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asthma-michael-myers · 1 year

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The tragic Ballad of Hector Munday

3671 words

Warning metions of: (child) abuse, alcohol abuse, dead bodies, murder

This is long and English is not my first language, so I want to apologize in advance for any mistakes I’ve made.

Lucinda, Hectors mother, was initially happy to get pregnant. She thought that Clarence, her lover, would finally marry her since they expected a child together. However, as we know, he didn’t. He did a runner. Lucinda’s feelings regarding the pregnancy and the child changed for the worse. Lucinda knew that townsfolk would talk about her, an unmarried young woman having a child without a father. She began to despise the unborn child, but abortion was not an option for her; might it be for religious reason or being the time or because she was scared of the medical procedure. Maybe it was the hope that Clarence would come back to her, staying with her for the sake of the child.

After giving birth to Hector, she was more worried about the affect it would have on her social status, than about being a good mother or her financial situation.

She neglected Hector. She didn’t feed him, didn’t change his diapers, only had less physical contact. Well, until the day Clarence came back. Although he didn’t come back out of love for her, what Lucinda thought at first, but for her money. Clarence feigned interest in his son, promising he would be there for their little family from now on. He lied. He manipulated Lucinda so he could drain her savings until she was left with nothing except a baby and another one on the way.

Lucinda had experienced what it meant to be an unmarried mother, and with an additional child, her social status would only worsen. Still young and definitely overwhelmed with one baby already, she was in a dilemma. Neither did she want the child, nor did she want to have an abortion. If that ever came out it meant hell for her social life especially in that time.

Her dilemma left her in a stupor. Lucinda did not do anything, except try to hide the pregnancy the best she could. Her inner conflict, plus being used and left by Clarence again strained the relationship with Hector even more. Lucinda blamed Hector for Clarence leaving. In her opinion Clarence was a saint for trying to put up with her and her child again; not seeing that he only used her to get money. According to Lucinda, it was Hectors fault that Clarence didn’t stay, because he (Hector) was too greedy with his need for attention and love.

Of course, Lucinda also tried to hide that she gave birth to another child. Not considering that it could have been a possibility that her parents could have pretended that the new – born was their child; so to say, Lucinda’s sibling. But who would believe that, after her already giving birth to one bastard child?

Lucinda never acknowledged the new – born; always pretending as if it wasn’t there. Which was difficult since Babies tend to scream if they feel uncomfortable. So, was its pure luck the babies survived? A little, and the attentiveness of Lucinda’s parents. Seeing that Lucinda was phlegmatic and not caring for Hector, his grandparents took him in for some time. They also would have taken care of his little brother, if they had known he existed. Lucinda was caught up in her own world. She didn’t even realize that Hector was living with her parents; thinking the new – born was him. Reluctantly Lucinda took care of her child, since she thought it was the one people already knew about, and if that one would suddenly disappear, it wouldn’t reflect well on her.

Eventually Hector had to go back to his mother since his grandparents weren’t the youngest anymore and couldn’t handle a child anymore. As soon as Hector was there again, not that Lucinda noticed his arrival, her youngest son was disregarded. Lucinda genuinely believed she only had one son. It went so far that the children always had to share meals, because their mother only made food for Hector (if they were lucky). Resulting in the malnourishment of both children.

As Hector started to go to school, his little brother had to stay at home alone with Lucinda. He didn’t ever go to school; all he knows is because Hector taught him the basics, like reading, writing, some maths, and told him stories about the outside world. Still, the youngest never liked Hector. On the other side, he adored his mother and desperately wanted her attention. However, Lucinda didn’t acknowledge him. He told himself that it was because Hector was her favourite son, the one who came first not like him just being the second, the spare child; Hector got all her attention but never him, the little brother. The youngest didn’t see or understand that being beaten up and being insulted is no attention anyone wants, and that Hector actually suffered under this abuse. For the youngest it was worth striving for that.

As they got older, the youngest began to resent Hector more and more. As much as his brothers hate for him grew, Hectors guilt did. Hector was blamed by his mother for every failure regarding her love life. In Lucinda’s distorted view, every relationship that didn’t work out was because Hector, scaring of lovers with his outrageous greed for affection. Mother and the youngest son were not so different after all, you see. Anyway, now his little brother also started to openly show how much he despised Hector. And he knew exactly why. Hector had everything his little brother could only dream of, going outside, having a life with friends, seeing the world. Little did he know that Hector didn’t really have friends. He was reclused and distant. That one time he tried to make friends in ended in violence, since Hector thought hitting someone was a sign of liking someone. When it was explained to him that hitting people is a bad thing, he began to understand that his mother had not the best for him in mind.

When the teachers and doctor slowly realized that Hector was abused, Lucinda was not only enraged by that accusation (no matter how true), but also afraid that anyone could uncover her secret. Even if she was not really sure anymore what it was, she knew no one could find out about it. With claws and teeth she kept concerned people away from herself and her children.

Meanwhile her youngest child wanted to get on the good side of his mother, and by that finally some recognition. He started to help in the household; mostly repairing defect devices, changing lightbulbs and cleaning. And he got her attention, but not like he expected nor wanted to. All the time Lucinda referred to her youngest son as Hector.

As much as he loved being acknowledged by his mother he hated to exist only as his brother. One day it was enough for the youngest so he forced Hector in front of their mother, and barely controlling his anger he explained to her, that he (the youngest) is not Hector, that he exists and not just as the shadow of his older brother.

Being confronted with something that Lucinda suppressed so long, that she actually believed she had only one son caused a psychological discrepancy. She shut down. As did her youngest son. Realizing that it wouldn’t change a thing if he kept talking, the youngest decided that this would be the last time he talked. What difference would it make? He has nothing to say anymore. He would never leave a mark on the world since no one ever knew he existed.

For some time, Lucinda didn’t do anything, just sitting there staring into the void of her own soul. During that Hector and his little brother took care of everything. It took quite some time until Lucinda began to talk again, well and Hector could have done without it as Lucinda only began to spit out insults against Hector. No nice word left ever her lips again.

When Hector finished school, he and his brother made an agreement. Hector would leave, studying psychology. In return, his little brother could eventually get what he always wanted, their mother’s attention. However, that came for a price; he had to be referred to as Hector and take care of her, dealing with her rapidly declining physical and mental health. To communicate with her, like asking her if she is hungry or needs anything, the youngest used a tape recorder to replay snippets of conversations he had recorded.

Fast forward to Lucinda having to be put in a senior home. Hector Munday was quite happy with his life and his achievements as an FBI profiler. Well, until his brother contacted him one day. He couldn’t handle their mother declining health any longer. Hectors suggestion of putting her in a senior home was not well received by the youngest. Mostly because he was unsure of what would happen to himself (the youngest). He didn’t earn money; so he couldn’t afford a home, he wouldn’t have a place to stay then. But what else to do with their mother?

When Hector assured his brother that he could stay with him, their mother was put in a nursing home, and the youngest started to live with Hector. Of course, his little brother blamed him for the whole situation. Hector just abandoned them. Visited rarely, didn’t send money, actually for his little brother Hector did never do anything useful.

Like it is in such situations, the stress affected Hectors work. Which resulted in Hector making a grave mistake. In the end two people died. Too late, he saw the connection between evidence. They have always been there, right before his eyes but due to personal problem that strained his mind, he couldn’t draw a conclusion on time. It was his fault.

How should he handle all this? Being the reason, his brother never could develop a life of his own, being the reason his mother never could be happy, and now the knowledge of causing the death of two people? If he just could undo his mistakes.

What did he have to do to reverse time? Oh, he couldn’t do that.

When he couldn’t bear his guilt anymore, Hector began to get drunk more often. In his dazed state, his mind went to the two dead people over and over again. He could think of one possibility to undo his mistake. As a child he played with old dolls, presents from his grandparents. Back then he created alternative scenarios, a happier world with, for a short time. So, what if he had dolls of the victims? Miniature selves of the real persons. Of course, they would never be alive again. So that brought nothing. It was pointless. Hector would drink as long until he couldn’t grasp a clear thought any longer, being afraid of the places his mind would take him.

As time went on, the stress only got worse. Now Hector also had to find a serial killer, who seemed more determined than him at the moment. Additionally, his brother was disappearing from their shared apartment at night. Unbeknown to Hector, his little brother is already found the serial killer he (Hector) was looking for and stayed in contact with him. Sherman, who entranced the youngest with stories about H.H. Holmes, and his philosophy of life and death. Furthermore, he finally got something so important to him from Sherman, positive attention. Killing people was a small price for a reward like recognition of his chosen father figure.

On the other side was Hector, slowly succumbing to alcoholism. While his mind fixated on the only possible way, he could think of to correct his mistakes with each passing day. On a particularly bad day, he finally decided to do it. Hector decided to make little dolls of the victims he couldn’t save. However, it was not easing his guilt. What are little dolls compared to the actual lives he ended? He might as well take the rotting bodies and put try to bring them back to live. Well… Wouldn’t that be better?

Till Hector actually realized the next step of exhuming the victims’ bodies, some time passed. It was a day he got particularly drunk. With a numb conscience it was easier to pull through with it. Exhuming bodies was dirty work and trying to keep them fresh was even more of a mess. And for what? The makeup did nothing to hide the rotting flesh. And the stench. It was so awful that Hector had to vomit several times (which might also be because of his excessive alcohol consume during the procedure). All in all, Hector was not satisfied with the result.

Yes, it eased his guilt that he at least tried to bring them back. But this was not even close to alive. Where are their movements? Their voices? This was all wrong. They were barely lifeless dolls; using strings to let them move only turned them into marionettes always needing him to move them.

It took Hector a lot of research to finally find a way that would let the corpses move, more or less, on their own. And figuring out hydraulic mechanism was even harder. Creating voices was easier. Hector took inspiration from his brother who recorded conversations to communicate by replaying them. Hector used recordings of his colleagues, people in the supermarket, and also records of criminals he interviewed as voices for the animatronics.

Finally, the first animatronics was finished. It was not well made compared to his later works, but it was good enough for the time being. More important was the effect it had on Hectors mental health; it eased the feeling of guilt he had carried with him since birth. Now he could correct his mistakes, by creating alternative scenarios. With that in mind, he began to visit his sick mother in the nursing home more often and recorded their conversations.

Hectors more relaxed thoughts and the necessity for steady hands for his newfound hobby, lead him to consume less alcohol, however he never quit.

Since Hector was able to concentrate on his work again, his mind was able to figure out more about the serial killer who he had hunted for such a long time already. The problem was, he could not avoid drawing a connection to his little brother.

Catching Sherman eventually, uncovered what Hector feared; his little brother being involved with a serial killer. What should he do?

Never in his life would Hector snitch on his brother. Hector already did so many awful things to his brother, or at least he was blamed for doing so by his little brother. Maybe with Sherman behind bars, his influence on his brother would cease.

Well, that was a plan, that didn’t work out. Mostly because of Sherman. Manny Sherman refused to talk to anyone, except the youngest Munday. Now there were two possible ways for Hector. First, Hector pretends to be his brother (the irony of that). Since they look almost identical, it would be easy to impersonate his little brother. Or so Hector thought. As soon as Hector entered the room, Sherman knew, this wasn’t his protégée. Sherman did not answer one question.

The second possible way was one Hector didn’t want to take. His younger brother would have to talk to Sherman. For Hector it was sacrificing his brother against professional advancement. Could he reconcile that with himself?

Hector and his brother arrived at different times in the agency. Identification was no problem since they looked alike. His little brother could use Hectors pass, which he pretended to have had lost. Everything went smooth in that regard.

As Hector expected, the bond between Sherman and his younger brother only strengthened. It went even so far that the protégée brought his trophies to show Sherman. Although Hector heard what his brother did, how proud Sherman was of him and urged him to think bigger, Hector didn’t want to fully understand what all the trophies implied. To protect the image, he had of his brother, and by extend his own mental health, he refused to see it.

However, Hector couldn’t ignore his little brothers’ activities for much longer. After the death penalty was executed and Sherman was dead, his little brother was obsessed with to leave his own mark on the world. How long has he dreamt of that?

You could call it bad timing that around this time Lucinda died in the nursing home. Despite everything what she inflicted on both of them, it has taken a heavy toll on the brothers. Hector was not able to apologize for causing so many problems for her, and her youngest son could never proof that he also was worth of her love. While Hector coped by drinking more regularly again, his little brother followed his newfound destiny.

The time of the Shoeshine Killer began. And with that it also came the time for revenge for everything Hector had done to his little brother. The worst was, according to him, that Hector claiming all their mother’s love for himself, closely followed by taking away Sherman, his mentor he adored more than anyone else, from him. In his all his rage the youngest never saw that Hector was suffering just like him. Apart from the alcohol, Hector never was able to connect with people, always to afraid that he would burden them with his presence. And yes, Hector was envious of the relationship his little brother had with Sherman. They seemed to be on the same wavelength, no matter how vicious that turned out to be.

However, the youngest had to be smart about tricking not only the police into believing that an FBI profiler would become a murderer but also hide his actions long enough from his brother. The solution would be to leave obvious hidden evidence for the police to find, which would lead them to Hector. The murders had to be executed well enough to show that the killer knew of how the police worked, but not so good that there would be no clues at all. What would be left behind would have to point into Hectors direction, not like a neon sign, but more subtle.

And the youngest did well, Sherman would have been proud of him, he was sure of that. As the police was not the brightest back then it took them quite a while to finally realize who the killer might be. The reason for that could also have been that the police was blind for the possibility of an FBI agent, additionally a white man, could have been a murderer, despite the statistic reinforcing that.

Eventually, it all went as planned. The act of murdering a conscious person in Hectors apartment, was the final drop of a bloody trail that led them to Hector. No one could ignore any longer what the gathered information implied.

When Hector finally understood what was happening around him, it was too late. The only thing he could do was damage control. At first, he had to call his brother to reason. Hector explained to him that he would have no home, no money, and also no one who cared for him when Hector was gone.

In this moment it became painfully obvious how much Hector had underestimated his little brother. Of course, his little brother has considered how things could turn out for himself and took precautionary measures. Inspired by H.H. Holmes he earned money through fraud, forming relationships with rich women, some of them owned buildings or land, that he later inherited. He didn’t need Hector resources any longer. Taken by surprise Hector had to think of any reason for his brother to keep him around. How the tables have turned, haven’t they?

The only thing Hector could do which might be of value to his brother was building animatronics. He could bring back their mother or even Sherman. His little brother longed for conversations with his mentor again. He wanted to show him what he had accomplished. A decision was made, Hector would not be thrown to the pigs in uniform.

In the short time that remained until the cops would arrive, they developed a half – baked plan to cover their tracks. It was Hectors luck that his little brother already also planned measures if shit hit the fan. The plan was, setting the apartment on fire with one of the murder victims in it that was roughly the same height, weight and age as Hector. The problem was that the police would try to identify the corpse. Hector knew, if a corpse is burned beyond recognition and they have an idea who the person could be, they would use dental records to identify them. How could they fake that? Pulling out his own teeth and plugging them into the corpses mouth would not work. Faking his dental records? Well, a Hacker could do that, but he would need the radiographs of the deceased to replace them with Hectors. It also would be quite expensive and take some time.

Unbeknown to Hector, his brother already took care of it. Because had had to kill that person in their shared apartment, Hector couldn’t be around during that. So, there was a possibility of Hector not coming home before the police would have arrived. Still, they would have to find a corpse then. So, his little brother instructed a Hacker to fake Hectors dental records in advance as one of the safety measures.

As safety measure just like the way they would travel to reach their hideout. An old villa on a small island that he had inherited. It was old desolated and cold, but perfect for the plans the youngest had, killing 200 people, like the H.H. Holmes in Shermans stories. Finally he can leave his mark on the world.

The rest is history.

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

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This Game of Yours

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

Jason was beautiful.

And somehow that scar that went from the right corner of his mouth up to his temple only made him that much more beautiful to Y/N.

Those blue eyes were the same color of water on a stormy day in the Irish sea. And somehow Y/N knew they held the same tempestuousness.

