remember.

With a groan, you roll over in bed, body tangled in pink satin sheets that you’ve managed to wrap entirely around yourself during the night. Blindly, you reach for your phone. Your hand slaps across the wooden nightstand next to your bed until you finally feel the vibrating device cramped between your stiff fingers.

Ready to curse at whoever dares to call you at this ungodly hour, you don’t bother looking at the screen to see who’s calling you. A single swipe and the phone is pressed up against your ear, breath coming out through your nose in short bursts of annoyance while you purse your lips in preparation for what’s to come.

“Good morning, peach,” you hear on the other end of the line.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you instantly swallow the curses you were ready to spit at the caller down. A smile you didn’t know you were capable of this early in the morning blossoms on your face instead, anger long forgotten by the time you manage to form a coherent reply.

“Good morning, stud,” you say with a raspy voice, followed by a soft, sleepy chuckle.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his tone when he hears you yawn on his end of the line.

“Nah. I always get up at,” you look at your alarm clock, “five in the morning.”

“I’m sorry peachy,” he doesn’t mean it; If it were up to him, you’d never sleep, “I just wanted to hear my girl’s beautiful voice.”

With cheeks heating up quickly, you smooth out the soft fabric of your red nightgown. Buying it was, of course, Natasha’s idea. It’s not really your style, but somehow, she managed to convince you it is.

“How was your run?” you ask as you lay back down on the bed and take a moment to stretch your limbs.

“Wet,” he’s grinning, you can tell, “it’s raining.”

“It always rains in New York, big guy. You leaving tonight?”

The silence on the other end of the line confirms it; Steve leaves for another mission tonight. You’re used to it by now, but worrying about his safety sucks nonetheless, and a lump forms in your throat at the thought of missing him again.

“I was going to ask you what time you get off work. I want to see you before I leave.”

“One, I think.. two if it’s busy. Why?”

Steve sighs and shifts in his chair, “you know I don’t want you walking home alone at night.”

“Steve, I’ll be fine. I do it all the time. I’ve lived here my whole life, remember? I’m no stranger to this city.”

“I know you have, but I feel better if I walk you home. I’ll send an agent to pick you up. I have to go now, gotta get ready. I’ll call you tonight to make sure you’re home safe.”

Before he has a chance to hang up the phone, you interject, “you could teach me self-defense.”

It’s silent on the other end. For a brief moment, all you can hear is Steve’s quiet breathing and the clinking of coffee cups in the sink. You’ve suggested a self-defense class to him before, but the reply is always the same.

“We’ll talk about it when I get back, okay? Be safe, peach. I’ll call you.”

“Fine,” you sigh, “if you don’t wanna teach me, then guess I’ll just sign up somewhere in the city.”

“Don’t say that,” he groans audibly, “you know why I don’t want to teach you these things.”

“Steve, you can’t stay by my side every minute of every day. I don’t expect that from you. Nobody does. If something happens while you’re away, I need to be able to defend myself, and let’s face it, nobody is better at this than you.”

“I know,” he admits finally, “I just don’t want you to get involved in any of this stuff.”

“I’m not. I just want to be able to protect myself. Promise you’ll think about it?”

“Okay,” he says finally, “I promise I’ll consider it.”

Two weeks pass after that phone call. Steve gets back from his mission with only a few scrapes and cuts, but all of them heal before he’s even had a chance to see you. He’s glad because he knows you hate seeing him hurt, and you worry too much about him as is.

The sound of distant thunder outside the walls that currently surround you alerts you that Thor is in town again. Still, the raging storm outside isn’t the reason why you’re shaking in your boots.

You tug on the sleeves of your t-shirt and straighten the hem, wondering for a moment if you should’ve picked something more... baggy. In this giant room, you feel very exposed. The gym is a lot bigger than you thought it would be. Granted, you’ve never had a reason to come down here before, but knowing Steve spends so much of his spare time here makes you feel only a little bit at ease.

Steve watches you standing next to the shoulder press machine with your arms crossed when he enters the gym, duffel bag slung over his broad shoulders. He’s carrying two bottles of icy cold water in his hands; one for himself and one for you. He smiles when he sees you’re wearing the Tiffany’s necklace he got you for your birthday, and he can’t help but think you look adorable in your pink t-shirt and ruby work-out leggings.

“Hey peach,” he greets you with a small peck on your lips, “you ready for this?”

You nod and smile gently to assure him, but he can tell you’re nervous. A pang of guilt hits him deep in the chest when he eyes you carefully, afraid he’s pushed you too far this time. It’s one thing to expect his civilian girlfriend of one year to wait for him while he’s out kicking ass for sometimes months at a time. Still, it’s another to immerse you into the lifestyle, much less teach you fighting techniques.

“Born ready, stud,” you respond, sending him a playful wink.

He takes some time to go over general self-defense rules. He tells you to watch your feet, be aware of your attacker’s arms, and to keep your fists as close to your face as possible at all times. He touches your bare skin when he adjusts your posture a few times, and each time his heart twitches because the thought alone of you fighting off a mugger nearly has him losing his fucking mind.

He’s careful with you when you spar for the first time. Even though he would have absolutely no trouble sending you flying to the mat with only one hand, his touches are feather-light and soft. He allows you to hit him a few times, but he can tell he’s not the only one holding back. Steve wants to take it slow, but the sensical part of his brain knows he can’t teach you anything if he doesn’t apply any brute force.

“Peach,” he breathes after taking a break to think, “I need you to hit me.”

“What?” you gulp and bite your lip, doe-eyes widening when Steve places his hands on his hips.

“Is this how you’re going to fend off an attacker? By swatting their hands away from you? By pouting your pretty lips and batting your eyelashes?”

“N..no, but,” you stammer, “I don’t..”

“Come on then,” he urges you to step forward, “take a swing at me. Take me down if you can.”

You take a deep breath, mustering all the courage you have to swing back your fist. Before it connects with Steve’s jaw, he blocks it, twisting your arm behind your back until you’re facing away from him.

The sensical part of your brain quickly realizes you’re never going to win a fair fight, not against Captain America. Then again, you muse, he never told you you can’t fight dirty.

You think quickly, taking only a few seconds to concoct a plan that would make even Natasha proud if she saw it unfold before her eyes. Steve’s already tense, you can tell by how his jaw is clenched tight, and his grip on your arm is firm.

“That all you got, peach?”

He breathes down your neck, causing goosebumps to rise along your heated skin. In a desperate attempt to prove him wrong, you hook your leg under his and bend forward, trying your hardest to pull him down to the ground. Your ponytail flies in his face, allowing him to take in the scent of your shampoo while his rough, calloused palms find their way around your waist to steady you on the mat. Suddenly, you can feel it, pressing up against your lower back. You smirk for a split second, afraid he might see and realize what you’re trying to do, before pursing your lips again into a thin line.

Steve momentarily forgets what he’s doing when he feels you arch your back. His mind trails off, away from the objective of staying upright in position. You turn your head slightly sideways, hot breath fanning against his exposed neck in another attempt to distract him.