The white streak weaved with his jet black hair so naturally that Y/N would’ve believed he was born with it.

His shoulders were so broad, making his 6’3 height feel even more imposing. He had a presence. People noticed every time he walked into a room. It made Y/N wonder how he was ever able to sneak up on people as Red Hood.

He was wearing a black hoodie underneath his black moto jacket.

Y/N knew Jason didn’t give a shit about fashion. Yet he was well-dressed without any effort – more so than most of the models Y/N had shot throughout her career.

Not being able to control herself any longer, Y/N raised her camera and took a photo.

Jason stopped surveying their surroundings and his gaze snapped to her.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

But his growl didn’t scare her in the slightest.

“Anyone who’s by me when I have a camera is at risk of getting their picture taken. No one is safe. Not even you,” she answered his question unapologetically.

Y/N was working on a personal passion project for her next show. Her collection would be about the poverty and crime of Gotham. Half of the photos would show the heaviest crime areas of the city. And the other half would expose the lifestyles of the wealthiest people in Gotham.

Why did so many suffer from the same system that helped the rich get even richer?

When Bruce found out Y/N was going to Crime Alley and the Bowery by herself, he was visibly upset.

But he realized that Y/N would do as she pleased, so his plan b was to give her protective detail.

However, Y/N didn’t know that Jason had volunteered, almost immediately.

Instead, all she heard was Jason grimly telling her, “You’re lucky you haven’t been fucking murdered yet.”

She had only responded with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m not your escort so you can take my picture. I’m here so you don’t get raped or murdered.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?”

His only response was a glare.

Jason loved playing this game. The game of pretending to be irritated with her when actually he was absolutely infatuated with Y/F/N Y/L/N.

“The easiest way to stop getting your picture taken is to always be the one holding the camera,” Y/N added with a smirk and wink.

Jason didn’t answer, only thinking what a shame it was that no one got to photograph her.

Suddenly, the sunlight hit the top of his head perfectly, creating a halo around that thick and messy hair of his.

Y/N snapped another photo.

“Will you stop?” He warned.

It only succeeded in making her laugh.

And that just excited his heart even more.

“Jason, you were born to get your photo taken.”

There was no joke underneath her words, only sincerity.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Jason had a hard time believing that. His skin was riddled with scars. And he was convinced that she’d be singing a different song if she saw his chest, with its thick autopsy scar amongst the so many others. The absolute last word he’d use to describe himself was beautiful. Strong and imposing? Yes. But never beautiful – or any other positive adjective, for that matter.

“I’m not kidding. If you ever want to stop the whole vigilante thing, you can easily become a model.”

Y/N had noticed it as soon as Jason took of his helmet that night. His domino mask had done nothing to prevent her from noting the obvious.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to realize Jason wasn’t like his “brothers.”

“Brothers.” What a strange word.

Should she consider all of them as hers?

Only Damian was actually related to her – and technically he was only her half-brother.

Y/N had watched Jason get on his motorcycle and leave the cave that night she’d almost died.

She’d agreed to stay for dinner and get to know everyone. And a part of her brain was excited to get a better read on the masked man that sat by her bedside as she’d recovered.

“He’s not staying?” Y/N had asked Bruce as he guided her to the stairs that led back up to the manor.

He only shook his head, but she noticed the disappointed expression.

Soon she found out that Jason was the black sheep of this strange family that had taken her in.

Dick was the one who told her about Jason’s dark past. All of it seemed unbelievable: murdered by Joker and brought back to life from a mysterious pit. Only to return to the family who appeared to have replaced him and never sought vengeance on Jason’s behalf.

But it was true; Y/N had seen no lie in Dick’s eyes when he filled her in.

Suddenly there was yelling coming from around the corner.

Without hesitation, Jason shoved Y/N behind him.

He reached for one of his guns and then realized that he didn’t have any.

Y/N was rather vocal about hating them, claiming they made her extremely uncomfortable.

Her expression alone as she said it was enough for Jason to swallow his stubbornness and leave the things at home.

Bruce was rather taken aback by the gesture. Nothing he’d ever said was enough to get Jason to do that.

A gang of young men came marching around the corner like they owned the place…because they did. This was their territory.

Jason immediately recognized them as some of the Russian mob.

Despite pulling Y/N behind him, they still caught sight of her and looked her up and down without an ounce of shame.

“Hey, beautiful. How you doing?”

“Продолжай идти, придурки,” Jason growled at them.

He was outnumbered. But there must’ve been something about his body language that made the gang realize they shouldn’t pick a fight with him. Maybe it was the muscles or his height or that he looked like he wouldn’t even blink before murdering them.

So they just…walked away. Some of them mumbled threats or insults at him. But they realized they shouldn’t even so much as look at Y/N.

A split second before they were gone, Y/N took a picture of Jason.

“Really?” He asked.

She shrugged. “You look like a different person when you’re protective.”

Y/N was beautiful.

Jason watched as she passionately explained her work to a potential buyer.

He recognized the man as a local politician – luckily, one of the few that hadn’t been corrupted from this shitty city.

Y/N had the intimidating energy of her father, but the kind eyes of her mother. At least, that was what Bruce had told everyone, and they all took his word for it.

She wore a stylish white jumpsuit that made her look like a 1980s villain and black stiletto heels.

Jason watched as men cowered in her presence, hating the fact that she proudly stood taller than them. She was just one less woman they could intimidate or manipulate – and they couldn’t stand it.

But Jason loved watching the emasculation in real time.

The bastards didn’t deserve her anyway.

Dick was one of the very few men Jason knew who didn’t blink at a woman towering over him. In fact, his older brother had a track record of preferring it.

“Surprised to see you here,” Bruce said beside him, catching Jason watching Y/N.

“Well, I was her personal bodyguard through all this. Figured I should see if it was worth me wasting my time or not.” Then he tossed back his champagne and slammed it on the tray of a waiter passing by. “Plus, free alcohol.”

Bruce just quirked an eyebrow, silently telling Jason that he knew he was lying.

“Are you buying something?” Jason asked, trying to change the subject.

“I have been strictly forbidden,” Bruce sighed.

Jason chuckled.

He knew if Bruce had his way, he’d buy every single on of Y/N’s pieces.

“I have to know,” Bruce began. “What exactly is holding you back?”

Jason finally ripped his gaze away from Y/N to give Bruce a questioning look.

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/N. You care about her.”

“All of us do,” Jason brushed off. “Even the demon spawn.”

Bruce knew there wasn’t a chance Jason would admit his feelings – especially to him.

“Not that I think you care…but you have my approval.”

Little did Bruce know, Jason did care.

Jason had convinced himself that their rocky relationship and past fights meant that Bruce would die before he let Jason be anywhere near his daughter.

And Jason could hardly blame him.

He didn’t deserve to be loved. He lost that right after he died and came back a monster. And that was the story Jason told himself over and over again.

So he would love Y/N from afar. And hope she would pick someone who was worthy of her love.

“She’s basically my sister,” Jason groaned in fake disgust.

It was quite the performance.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “We both know that isn’t what’s stopping you. And you’ve made it clear you don’t consider us your family.”

“Whatever, Bruce.”

Jason walked away, having enough of the subject.

“What was that about?” Clark asked as he joined Bruce’s side.

“Jason refusing to let himself be happy,” Bruce sighed.

Clark already knew what Bruce was talking about. He’d seen Y/N and Jason dancing around each other for months now. He’d never really seen Y/N take an interest in anyone before, so it was all new for Clark.

“Don’t worry. Y/N won’t let him get away with it for much longer,” Clark said through a smirk. “She gets what she wants.”

And Bruce believed him.

“It doesn’t bother you – the two of them together?” Clark asked with genuine curiosity.

“Jason reminds me every day that I’m not his father. And I’m hardly Y/N’s.” A soft smile formed on Bruce’s lips. “He’ll look after her. And she…I think she’d be good for him. I just want them to be happy. Both of them.”

——

Jason headed home rather early.

He’d never actually went to say congratulations or even hello to Y/N.

Every time he was about to go over, someone else stole her attention. He didn’t want to get in the way of her talking to potential buyers or even just friends.

Jason was just about to make himself something to eat when there was a knock at his door.

He froze.

Very few people knew where his apartment was.

Jason grabbed a gun and tiptoed to his front door.

With a peak through the peephole, he let out a irritated sigh.

Jason whipped the door open, “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot your head off.”

“Maybe don’t own guns and you wouldn’t have to worry about shit like that,” Y/N snapped back.

“What are you doing here?”

“You come to my gallery opening and don’t even say hi?” Y/N accused as she stepped around him and into the apartment, not waiting for an invitation.

Jason eyed the paper bag that was in one of her hands.

“By all means, come on in,” he called sarcastically as he slammed the door behind her.

Y/N started searching through his cabinets. “Where are your glasses?”

“The one to your right. What are you doing here?”

Y/N had the brightest and almost mischievous smile as she pulled a bottle of champagne from the paper bag.

“I brought this as my thanks for you making sure I don’t – and I quote – ‘get raped and murdered.’”

Jason glared at her.

Here was the game again.

Y/N being charming and hilariously provoking..and Jason pretending like he hadn’t fallen for her.

She poured them both a glass. They weren’t flutes or coupes, but she couldn’t care less.

“We’re chugging these, by the way,” Y/N informed Jason as she handed him a glass.

He sighed, but obediently clinked his glass with hers and tossed it back.

Barely giving them a second, Y/N immediately refilled them.

“So, why didn’t you come over and say hi?” She repeated.

“Didn’t want to bother you,” Jason mumbled with a shrug.

She narrowed her eyes at his answer. “You’ve never bothered me before, Jason.”

Now he felt guilty.

Jason bowed his head. “I should’ve come and talked to you,” he agreed. “Your work…it looked – it’s amazing, Y/N. Congratulations.”

Apparently Y/N hadn’t expected such a sincere compliment from him, and she was stunned to silence.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper once she’d recovered.

She cleared her throat, trying to maintain her edge. “And really…thank you for being my own little security detail.”

If Jason was healthy about expressing is thoughts and feelings, he would’ve told her that it was the highlight of his weeks. That he looked forward to her calls or texts, telling him that she was going to photograph another shady area. “Be there or don’t. I’m going no matter what,” she’d text him with her usual snark.

But Jason didn’t express his thoughts and feelings.

He kept them bottled up – with the same energy he used to keep Y/N at a distance.

So instead, Jason said, “If it wasn’t me, one of the others would’ve done it.”

Y/N winced slightly at that.

‘You’re such a fucking asshole,’ Jason told himself.

“You know…we can see each other even you’re not my bodyguard.”

Jason was impressed by her boldness. But she didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t understand that he wasn’t good. He couldn’t play the loving boyfriend role. She belonged with someone like Dick or Clark – or literally anyone but him. And Jason was willing to be an asshole to make sure she understood that.

Y/N took a step closer to him, invading his personal space.

Without breaking eye contact, she threw back her second glass of champagne and then placed it on the nearest counter space.

She stepped even closer.

This was simultaneously Jason’s worst nightmare and most desired dream.

Her eyes moved from his eyes to his lips.

But before she could make her final push, Jason took a step back and cleared his throat.

He looked down at the ground as he said, “You should go.”

When he looked up, he expected to find Y/N heartbroken or embarrassed.

But she was neither.

No. She looked irritated.

Not because she wasn’t getting what she wanted, but because she was sick of his games.

Y/N sighed and stepped back. “Fine.”

Jason rubbed his face in frustration as she grabbed her purse and started for the door she had walked through only minutes ago.

She opened it and paused.

“You know what? No. Fuck that,” Y/N snapped before slamming the door closed.

She whipped around and strutted back to him with purpose.

Jason was suspended with both fervor and awe.

Y/N grabbed his face and pulled him down to her lips.

All self control went out the window. Jason couldn’t continue his game. It was all over for him.

He kissed her back almost immediately. How could he not?

Y/N bit his lip slightly, making him hiss in surprise. It was his punishment for making her wait all this time.

Eventually they needed a moment to breathe.

But Y/N didn’t let go of his face when their lips finally parted.

“Choose your next words very carefully,” she breathed.

He swallowed nervously. “You’re kind of fucking terrifying. You know that?”

Her smile was pure evil.

Apparently this was the right response.

“Are you done being an idiot?” She asked.

He nodded quickly.

Her hands moved down and then lingered on his neck, tracing the bottom lines of his jaw.

She smiled again and then looked him up and down.

“What?” He questioned.

“Nothing,” she laughed. “I’m just…I’m not used to being shorter than men.”

“Is that the only reason you like me? Huh? My height?” Jason goaded.

“Of course not,” Y/N scoffed. “It was the whole ‘I look like I could murder everyone and I can, but deep down I’m a big softie’ that did it for me.”

Jason’s grip tightened on her waist. “Oh, yeah? You’re one to talk…”

“Me?!” She yelped. “I couldn’t kill anyone, even if my life depended on it.”

“Maybe. But your terrifying in basically every other way.”

Y/N laughed at that.

Jason couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sound

“So…still want me to leave?” She asked.

And this time, she would if that’s really what he wanted.

“Fuck no,” Jason answered, almost threateningly.

Then, for good measure, he picked her up by the back of her thighs and carried her to the couch, before he started to kiss her once again.

Y/N knew things weren’t always going to be this simple.

Jason had his demons.

And honestly, so did she. They were nothing like his. And maybe they were silly in comparison. But she wouldn’t be the perfect partner. Just like he wouldn’t be.

They’d drive each other crazy. But it would be the good kind of crazy.

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

+ Childhood

#father of mine bonus content #father of mine #bruce wayne x daughter #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #batman x daughter #batman x daughter!reader #bruce wayne's daughter #batman's daughter #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood reader insert #clark kent x platonic!reader #superman x platonic!reader

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katsidhe · 3 years

Note

could you do 9.10 and 9.13 for episode reviews.

Love your takes btw.

9.10 Final Thoughts

well, well, well, if it isn’t my old friend season 9. God I love season 9. buckle in.

Plenty of what season 9 tries to do with angel drama falls flat, but plenty of it doesn’t. It’s at its strongest when interrogating the ways that the angels are looking for personal purpose, rather than folding themselves into various suit-clad factions. In this episode, we have Gadreel, Abner, and Thaddeus, all with very different takes.

Thaddeus is the most boring of the three—a straightforward narcissist and sadist. (Lucifer will follow in his rockstar-impersonating footsteps in s12. SPN clearly has a dim view of the music industry.) We don’t care when he dies, and we aren’t meant to.

Abner’s found a family, and he’s let go of revenge. He’s clearly found peace and happiness—but it’s stolen. I’m ambivalent about this. I guess I could take his word that his vessel was abusive and therefore deserves to have been permanently body-snatched, and I guess I could believe him when he says his new family loves him, even though they clearly don’t know what he is or what he’s done. His regard for humanity as something other than a project is… uncertain. Even if everything is as sunny as he explains to Gadreel, there is fundamental selfishness and short-sightedness here. Get what you want, Abner says, and never let go.

Gadreel asks Abner if his vessel is happy. This reveals both Abner’s scorn for his vessel, and Gadreel’s uncomfortable awareness of and respect for Sam (and his bartender vessel, who Gadreel stares at, and who accepts Gadreel back easily).

Gadreel! OF COURSE Gadreel’s gotta be the scapegoat for Lucifer’s release, HAHAHAH. I love him to pieces, oml. Seriously, the Sam parallels could not BE more blatant. I’ve talked about this before, that it makes the earned antipathy between them all the more alarming, all the more visceral. The big sticking point is that Gadreel’s years of pointless torture came prior to his “redemption” arc, rather than as a consequence of it. Gadreel has all of s5 Sam’s despair and helpless anger and self-loathing, all of his drive to set things right at any price, and all of it is amplified by his trauma.

Sam and Gadreel’s relationship is defined by its liminal spaces. Gadreel threatens to tear Sam apart, but he does not, even when he is tortured. He locks Sam away in a dream rather than force him to watch him kill, or to suffer. But when Sam forces Gadreel out, Gadreel leaps instantly on telling Sam he is weak, reciting back Sam’s fears and Gadreel’s own. This reads like Gadreel is aiming quite a lot of his own self-pity and self-hatred at Sam.

Cas’s murderous rage at Gadreel when his identity is revealed is fun. It shows that Heaven’s PR team did a good job, for one thing. But Cas is furious because it’s specifically Lucifer. And the Apocalypse, and all the attendant suffering, his and Dean’s and Sam’s. It’s a personal wrath.

“Stupid for the right reasons…” oh, Cas, your scarcity of positive human role models is showing. Also, Cas’s particular brand of reassurance here isn’t actually something Dean has a problem with. He expresses regret over having been tricked—he says he’s stupid, he says he got played—but he’s never in doubt that his intentions were good. He’s never in doubt that he did the righteous thing. He’s never in doubt that he’d do it again.

Dean apologizes to Cas for barring him from the bunker. (Sam will not receive an apology.) Cas compares what Dean did to Sam to what Cas did by trusting Naomi. There’s a key difference here. Cas’s moral compass is not the problem; it’s his critical thinking skills.

Crowley, Cas, and Dean are a hilarious trio. (Also, I really hope that Cas’s pimpmobile got to Heaven too, like the Impala.)

Crowley being genuinely sorry that Kevin’s gone and his willingness to risk his life to help Sam are the best two moments of the generally weak Crowley-has-human-blood plot line. They feel earned. [also Crowley’s ‘I told Kevin he should’ve run!’ is both accurate, funny, and sad.]

Let’s talk 4.21 parallels! I mean, first, the glaringly obvious: Sam locked down to be purged of something supernatural; Sam suffering; Dean unable to bear Sam’s tortured screams; a very atmospheric fan. Dean walking away.

and then, of course, there’s “at least he dies human.” Right off the bat, Dean tells Cas he’s going to kill Gadreel. Cas, concerned, says that this will kill Sam too; Dean, sounding tortured, says he knows. Now, obviously, Dean doesn’t kill Sam. He doesn’t even get particularly close. But it’s really interesting that this is the first thing Dean brings up! He declares unprompted that he’s ready to kill Sam rather than leave him possessed. Which is both a recapitulation of the save-him-or-kill-him mantra, and an ironic twist on the decision Dean made in 9.01. Then, Dean knew Sam would rather die than be possessed, but had him possessed anyway. Now, Dean has decided instead that Sam must die because he is possessed. Obviously Dean’s opinion on the possessing entity has changed in the meantime: Sam’s hasn’t, but Sam’s isn’t what matters.

Dean reaches new levels of PEAK IRONY when he declares that Cas should possess Sam too. Cas has to actually point out that Dean can’t, in fact, volunteer Sam’s permission. Because apparently Dean had forgotten, lmaooo. Crowley, on the other hand, is happy to oblige. Dean directs Cas to burn Sam’s tattoo off.

The language of this entire scene is so sexual. I mean, it’s Crowley, of course it is, double entendre is his first language. But this theme recurs again and again. Here it is just more pointed than usual. It is queasy.

Gadreel has Sam trapped in a Dean-type happy place—a hunt with ghouls and cheerleaders, no organic produce to be found. And I don’t think it’s because Gadreel doesn’t understand what Sam likes. I think it’s because Gadreel’s aim was for Sam to feel comfortable, not blissful. It smacks of Hallucifer, just a bit—using the verisimilitude of Dean’s louder moods rather than trying to appeal directly to Sam’s contentment, because of his always questionable, always a question, sense of reality. If things were too smooth, too cheerful, Sam might just be suspicious. Sam is easier to trick by proxy.

The HORROR of this episode for Sam: Gadreel washing someone’s blood off of Sam’s hands. Crowley pushing needles into his brain. Sam’s body and life as a bargaining chip as Gadreel threatens to kill him, and then as Dean threatens to kill him right back. The quiet heartbreak as Sam remembers Kevin’s death, as he realizes the magnitude of Dean’s betrayal. But the worst part of it, I think, is somehow still Sam’s face when Crowley comes to get him in the dream where Gadreel stashed him. How his expression just crumples as Crowley tells him he is trapped in a lie, that his mindscape is once again a prison, that he truly cannot trust his reality. The sheer devastation of this on top of Sam’s history, plus the knowledge that Dean did this—and he pulls himself together and puts his foot on Gadreel’s neck and casts him OUT anyway. Sam Fucking Winchester.

and then the Bridge Scene. The lighting, the staging… it’s fucking gorgeous. It’s one of those scenes where I knew as I was watching it for the first time, seven years ago, that it was going to be something. I held my breath and still hold my breath. I can’t take my eyes off the way that Sam is shaking slightly, the entire time. The way he can barely meet Dean’s eyes but he does it anyway. He SAYS HIS PIECE, says it clearly, says it with an even tone despite what he’s gone through, despite the holes in his head that were healed seconds ago.

I love the gentleness between Sam and Cas here. I love knowing that 9.11 follows this. I love that there is no question that Cas will leave with Dean—he is staying with Sam, to heal and support him, even after he spent this episode mostly reassuring Dean.

Dean does not start this conversation to apologize. He starts out with the intent to DELIBERATELY egg Sam on: “come on, let’s hear it.” It’s an incitement, because Dean wants Sam to act angry, so that Dean can feel more justified in leaving. Sam does not rise to the bait.

Dean has an excuse for every point Sam has: I had no choice, you were dying, it’s not in me, he saved your life. He says, “I did a bad thing with bad consequences and I would 100% do it again, anyway, bye.”

And then the most infuriating thing: Dean is in the wrong, so he tells the person he’s wronged, ugh, I’m just such an awful poisonous person, I’m going to burn for this. It’s so clearly wrong-headed. Intentional or not, it’s such an obvious invitation for Sam to comfort him that it might well have been embossed. If this were in e.g. season 15, or if the crime he’d committed had been less awful, I can easily hear Sam’s reassurance: no, Dean, I promise you’re a good person, we all make mistakes. It is the most toxic way possible to frame a potential apology.

The textual theme of Dean-as-poison (and, for that matter, the consequence of Kevin’s death vs. the initial crime of the possession) is an intentional muddying of the waters: Crowley, Cas, and Dean himself all bring it up in some fashion, linking some fundamental aspect of Dean himself rather than Dean’s choices to Kevin’s death. Crowley is trying to be cutting; Cas is trying to be supportive; Dean is both excusing himself and camouflaging that fact in his exhausting self-loathing. There is a complicated interplay of what the text says about Dean’s guilt and what it condemns; this pattern continues throughout s9, and reaches its apex in the next several episodes. Dean’s love as a condemning feature rather than a redeeming one is one of my favorite things about SPN, and s9 has it in HIGH gear.

But, here, at least, Sam doesn’t rise to this bait either. “Don’t go thinking that’s the problem, ‘cause it’s not.” The problem is obviously, achingly, exhaustingly clear. Sam’s spelled it out in this very conversation: you tricked me. You lied to me. You got me possessed when I was willing to die. But Dean, and a fair portion of the audience, can’t hear it. So he doesn’t. And they don’t, and they pretend that this line is some sort of puzzle! a cliffhanger on a conversation unfinished! when it was the conclusion, not the beginning.

image that is now inextricable from 9.10

#9.10 #final thoughts #I have even more to say tbh #sam and cas #sam and dean #dean and cas #sam and gadreel #sam and crowley #sam and possession #sam and abuse #dean and self-hatred #sam and forgiveness #sam and mindscapes #sam and trauma #blahdose

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broccoliboix5peepeeman · 3 years

Note

Req: Izuku isn't one to keep grudges. He'd rather bury the hatchet & move on. But when word got out that Bakugō's past as a bully & an abuser got exposed at the latest annual Hero Gala, where he just got promoted to the #1 Hero no less, Izuku couldn't deny the small feeling of satisfaction within him. Soon, Bakugō lost the respect of his fellow Class 1-A graduates, former UA teachers, most of Japanese citizens & the whole world. His Hero license got revoked. He becomes what Izuku used to be.

Me: Aren’t you tired of being nice? Don’t you just wanna go apeshit? Izuku: N- Not partic- Me: TOO LATE!

I kinda incorporated these two asks, so please enjoy ~5000 words of Bakugou Katsuki / My Fist In His Face! :D

Edit: Ao3 Link: Fall from Grace ______

‘And taking the number two spot, moving down a place from last time, is the second coming of the symbol of peace, Hero Dekiru!’ The announcer exclaimed excitedly.

Forcing a bright smile onto his face, Izuku stepped out onto the stage and took his place next to Creati, who had secured the third spot. He looked out over the audience and waved as his fans cheered excitedly. Inside though, he wanted nothing more than to hide away and take his frustrations out on one of his home gym’s punching bags.

‘That means, folks, this season’s number one hero isss...’ The announcer paused for dramatic effect. ‘The Great Explosion Murder God, Dynamight!’

Izuku had to refrain from wincing when the audience’s cries and cheers became almost deafening. Kacchan strode out onto the stage, a manic smile on his face as he set off some celebratory explosions from his palms. As the blonde walked past Izuku, he muttered a quiet ‘Take that, Deku’ that only Momo and Shoto could hear. Izuku glanced out of the corner of his eye at the two; Momo furrowed her eyebrows, unimpressed, while Shoto didn’t even bother to hide his eye roll and displeased snort.

Kacchan took his place next to Izuku, smirking for all to see. When the crowd eventually fell silent, the announcer made her way down the line, asking each of the top ten heroes for a comment. Usually, Izuku would listen intently and nod along, but it was currently taking all of his energy just to maintain his reassuring presence.

All Might never had this problem. He thought to himself, as Suneater nervously stuttered through his speech.

His mentor always seemed so far away from the other heroes that he never had a problem bagging first place.

Ever since Izuku graduated from UA though, it had been a constant battle between who gained the spot of number one hero. Izuku liked friendly competition and rivalry, having dealt with it long enough that he had to learn to like it; he liked the competition because it meant he could build himself to be the best hero he could possibly be. However, the fact that it was always between him and Kacchan was getting a little old.

Izuku couldn’t fathom it. He wasn’t a bitter person; he knew that he had to work hard to earn the number one spot… But it was no secret that he had saved the most people throughout their careers so far. He had done everything he could to be the next symbol of peace and people did see him that way. They relied on him and believed in him. If they were in trouble, it wasn’t Dynamight they called for. It was Dekiru...

Everyone just seemed to like Kacchan more.

Izuku should be used to it by now. Ever since they were kids, it had been the same. He knew he shouldn’t let this get to him. He became what he was meant to be. He was the symbol of peace and he didn’t need a ranking to prove that-

‘Hero Dekiru!’ The announcer greeted, rounding on Izuku and startling him enough that he nearly launched himself into the air. She shoved the microphone in his face expectantly and he had to remind himself that it was his turn to speak.

'Er…' He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled endearingly. 'I know I'm prone to rambling, so I'll keep it short haha!'

The room laughed along with him and Izuku blushed a little. 'I just want to say that I am so proud of my fellow heroes! You've all been amazing and deserve recognition for it.' He swallowed thickly. 'And congratulations to Ka- to Dynamight for reaching number one! I'll be sure to work extra hard to catch up!'

He felt a pair of crimson eyes burning holes into his side. Ignoring it, Izuku raised his fist into the air. 'Let's all continue to do our best! Pluuuuus…'

'Ultra!' The audience chorused, before erupting into a round of applause. Izuku's smile felt genuine when he saw so many people inspired by his words.

'Yeah, good luck with that, Deku!' His smile faltered slightly when Kacchan grabbed the mic and started his own speech. 'I've made it to number one and I'm here to stay! I'm the best of the best and I can't wait to punch some more bastards!'

'Language!' The announcer squeaked, albeit she giggled along with the crowd.

While everyone was distracted, Izuku snuck a glance at Shoto, only to find his partner already staring at him knowingly.

You okay? His eyes seemed to say.

Izuku shrugged ever so slightly.

Aren't I always?

☀️🌙

Everything felt fuzzy.

Izuku raised a hand to his face and regarded it with narrow eyes as it slowly came into focus.

'You okay, love?'

Izuku pulled his head back, forming a double chin, and looked over at the person beside him who had spoken. He instantly recognised the long white and red hair, styled into a loose braid that framed his partner's angelic face, and relaxed.

'Shouchan!' He slurred out, leaning forwards and throwing his arms around him. 'Where have you been? I missed you!'

'I've been sitting next to you for the past 15 minutes.' Shoto pulled back and raised an eyebrow. 'You've been staring out into space for a while. You okay?'

'Just thinking.' Izuku leaned his elbow on the table in front of them and rested his cheek in his hand.

The two of them were at the annual hero gala that always occurred two days after the summer rankings were announced. Usually, Shoto was the one begging them not to go, while Izuku dragged him with a promise of cold soba at the end of it. This time, however, the opposite had happened. Not only had Izuku been adamant about not wanting to go, but Shoto had actively encouraged him to attend, reasoning that Izuku would regret it if he didn’t. Eventually, he begrudgingly caved and agreed to go, but only after a two hour pouting session.

Oh well, At least there was alcohol at this thing.

'What’re you thinking about?' Shoto asked. 'Usually, you mumble when you're thinking.'

'It's improper to bitch about the number one hero out loud, Shoto-kun.' Izuku replied easily, looking over at where some fancy people from the Hero Commission were congratulating Kacchan, who looked so smug Izuku couldn't help but scrunch his face up in distaste.

'Those results were such bullshit.' Shoto muttered, following his gaze. 'You're better than him by a long shot and people love you, yet-’

'-Kacchan always wins.' Izuku sighed. 'Maybe I need to be more like him and-'

'Don't even go there, Izuku.' Shoto warned. 'I'll give you a pass because you're a bit tipsy, but don't ever suggest that again.’

His partner raised his hands and cupped his cheeks, forcing Izuku to look at him. 'People love you so much because you're you. You don't need to change anything about yourself. All Might didn't pick Bakugou. One for All didn't pick Bakugou. I didn't pick Bakugou. We picked you, because you are worthy. You defeated All for One. You saved the world more times than I can count. You're brave and kind and somehow gentle despite being a fucking powerhouse, so don't even think for a moment that you need to be more like him, because Midoriya Izuku is so much better.'

‘Shoto-kun...’

Izuku felt his eyes begin to water and hurriedly moved to bury his face in the crook of his partner’s neck to hide his tears. He wished he didn’t have to be here, under the constant gaze of the media. He wanted to be able to cry freely, but he was a symbol and symbols didn’t cry.

Unless they were the symbol of crying… Izuku reckoned he’d be pretty good at that.

He felt Shoto freeze in his arms when some camera shutters suddenly went off not too far away.

‘I’m sorry, love.’ He murmured against his ear. ‘Time to be Dekiru again.’

Izuku sighed heavily, before lifting his head and turning towards the camera, a bright smile on his face as he waved to the lens.

‘Dekiru!’ One journalist shouted. ‘We were hoping to take pictures of the top three heroes together. Would you mind joining us for a moment?’

‘Of course!’ Izuku beamed. He stood then, before bowing to Shoto. In a moment of boldness, he took his partner’s hand in his own and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. The cameras went wild, but Izuku focused only on the lovely blush dusting Shoto’s cheeks. ‘See you soon.’

Shoto hummed in response, not knowing what to do with himself, and Izuku smiled softly, before he stepped away and allowed himself to be shimmied over to the desired area. He stumbled slightly from the alcohol - if anyone noticed, they didn’t comment.

Izuku’s jaw dropped when his eyes landed on Momo, who was already waiting for them on the red carpet. She looked absolutely gorgeous tonight; her hair was styled in a half-up half-down braid, allowing her loose hair to cover her shoulders and run down her body without getting in her eyes. She donned a sleeveless scarlet dress, which accentuated the muscles of her arms and complimented her ebony eyes exquisitely. The material fit snugly at her waist, before flowing out around her, like the petals of a red lily flower, until it reached the floor. She made Izuku look incredibly underdressed, with his forest green suit, lack of tie and signature red shoes.