You sigh audibly when Steve’s lips press firmly against your throat, lips parting when the feeling of Steve’s muscles pressed tightly against your back becomes a sensation you’re both hyper-aware of. His t-shirt is thin. You can feel every ripple of muscle underneath the tight fabric that is stretched so thin you wonder how the fuck it hasn’t ripped.

The hammering of his heart and the rapid rise and fall of his chest causes your own heartbeat to speed up. In a final attempt to take him out, you once again shove him, sending all your weight into his trembling body. With a loud grunt, Steve loses his balance. His grip on your hips tightens when he allows himself to fall down onto the mat, taking you down with him in the process. The two of you wrestle for a moment. Still, Steve finds himself on top of you before you can protest, left hand tightly gripping both of your wrists while the other gently brushes a strand of loose hair from your forehead.

He leans down, lips ghosting your collar bones and neck before settling on your earlobe. You turn your head, but Steve grabs your chin with his free hand. Your entire body tenses up when his voice coats your skin in more goosebumps, and you wiggle against his iron grip when he whispers in your ear.

“Do you think this is fair?” he mutters, “wearing these tight leggings in front of me. You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

Your pupils dilate, eyes darkening at the deliciously deep grumble in his voice.

“No,” you lie, “I swear.”

He’s needy. You can tell by the way he’s subconsciously grinding his hips into yours. You can feel every inch of his cock through his sweatpants through the thin material of your leggings, and the sheer size of it nearly sends you over the edge then and there.

Steve roughly kisses your lips. Teeth and tongues mash together harshly for the first time in over two weeks. He doesn’t usually kiss you like this. Still, you welcome it, lifting your head off the mat instead into a bruising competition of lips.

Your eyes glance towards the door, and you push against Steve’s heaving chest. He’s already grabbing for the hem of your t-shirt, warm fingers grazing your bare skin when you build up the courage to stop him.

“Wait,” you say, pulling away just as Steve’s hand glides underneath your top, “here?”

“I’m gonna take you right here, peach,” he says while groping your left breast and fondling with your nipple, “right on this mat.”

“What if someone comes in?” you ask, back arching when Steve’s lips once again latch onto your neck.

The warm, wet sensation of his mouth against the most delicate spot on your bare neck has your mind drawing a blank. Suddenly, you can’t remember why you even questioned him. Who the fuck cares if someone walks in, anyway?

“Fuck it,” you reply to your own question, “want you, Steve.”

His hand releases your wrists, allowing you to reach down to the hem of your top. You rip it over your head in one swift motion and toss it next to you, followed by your sports bra. Your tits spring free, bounce in his face. The moment the fabric lifts over your head, Steve’s mouth is on your already tweaked nipple, licking and sucking it how you like it best while you wiggle your way out of your leggings.

“Leave them on,” he orders, grabbing hold of the smooth fabric before you can pull them down all the way.

With your leggings and dampened panties stuck around your knees, your movement is limited. You struggle to open your legs when Steve’s fingers run along your wet folds and groan in frustration when he dips two fingers into your throbbing pussy.

You yelp when he takes his fingers out again and softly slaps your cunt twice with the palm of his hand. He takes his fingers and pushes them into your mouth, chest swelling when he realizes he doesn’t have to tell you to suck on them because you do it instantly.

Three fingers disappear into your pussy now, coated in your saliva and sweet, delicious juices.

“You’re so wet already,” he comments before claiming your mouth with his again so he can taste you on your own tongue, “tell me what you want.”

“I want,” you gasp when he curls his stroking fingers, “your dick inside of me, Steve.”

Your fingers grab at his sweatpants. You yank down the soft, grey material that separates his flesh from you until it falls past his hips and under his toned ass. Steve’s cock, fiery red at the tip and hard like granite, springs free from its confinement and twitches when you allow your fingertips to graze its entire length slowly up and down. Steve bites his lip and holds his tongue to stop himself from cursing, but a small fuck escapes his throat when you fist his dick and guide the tip to your entrance.

“Put it in,” he commands through clenched teeth.

You don’t waste time giving Steve what he desires. After quickly wetting his cock with your slick, you plunge it inside of yourself with a fiery need. A sinful moan escapes your pink, swollen lips, and Steve presses another hard kiss to your open mouth when your hands grab hold of his ass.

He thrusts slowly at first to get your walls stretched nicely around him. No matter how many times the two of you have sex, it always feels like the first time, tight and warm, and oh so delicious. His dick pulsates when he picks up the speed, relishing in the feeling of your fingernails digging painfully into the plump skin of his perfectly round ass.

“You like that, peach?” he locks his hand around your throat, “like it when I fuck you like this?”

“Y-yes,” you manage when he begins to squeeze, “feels so good, Steve.”

“Anyone can walk in and see you like this,” he moans, “you like that, don’t you?”

You arch your back into his chest, eyes screwing shut at the feeling of his weight nearly crushing you. When he reaches down to rub your clit, you almost lose your fucking mind, and he has to bury his head between your tits to stop himself from cumming before you do.

Your bodies are beginning to stick together. The scent of sex is now heavy in the air. If anyone enters the gym looking for a late-night run, they’ll find something they can never unsee—the unmistakable thrill of getting caught red-handed drives both of you nearly over the edge. However, at this point, neither of you can stop if that were to happen. Nothing exists except for the sound of rough breathing, explicit moaning, and skin slapping against skin.

Every sense in Steve’s body is on high alert. He can feel it every time your walls flutter around his aching cock. You can feel it too. His weight on top of you feels amazing. The soft, blonde hair that grazes your neck while his tongue swirls around your nipple feels even better. The sheen of sweat that drips from his chest onto you, you want nothing more. You never want this feeling to end.

“You gonna cum for me, peachy?” he mumbles against your bare skin.

You whine at the knowledge it will end because you feel the coil inside of your underbelly is close to snapping. His thrusts become sloppier, less consistent, and it feels as if he does deeper and deeper with every snap of his hips. There are marks on his ass from where your nails dug into the delicate skin, but it’ll heal quickly.

Your cheeks are red with heat when you cum, lips deliciously parted, and eliciting the most beautiful moans Steve has ever heard. Your entire body vibrates when the orgasm flows through you, breasts glistening with sweat as they bounce while Steve fucks you through it. He fucks you, continues to fuck you until his own orgasm rips through him. Hot spurts of cum cover your insides, and he nearly collapses on top of you, barely careful enough not to actually crush you with his bodyweight.

He stays inside of you for a moment while both of you catch your breath. After he pulls out, he hoists his sweatpants back up over his hips. He kisses you softly while he pulls up your leggings. They snap against your skin when they reach your waist, and he grabs your hand to pull you up off the floor. His cum is still inside of you, dripping into your underwear when you take his hand and follow him out of the gym.

It’s fine, you think, I’ll learn self-defense some other time.

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shes-coming-clean · 3 years

Text

Green Day Documentary Reviews Pt 2

The last one of these seemed to make people happy, and because my brain refuses to think about anything but this band right now, might as well do something productive with that. So here is part 2!