Granted, at the start of the night, Shoto had insisted that Izuku’s legs looked so good that he wouldn’t mind being crushed by them, but he had quickly waved him off. His partner was biased.

‘Momo-san!’ He greeted, taking her hands in his own when he reached her. ‘You look as beautiful as always!’

‘Oh stop!’ She giggled, squeezing his hands affectionately. ‘You’re one to talk. Shoto-san took me aside earlier to complain about how handsome you looked.’

Izuku’s face turned the same colour as her outfit.

‘He what now?’

Momo merely laughed in response, but before she could say anything else, the booming voice of the number one hero drowned out all other sounds.

‘Let’s get this over with, extras.’ Kacchan rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles, joining them on the carpet.

Izuku and Momo nodded in greeting and the three of them waited for the photographers to tell them where to stand.

The shoot lasted all of ten minutes, but to Izuku, it felt like an hour. Having to listen to Kacchan’s quiet jibes about how great he was was starting to get on his nerves. Izuku knew he shouldn’t let his words grate at him so badly, but the alcohol was starting to exacerbate his resentment towards the blonde, to the point where he was about to explode.

It wasn’t until they were making their way back to the main area that he finally cracked.

‘It must suck to be you, Deku.’ Kacchan grinned, hands deep in his pockets as he looked ahead at the Dynamight posters plastered to the walls.

Izuku grit his teeth to keep his signature smile on his face, but otherwise didn’t respond.

Kacchan took that as his cue to continue. ‘I mean, I can’t imagine how disappointed All Might must feel right now. Even with all those quirks and One for All, I’m still better than you.’

He’s just being Kacchan. Ignore him.

‘It seems All Might’s legacy ends with him, if his successor can’t even keep the number one spot. Seems you’ll always be behind me, no matter how many times I have to put you in your place.’

He’s wrong… Toshinori-san is proud of me.

‘Remember when I told you to hope for a quirk in the next life?’ Kacchan laughed. ‘I take it back. Turns out that even with a quirk, you’ll always be a loser.’

Izuku’s eye twitched.

‘Maybe you and Icyhot really are meant for each other. After all, you’re both disappointments to your families.’

Izuku’s body moved before he could comprehend what was happening. One moment, his fist was at his side, the next it was colliding with Kacchan’s jaw. Despite his lightning fast reflexes, the blonde hadn’t anticipated such an attack and was sent flying. In midair, he set off a series of explosions from his palms to steady himself as he descended.

When he landed, the entire room went silent.

‘What the fu-’

‘How dare you talk about Shoto like that!’ Izuku yelled. ‘Shoto is twice the man you will ever be. Don’t you dare call him a disappointment’

His entire body was shaking and he felt like his face was on fire. What was he doing? He was making a scene. What was everyone going to think of him after this?

‘You wanna fucking go?’ Kacchan roared.

Izuku quickly decided he didn’t care.

‘You think you’re so great, don’t you?’ He stood up straight, staring into those raging crimson eyes. His inhibitions had dissolved and all those pent-up emotions quickly flowed out, unfiltered. ‘You want everyone to think you’re the best of the best, when you couldn’t be further from it!’

‘Looks like someone’s pissed because I’m the number one-’

‘I don’t care about that!’ Izuku yelled. ‘I’m pissed because I used to actually think you were the greatest! I used to think your quirk was so amazing and that you really were the best! And what did I get for it? Broken bones, second-degree burns and taunts that I was a worthless nobody.’

‘Deku.’ Kacchan warned. Izuku noticed his expression change into something he almost didn’t recognise on his old friend’s face: fear.

‘What’s wrong, Kacchan? Afraid I’m going to expose you as the shitty person you really are?!’ He mocked, trying to keep his voice even. ‘Do you even remember what you used to do to me back when we were kids? I remember. I still live with the consequences every single day. Do you know how long it took for me to stop flinching whenever you spoke? Do you know that every time I hear a loud noise, my skin aches? It remembers all the times you used your quirk on me. You bullied me for over a decade and yet you have the audacity to say that I’m somehow the one who-’

‘I was trying to protect you!’ Kacchan shouted. He started to stride towards Izuku, but Kirishima quickly appeared from the crowd of curious onlookers and held him back. ‘You never took yourself into account! I was trying to stop you from hurting yourself!’

‘So you thought you’d hurt me instead?!’ Izuku couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips. ‘“Protecting” me? Is that what you tell yourself at night? That you were protecting me when you punched me for standing up to you? That you were protecting me when you destroyed my notebooks and threatened me daily?’

Izuku took a deep breath. No going back after this. ‘Were you protecting me when you told me to take a swan dive off the school’s roof when I was 14?’

The entire room gasped, before erupting into scattered noise. Journalists addressed Kacchan, asking if Izuku was telling the truth; several pro-heroes were murmuring to each other, mortified, while the hosts of the event tried to de-escalate the situation but to no avail. Izuku wasn’t listening to all that though. His heart was pounding against his chest, the drumming in his ears drowning out all other noise. He squeezed his eyes shut.

What have I done? I can't believe I said all that! The symbol of peace is meant to keep it together all the time. I’m supposed to be strong for others. How can I be that, now that everyone knows that I’m useless Deku-

‘Izuku.’ He felt a hand brush against his own and Izuku opened his eyes to find Shoto standing in front of him, his expression one of concern. ‘My love, can you hear me?’

Izuku nodded rapidly and leant forward, allowing his partner to wrap him in a hug. He rested his forehead against a sturdy shoulder.

‘I fucked up.’ He murmured against the material of his kimono. ‘I fucked up so bad.’

‘Shhh, don’t say that.’ Shoto whispered, stroking his hair, before turning his head away to address the strangers approaching. His voice turned icy. ‘No, Dekiru will not be taking comments. Back off if you know what’s good for you.’

When they took the hint and dispersed, Shoto sighed and rested his cheek on top of his head. ‘Talk to me, Izuku.’

‘I was so tired of it all.’ He pulled back enough so that he had a clear view of Kacchan being swarmed by the press over Shoto’s shoulder. The blonde looked angry and worried as he shouted at the crowd and - wait, is that Ochaco-chan being restrained by Iida-kun not too far away?

Izuku shook his head and watched the display. ‘He kept saying things and I got angry and then he called you a disappointment and I just...’ His eyes widened and he grasped at his hair. ‘I punched him. Oh my god, I punched Kacchan!’

‘He deserved it.’

‘That doesn’t make it okay, Shoto-kun!’ Izuku exclaimed, tugging on his curls until it hurt. ‘I don’t- I’m meant to be the symbol of peace, but I just punched another hero! I can’t just pretend that didn’t happen… And what I said… Everyone heard. They’re gonna think I’m weak. Maybe I am. I’m just so tired. Maybe Kacchan’s right. Maybe I should’ve taken a swan di-’

‘Don’t even fucking go there, Izuku.’ Shoto’s arms tightened fiercely around him. ‘Don’t think like that. You’re gonna be okay, I promise. We’ll get through this.’

‘Shoto-kun...’

‘Let’s go home.’ His partner wrapped his hands around Izuku’s wrists, coaxing him to let go of his hair. ‘We’ll go home. You don’t have to deal with this now. Clear your head first.’

Izuku searched Shoto’s eyes, before he nodded in agreement. He took his partner's hand and let himself be led through the hall, towards the exit. They made it halfway, when Kacchan suddenly blasted himself into the air to escape the crowd and landed in front of them.

‘You think you’re gonna drop me in it and just leave?’ He growled. ‘Fucking coward.’

‘Izuku owes you nothing, Bakugou.’ Shoto’s voice was cold, unforgiving. ‘If it were up to me, I’d have exposed you years ago.’

‘This has nothing to do with you, Icyhot.’ Kacchan moved so that he was at the centre of Izuku’s vision. ‘I wanna make something clear to Deku.’

Several years ago, Izuku would’ve looked away under such an intense glare, but at that moment, he stared right back. He straightened his posture and furrowed his eyebrows, expectantly. He was tired of staying silent and letting his old bully walk all over him.

‘What do you want?’

Kacchan tsked.

‘These extras are gonna ask you if what you just said was true.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘You're gonna tell them you've had too much to drink.'

Emerald met piercing scarlet and Izuku knew immediately what his answer was. He had always hoped he could bury the hatchet and move on, but as he regarded Kacchan in front of him now, he knew deep down he couldn't do that. He didn't want Kacchan to suffer…

But he couldn't just continue to let him believe that what he did was right either.

'No, I'm not.'

‘Excuse me?’

‘I said,’ Izuku stood up a little straighter and tightened his grip on Shoto’s hand. Anxiety riddled through his body, pumping him with so much adrenaline he felt his heart pounding against his chest. ‘No. I’m not going to deny what I’ve said. You may be a hero, I may admire you, but I’m not going to lie for you anymore. You need to take responsibility.’

Kacchan opened his mouth, but Izuku raised a hand to silence him. ‘We’re done here, Bakugou.’

Wordlessly, he then stepped forwards and walked past the blonde, who seemed at a loss of what to say. Izuku trembled violently as he walked and felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes - he hoped Kacchan hadn’t noticed - and didn’t slow his pace until Shoto caught up to him.

‘Izuku.’ His partner spoke, rubbing his arm to get his attention. When Izuku turned his head to look at him, Shoto linked his hand around his bicep. ‘Come with me a second.’

He allowed himself to be towed towards a bathroom. The room was blurry, but when Shoto locked the door behind them and turned to look at him, Izuku’s vision sharpened; all he could focus on were dichromatic eyes that shone like the sky, the loose strands of red and white hair that hung in front of his face, the smooth porcelain skin that juxtaposed the roughened scar tissue around his left eye.

The beautiful, full lips that opened to speak.

‘Let it out, my love.’

The words were spoken so softly, but echoed loudly in his ears. Izuku’s lip trembled, and when strong arms came to wrap around him, one hand against the curve of his spine while the other cradled the back of his head protectively, Izuku slumped against him. He buried his head in his partner’s chest and clutched at the fine material of his blue kimono as he finally succumbed to the tears that had ached for release.

He cried loud, broken sobs, muffled only by the drenched fabric that he clung to so desperately; all the anger, hurt and fear he had suppressed for so long flowed out of him with each ragged breath. Izuku had always been an emotional person, but this felt different. These weren’t happy tears or frustrated tears. These were almost cathartic.

He didn’t know how long they stayed there in the bathroom, ignoring the irate knocks from the outside as Shoto gently soothed him. All he knew was that when his eyes eventually dried out and he was out of breath, his partner gently held his face in his hands and leaned down so that their foreheads were touching. Izuku sighed tiredly and felt their noses brush slightly when Shoto finally whispered,

‘I’m so proud of you. I love you.’

☀️🌙

'Breaking news: The next Endeavour? Sources report that number one hero, Dynamight, is facing allegations of bullying and past-abuse.'

Izuku looked up at the tv screen, alarmed. Him and Shoto were visiting his mum and Toshinori. Usually, the two heroes don't watch tv, but his mum liked to have it on so that the apartment was never too quiet. It calmed her.

Now though, Izuku was anything but calm. His heartbeat quickened and he felt his back straighten. His eyes were glued to the screen, which was broadcasting video footage from the annual hero gala last night. He had known that the media was going to blow up after his little… Outburst, but he didn’t know someone had filmed it.

'During the annual hero gala last night, pro-hero Dekiru was seen having a confrontation with the number one hero, where he revealed that he used to be physically and emotionally abused by the explosion hero. While the symbol of peace appeared to be a little bit tipsy, outside sources have revealed that there may be truth to the allegations and a formal investigation has been launched.'

Izuku felt nauseous, his palms were sweaty and he refused to look anywhere but at the screen. He felt three pairs of eyes on him, but tried to ignore it.

He couldn't bear to see their disappointment. Weak, defenseless Deku, revealed for the whole nation to see.

'Here is some footage from their argument last night. Viewer discretion is advised due to the nature of the conversation.’

The reporter went silent and the video unmuted; the static of the low-quality microphone buzzed in his ears.

'You think you’re so great, don’t you? You want everyone to think you’re the best of the best, when you couldn’t be further from it!'

Izuku stared at the screen, his own words echoing back through the TV. He breathed heavily, trying to maintain his composure, but when Kacchan tried to justify himself, he couldn’t take it anymore and turned it off.

The room went silent.

Izuku quickly decided he hated that even more.

‘Sweetheart...’ Before he could comprehend what was happening, small arms wrapped around his waist and his mum’s comforting embrace suddenly surrounded him. Izuku froze for a moment, before he gingerly returned the hug. ‘I knew he could be a little rough with you when you were younger, but this? Why didn’t you say something sooner?’

‘Because it wouldn't have made a difference.’ Izuku shrugged. When his mum moved to say something else, he quickly added. ‘Don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.’

‘Izuku, baby-‘

‘It wasn’t your fault.’ He repeated firmly, pulling back to look into her tearful eyes. When she shook her head, distraught, Izuku sighed. ‘I didn’t want you to find out this way.’

‘Sounds like you didn’t want either of us to find out at all, my boy.’ Toshinori suddenly spoke from behind. A large hand came to rest on his shoulder and Izuku turned his head to find his mentor regarding him with regretful eyes. ‘I should’ve known really.’

‘You couldn’t-’

‘Young Bakugou told me once that he used to bully you.’ Toshinori admitted, ashamed. ‘He didn’t go into details and he used the same excuse as he did last night, but I should’ve realised immediately that there was more to it than that. At the time, I tried to reassure young Bakugou that by helping with your training, he was repenting for what he had done. Instead, I should’ve spoken to you, my boy. I should’ve asked for the full story. I should’ve noticed the way he acted during training exercises, the way he talked to you during our meetings. I should’ve released that your relationship wasn’t as simple as deep rivalry.’

Izuku saw his mentor glance at his mum for a moment, before removing his hand from his shoulder. ‘I used to be a hero; I promised your mother I would protect you and dedicate myself to training you, yet I was blind to the iniquity that was happening around me. I put you in an unsafe environment without even realising and made you work with your abuser. I will never forgive myself for that.’

Izuku stared at Toshinori. A whirl of emotions scattered across his face, before he settled for something he was familiar with: tears.

‘I forgive you.’ He spoke, voice hoarse from the lump in his throat.

☀️🌙

Shoto stared at the sight before him, shuffling on his feet rather awkwardly as his partner forced All Might into a bone-crushing hug. Not knowing what to do with himself, he scanned the rest of the room, before noticing Izuku’s phone buzzing violently on the table.

Intrigued, Shoto reached down and scanned over the notifications.

Ur my rock bro [1:24]: Hey man, hope you’re okay! Yaoyorozu and I tried looking for you and Todoroki, but we couldn’t find you. Hope you got home safe. Let me know, yeah? We’re worried[...]

Breaking News! Petty rivalry or power complexes between the number one and two heroes?

Heroes Weekly: Drama down at the annual hero gala last night as Dekiru drunkenly reveals Dynamight’s problematic past.

Tokyo News: The Hero Public Safety Commission has temporarily suspended the hero licence of number one hero Dynaminght, in light of recent allegations.

Speedy Gonzales [07:29]: Good morning, Midoriya-san! Please give me a ring when you get the chance. I am wishing you all the best during this time and please don’t hesitate to contact me if you[…]

Plus Ultra Press: Truth to Dekiru’s words? Several individuals have come forward to reveal that they were also tormented by Dynamight as children.

Eraserhead [10:36]: I have taken it upon myself to expel Bakugou. If you need a break from it all, let me know. I should’ve told you more when you were my student, but you’re a good kid. I[…]

The Problem Children of UA: Aizawa’s Secret Love Child removed LordExplosionMurder from the chat Aizawa’s Secret Love Child [4:58]: @He Need Some Milk hope you[…] Crazy Frog [11:32]: *Kero* Wishing you all the best Midoriya-chan[…] FlexTape420 [11:33]: ^^^ If you need anything, let us know! Calamari [11:33]: We’re here for you! <3 An actual Goddess [11:37]: I hope you’re safe. Know that we support[…] Prince Charming [11:40]: Oui oui! I have an assortment of cheese for[…] Dr Dolittle [11:42]: @Dr 5PeePeeMan are you with Midoriya-kun now[…] 15 more messages

Uwawaka [11:59]: Deku-kun, I know this isn’t the bestest of times, but I need bail money and Iida-kun won’t help. Seems *you* can punch Bakugou, but when I do it, it’s aSsAuLt

Shoto raised a brow at the last one, clearly amused, and made a mental note to go down to the station later with bail money. He then looked up to find Izuku walking towards him; his eyes were red and puffy, although he wore a small smile. Immediately, Shoto put the phone down and opened his arms, wrapping his partner in a gentle hug.