Today’s doc: Green Day: Born To Be (2016)

I decided to get this one over with because I didn’t remember liking it the first time, and wow, it’s even worse than I remember. So this review is going to be a lot more negative overall because oof this one pisses me off. Honestly, one of its strongest qualities is that its only 24 minutes, so at least you don’t have to suffer too long.

Pros

* It focuses on their lives from childhood up through American Idiot and includes a decent amount of detail.

* They don’t have any present day interviews recorded specifically for this documentary, which means they have to get really creative piecing old interviews together to tell a coherent story. And they do that well...about half the time (more on that later)

* There are Portuguese subtitles so that’s nice. We love accessibility in this house

* There is a mention of Two Dollar Bill! Love to see it. Unfortunately, they get the nickname wrong and call him Two Dollar Billie (How do you miss the play on words there?) but still, it’s a nice detail to include

* They actually discuss Billie and Mike’s childhoods in some detail. Tré does not get the same treatment but A for effort - 2 out of 3 aint bad.

And that’s it for pros. On to the cons. We’ll focus on the nitpicky stuff first

* This video only has audio in one ear if you’re using headphones, which is kinda unusual for this channel, so I wonder if there was some kind of mistake uploading it.

* They only seem to have footage from the Dookie era and onward so when they talk about stuff before that, they either use a mix of a couple of old photos of the band, generic stock footage, or more modern video clips. I understand that you have to work with what you have, but this is kind of distracting when you’re hearing the narrator talk about their informal audition for Lookout Records, but you’re hearing and seeing the Good Riddance music video. Like, I’d give it a pass if the song at least commented on or shared an emotion with that part of the story but it just feels random. They really don’t seem to have put too much thought into when they use certain clips, so the performances on screen aren’t always from the time period they’re taking about - even later on in the story. This, and the lack of a clear structure can make it hard to tell what year/era they’re talking about at any given moment.

* They have to rely on past interviews to do a lot of the story telling, but once again, they don’t always care too much about time period and will clip sections out of context. For example, they take a clip of Billie from roughly ‘95 talking about how the last few years have been crazy, and make it about their career downturn in the early 2000s, even though you can CLEARLY see he’s younger than in the other clips.

* There is a narrator who fills in the parts of the story not conveyed in clips which is a good choice...except that he’s really annoying. I can’t tell if it’s his voice or the script he’s been given, but either way, it’s not great.

* The narrator says that all three band members divorced or separated from their wives in the late 90s/early 2000s, except...that didn’t happen. Billie and Adrienne had a rough point, sure, but they didn’t separate or divorce.

So far, most of my critiques have not been massive. I still probably could’ve enjoyed a doc at least a bit even if it had those problems, a lot of which seem to be due to a lack of resources and having to make do with what they had. I can understand that. The same does not hold true for this next part, which is, how they framed the band’s jump to a major label and the years that followed.

Every band, actor, or public figure of any kind will usually have some kind of signature question or complaint that everyone either levies against them or debates. Green Day’s is basically “are they real punks or are they sellouts?” At this point, I think this question is pretty stupid and I have a lot of problems with the mindset behind it (I think it has a lot to do with classism and sexism, but that’s for another time), but it’s part of the band’s public persona at this point, so any documentary has to at least touch on it. Most docs tend to frame the backlash against the band after they sighed with Reprise as the petty complaints of jealous gatekeepers who were pissed that the band was inviting normies into their punk club. Basically, there was nothing Green Day could’ve done about it - it was going to happen either way.

But this doc takes it for granted that Green Day absolutely sold out, and not just that, they fundamentally changed and stopped being punk. Which, like, are we listening to the same album? The only real difference between Kerplunk (released before they signed with a major label) and Dookie (their major label debut) is that the second had an actual budget. The sound and subject matter is very very similar. They were never super “hard core” to begin with - in fact, it was their catchy melodies that made them stand out. Nothing in their style changed. Honestly, I would argue that Dookie has a lot more songs about being angry and punk than Kerplunk does. The only difference is its higher production quality. So, when this doc says things like they “lost their hard fought identity” I honestly don’t know what the hell they’re talking about. And this isn’t just me being a fan. The doc says they changed, it says they stopped being punk, but it doesn’t offer any evidence to substantiate that claim. We’re just supposed to hear the ominous music and the out-of-context clips (which were mostly self-deprecating jokes) and believe it.

When they do provide details, most of them are wrong, or at very least, misleading. For example, they claim that the backlash only happened after the band released the second and third singles off of Dookie, “Basket Case” and “When I Come Around” respectively. It claims that the first single, “Longview” was punk enough to make fans happy while the other songs weren’t, which...ok - I just don’t think you can claim “Longview” is any more punk than the other songs. Honestly, it’s kind of a departure from their normal sound into a more jazzy style. I don’t think you can argue that it’s any more punk than “Basket Case” unless you’re claiming that singing about masturbation makes something inherently punk. Like, what are we even defining as “punk” at this point? Also, the backlash started long LONG before any song off the album had ever been released. It started as soon as they signed with Reprise, so claiming it was because people didn’t like the music is just dishonest.

Overall, I really feel like this doc has a very strange tone, especially for a piece of media supposedly promoting their newest album (Revolution Radio). It pays lip service to how great and accomplished the band is, but takes every opportunity to trash them. Because it goes so hard on the “they sold out” narrative, it implies that the success of American Idiot is just because they got lucky that people liked the product of their lack of artistic integrity. I am more than ok with criticizing a band - even one I like, and I don’t mind when a doc does try to do more than just praise Green Day, but those criticisms have to be backed up. And the whole question of “selling out” is just so so stupid at this point. This doc came out in 2016 - was the most pressing issue that year really whether or not a band stopped being punk 25 years ago?

So, thanks for coming to my ted talk. I hope you liked it and if there’s any other Green Day docs you want me to review next, please let me know. These have been a lot of fun to write and I’m so happy that people seem to like it.

youtube

#green day #billie joe armstrong #mike dirnt #tre cool #alliereviews #green day doc #punk #punk rock #pop punk #dookie #american idiot

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beauvibaby · 4 years

Text

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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emu-lumberjack · 4 years

Text

Don’t Answer the Phone Tired pt. 2

It’s the next day and Damian has gotten even less sleep, thankfully he’s not too tired after a some surprise news shocks him awake.

———————————-

Hey guys here’s the sequel everyone was super excited for. I really hope y'all like it, I definitely wrote it tired, but it should be coherent.

Read part 1 here

Read part 3 here

Read part 4 here

Read part 5 here

He really needed coffee, especially after dealing with his brothers after they found out about Marinette. The youngest Wayne was up till four yelling at them to lay off, among more colorful terms, everyone time they called. He would’ve just ignored them but he knew that ignoring them would just wind up with him getting a surprise visit sooner than later. The fresh Parisian air felt good against his face as he stood on his balcony.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your hair!” Marinette's voice called from the street.