‘You okay, love?’ He murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

‘Getting there.’ Izuku nuzzled his neck. ‘What were you looking at while the rest of us talked about our feelings?’

Shoto huffed at that.

‘I was checking your messages. Everyone’s worried.’ He answered honestly. When his partner hummed softly, he continued. ‘They really care about you. We all do. We’re on your side.’

‘I’ll reply to them later, promise.’ Izuku paused for a moment, struggling to get his words out. I just feel… Weird.’

‘Weird? In what way?’

‘Like… I’m glad of their support, but I can’t help but think I’m causing a fuss.’ Izuku exhaled, warm breath fanning Shoto’s neck. ‘I mean, he doesn’t bully me anymore and he really is a good hero. Maybe I’m just being petty? Part of me is even relieved… Is that bad? To get satisfaction from something like this? I mean, it’s my fault this is happening in the first place.’

Shoto closed his eyes and sighed, resting his chin on top of his partner’s head.

‘It’s not bad. I felt the same way when my family’s past got leaked.’ He admitted softly. ‘At that point, my old man was trying to make amends and the world needed the number one hero, so I felt like bringing his past to light was selfish - even though it wasn’t my fault it got exposed… But that didn’t stop me feeling relieved when the world finally got to see him for who he truly was.’

He felt Izuku’s arms tighten around his waist; a comforting gesture. ‘You’re not selfish for wanting justice, Izuku. You already give the world so much. You may have exposed Bakugou, but the true fault lies with him.’

Shoto hoped his words sounded reassuring. He wasn’t as good as his partner was with these kinds of things.

‘Thank you.’ Izuku whispered, voice breaking slightly.

‘It’s going to be okay.’ Shoto soothed, sincerity laced behind every word. ‘I promise.’

☀️🌙

Several weeks went by and still, the investigation continued. While the Hero Commission had temporarily suspended Bakugou’s hero licence, they still seemed reluctant to find any concrete evidence of their number one hero’s past record of abuse - probably due the damage caused by Endeavour several years back.

Imagine having two number one heroes being found guilty of abuse in less than a decade.

Izuku could understand it, but it didn’t make him any less frustrated. He was tired of being bombarded with questions by insensitive journalists; he was tired of having to put on a fake smile and laugh awkwardly when they said something that was inappropriate. He was tired of dealing with numerous investigators trying to twist his words and convince him that he was overplaying the abuse he suffered at the hands of his old friend.

After a particularly bad interview, where he was asked if he was making it all up in order to get to the number one spot, Izuku had broken down in Shoto’s arms, asking if it was always going to be like that. He had even considered asking the Commission to drop the investigation all together, but Shoto convinced him not to.

‘There’s always going to be people out there who doubt you. It will get better though.’

Five months after the investigation commenced, Izuku’s phone buzzed in his pocket to reveal that enough evidence had finally been gathered to find Bakugou Katsuki guilty of all the allegations made against him Despite the evidence though, Bakugou wasn’t sent to prison, or made to do community service. The only formal punishment he received was something much worse than that.

His hero licence was permanently revoked.

Izuku's eyes scanned the text and felt his knees give out from underneath him. He crashed to the floor; distantly, he could hear Shoto's worried footsteps coming to check on him, but he couldn't bring himself to reassure his partner. Instead, he threw his head back and closed his eyes, smiling peacefully at the ceiling.

When they were five, Izuku was alone and quirkless, told he could never be a hero. Twenty years later, Bakugou was told he could never be a hero ever again.

Funny, the way things play out in the end...

#and now i sleep #words were starting to blur haha #also anon you have great taste #Bakugou x consequences #is a good otp #anti bakugou #tododeku #todoroki shoto #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #AgarJelly writes #midoriya inko #toshinori yagi #momo yaoyorozu #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #lovely people

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cynical-mystic · 3 years

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I didn’t think I’d like Elementary, but here we are.

I just finished a COVID induced binge of Elementary, and I have a lot of feelings.

First off, I’m furious with my teenage self for writing off this show after season one. This show is a beautiful representation of my two favorite literary characters, and I’m livid that the Sherlock hype made me write it off. Sherlock wishes it was this show.

I’m putting my feelings under a cut for spoiler purposes and length purposes.

Joan Watson is an icon. If you, for a moment, ever said to yourself, “Watson can’t be a woman” for WHATEVER reason, you should be ashamed. When a female Watson is done right, it’s magical. And this show is the embodiment of a female Watson done right.

The first thing that struck me about Joan Watson is how she dresses. She is fabulous. Constantly.

The second thing that struck me is that, unlike her original counterpart, she is not a bumbling idiot. Holmes chooses her because of how remarkable she is, not because it’s convenient. Her remarkableness is reinforced at every turn. Every person they encounter acknowledges that Watson is Holmes’ equal, including Holmes himself. Once she decides to become a detective, she is his partner in every sense of the word but a romantic one.

This leads me to my next point. From what I recall, everyone was complaining about Watson being a woman because there would be romantic undertones and they’d have sex and it would ruin everything blah blah blah. However, there is none of that. Yes, Watson is the person Holmes loves most in the world, but, newsflash, you can love someone deeply and have no romantic attachment/attraction to them! Another great thing about this is Watson feels exactly the same way about Holmes, and there is absolutely no “she loves him but he doesn’t love her so she spends the whole time pining for him in a romantic way” bullshit. Their relationship is the pinnacle of what it means to love someone completely without being romantically involved.

Some of my favorite Holmes/Watson love moments:

“For you, Watson, I would make adjustments.” - said in response to Watson being concerned about adopting a baby, it living in the brownstone with them, and how that would affect Holmes.

“I’m staying, Watson.” - Holmes finds out Watson has cancer and this is the first time Holmes hugs anyone on-screen of his own accord. He promises to stay with her to help her through it, even though he’s legally dead.

“We’re not partners. We’re two people that love each other.” - said to Watson by Holmes when he’s on the cusp of leaving for London after having confessed to a murder to keep Watson from taking the fall for it (she was innocent, btw; watch the show).

“The thought of her little boy coming home to find me on the floor with a needle in my arm” - Holmes telling Gregson about how he can’t stay; he doesn’t want to put Watson or her son in danger.

Watson telling Holmes’ father he needs more time with her as his sober companion, his father saying her time won’t be extended, and Watson staying with him even though she won’t get paid because she cares about him and wants to make sure he gets through the betrayal he just experienced.

Holmes telling Moriarty there are two people in the world she can’t predict and Watson rolling in like a bamf with Marcus and other officers to take Moriarty into custody, and Moriarty subsequently putting Watson and Holmes on the same level with regards to how she treats them.

Mycroft acknowledging that Watson is the person Holmes loves most in the world when they’re trying to find her after she’s been kidnapped.

Someone saying Ms. Watson should step out bc he doesn’t want her to see what he’s brought and Holmes going, actually she’s a doctor and can take whatever you’ve got.

“As long as we’re together, does it matter?” - the last line of the fucking show al;sndpiuahpoih[oaivhoej

These two had so many beautiful moments that were never romantically coded and that makes them so much better. They don’t need to be in a romantic relationship to be the most important person in each others’ lives. HIT ME WITH THAT KIND OF LOVE.

Now, for Sherlock Holmes. This is my favorite adaptation of this character. This Holmes goes from being a complete git to a lovable, quirky man so fluidly you don’t even realize it’s happened until you’re in the middle of it. Darcy, eat your heart out.

This Holmes also truly cares about the people he’s working with and/or for. Yes, he’s doing it for the work and the justice and the sake of solving problems, but he genuinely cares about people and can relate to them. Him being a recovering addict is probably the best thing he could have been. His body language and the meetings and everything about him show how hard he’s working to be a better person and how that’s coming across in his work. He doesn’t treat the people around him like objects to be used, but like people who are hurting. People who need help. Just...people.

A human Sherlock Holmes? Who’s dealing with the repercussions of his past as an absolute arse in a legitimate, realistic way? Sign me the fuck up. I believe in Sherlock Holmes. In this Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock can suck it.

The last thing I want to touch on is this show’s use of the source material. It manages to have mostly completely original plots but sprinkle in some things for the Sherlockians in the most beautiful of ways.

When Watson is going through some clothes to lend to a friend, they find a deerstalker. Watson tells the friend to take it because Holmes never wears it.

They go to a convention of people dressed in costume and it cuts to two people who, from the back, appear to be Holmes and Watson dressed in clothing like the original characters’ but then it turns out to be two completely random people and Holmes and Watson are dressed normally.

“Hounded,” the episode based on The Hound of the Baskervilles? Stunning.

Cases randomly name dropped? Iconic.

Watson and Marcus going over a case obviously based on one of the original short stories? Beautiful.

Watson casually mentioning the three Garridebs and their story? Magnificent.

The modernization of the orange pip story? Marvelous.

This show is a beautiful representation of my absolute favorite piece of literature and I couldn’t be more pleased.

10/10, would recommend.

#elementary #sherlock holmes #joan watson #meta #i fucking love this show #i believe in sherlock holmes #kind of a review??#if you love sherlock holmes watch this show #why was sherlock more popular than this

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years

Text

No Light, Dead End;

full masterlist

Pairings: Steve Rogers x female!reader

Word count: 2,812

Warning: SMUT!!!! slight dub-con. slight dark!steve but with feelingsᵀᴹ.

Summary: takes place after civil war and before infinity war because who is she? we don’t know her. after the avengers were divided due to the accords, you went on the run with steve, natasha and sam. during on the run, your relationship with steve had been going through a rough patch until one day, you decided to leave him. but he made sure that you knew who you belong to.

a/n: this one is for @mariessecretfantasies‘ 500 follower writing challenge! i chose prompt #8 ““No light, no light in your bright blue eyes. I never knew daylight could be so violent.” No Light, No Light- Florence + the Machine” i wanted to write something anguish but with a hint of darkness, just enough to spice it up. cause we all love possessive, slightly crazy steve, right? 😌 please leave a like & comment! enjoy.

You stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door behind you. You just had another quarrel with your grouchy boyfriend, Steve. He wasn’t always like this though. He used to be the heroic face of America after all… Used to be. He was a man with perseverance, sagacity, and altruism. All his life, he wanted nothing but to help others. To serve his country. But all that changed since the Accords.

The whole country decided to turn its back on their favorite golden boy aka Captain America. The man they used to look up to and call out for when miscreants exterminated the city and when aliens invaded the planet.

He was a man with assertive morals, never doubting his purpose and his will. And the whole world agreed. Until his best friend, Bucky Barnes was accused of the bombing of the UN in Vienna and was shortly located where he had been hiding for the past couple of years.

Steve Rogers had faith in his former best friend who could barely remember him when he said that he wasn’t the one who committed the crime. But the whole country didn’t. And so, through all the battle at the airport in Germany, and the unauthorized flight to Siberia and the grievous alteration of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes to a group of wanted felons, you stuck and stayed with him.

You had faith in the man you fell in love with a year ago and you knew his true heart. That deep down, no matter what the world paints him to be, you will always believe that he was still the same selfless hero. A battered soldier with nothing but pure intentions. He had lost so much in his stolen lifetime, so you understood his desperate wish to keep his best friend alive and out of heavily guarded prison.

And so, after the final battle with Tony Stark in Siberia, Steve and Bucky agreed that it would be best for everyone if Bucky went back to cryostasis chamber until Princess Shuri finds a way to fix him. King T’Challa had made peace with the fact that Zemo was the one who murdered his father, and he realized that Bucky was only a victim just as much as T’Chaka was, so he allowed him to stay in their land and agreed to mend the broken man.

After Bucky was back under the ice, Steve went back to The Raft and reunited with Sam, Wanda, Scott, and Clint, releasing them out of the Arctic prison facility. Whilst, Wanda and Vision agreed to lay low and started a secret life together in Scotland, Clint and Scott went back to their residents under prohibition.

You, Steve, Natasha, and Sam on the other hand, went on a run, as a group of uncivilized nomads, living in crummy motels and working vigilante jobs in the dark. You changed your looks and camouflaged within the crowds. And this was the turning point.

Your relationship with Steve hadn’t been the same since the fallout. He became rougher around the edges, sterner, and crueler. Some days, you couldn’t even remember what his genuine smile looked like anymore. How his eyes used to gleam so brightly, you could see your lucid reflection on them. How he’d hold you so tightly, you felt nothing but his warmth after he passionately made love to you for hours.

How did you get here? You had lost count of how many times you had fought with Steve Rogers. Small sparks of fire growing into a massive one, burning the entire house down. You could feel the heat all over the room when his voice roars so loud and your words cracked through your lips due to the unwanted tears threatening to fall.

Hurtful words were tossed, if the walls could talk, they’d tell you the lunacy that echoed night and day when you and Steve are going at it. You two were crazy, mad people in love. Or at least you used to be. Not only him who changed after the Accords, but so did you. You became more reticent, more practical, and more indignant.

Whenever you were on stealthy missions, Steve would always order you around like you were nothing but a fellow soldier. He’d talk down on you like there was no history between you when you disagree with him. Whenever you made the slightest mistake, he’d deprecate you like you were a delinquent, untamed child.

Sam and Natasha were aware of the lingering tension in the room when you two were on bad terms, but they didn’t know how excruciating it could get behind closed doors. Whenever you stared into his electric blue eyes, you didn’t find the same vivacity or earnestness anymore. All you sensed was rage and darkness.

Darkness so steep and hollow, that sometimes you’d find yourself getting lost and trapped in them. Like he could devour you and crush you by a single fist of his palm. Deep down, you wanted to get your Steve back. The considerate and faithful man you fell in love with. The man who would bring you flowers from his morning run because they just reminded him of you. The man who would kiss your shoulders in the morning to gently wake you up, because he didn’t have the heart to disturb your peaceful state, but he needed to hear your voice.

Often times, you’d wonder if it was still possible to go back to the way you used to be. But he had been so hardened by the arduous circumstances now, that it sounds like a fairytale if you could go more than 5 minutes to have a decent conversation.

“Fuck you, Steve! You don’t fucking get to tell me what to do, you hear me?”

“Yes, I do! I’m your Captain. Watch your language.”

“I don’t fucking care. You are not the Captain anymore. You ungrateful asshole! I can’t believe I stuck with you after you became a criminal. You don’t fucking deserve it. You don’t fucking deserve me.”

“What are you gonna do, sweetheart? You’re gonna run back to the compound and sign the Accords? Well, guess what? The first thing they’re gonna do as soon as you show your pretty little face, is they’d cuff you up. And when they lock you up in the Raft, I’m not going back to save you ass.”

“I don’t fucking need you to. I’d rather be locked up in the middle of the Atlantic ocean rather than spending one more goddamn second with your grumpy, irritating ass.”

He stayed silent. His back was to you now. His shoulder slumped as he leaned his hands on the table. He listened to your hasty movements as you stormed into the bedroom that you hadn’t shared in a while. Since you two had been at each other’s throats nearly every day, he’d sleep on the couch while you get the bed.

The truth is, Steve still loved you just as deeply. But things had changed, and he couldn’t pretend that everything was okay just because he was still madly in love with you. He had to be tougher now, he constantly had to watch his back. He couldn’t afford to be distracted even for just one second when the whole world was looking for him and the entire country wanted him penalized.

He also had to be hard on you, because you knew that if any of you let your guard down, you’d be doomed. You could be caught. Or worse, you could be killed. Not only the villains who wanted you dead now… Thaddeus Ross had made it clear that if it’s necessary, he wouldn’t hesitate on shooting any of you on sight.