“Only if the prince is willing to protect me from my aggravating brothers!” He cracked a smile as he shouted back.

“Alas I cannot do that, but would my damsel take this as a reward?” She held up a purple travel mug and a bag filled with a croissant.

“I think I could take that deal. I’ll be down in a few minutes.” He ran inside to grab his bag and throw on some day clothes before meeting Marinette.

“Have I mentioned you’re the best girlfriend? Because you’re the best girlfriend.” Damian said walking up to Marinette.

“You could stand to mention it more.” The bluenette replied handing him his promised coffee and croissant. He gulped down the coffee barely taking a breath until Marinette laughed and said, “Slow down there, you won't have any time to savor any of it.”

“If you want to stay up late dealing with my brothers, please be my guest but if not,” He gestured with his cup, “I’m gonna drink as fast as I want to.” Marinette nodded to that.

“Was it that bad last night after you left?”

“By bad do you mean each one of was trying to call me every five minutes out of ‘concern’ for my health or to check to make sure I hadn’t kidnapped you.” Marinette laughed again. “Anyway if I didn’t talk to them at all they probably would’ve hopped on the first flight they could to see what’s going on.” They stopped at the light, when Damian turned to look at Marinette he noticed she was avoiding his gaze. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about my brothers. Would you Angel?”

“Well, I might have gotten a text from Aurore to keep you away from school because three older guys had come and were asking around for you. One of them was half asleep and she couldn’t figure out how he was functional.”

Damian paled, after a moment he said “And why then are we going to school, I personally want to get as far away from them as possible.”

“She sent me a follow up saying to get there as fast as possible. Lila told her lie in front of the wrong person and, well I’ll show you the video.” Marinette handed her phone to Damian who hit play on the video that was up.

The forms of Grayson, Todd and Drake half asleep leaning on Jason. A voice came from off screen saying,

“Girl I can’t believe Tim’s not taking you to the Wayne Gala.” Alya, Damian thought. She was beginning to walk into frame with someone else. He knew who she was before she spoke.

“I know right. It’s just why would he invite someone else!” There in all her demonic glory stood Lila Rossi, not yet realising who she was walking next to.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but are you talking about Tim Drake? Adopted son of Bruce Wayne?” Grayson asked innocently. Damian knew that voice, it was the same one he used when he was going to demolish someone. “Well yeah. He’s her boyfriend, who are you anyway? Why do you care?” Alya was immediately there to be Lila’s guard dog.

“Well my name is Richard Grayson-Wayne. Tim’s brother and Bruce's son. I care because unless he’s as good at keeping secrets as Damian is, which he’s not, then he isn’t dating this girl.” Alya paled, the camera zoomed in on Lila’s face. She looked like she was about to be sick

“Huh? I heard my name.” Drake, who was in a rare moment of lucidness, looked at Dick.

“Are you pulling a Damian and secretly dating a girl in France?” Todd still Drake’s support was glaring at Lila.

“What?! Are you kidding me? No!” Drake looked like he was just hit with a cement slab.

“What are you talking about obviously you’re dating Lila! Stop Lying! I bet you're not even the real Tim Drake.” Alya was shouting now drawing crowds from around the courtyard. Drake looked at Grayson confused.

“She does realize that we can sue her if she’s really telling these types of lies right? Like she can’t be doing that.” Tim stood in front of Dick and turned his back to the paled liar and fuming reporter

“Oh leave Lila alone!” Alya came towards Drake and shoved him into Grayson.

“That does it.” Todd who had moved off to the side started walking towards the brunette rolling up his sleeves. Grayson and Todd recovered quickly, and moved to hold Todd back.

“We should get there before Todd kills them.” He said calmly before handing the phone back to Marinette. “Otherwise we won’t be able to take her down ourselves.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

In no time the duo were walking up the steps of Françoise Dupont where the sounds of shouts could be heard. The scene they entered was somehow more chaotic then the one Aurore had sent in the video. Todd was hanging upside down, the rope leading up around the handrails on the second floor then back down to a corner of the courtyard. Drake was on the bench snoring softly with his head almost touching the floor. Dick was on the phone, presumably with some lawyers. The entire bottom courtyard of the school was littered with papers and balloons were strewn about. Lila was nowhere to be seen.

“It looks like they’ve taken care of the situation, and they haven’t spotted us yet so I’m just gonna…” Damian began.

“There he is! Demonspawn, finally I thought you’d never get here.” Jason interrupted. He had spun around and caught sight of Damian and Marinette walking in. Dick turned around at the sound of Jason’s voice before saying “Yeah Duke I’ll have to call you back, but we need to sort this Lila stuff out.” He put his phone away before walking over to a corner of the building where he took out his knife and slashed a piece of rope. Jason came crashing down.

“A little warning next time Dick.” Jason said brushing off some dust that had settled on his tan leather jacket. Each one of them were dressed in their civilian clothing. Dick had on a pair of blue jeans with a grey t-shirt paired with some black sneakers. Jason was wearing his usual jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket combo. Drake was in some weird form of pajama and day clothes mixing a graphic T-shirt and red flannel with grey sweatpants and slippers.

“Now I know that we have to be dreaming. Demonspawn is actually wearing a sweatshirt. I don’t even think Alfred could get him to do that.” Damian had run out once he heard Marinette’s voice that morning so he had just thrown on a pair of pants, a shirt and a sweatshirt barely thinking about it. He had become relaxed in Paris.

“What the hell are you guys doing here.” Damian’s face was quickly beginning to match a tomato in color and he was backing out of the entryway.

“Well obviously we had to come and see you, and meet your girlfriend.” Dick who had walked over to Marinette grabbed her hand and shook it. “My name’s Dick, the grumbling menace over there is Jason. The one currently passed out is Tim, nice to meet you, uh”

“Marinette.” She supplied. “I also have to thank you for taking care of a certain person, I’ve been trying to figure out how to get rid of her for a year.”

“Oh it was no problem at all, especially after she claimed she was dating Tim.” Damian quickly interrupted the two with a few well placed coughs. “I don’t mean to cut this short Grayson but we have to be getting to class.”

“Oh don’t worry. Bruce already called you out for the day, and Marinette I’m sure you can miss one day of school.” Jason said walking up behind Marinette.

“As much as I’d love to, I have two tests today. I’ll be happy to meet up with you afterwards though.” Damian’s eyes widened as the words sunk in and he realized what that meant for him.

“Please don’t leave me alone with them.” He looked at Marinette pleadingly.

“You’re gonna have to tell us how you got him to say please, it took Alfred a month to do that.” Jason remarked.

“Maybe another time, now I’ve gotta get to class.” She gave one look at Damian and there was laughter in her eyes.

“I hate you.” He said.

“No you don’t.” She called back, disappearing around the corner.

“So how bout we wake up Timmy and go get breakfast. I for one am famished.” Jason came up and put a hand on Damians shoulder.

“Ya know that doesn’t sound so bad Jason. Then Damian can tell us all about Paris, and the people he’s met.” Dick stood in front of Damians glare gleefully looking at Jason.