So he tried to forget the man that he was, stripped himself out of the Captain America mantle, and lived as Nomad now. He was fine with that, although it took him a while to get used to the slummy hotel rooms or sometimes, abandoned safe houses. And Nomads don’t maintain a lovey-dovey relationship and kiss each other dearly while cleaning each other off in the shower.

No, Nomads creep in the shadow and have each other’s backs in combats. Even if it means one of them had to be the meaner guy. As long as his allies were safe and returned in one piece, then that’s all that matters. He couldn’t care any less if they no longer liked him as a comrade.

And the thought of losing you terrified the shit out of his soul. The kind that he couldn’t shake away because somewhere, deep down, he knew it was inevitable. This line of work didn’t promise him safety insurance. Literally and figuratively, now that he was no longer claimed by the government or the Avengers.

So if talking to you as if you were nothing but a fellow soldier will remind you that you both no longer had the luxury to plan your next date night or cuddle in the sheets at night to keep each other warm, then he was going to do what’s necessary.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear you pack up your bags and stepped out of the room with your travel bag in your shoulder. You didn’t have that many personal belongings anyway. When he stole the Quinjet, you couldn’t go back to the compound to pack up all of your stuff and say your farewell to the rest who stayed, so along the way, you bought just enough clothes to have something to wear other than your battle gear. So most of your things were left in the compound, just like the entire journey over 5 years with the Avengers.

Steve and you had said a lot of things neither of you really meant when things were heated up, but he could live with that as long as you were safe and he could keep an eye on you. He’d let you have your moment of tranquility, knowing that when daylight comes, you’ll have to fight another day and bleed.

He thought that tonight was just another night where you two claw each other’s skin but would act as if nothing happened last night in front of Sam and Natasha. You had threatened to leave more times than he could count but you never did it. Just like the rest of the things you said. Meaningless contempt.

But this time, you were out of your mind. You really could be such a force to be reckoned with sometimes. That’s why he fell in love with you in the first place, but it would often drive him crazy too. And not the good kind.

He turned around and saw you sprinting toward the door. You were dressed in all black; black jacket, black shirt, black jeans, and black sneakers. He was confused at what you were doing but he maintained his calm posture and stayed in the same spot where he had been standing, with his hands on his hips.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“I’m leaving. I can’t spend one more goddamn second with you. I’m done.”

Steve didn’t even try to hide his panic. He really thought you were joking or maybe you were going somewhere to calm your head, then you’d come back. But no, you were really leaving this time.

“Hey, hey! Don’t be fucking ridiculous. You are not going anywhere.”

“Yes, I am. And you can’t stop me.”

“Stop acting stupid and just calm down for a sec.” He reached out for you but you flinched, not wanting to hear any more of his bollocks.

“Get your fucking hands off me, Steve. Before I break every single one of your fingers.” You swatted his hand.

Suddenly, his demeanor changed. You saw it in his eyes, the flash of that shift. The one that you had been seeing a lot these days. The alteration from Steve Rogers to Captain America. Or more suitably, America’s Golden Boy to The Most Wanted Criminal. You’d be lying if you weren’t a tad frightened by that darkness in him, but you weren’t going to lay it out on your hands and present it to him. You were no coward.

Rest in peace, to your naive bravado… Your headlessness had backfired.

Steve slammed you into the wall behind you as he grabbed you by the throat, inching his face closer to yours. You could hear his labored breathing, sweeping on your skin, his eyes glared at you, locking you in place.

Your hands immediately went to his, trying to break free out of his tightening grip, cutting off your airway. “S-Steve…” You tried to get him off of you by striking his face, but he still wouldn’t relent. He immediately dragged you to the couch, as you nearly stumbled on your feet.

“You think you can just run and leave me? Stupid girl. Looks like you need a reminder of your place.”

“St- Steve! Stop!” As your back hit the couch. You tried to stand on your feet but was abruptly stopped by his hand on your shoulders, pushing you back down. “Shut the fuck up.” He grabbed your waist as he turned you around, so you were reclined on your chest. His hand immediately went to grab a fistful of your hair as he whispered into your ears, “you really wanna push my limits huh? Riling me up like a stupid little brat, thinking you can get away with it. Hell no. I’m gonna show you the consequences of your foolishness, little girl.”

Then he slammed you back down as he immediately pulled down your pants with your underwear along with it. You thrashed your body, trying to push him away but it was futile. Steve lifted up your hips, so you were standing on your knees. Then you felt a harsh smack on your ass, eliciting a raw yelp out of you. He did it once more, and more, and more, until your tears started to leak out of the corner of your eyes. You lost your ability to speak, trembling from the excruciating pain.

Just when you thought the torment was over, you heard the clank of his buckle as you instantly turned around to see what he was doing. The hastened glance was enough to verify your fear. You immediately pushed yourself on your hands and attempted to get up but you couldn’t as he quickly pushed you back down with his massive hand and held you there. His other hand went to his cock as he lined himself up to your entrance, intruding your body violently without any warning.

His hand that was on your back, went to your other hand along with the other, to pin them behind your back as strictly as a cuff. Then he began to drive his hips into you until he was fully seated. He groaned due to the pleasure. He slammed back into you and out. He repeated his motion until you couldn’t help but feel the tightening coil inside of you. He startled you in your hazy state with another spank on your ass. You squealed.

“I can feel your cunt tightening around me, little girl. See? I told you you could never leave me. You belong to me. Only I can make you feel this good.” He gritted between his vigorous thrusts. You couldn’t even focus on his mortifying words anymore when you could feel your climax was approaching. You were so close. A few more slams by his hips and then, you fell apart.

You moaned in pleasure as your release was prolonged by his still unrelenting thrusts, attempting to reach his own climax. You closed your eyes in bliss, as you could feel the fight in you had drained. You couldn’t think of anything else or remember the way you ended up being fucked hard on this couch. You were still lying in the same position, with your face pressed on the couch and hands restrained behind your back as you heard Steve groaned from behind you.

You could feel his warm cum unleashed deep inside you as Steve pushed a few shallow thrusts to deplete every drop of semen. When he was completely finished, he pulled out of you and unloose your wrists as he sat on the couch. You were paralyzed. Despite him not holding you down anymore, you still couldn’t find the energy or will in yourself to move or carry on with your plan.

You were too wearied to start any altercation anymore so you just laid there as your eyes started to droop. Before you were completely dazed out, a gravel voice whispered to you like the sound of the wind blowing; subtle but crystal. “I’m not done with you yet, babygirl. I’ve got all night to remind you who you belong to.”

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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Hot take that all of the bats are theatre kids but on varying ends of the spectrum. Like Dick? 110% the legitimate performer. Jason? Just here cause he's weirdly obsessed with Shakespeare. Tim is the kid manning the stage effects. I haven't broken down the rest of them yet but I know in my bones that it works. Stephanie's probably a diva or always plays the fool

Yessssssss. Theater is absolutely the one thing that could unite them. Chaotically. Also potentially disastrously. Eh, semantics.

But Dick is of course a ham and I do believe he genuinely enjoys ‘taking a break from himself’ to immerse himself behind a cover identity.....but more than that, I honestly believe he’d love directing and putting his skills with coaxing potential out of people individually or in groups to use for something purely hobby-ish.

Jason I also see as someone who potentially could love acting for a similar reason I see as behind his love of reading....its the vacation from the self or his own life, the trip in someone else’s shoes or story. Through books, and also acting, the ‘you can be anything you set your mind to’ thing has actual practicality.

Tim I could see enjoying being the tech guy, but also I could see him liking the directing side of things too, or actually lots of different parts of the process, from script to stage.....like, I dislike when fandom focuses overly much on Tim as the tech guy because it tends to go hand in hand with acting like everyone else but Babs is clueless at such stuff, and also death to the instinctive correlation between smarts and tech like that’s the only possible place to showcase genius or the obvious go-to for how to show a smart person is smart, death to that I say, death and murder and also annihilation. But more than that its that IMO its not tech that Tim likes/focuses on in particular, its workshopping stuff. Taking something from idea to fruition, and being responsible for shepherding its progress every step of the way.

Cass of course loves dancing and everything to do with it, but another headcanon I’ve always had is that Cass potentially could love choreographing dance. If dance appeals to Cass because its spoken in her first language, that of movement and the body, think about the potential that lies in not just the fact that dance innately is meant to put everyone else for once on the same page as her, watching the dancer for the story they’re telling with their movements.....but through choreographing others, Cass has the opportunity to tell stories of her own for other people to ‘hear’....again, in that same language so to speak. To communicate through others’ movements the way others’ movements normally just speak to her.

Damian I could see a case being made for him gravitating to literally any aspect of theater first out of his innate competitiveness....if his siblings have a skill, he wants to prove its perfectly within his own capabilities as well....but then discovering that oh no, he actually likes a lot of this, what trickery is this, he has been bamboozled, clearly Grayson is behind this, this....insidious attempt to....make him do things just because he “enjoys” them. What utter rot. And other such thoughts and inner rantings that all just further provide proof that this boy was BORN to monologue, and oh look, a stage for such monologues. Also, stage combat? Okay, having to pull his actual punches irks, but the applause for knocking a class rival to the ground instead of censure because he was directed to, look its literally in the script......that’s a plus. Because Damian’s unique form of middle-school Machiavellianism is such that he absolutely would audition for a role for no other reason than the role calls for doing something terrible to the character of someone he immensely dislikes (or just finds tedious, hey its a spectrum), and getting to spend a couple hours every week doing so is catharctic in a way the family isn’t entirely sure they want to encourage but hey, can’t argue with results.

Duke I also could see taking a lot of different routes, but I think he’s another one who would do really well in the director’s chair, coaxing potential classmates didn’t even know they had out of a performance. In the sense that yeah, I think he’s one of the closest to Dick personality wise so a lot of the reasons I see that being ideal for Dick are why I see it working for him as well, but also just like....the way it naturally calls back to the fact that part of his meta powers is he literally boosts the powers of other metas. He has a knack for bringing stuff out of people.

Stephanie is the understudy that’s just there to goof off and have fun, its a nice, relaxing A and that’s the only reason she’s in theater class or using drama club as an extracurricular that can afford her skipping a rehearsal or two or three.....but for all her big talk of “Pffft, nerds, I just came for the stage combat class and stayed because I forgot what else I was going to do’.....she just happens to know all the lines and mouths them along with the actors on stage and gets personally offended when they mess up because they’re doing it BADLY and ugh are they trying to suck this hard or are they just naturally gifted at that part, here, lemme show you how its done, and that’s how she accidentally rom-com scenarios her way into being the star of the show two hours before curtain call or else the plucky impromptu interim director when the real one quits in a fit of high school theater histrionics, or y’know, is made to quit when Stephanie incites a mutiny among the cast because that’s kinda plausible to tbh. Look, there are options here is all I’m saying.

And then Babs as well I see as being not so much in a particular single role at the exception of all others, but whatever puts her most in the driver’s seat of taking something from idea to opening night, like starting with a script maybe, hell even just the line producer or script supervisor, and then accidentallying her way into more and more creative responsibilities and control because the parts just start to come together more easily/readily when she’s rearranging the pieces into orders and in ways that make more sense to others and they find themselves gravitating to, because maybe this was just a local community thing people were doing for fun or to blow off steam but without even noticing a change it starts to take more and more shape as an actual thing as she finds her groove and sees how to improve on this scene here or tighten up things here or what happens when these two actors swap roles and then almost belatedly people are like oh wait, this doesn’t just HAVE to be fun hobby shenanigans this could also be something actually good too, weird thought, hey did anyone else know things could be both fun AND good? Is this a thing or are we in uncharted waters here.

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buckleysjareau · 4 years

Text

masterpost of all of my fics

!hey hey, here’s mostly everything i’ve ever written for 9-1-1 and Criminal Minds. Reblog if you like any of them, and always come back to check and see if it’s updated. It’ll always be pinned. :) Everything under the read more line!

AO3: 9-1-1

Buck Goes To Pride (buddie, getting together)

Thinking back to that cold winter afternoon when Buck broke down in her arms after the shit show that was his coming out, she never thought she'd be helping her brother get ready for Pride. He shut that part of himself away for a long time. But eleven years later, she's handing her brother a box with a pride flag in it, and he's grinning from ear to ear.

Buck goes to his first pride featuring his journey of coming out, lots of hugging, and Hen being the best.

...or you could have mine? (buddie, pre-relatioship)

There's too much going on between his agitation, people talking over each other, the way his uniform feels more scratchy than it ever has, and the bright lights. He can't sit still and he knows he's starting to annoy everyone but he can't help it no matter how much he wishes he could with his medication.

ADHD Buck

agree to disagree (buddie, getting together, friendship)

Whoever thought a night of heavy drinking between Buck, Eddie and Chimney was a good idea, were out of their minds. When sober, they were idiots but shot after shot of tequila plus the couple of beers they each had before meeting up multiplied the absolute stupidity of the three men.

Buck, Eddie, and Chimney get wasted and Athena wins a bet.

i put a spell on you (buddie, getting together)

Eddie Diaz absolutely loved Halloween. Ever since he was an excitable eight year old boy he’d been known to go all out for the holiday. Twenty-four years and a son had not changed that.

4k+ words of Eddie being happy, scaring his friends, and loving Halloween.

baby you know i just wanna leave tonight (buddie, pre-relationship)

If there was one thing that people knew about Evan Buckley, it was that he didn’t want people to know him.

People find out more about Buck then he ever wanted them to know when the Buckley’s come to town.

i woke up from a never ending dream (buddie, getting together)

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Sensing the urgency, Eddie jogs the rest of the way. He doesn’t know what he’s really expecting, his mind not entirely focused, but for the second time that night, Buck surprises him.

“Buck?!”

Where Buck is going through it and Eddie has anxiety but they help each other through it. Featuring pet names and lovesick Eddie.

you feel like the sun on my face (buddie, established relationship)

Buck has a way of doing things and saying things that even in Eddie’s worst moods, he still can’t fight his smile.

Eddie's view on Buck's Wikipedia spirals and the beginning of the brilliant idea it inspires.

Part 1 of 3 in the ‘cause of i’m not too far and you’re my favorite place series

you feel like the perfect escape now (buddie, established relationship)

"In the symbolic language of jewels, a sapphire in a wedding ring means marital happiness."

Eddie planning his proposal with the help of Hen and Karen. Featuring good ol' Buck and Chimney banter, soft and in love boyfriends, and tooth rotting fluff.

Part 2 of 3 in the ‘cause i’m not too far and you’re my favorite place series

everything is blue (may + buck friendship, buddie, getting together)

When Evan Buckley is ten, he discovers nail polish.

In which Buck paints his nails, Eddie is flustered, and May is a matchmaker.

it weighs on me (buddie, established relationship)

The bad weather is gone, except it’s not.

In which Buck has a bad day and Eddie holds him through it.

101.9 (buddie, getting together)

Evan Buckley did not get sick.

Based on a tumblr prompt where Buck’s fever won’t fuck off so Eddie makes him take a cold bath.

when i’m walking in my sleep (buddie, getting together)

He finds that maybe he’s a little in over his head when Buck greets him with a loopy smile. He’s just a tiny bit in love with Evan Buckley, and having dealt with post-surgery Buck before, Eddie is sure his heart might burst with every zany grin and stage-whispered expression of appreciation.

Eddie takes care of a loopy Buck after he gets his screws removed, and truths come out.

you’re in my heart (buddie, established relationship)

"I will not be broken... I will not be... fine, fine, you win! Stop with the face."

Eddie sings Buck to sleep after he finds out Eddie can sing.

we’ll be fine, you and i (buddie, established relationship)

He couldn’t believe his luck. He never imagined he’d be able to have this and now, he’s here. He has everything he could ask for and more in his boyfriend’s arms. Stability, happiness, love.

dizzy hurricane (buddie, pre-relationship)

“I’m a medic,” Buck mocks. “You’re a medic, but you can’t take care of yourself, apparently!”