“I will kill you both and Father will never be able to find your bodies.”

“Yeah but then Marinette will be disappointed. For some reason she gives off the ‘thou shall not kill’ vibe.” Grayson said. “Now how are we gonna wake Tim up.”

“Oh I’ll take care of it.” Damian said grabbing his Ice filled water bottle.

Tag List:

@ur-average-reader @kristycocopop @k-laconia-bug1 @smolplantmum @dast218 @pirats-pizzacanninibles @acoursedprophetwithasmothie @g-arya @loysydark @mewwitch @itsemeanne @hauntedstudent99 @clumsy-owl-4178

#Maribat #Damianette #damienette #marinette x damian #marinette dupain-cheng #Lila salt #alya salt

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remywrites5 · 4 years

Text

Happy Birthday, Fel!

It’s not still @casualmaraudering ‘s birthday where she is but it still is where I am so I’m counting it! Just something short a sweet (because some friends don’t bother to tell you that their birthday is coming up so you have to scramble to write a thing! Anyway - hope you like it and Happy Birthday!!!) **** Remus had imagined that his university years would be spent making lots of friends and finally getting himself a boyfriend. Instead, it had consisted of a lot of homework, a lot of crying, one friend, named Regulus Black, and no boyfriend to speak of. Remus had found himself crushing on Regulus just a bit, until he learned that Regulus was aroace, and therefore completely uninterested in Remus as anything other than a friend. It hadn’t taken Remus long to get over his crush, after all, it was barely a crush to begin with.

Remus and Regulus were sitting across from each other, working on their group project for their art history class, or at least pretending to do so in between sending each other memes.

“Oi, you wanker!”

Remus glanced up in surprise and caught Regulus cringing. Regulus’ shoulders hunched forward, as if he were trying to make himself invisible. Remus blinked a few times, caught off guard by Regulus’ reaction, and looked around for the source of the voice.

Someone was approaching their table, bounding over like an overexcited puppy, a big grin on his face. He looked exactly like Regulus, except his hair was a bit longer, his face a bit softer, where as Regulus was all sharp angles.

Remus was about to ask Reg if he was okay when the stranger dropped into the chair next to Reg and put his arm around him. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

“Of course I did,” Regulus said bitterly. “Why do you think I was hiding?”

“That’s mean.”

Regulus sighed. “What do you want, Sirius?”

Sirius grinned and pulled Regulus closer, nearly choking him. “Well, first I want you to introduce me to the hot pink-haired boy across from you.”

Regulus shoved Sirius’ arm away. “Remus Lupin, this is my idiot twin brother, Sirius.”

“Oi, don’t introduce me like that!” Sirius said, scandalized. “I never see you around campus and this is how you behave?”

“We’re in different departments,” Regulus reminded his brother. “I don’t have much reason to visit the foreign language department. Also, I avoid you at all costs.”

“Rude,” Sirius said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I was going to buy you a coffee, too.”

“Only if you buy one for Remus too.” Regulus stipulated, gesturing towards Remus. Remus froze as suddenly both brothers’ attention focused on him. It really was unfair that people could be that attractive. Remus felt heat rising to his cheeks at the unwavering glances.

“Hi,” Remus said, giving a little wave and then immediately regretting it. He felt so unbelievably stupid.

“Hello,” Sirius practically purred, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hand.

“It’s – uh – nice to meet you,” Remus said, glancing away. “Regulus never mentioned having a twin brother.”

“What?” Sirius shouted, turning towards his brother accusingly. “How have you never mentioned me?”

“Because you’re embarrassing,” Regulus responded, kicking at Sirius under the table. “Now go get our coffees.”

“Fine,” Sirius said, gracefully standing up. He pulled his long, dark hair up into a ponytail and grinned. Remus pretended it wasn’t doing things to him. It was very nearly an insurmountable task. “Only because I am such an awesome brother.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself there,” Regulus told him, typing something on the keyboard of his laptop.

Sirius glared at him for a moment and then quickly reached over and smashed a few of the keys, ruining whatever it was that Regulus was typing.

“You’re so childish!” Regulus said, jamming his finger on the backspace key.

Sirius laughed and walked over to Remus’ side of the table. “So what kind of coffee do you like?”

Remus played with one of his curls nervously. “Uh, anything mocha is fine, but you really don’t have to – “

“Nah, I got you,” Sirius said, nudging Remus with his elbow. “Be right back!”

***

Remus didn’t think much of his bizarre run-in with Regulus’ brother. After all, it was a large campus, they were unlikely to meet each other again. Remus wasn’t about to go crazy over some guy he barely knew, especially when he figured Reg would have a problem with it. Remus wasn’t about to risk his one friend on some guy who probably wasn’t interested in the first place.

There was an LGBTQ+ dance that Remus was determined to attend on campus. His goal of finally getting a boyfriend hadn’t changed, and since he barely socialized with anyone except Reg, this felt like the perfect opportunity to meet someone. Regulus had refused to go with Remus, so Remus was stuck going on his own. It was taking all of his courage to walk through the door by himself. He clutched the ticket he’d bought in his hand like a lifeline and tried to calm his nerves.

“Hey,” Someone whispered behind Remus, their breath on Remus’ ear, making him shiver. Remus turned his head and came face to face with none other than Sirius Black. Remus swallowed thickly and took a quick step away.

“Hi Sirius,” Remus said, gripping his ticket even tighter. “Are you going to the dance as well?”

“It’s worse than that,” Sirius said with a lazy grin. “I actually helped organize it.”

“Wow,” Remus said, impressed. “That’s amazing.”

Sirius chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. “Is it? I was mostly roped into it by my friend, Marlene.”

“I think it’s great,” Remus said, smiling encouragingly. “I’ve been meaning to become more involved in club stuff.”

“Well, we meet every Thursday in you’re free,” Sirius said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers. He looked stylish in a black suit, perfectly tailored, his red tie undone around his neck and a few buttons undone on his shirt. Remus felt silly standing next to him, wearing his nicest pair of jeans and a green cardigan. He probably should have put more effort into his appearance for something like this.

“I’ll definitely come when I can,” Remus promised, tugging on one of his curls nervously.

“Hey, dance with me,” Sirius said, grabbing Remus by the arm and leading him into the activities hall where the dance was taking place.

“W-wait, I didn’t give them my ticket!” Remus said in a panic as Sirius led him past the ticket booth. The person at the table merely gave Sirius a nod as they walked inside.

“Don’t mind that,” Sirius said, sliding his hand down Remus’ arm to clasp his hand instead. “I’ll make sure they get it.”

“Sirius!” Remus said, his face bright red. “I – I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Don’t worry,” Sirius told him, pulling Remus in close and wrapping his arms around his waist. “It’s a slow one.”

Remus had no choice but to put his arms around Sirius’ neck and get close to him. It was so overwhelming that Remus was scared he might die. Their eyes kept meeting and Remus couldn’t handle that much eye contact. So instead, he buried his face against Sirius’ neck and pretended he was fine. It may have been a bit intimate, but it was better than looking up at those intoxicating grey eyes. At least like this Remus felt like he could still form coherent thoughts.

“This feels more like we’re hugging than dancing,” Sirius teased as they swayed together to the music. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“Can’t.” Remus mumbled, squeezing Sirius tighter.

“Why not?”

“I’m worried.”

“About?”

“Doing something stupid,” Remus answered, hoping against hope that Sirius wouldn’t question him further. Sirius chuckled and pressed his nose against Remus’ hair. It felt nice, being held by Sirius in such a way. Remus wouldn’t mind staying there for a while longer. He felt his eyes slip shut of their own volition.

“What if I do something stupid?”

“Hmm?” Remus hummed, nuzzling his face against Sirius’ throat. “I won’t mind.”

“Don’t hate me, okay?”

“Why would I –“

Sirius placed his finger under Remus’ chin and tilted his face up. Remus then lost any and all train of thought as Sirius pressed their lips together, his mind going fuzzy like it was full off cotton. It was gentle and undemanding, a simple press of lips against lips, and a moment later it was done. Sirius pulled back and let his thumb tenderly caress Remus’ cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Remus asked, his stomach dropping. He wondered if Sirius already regretted it. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle that. “D-did I do it wrong?”

Sirius chuckled. “Of course not. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you. I just really have wanted to do that since I met you.”

“Why?”

Sirius shrugged. “You’re kind of adorable.”

Remus scowled at him. “No, I’m not.”

Sirius laughed and shook his head. “Even when you’re angry you’re cute as fuck. Your nose gets all scrunched up. I really like that.”

“W-we don’t even really know each other that well.” Remus reasoned, taking a step back to put some distance between himself and Sirius. “We’ve only met once. This is ridiculous. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Sometimes you just know, right?”

Remus felt his jaw drop. “Regulus – “

“Will get over it. Don’t use him as an excuse,” Sirius said, frowning slightly. He looked kind of upset and Remus felt bad for having brought it up. Sirius ran his fingers through his hair and then exhaled loudly. “He doesn’t hate me as much as he pretends to.”

The song had changed to a pop song Remus vaguely recognized, but Sirius and Remus remained slow dancing. It was kind of nice, like being in their own little world. “I don’t know what to say. I’m not even sure what you’re asking me.”

“How about a date?”

“Okay,” Remus said, tucking his head back under Sirius’ chin. He liked being close to Sirius, it was somehow both exhilarating and extremely comforting at the same time. “When?”

“How about now? Spend the rest of the dance with me.”

Remus smiled against Sirius’ neck and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his jaw. “I think I can handle that.”

***

It was well past midnight and Sirius was walking Remus back to his dormitory. Their hands were laced together, swinging between them as they walked. They’d spent the rest of the dance talking and dancing, occasionally kissing. Just thinking about it made Remus’ toes curl in his shoes. He’d had his first date with a boy. A boy that he had kissed. There was going to be more dates and more kissing. His stomach was twisted into knots just thinking about it.

“Remus?” Sirius said, stopping just outside Remus’ building.

“Yeah?”

“I kind of don’t want to say good night to you,” Sirius confessed, giving Remus’ hand a small squeeze.

Remus felt his face go bright red, heating up in complete embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry, I’m not ready for – “

“Oh god no!” Sirius said quickly, waving his free hand around to dispel Remus’ thoughts. “I didn’t mean that. I meant that I just wanted to spend more time with you.”

“Oh,” Remus said, thinking it over. He found that he felt the same way. Spending time with Sirius was easy, effortless, and even though Remus felt nervous around him, he didn’t feel like that was a bad thing. “I have an idea.”

They stopped by Remus’ dorm so that Remus could quickly fill a thermos with hot chocolate and grab one of his spare blankets. He then led Sirius up to the rooftop, where people had put some sofas. It was a popular spot for people to come up and smoke or drink as long as they didn’t get caught.

They sat side by side on one of the sofas and Remus put the blanket around them to share. They passed the thermos back and forth as they continued to talk. The more Remus watched Sirius, the more differences he could spot between Sirius and Regulus. It had taken Remus a long time to get Regulus to open up to him and agree to be his friend. Sirius was so open and friendly in contrast, things seemed to go so smoothly with him. Regulus was dry and sarcastic, while Sirius was more genuinely funny, making Remus snort more than a few times.

Before Remus knew it, the sun was peeking over the tops of the trees. Sirius stood up and stretched, raising his arms high over his head. He then turned and held out a hand to Remus. “One more dance?” he requested with a small smile. “While the sun comes up?”

“We don’t have any music,” Remus informed him, but stood up all the same.

Sirius slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He then grabbed his airpods out of the case and put one in each of their ears. Remus waited patiently as Sirius scrolled through his phone, looking for the right song. Like Real People Do by Hozier began to play in Remus’ left ear and Remus found himself falling back into Sirius’ arms. The slow and soft melody felt perfect to the quiet of the early morning.

Eventually they stopped dancing, too wrapped up in kissing each other to remember to move their feet.

There, in the chill of an early September morning, Remus discovered what it felt like to fall for Sirius Black.

#I write things #wolfstar #sirius black x remus lupin #I threw in aroace Reg for you as well #and pink haired Remus #fluff #I was going to have french speaking Sirius in there as well but I got lazy #that's why he's in the foreign language department #university au #I've forgotten how to tag things it's been so long #coming out of hiding for some birthday shit #hope you like it #happy birthday fel

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2manyfandoms2count · 3 years

Text

You can count on me (I will be there for you)

Alya joins the identity dance, and the chapters flirt with the 2k mark again (it’s fine).

Hope you enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

---

Chapter 4

Chat Noir detransforms as he lands into Marinette’s room, and goes straight for her sewing box. He knows the code for it; Ladybug had made sure he did after she’d started to find the blackmail letters, in case anything happened to her.

Not that they use it much, these days, mind you.

The Miraculous box unfolds before him, and he swiftly picks up the Fox and the Horse Miraculouses. He’s about to close it when his eyes land on the Turtle bracelet, and he pauses. Even though it would probably be better to have as few people involved as possible, he has to say it might be a good idea to have some backup, just in case.

He mentally scans the guest list. Alix already has her Miraculous with her, and he knows she’ll use it if needed. Luka’s Second Chance could come in useful, but he’s performing with Kitty Section. It would be a little tricky to camouflage his costume on stage, especially with Alya’s Mirage otherwise occupied. Chloé would surely be ecstatic at the idea of seeing Pollen again, but Adrien isn’t sure that she would be very discreet about it. Same for Kim and Xuppu.

This leaves Nino and Kagami, his best people. Calm, collected, trustworthy. He shoves their Miraculouses in his pocket, closes the box and dashes out of the door. He doesn’t know exactly what their role could be, but he knows that having the Miraculouses on him can only buy some time later.