Eddie refuses to admit he’s sick and finds his medic expertise is unreliable when it comes to himself.

tongue forgot the words and feet forgot the earth, it’s true (buddie, established relationship)

Eddie feels like he’s drowning in insurance payments, tuition raises, overbearing parents and anxiety. Things had definitely been worse on him when he didn’t have a whole new support system on his side but things just kept piling on, one after another, it was impossible for him not to feel suffocated. Every muscle in his body was sore from being completely tensed all of the time, the lack of sleep was getting to him, he’s in a foul mood to everyone that loves him. He just wants a break, needs a break.

Eddie finally gets a second to breathe.

you are my glitter and my gloom, i am so numb without you (buddie, getting together)

But right now, with Eddie by his side, he doesn’t worry. For the first time in almost a year, he doesn’t have to worry.

Buck has a flashback, or six, after the landslide. Eddie is there to bring him back, like always.

double vision wrapped in last night’s party clothes (buck centric, pre-relationship buddie)

"I have always been honest with you." When Eddie's voice cracks, Buck's composure almost cracks with it. "Why can't you just be honest with me?"

When Buck is let in on a long kept family secret, he doesn't know what to do. He almost ruins things with the one person that keeps him from feeling like he's floating away with no way to land, but it ultimately turns out okay with help of a little communication.

safe, better keep that thought to yourself (madney)

But days after, he still can’t stop hearing it in his head, over and over.

I love you, Howie. I love you, Howie. I love you, Howie. I love you, Howie.

with friends like ours anywhere is home (buck & tk, background buddie)

[@evanbuckley: you have two new follow requests.] @marjanmarwani would like to follow you. @tkstrand would like to follow you.

@tkstrand liked your photo. @tkstrand liked your photo. @tkstrand liked your video.

@tkstrand So, I see you have a boyfriend, too. I’m sorry for assuming haha

Wait, what?

Buck and TK’s long distance friendship featuring love advice, horrible nicknames and background Buddie.

wish i could keep you in amber, safe from the outside (buddie)

Neither of them say anything as Eddie takes shelter in Buck’s arms, face tucked in the crook of his neck, sheltered from all the bad that’s happened. A safe place.

He can only hope that he’s Buck’s safe place, too.

In which Eddie and Buck are struggling after the shooting and they finally have a much needed talk.

AO3: Criminal Minds

you light my fire (jemily, AU)

Emily's face stays complacent as JJ reaches out her hand to shake, only dropping the smug act and smiling genuinely when she reaches for JJ's hand. "Welcome to the team, Pennsylvania Petite."

Jemily Firefighter AU

Tumblr: 9-1-1

“i saw this and i thought of you immediately.” (buddie)

keep you warm (henren)

wheels up, buck (9-1-1, criminal minds crossover)

stand, you’re gonna run again (buck centric, buck & bobby)

bows and ribbons and glitter (buck & chimney, madney)

“i believe that would be murder” (buddie, pre-relationship)

mac-and-cheesy (buddie, established relationship)

his saving grace (buddie, pre-relationship, buck centric)

what i love about the south (pre-relationship buddie)

unconditional, unadulterated (buddie, getting together)

home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling (buck & athena)

he’s special, they’re special (madney, meet-cute)

Tumblr: Criminal Minds

rough nights end in hot chocolate (garvez)

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literaltrashforeverything · 3 years

Text

obnoxious songs they blast while picking you up | pt. 1

Ft. Daichi, Sugawara, Tanaka, Hinata, Kuroo, Yaku, Oikawa, Matsukawa, Hanamaki, Daisho

Warnings: Language, dorky boys, some songs are 18+ lmao sorry kids

A/n: I don’t really know where this idea came from. I was just vibing and listening to music and had the epiphany that I listen to obnoxious shit and decided to put some of them into writing and then it turned into this lol. I feel like half the boys in this show are petty as fuck and would do this just because of a small fight. This is also published to Ao3 and there will be a part 2!

Daichi – Bad Boys from COPS

This fucker probably pulls up to your job in a police car, windows rolled down, and blasts this song. Everyone in the general vicinity is just staring. You are too, but you’re staying in place because your husband is the worst human on earth.

He points at you and motions for you to get in the car, smirking.

You can’t even see his eyes. He’s wearing the classic cop aviators.

Honestly, fuck this guy.

You’re head is lowered as you shamble toward the car, face red, before getting in the passenger seat.

“I’m never asking you to pick me up again, Daichi.”

“Awe, you love it, babe. Plus you’re riding in style.”

This isn’t what you’d call style, especially when he blasting this particular song.

He even has the audacity to turn on the sirens and the lights as he drives away from your workplace.

You’ll have your revenge. . .

Sugawara – Can-Can by Offenbach

You think the person pulling up in a car that’s blasting Can-Can is a genius while also being extremely annoying, until you realize that’s your genius but annoying ass husband.

Sugawara rolls down the window and smirks at you. He’s trying to look cool, doing the whole single-hand on the steering wheel and one arm out the window thing.

And really, he would look cool if he wasn’t playing Can-Can.

“Twerk for me babe.”

You pull the hood of your jacket up and awkwardly walk to the car.

Your face is bright red, but let’s be real, the second you are both in the car together you’re headbutting your asses off to Can-Can because it’s an amazing song.

Fuck y’all if you disagree.

(Jk I love you anyway)

Yeah, he blasts Can-Can a lot at home just because it's amazing.

Usually he does it before cleaning the house because it's very motivating.

Tanaka – Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes

First off, this is the best song that’s ever been created in the history of music.

You can fight me on that.

Anyway-

Tanaka pulls up in your guys’ mini van because it just had the oil changed, and as payback for making him drive a mini van, he thinks he’ll be a little cooler if he just blasts the most badass song ever.

It’s really not. . .

Everyone is staring at Tanaka because for some reason your mini van has hella bass so it’s just vibrating everything in the general vicinity.

You stare at him, smiling, but internally raging. Your husband stares back, smirking widely and very mischievously.

He even dares to lean over the passenger seat and open the door for you.

“C’mon, baby. Get in and be cool with me.”

Hinata – Fur Elise by Beethoven (Klutch Dubstep Remix)

He’s not even trying to be embarrassing. He’s just legitimately vibing with this song when he picks you up.

He probably just got out of volleyball practice, too, so he’s in a tanktop and shorts, sunglasses on his head, and looks like he’s on top of the world as he waits for you to come over to where he’s pulled up and he’s literally headbanging to the song.

It takes you like a whole minute before you realize that’s literally your husband.

You’re like *surprised pikachu face*.

Just let him vibe. . . Don’t ruin his vibe. . .

You just go to the car and get in the passenger seat quietly. He doesn’t even notice because he’s vibing so hard. He’s doing hand movements and everything, as if he’s the one playing the piano.

When the song ends and he sees you sitting there, his face just lights up.

“Hey, baby! How was work?”

You smile and go on to tell him about your day. You don’t bother to tell him that your entire workplace just witnessed him aggressively headbanging to Fur Elise.

Kuroo – WAP by Cardi B feat. Megan Thee Stallion (but the Rihanna S&M mashup)

You and your husband had a fight earlier that morning. It was over basically nothing (it was about you not making him breakfast because you woke up late -.- This petty fucker—), and you did not apologize to him.

Never let a fight linger with Kuroo’s petty ass.

You watch your husband’s car pull up to the curb, where you’re waiting for him. The music could literally be heard from three blocks away.

Kuroo rolls down the window, smirking, and turns to you.

Deadass, this fucker is shirtless, and wearing aviator sunglasses that he casually pulls down to look at you from over the rim. His hair is even slicked back and he looks hot.

His arm is dangling over the steering wheel and the song is just blasting.

“Hey, kitten~”

Your face is absolutely burning. Everyone in the general vicinity is staring at this shirtless, attractive motherfucker who you unfortunately chose to marry.

“I’m not making you breakfast for a week, Kuroo.”

You don’t even call him by his first name even though you literally have the same last name as him.

“What!? >:(“

This is probably how he picks you up everyday until you make him breakfast.

Yaku – S my D by Blood on the Dancefloor

This is another case of the man being a petty bitch because of a minor fight.

You may or may not have called your husband short earlier this morning, and you both laughed it off after he scolded you for calling him short. You genuinely thought it was over with until. . .

. . . he’s picking you up for work.

You didn’t even know this song existed until this exact moment, but the lyrics are so vulgar.

Yaku has all the windows down and is screaming this song as it blasts from the speakers.

You deadass just turn around and pretend you don’t know him.

You’re literally five seconds away from just walking home, honestly.

“Isn’t that your husband, Yaku-chan?” one of your coworkers asks.

You glance at the car where your husband is still jamming.

“Hm, nope. Don’t know that guy. What a weirdo.”

Yeah, everyone knows you’re married to that lunatic but no one says anything.

Oikawa – I’m a Barbie Girl by Aqua

Why wouldn’t he? This fucker probably thinks he’s a living Ken doll.

Jk, but seriously.

You guys had a fight a whole week ago about his haircut. All you said was that he should cut it a little because it was growing into his eyes and he gasps like you’ve just murdered his whole family.

Yeah, he’s dramatic.

So, the next time you ask him to pick you up from work? Well, he’s obviously playing this song and he’s actually jamming to it.

He’s wearing sunglasses and staring at you like he’s staring into your soul.

He only sings the Ken parts and points at you at the Barbie parts like he expects you to actually sing back.

You’re so embarrassed because everyone is staring.

Everyone, and I mean everyone, knows the obvious implications of the song so all the older people around are mildly horrified.

“C’mon, Barbie. Let’s go home,” Oikawa says, winking.

You’ve never wanted to murder your husband as bad as you do right now.

Matsukawa – Skibidi by Little Big

First off, go watch the music video if you haven’t.

. . is this even a surprise?

Your husband is chaotic and he probably forced you to learn the dance with him. You both will randomly turn it on at inopportune moments and fully expect the other person to start the dance (someone do this with me).

You shouldn’t be surprised when your husband pulls up, looking innocent, before beginning to blare the song with all the windows rolled down.

Suddenly he looks like a maniac with the way he’s grinning.

Your jaw drops to the ground and you just stand there for a moment in shock.

Your face is bright red but you’re smiling stubbornly as you begin the horrific dance.

Matsukawa laughs. He literally gets out of the car and starts dancing with you like an idiot.

Everyone is watching in awe and honestly they should be jealous that you guys have so much fun.

Best husband.

Hanamaki – I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) by The Proclaimers

This is probably a common occurrence honestly. This bitch is chaotic as shit so if you think he wasn’t going to be harassing you every time he picks you up then you’re wrong.

At this point it’s just a challenge to see how far he can go.

Pulls up blaring this song and rolls down the window revealing him to be wearing a beach-themed button up (ya know, the classic dad ones) and he’s smirking like a fucking maniac.

Points at you just before the chorus.

You’re smiling like an idiot because he’s just so stupid and lovable.

“I WOULD WALK 500 MILES AND I WOULD WALK 500 MORE~!!”

He’s screaming so loud that you can’t believe his vocal chords haven’t snapped.

Maki starts doing the rope-pull thing and you play along and go to the car.

Yes, you guys sit in the parking lot screaming that song together until it ends.

Honestly, everyone at your workplace just thinks your husband is the coolest guy ever.

Daisho – Daddy by PSY

Probably thought he was the funniest guy on the face of the Earth when he pulled up to your job blaring this song. He looks like a real cool guy, too.

Sunglasses, short-sleeved shirt to show off muscular biceps, slicked hair.

Ya man has the whole shebang.

You just stare at him, jaw dropped when Daisho turns to you with a smirk. He’s nudges his sunglasses down a little to look at you over the rim.

“Hey, babe,” he greets, too casually for your liking.

The music is so loud that you barely even hear him.

His smirk only stretches wider when he sees your growing embarrassment.

“C’mon, you like my body, just admit it!” he calls.

You get into the car before he can keep talking. You quickly roll up your window but the other three are still down and you know in your heart that there’s no escaping your husband’s will to embarrass you.

“I’ll get payback.”

“Sure you will, babe.”

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fogsrollingin · 4 years

Text

Title: Flinch Author: fogsrollingin fandom: Supernatural Story details: Sam & Dean, rated PG-13, 1.8k words. Summary: Dean had beaten him to a pulp and almost murdered him with Death's damned scythe. What did that do to Sam? This is my newest entry for @whumptober2020! Prompts filled are No. 6 “Stop, please” and No. 16 “Forced to Beg.” There’s some conceptual overlap there so to be explicit I hit both prompts, the literal phrases were included in this story. Available on AO3

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　Flinch　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Sam flinched around Dean now.

It took a couple times for Dean to realize it was him. He thought Sam was just being jumpy about the case or their immediate surroundings but then he did it in the library when it was just Dean walking up to him. A suppressed shudder, and then Sam's familiar eyes, today a murky gray green, gazing at him with forced airiness, hiding something darker, something like fear. Or the memory of it.

That night, Dean paused as he took off his red button-up. It was what he’d been wearing… but it couldn’t be. It probably wasn’t. He was reading too much into things.

After a good night's sleep, Dean decided he wouldn't do anything. Ignoring it until it went away was a tried and true method sometimes and it was worth a shot in this instance. It wasn't like he'd ever hurt Sam like that in his right mind and Sam had to know that. His little brother’s subconscious flinching just needed to hop onboard too. With enough time of Dean just being himself around Sam, it would.

So that was fine. Amara was still roaming the Earth as a rapidly growing child and they had cases to solve, monsters to hunt and people to save. Sam still flinched. Dean stopped wearing his red shirt which helped but Sam still recoiled if Dean quickly walked up to him or hovered over him in any way. He hadn’t realized how often he loomed over Sam while Sam was on the laptop until he couldn’t. Just in general though, the sheer amount of time they spent living and working next to each other, walking up and hovering happened a lot and Sam was only getting worse, not better about it. His flinches turned to startled jumps or pronounced shakes and it was starting to cut a little deep for Dean.

He wasn't angry. Maybe at himself but not Sam, not when Dean could remember back to that fight. He'd punched Sam while he was down so many times and Sam was forced to beg him to stop. Every time he visited that memory he was horrified by his own actions, this sense of corruption and evil singing through him, convincing him that to murder the most important person in his life, his last remaining family, the central source of comfort and stability and love...

The guilt was overwhelming. The dread was there too, knowing Sam had lived through it and still remained by his side. What was that doing to him? How does he stay with someone who beat him to a pulp and almost murdered him with Death's damned scythe?

Dean had his answer though, didn't he?

It was just over a month later that Sam made the move to avoid Dean's touch altogether.

They were in a motel room. Dean was on the bed, Sam at the little table in front of the window. Dean had found something in a case file and extended it to Sam. When their hands touched Sam spooked, causing Dean to grip the folder back so it wouldn't fall.

"Just take the damn case file," he snapped, getting up and dropping it on Sam's laptop. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed the last beer from the six-pack he'd picked up a few hours ago after lunch. Sam hadn't had any; Dean was the only one using alcohol for a decent night's sleep. It was only after he'd popped the cap that he remembered he couldn't go out for more because it was a Sunday and they'd just crossed into Massachusetts. Blue laws were the worst.

He sighed and leaned against the wall separating the kitchen area from their beds, holding his beer by the neck. Sam was reading the file.

"When are we gonna talk about this, Sammy?"

Maybe Dean was buzzed. Hadn't he told himself he'd just ignore it?

Sam made a face, shook his head like he had no idea. "What?"

"Really?" Dean scoffed. He stared at Sam expectantly. Sam stared right back, bewildered. "You flinch when I come near sometimes, you're so damn jumpy around me and now you can't..." Dean trailed off. He'd started off so strong, even a little accusatory but now regret and sorrow colored his next words. "Now you can't even touch my hand without doing it, man."

Sam's jaw clenched, his eyes remained fixed on him but they glistened so Dean knew he'd hit a well of emotion somewhere. He just didn't know if Sam was up to facing it. Because facing it should really be on Sam's terms, not his. These were Sam’s problems, to deal with in whatever way Sam chose and for however long he needed. And yet Dean had brought it up and laid it all out and he couldn't take it back, so here they were.