He slows down as he walks into the reception room, nodding to a few acquaintances his father had insisted should be there, and grabs a canapé from a waiter’s tray as his eyes search the room for his wife’s best friend. He spots her in the middle of a conversation with Marinette, next to the head table, and makes a beeline for them.

“Hello, beautiful ladies.” He clears his throat as he approaches.

“And hello to you, Hot Stuff.” Alya winks and elbows Marinette in the ribs. The bride blushes a deep shade of crimson at the reminder of the time she’d stolen Adrien’s phone, and starts to regret asking Alya to be her Maid of Honour. I’m going to die of embarrassment before the end of the toasts, aren’t I? Her head shake says.

“Marinette, would you mind if I borrowed Alya for a minute?”

“Please, do.” She all but pushes her friend towards her husband, who smiles and starts leading her towards the edge of the room.

“Actually, Adrien?” Marinette calls out before they’re too far away. He turns around and sees her jog up to him.

“Erm… Have you seen Chat Noir yet?” She whispers, looking around them carefully to make sure nobody’s listening. Alya’s eyebrows shoot up and Marinette gestures that she’ll explain later.

“Yes!” Adrien nods. “You can count on me, after the toasts.”

“Okay, good.” Marinette lets out a relieved sigh. “Just wanted to check. I’ll leave you two to it.”

“See you later, love.” He leans in and kisses her on the cheek, ‘for appearances’.

“Y-yeah, sounds good.” She blushes again, her hand flying to her cheek as she watches him and Alya leave. Kwami, his acting is smooth.

“Aw, look at my girl, she’s just as flustered as when we were in collège!” Alya coos, glancing back at Marinette once they’re out of earshot. She waves at her, and Marinette waves back nervously before starting to talk with a guest. “What’s this about Chat Noir though?” She turns towards Adrien and looks him in the eye.

“Actually, he’s what I want to talk to you about.” He shuffles awkwardly on his feet, trying to find the right words. “But first, I need you to promise this conversation will stay between us. No telling Marinette, or anyone.”

“Not even Nino?” Alya clutches her heart. She can keep Miraculous secrets from the public, but she feels bad keeping things from her fiancé.

“Nino will know part of it soon enough, I promise. The rest is something I’ll only tell him once I’ve told Marinette.”

She pouts pensively, weighing satisfying her curiosity against lies of omission.

“I guess that’s alright.” She finally shrugs, and her eyes widen hungrily at the smell of a scoop. “So, what’s wrong with Chat Noir? And what does it have to do with Marinette?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a problem, per se, in normal circumstances, but today…”

“Spill it, Agreste.”

“Okay.” Adrien takes a deep breath. “You know how Ladybug is dating Chat Noir?”

“Duh, I was the one who uncovered that story.” She says with a smug smile. Adrien rolls his eyes, an amused smile playing on his lips. It had occurred to him later that Ladybug had made sure it was Alya who found out first, as if to soften the blow of keeping her identity from her later.

“Well, it turns out that…” Adrien looks around them quickly, just to make sure there are no ears lying around, and his voice drops to a whisper. “Marinette is Ladybug.”

“What? ” Alya’s shriek is muffled by Adrien’s hand.

“Shh, this is confidential info, we don’t want people to come poking around.”

Alya blinks, then closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She takes her time to formulate a coherent sentence, although Adrien can tell from her slight nervous twitching that her thoughts must be all over the place.

When it looks like she's gotten over the news enough that she can control the volume of her voice, he moves his hand away from her mouth.

“So, Marinette is… you-know-who. Okay. This is fine. I can handle it. I just… I was obsessed with her! How did I not notice she was literally right there, next to me, the whole time!!” She facepalms.

“Tell me about it.” Adrien smiles. He'd had the same mini meltdown after he and Ladybug had parted ways on the day she'd called off her transformation in front of him. He’d sat in front of Marinette for years , and never suspected a thing. At least, he thought so. There was something about calling her their everyday Ladybug that had come back to mind when he’d dug deeper in his memories… But he would be lying if he said it had been intentional.

“But… If she’s who you say she is… She’s been seen kissing Chat Noir very recently, while you guys were dating. So, no offense, but… why would she be marrying you? Shouldn’t she be marrying Chat Noir? Unless…” She gasps and points at him. “ You’re Chat Noir!”

Adrien smiles at his friend's excellent deduction skills. “Well, see, this is where it gets complicated. You are correct in saying that I am Chat, but , Marinette doesn’t know that.”

“What? But why?” Alya frowns in confusion.

“The good old ‘no reveal’ rule.” He shrugs. “Long story short, Ladybug is being blackmailed. She revealed her identity to me because she figured it would be better this way. I -Chat Noir- offered to act as her bodyguard until we got to the bottom of it all, but she refused because she doesn’t want to know who I am, in case everything goes wrong. She wasn't sure where to get protection from, though, so I offered the Adrien Agreste option, since I have a bodyguard. Match made in heaven, really.”

“Dayum.” Alya looks at him blankly, taking the time to process his explanation. “So, to sum up: you guys are involved in a fake, fake-wedding situation, where Marinette thinks she married her ex-crush for benefits, instead of the love of her life, when you were the same person all along?” She smirks. “Boy, I wish I’d known that before writing my toast, I would have made so many allusions to it… I would have kept it discreet enough that she wouldn’t have understood, of course, but the satisfaction of her connecting the dots later would’ve been amazing.”

“Don’t worry, I took care of that in my own speech.” He winks. He plans on keeping a phone nearby to record it, so he can play it back to her when she knows everything and have her see how genius it was.

“Okay, now. I’m guessing you didn’t just tell me this to get it off your chest.” Alya clears her throat.

“Indeed. Something happened earlier, and Marinette thinks that the people who are blackmailing her are my father and Nathalie.”

“No offense, but that would check out.”

“None taken, I feel the same way.” He pats her shoulder, lips spreading into a tight smile. “Anyway, we’re going to go back to the Mansion to look for evidence after the toasts, and we’ll probably need Rena Rouge to come out of retirement to make sure there are ‘sightings’ of us here while we’re gone. I'm sure Marinette will tell you all about that part of the plan herself, but before that, I need your help because Marinette wants to speak to Chat Noir and Adrien.”

“Oof. She really isn’t making it easy for you to keep your identity a secret, huh.” Alya chuckles.

“Nope.” He smiles as he digs his hands into his pockets. “But it was bound to happen at some point, I’m actually surprised I managed to dodge the situation for so long. You wouldn’t believe the number of times she wanted to have dinner with Chat Noir and Adrien so we could all discuss the plan.”

“Typical Marinette, to overlook the potential awkwardness of having her boyfriend and her fake fiancé together if she’s working on something.” Alya shakes her head.

“Tell me about it." He chuckles, looking at the ground. His wife really is something else, and he loves her for it. "So, are you up for it?”

“Of course!” Alya replies, eyes twinkling as Adrien hands her the necklace. She slips it in her purse with a satisfied smile. “You can count on me.”

“I never doubted that.” Adrien smiles back, and turns back towards the room.

“I just have one question, though.” Alya holds him back before he can start walking away.

“Yes?”

“Why me? I mean… It’s been a while, and… Why not get your cousin to do it? You guys are pretty much carbon copies of each other, physically speaking, wouldn’t it be easier?”

Adrien pauses. “Maybe in theory, but unlike him, I trust you.”

“Ooh, family drama.” She rubs her hands together. “Why did I assume there wouldn’t be any today?”

“Wishful thinking?” He jokes. “Anyway, I'll give you the signal to Mirage a nice little Adrien later. And then if you could bring the necklace back discreetly so that Marinette doesn’t suspect anything, that would be great.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

Both head back towards the centre of the room, Adrien finding his way to Marinette’s side, and Alya to Nino’s.

Alya grabs a champagne flute and a knife. She nods at Adrien knowingly before she clinks them together, a sly smile spreading to her lips.

The toasts sure are going to be fun.

#things are getting interesting #miraculous ladybug #the miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #mlb #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #ladynoir #adrienette #adrinette #alya césaire #one-sided reveal #aged-up characters #fake wedding #inspired by fanart #elle writes

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bots-and-cons · 4 years

Note

This might be a bit dark, you don't have to do it if you're uncomfy, but how do you think Megatron, Starscream, Knockout would react to walk in on their human S/O self harming and crying during a bad depressive episode? And the human explains that they do it because they don't know how else to cope with scary thoughts? Thank you for reading, I hope you're doing well!

I've been clean for a little over a year but I still find writing these therapeutic, I kinda vented some other stuff that has been happening too. I did HCs for Screamer, because I didn’t feel like writing a scenario.

~Knockout~

Knockout had just finished a long surgery and was heading to his habsuite to rest. He was sure you would be sleeping or had headed home by now. The surgery had taken hours more than it should’ve and he knew you weren't feeling too well.

The habsuites were pretty much sound proofed, so you weren't really worried about anyone hearing you and since Knockout had taken so long, you assumed he wasn't coming back any time soon, and on the other hand you didn't even really care.

“No one else cares so why should I?” you muttered angrily, with tears stinging your eyes, rummaging through your bag, looking for your box cutter. You kept it for self defense and it wasn't even that sharp, but it would be sufficient for what you were about to do.

When Knockout came to the habsuite, you were sitting on the floor, your back to him.

You were sobbing: “My-my fault, my fault…” and doing something with your hands.

Knockout walked in front of you so he could see what you were doing. His optics widened in shock as he saw your wrists and hands covered with blood. Some kind of knife still in your hand. You looked like you were in a trance, having no idea he had even entered the room.

“Sweetness, give that to me” he said as calmly as he could, but his voice still wavered.

Knockout reached his servo to grab the sharp object you were holding and as soon as you let go of it, he threw it as far back in the room as he could. The box cutter hit the wall behind him. spreading little drops of blood around. As it fell to the floor with a little “clank” sound, you seemed to come back to your senses. You looked up with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“It’s my-my fault, it’s-it’s all my fault” you cried quietly and hung your head.

Knockout sat down in front of you and lifted you to his chest.

“Just listen to my voice and spark sweetness, it’s going to be okay”

“It’s never-never gonna be okay and it’s my fault” you cried out.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it isn’t your fault”

“But-but she’s dead, because I wished she would be” you sniffled.

“You know it doesn’t work like that” Knockout reminded you softly and rubbed your back.

You were still trembling a lot, but you weren’t crying so heavily anymore. Knockout could feel that the blood had stained his chest plating and even a little bit had seeped into his transformation seams, but right now he didn’t care. He only cared about finding out what was troubling you so deeply.

“Would you like to tell me who has died?” he asked.

“My grandma”

“And why do you think that’s your fault?”

“Because I told my friend that I wished she would die because she was suffering so much”

“And that’s why you think it’s your fault?”

“Ye-yes” you sniffled.

“You feel like that because you want to blame someone, and however stupid it is, you picked yourself”

“You sure? Are you sure this isn’t my fault?”

“Yes sweetness, absolutely sure. Now, you should clean up your wrist so I can bandage them up for you”

You kissed his chest and noticed it tasted even more metallic than usual.

“Oh shit, I got blood on you too” you said as he put you down on the floor.

“Don’t worry about me, you’re the one who is actually hurt” he smiled a little, but it wasn’t his usual mischievous grin and his optics still looked very sad.

You got cleaned up and Knockout got his little first aid kit from the medbay. He disinfected your wrists and put bandages around them.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this again, but I just don’t know how else to cope with all these shitty thoughts”

“I’ll help you figure it out, but could you please promise to at least try and call me if you feel this bad”

“I can try”

“Thank you” he said and kissed your forehead.

You hated causing Knockout pain, but causing it to yourself was the only way you knew how to cope. You really should learn another way.

~Megatron~

Megatron could’ve really used your company at the command center, but he respected that you had something else to do. He was almost bored to death listening Starscream’s ramblings. He walked straight to his habsuite after he was done with his duties.

There he found you, laying on the berth, looking blankly up at the ceiling with an occasional sob escaping your lips.

“What is it my love?” he asked as he sat down on the bert next to you.

“I hurt myself” you stated bluntly, not even looking in his direction. You didn’t want to see the disappointment in his optics.

“Where?”

“My thighs”

“Why would you do this again? We have talked about how you should deal with this” he said, rather angrily.

“Because nothing else fucking helps, not that this really does either, but at least it’s a distraction” you hissed and sat up.

You winced when you moved your legs, which made Megatron rather worried. He wanted to ask you to show him the wounds you had inflicted on yourself, but he knew you hated seeing the aftermath of what you’d done, so he refrained from asking.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked after a while of silence and wiped your eyes on your sleeve.

“Yes”

“Well that was blunt”

“I usually am if you haven’t noticed”

You leaned your upper body against Megatron’s thigh and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry” you sighed.

“I know”

Megatron knew you felt bad about hurting yourself, but he also knew it was the only way you had learned how to distract yourself from all the scrap going on in your head. He just wished you would find a way that did less damage to yourself.

~Starscream~

•He has had a long day and he just came from the medbay, because he got hurt while trying to retrieve some relic

•When he comes into his habsuite, you’re there, which is weird because he thought you went home hours ago

•You’re crying and since he is kinda annoyed already he doesn’t really have much patience to deal with that, but nevertheless, he asks you what’s wrong

•When you just keep crying and show him your wrists that are covered in little cuts and slowly dripping blood, he just grabs you and delivers you to the medbay as quickly as he can

•He paces around the examination table and yells at Knockout for not being faster with helping you

•When the two of you get back to his habsuite, you’re still crying but a bit calmer now, so he asks you what prompted this

•He doesn’t really get coherent answer out of you so he just sits beside you on the berth and rubs your back

#transformers #tfp #transformers prime #decepticons #megatron #knockout #starscream #tfp scenarios #tfp headcanons #transformers angst #reader insert #tfp x reader #transformers x reader #blood tw #selfharm tw

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