Sam looked at the file folder and coughed. "I, uh, I think you're right about the coroner's report," he offered stiltedly. Dean took a deep breath, disappointed but not surprised, and nodded along with him. "The language is nonstandard and vague. We should pay him a visit tomorrow."

Dean took a long pull from his beer. "Yeah." He burped. Sam made a face. Dean huffed a laugh. They were fine. They were… fine.

---

"Stop!" Sam cried and Dean jerked up in bed.

"Sammy? What... what time is it?"

"Please. No more, s' enough, please," Sam whispered breathlessly. Dean could make out the silhouette of his little brother's chest heaving, his hands were up, shaking, as though pressing against something above. "Please, stop..."

Dean bit his lip, uncertain. His heart wrenched as Sam's voice sounded so young. "Please? Dean?"

Dean shot out of bed, the guilt eating him alive as he came around to Sam.

"Sam? Sammy," Dean breathed heavily, taking in the tear tracks along Sam's face, glinting in the dark.

Dean ignored the sting in his nose, his own eyes welling as he grasped Sam's hands from the air and wiped the sweaty, disarray hair off his face. "Sam, wake up, it's a nightmare, c'mon." He kept his tone low and even despite his desperation for it to end. He'd wondered what it did to Sam, to be beaten by the man who'd witnessed his entire life with love, to kneel for his own execution by that man's hand. He kept getting a better picture of the fallout today and it made everything so much worse.

Dean tugged Sam's hair a little. "Sammy, please. Wake up." They needed to talk. He needed to tell him.

Sam's eyelids fluttered anxiously, his eyes rolled under their lids, his body shuddered under Dean's hands and he finally startled awake with a gasp.

"Dean?!" Sam threw his hands up in defense but Dean caught them, braced him. Sam struggled weakly.

"It's okay, it was a dream," Dean soothed.

Sam went limp then tensed again. He shook his head. "I don't know what-" Sam's voice broke, betraying him. He glanced away. Glossy eyes reflected the blue neon motel sign across the blacktop. Dean realized he was still holding Sam's hands but instead of pulling away, he carefully reached out and pressed a palm to Sam's chest. His heart beat sped up under his hand until finally Sam faced him. His expression was so insecure, defiance battling dependence on his big brother and if Dean didn't do something soon he was going to break.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he said, soft and calm and Sam's chin quivered. "I'm so sorry. I was wrong. I hurt you," Dean's voice broke and Sam's face screwed up, started to cry. He was quiet. Dean let him have his hands so he could cover his face. "I hurt you so much and... I didn't..." A single tear dripped down Dean's cheek. He sniffed. "I should've apologized earlier. We should've talked about this earlier. Because you're having nightmare flashbacks and I'm drinking so much I hadn't noticed until now..." Dean trailed off when Sam turned his back to him in bed, buried his face in his pillow, shoulders still shaking with muted sobs.

Dean bit his lip, feeling cold and like he was getting what he deserved, to have Sam turn his back on him. But at the same time Dean was who Sam counted on in times like these, so... what? What was he supposed to do?

He rubbed a hand down his face and murmured "fuck it" as he opened the covers.

"Dean, seriously?" But Sam's voice was wet but there was a hint of amusement underneath the sarcasm.

"Shut up. Stop crying," Dean ordered as he wrapped his arms around Sam and spooned up against him. Sam laughed, a real genuine laugh, the first Dean had heard from him in awhile. Dean arranged the covers and Sam settled in, let his hands rest on Dean's along his stomach. Dean relaxed and took a deep breath, scenting the motel's sandalwood shampoo in Sam’s hair, their cheap laundry's fragrance a stale vanilla. Still, underneath it all was his Sam, his silhouette strong, masculine, messy hair and long legs under the covers and only Dean knew how he broke. Only Dean could break him at all.

After a few minutes in the dark, Sam's breathing had gone back to normal and their combined heat was making them drowsy. "Sammy, d'you think... does this help?"

A few moments’ tense silence. Dean thought maybe he should pull back if it was taking Sammy this long to answer

"Yeah." His voice was a little strangled. He was embarrassed. Dean let out a breath of relief and squeezed him.

"Whenever you're going through it, you can come to me, Sam. Like this. I'll never turn you down, okay?"

"Really?" Sam whispered like he was twelve and Dean had just told him a secret.

"Yeah, Sam. I just... I need you to know that I'm... I'm safe." Dean couldn't believe he was admitting this. It helped that they were hidden by darkness, that Sam wasn't even facing him.

He felt Sam nod his head in front of him. "I get it."

Sam wasn't apologizing for being jumpy around him. It occurred to Dean how there was something so correct, so just about that. Dean needed to earn Sam's trust back and it wasn't by ignoring it and going on hunts together hoping that trust would just inexplicably find its way back. It was by being Sam's brother, by saying and doing things that only Dean, uncorrupted and clear-headed, would say and do. Things like wake him up out of nightmares and lie down with him to help him back to sleep. Also stuff like getting him his favorite salads or yogurt parfaits. Dean suppressed a chuckle, having honestly forgotten Sam liked those until just now.

Sam felt him and stiffened. "What?"

"Nothing. Go to sleep, Sammy," Dean whispered, tone fond. He brushed a hand over the back of Sam's head. Sam snugged in closer. Soon they'd overheat and separate but right now they both wanted the closeness.

He felt it when Sam fell asleep in his arms. His breathing had slowed and his heart was a steady drum. Nothing could've reassured Dean more. He fell asleep soon after with the unerring certainty things would get better from here.

Fin

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please comment, like, reblog, what-have-you if you enjoyed. xoxo ~ Alex

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blake-belladonna-defence-force · 4 years

Text

I Know This Is A Little Forward But I Think Our Trucks Are Soulmates

I mentioned that I was tempted to write a bumbleby one shot based off of this post https://blake-belladonna-defence-force.tumblr.com/post/189693694202/eelboy-kaliozzz-two-trucks-finding-their and quite a few of you encouraged me to write it.

I guess it’s a normal au with faunus?

Including little shit Blake who knows you shouldn’t stick a knife in a toaster but refuses to yeld to your rules, a long suffering Weiss and a rather smooth Yang with her little sister just watching the antics with her popcorn.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Just try it! You never know, somebody might have what you need.”

Blake glared at her best friend and roommate, who shrugged.

“Weiss. You’re my oldest friend and I love you.” Blake snorted as Weiss, who still struggled with affection, turned pink. “But nobody on RemnantLog is going to have a fucking black HD hood for my truck.”

“It’s a long shot but you might get lucky.”

“Lucky my ass.” Blake growled, ears pinning. “Okay. You know what? I’ll try it.”

She quickly opened her laptop and logged into her profile as Weiss moved into the kitchen to start lunch.

“If I meet a serial killer, I’m coming for your ass and haunting it, Schnee!” She yelled. “Not that there’s much of it to haunt.”

“What was that?!”

“Nothing!”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Blake Belladonna > Vale Truck Heads

Today at 12:30 pm

Hello. Does anyone have a black HD hood to swap for a yellow one? Or possibly a white one? Preferably in as good condition as possible. Thanks in advance.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Blake hummed to herself quietly as she uploaded the ad, complete with a photo of her black truck with its mismatched yellow hood.

“Blake? Why the fuck is there a knife in my fucking toaster?!” Weiss screeched from the kitchen.

“Our toaster!!” Blake yelled back. “And the stupid toaster wouldn’t release my toast so I used a knife to get it out.”

“One. Do you have no self-preservation, woman?!” Weiss stormed into the living room and glared at her, eye twitching. “Two. How are you not dead?! And 3…” Weiss inhaled slowly, pressing her hands together as she tried to retain some of her dignity. “How have I not killed you myself yet?”

“I’m aware of your little rules.” Blake smirked, enjoying seeing her friend lose her mind a little. “I just don’t care for them. The knife got the toast out, I was careful and you still have your best friend and roommate. Win, win, win.”

Weiss genuinely looked like she was considering murder.

“Both of those titles are becoming more and more debatable by the second.”

Blake snickered behind her hand as Weiss stormed back to the kitchen, muttering obscene language that her family would definitely not approve of.

Blake stood up and stretched, moving to help and placate her roommate lest she poison her during lunch.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Ruby Rose

@Yang Xiao Long Look, sis! Issa hood for bee!

3 hours ago

Yang Xiao Long

@Blake Belladonna Helloooo! I believe our hoods might be perfect for each other?

1 hour ago

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Blake stared at the picture blankly for a moment. It was a perfect match. She shook her head and sent the woman a dm.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Blake Belladonna at 6:00 pm > Hello. I believe that you commented on my post regarding a hood swap?

Yang Xiao Long at 6:10 pm > Hey! Yup! I’ve been trying to find a yellow hood for my baby for ages! D:

Blake Belladonna at 6:17 pm > I’ve been looking for the right colour hood for my truck for a while now, as well, so I sympathise. Perhaps you’d like to swap? We could arrange a time.

Yang Xiao Long at 6:25 pm > Hell yeah! Let’s do this! I’m cool with any time so let me know :D

Blake Belladonna at 6:30 pm > Lovely. The sooner the better, in my humble opinion. I have work tomorrow but I’m free in the evening. But I doubt we could get a mechanic to stay open that long.

Yang Xiao Long at 6:37 > Good thing that you’re talking to one then! I can hook the hoods up no problem :) Just give me the time and place and I’ll be there.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The following evening at 6:30, Blake was pulling into the Dusty Ramen parking lot with Weiss next to her. She had, once again, been pleasantly surprised by Yang when she suggested that they both bring along a friend so that they felt comfortable. Though judging by the girl’s profile picture, she could easily handle herself in a fight.

“There, on the right.” Weiss already sounded bored out of her mind.

As Blake pulled in next to her, a very attractive young blonde woman dressed in flannel, ripped jeans and combat boots hoped off the bed of her yellow truck and gave her a friendly wave. Blake quirked an eyebrow and waved back before getting out and walking over to her.

“Hi, I’m Yang. The owner of your truck’s soulmate.”

Blake froze in shock for a minute before a rather unattractive snort left her and she covered her giggle with her hand.

“Okay. Now that’s an introduction.” Blake said through a smirk. “Can’t say that I’ve heard that one before.”

“Well, I would call you mine but that’s a little forward. Don’t you think?” Yang smiled charmingly at her and oh no…

It was obvious by her profile picture that she was pretty. But no photo could do this woman justice. Athletic, strong, beautiful face with even prettier eyes that exuded a playfulness and kindness…

Oh God help her.

“Blake. You’re my best friend and I love you but I’d rather not watch your bisexual panic.”

“Weiss!” Blake turned to her with a snarl.

“I merely speak the truth.” Weiss said to help with a sniff before turning to Yang. “I have no patience for this. She thinks that you’re hot. Either give her your number or reject her so we can all move on with our lives.”

“I will not hesitate to kill you in your sleep!” Blake hissed, heat creeping up her neck as her ears pressed flat to her head.

“Uh.” Poor Yang sounded more than a little confused. “Thanks?”

“Just…” Blake pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can we pretend that Weiss doesn’t exist? Please?”

“Yaaaaang! I got your pop-“ a younger voice piped up and they all turned to see a younger girl carrying a bag. “Oh! Is that her? You were right! She’s super pretty!”

Blake blinked in surprise when the girl ran over to her and shook her hand.

“It’s awesome to meet you! Yours and Yang’s trucks are kinda like soulmates!”

“My little sister; Ruby Rose, ladies.” Yang muttered with an embarrassed laugh and suddenly, Blake felt a lot better about herself. “Let’s just get this started.”

As Yang removed her flannel, revealing a tank top and some very well defined abs and biceps, Blake found herself staring. As Yang worked on their trucks and swapped their hoods, Blake found herself definitely staring. And getting causing staring by Yang when she turned to ask them for their help. The whole situation was far more mortifying than it should have been.

“Right, you are good to go!” Yang beamed as she carefully shut Blake’s new hood. “Thank you for this.”

“The same to you.” Blake said, far calmer than she felt. Maybe Weiss was right.

“Here.”

Blake let out a yelp as she only just managed to catch the bottles of water that Weiss threw at her and Yang.

“You both looked thirsty.” Weiss smirked as Ruby giggled in the background.

“Oh I am so going to kill her later.” Blake muttered as she lightly smacked her forehead with the bottle.

“I’ll be your alibi if you be mine when I kill my sister.” Yang muttered back, giving Blake a playful wink when she glance up.

Blake his her smile behind her hand and giggled.

“Sure.” She said with an amused eye roll. “Uh. This was… interesting. But I should go. I have work in the morning and-“

“Oh!” Yang coughed. “Of course. I, uh. I’ll let you go.”

The two women made to shake hands but suddenly, Yang tripped, falling into Blake’s arms. The two women froze; Yang’s hands resting on Blake’s collar as Blake’s hand held her up by her biceps. They were close enough that Blake could see that Yang had freckles. Close enough to see that her lilac eyes had flecks of red in them. Close enough that the rest of the world faded away…

Until a giggle and an exasperated sigh made them jump apart.

“Uh, like I said I’ll just… let you go!” Yang grinned nervously, rubbing the back of her neck as she backed towards her car. “See you around, Blake. Rubes, get your smart ass in the car before I kick it.”

“Yeah. See you.” Blake said distantly, getting into her car and sitting there in a daze until Weiss smacked her shoulder and pointed to Yang’s car.

Yang was grinning at her, as Ruby played on her phone, and pointing to her breast pocket.

Blake frowned and looked down at her button down shirt pocket and reached into it, pulling out a piece of paper with a number on it.

She glanced up to see Yang smirk through their respective windows, wink at her with her hand up in the classic “call me” sign and start her engine before pulling out of the car park.

“Blake?” Weiss asked, tone slightly irritated. “You can start the car now.”

“Oh, that smooth son of a-“ Blake cut herself off with a disbelieving laugh. “She purposely fell into my arms to put her number in my pocket!”

“Great!” Weiss said with sarcastic cheer. “Can we bypass your bi panic?”

Blake gave her friend a filthy look and started the car.

“Look, I’m happy for you, Blake.” Weiss muttered. “I just do not need to see my best friend drooling over a pretty face.”

“First off, I did not drool!” Blake snapped. “Secondly, don’t call her a pretty face. She may be beautiful but I get the feeling she’s more than meets the eye.”

“… this is the part where you ramble my ear off. Isn’t it?”

“Consider it compensation for completely mortifying me.”

“You practically got her number because of me!”

Blake rolled her eyes and ignored Weiss.

But as they drove home, a sudden thought came to mind.

“Wait. How soon should I text?” She asked out loud, ears flicking nervously. “How soon is too soon? If I text her when we get home, does that make me seem desperate? Weiss? Weiss, help.”

“… I regret everything already.”

#rwby #blake belladonna #bumbleby #yang xiao long #fanfic

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dumbkiri · 4 years

Text

My Universe

Part Two

Why do we fall?

Parts: [ 1, 2 ]

Summary: Jason returns home after two years and suddenly wants [Name] out of Wayne Manor for reasons he only knows. He finds out that [Name] is the key to a destructive future and needs to find out more about the legend he heard from Inklopiat, Aurora’s home world. If he fails to do so, [Name] may have to cease to exist.

Pairing: Damian Wayne x HoH!Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k sorry not that long

Genre: Slight Angst? Fluff?

WARNINGS: None...I think? I’m not sure

Again, Damian’s heart had skipped a beat. He felt it stop for a second then start up again. Why did his chest hurt when he saw the fresh tears fall down her rosy cheeks? Was it because he knew that the fighting had upset her and he still continued to banter with her father? He shouldn’t make her feel like this. He never wanted to be the reason she was crying.

“Please, tell me that you guys also witnessed what I witnessed,” Dick pleaded looking at [Name] with wide eyes. His expression made it seem like he saw something phenomenal. And if he was being completely honest, it was extraordinary.

On the other hand, Damian never removed his green eyes from bright [e.color] ones. She was only staring at him and he was only staring at her. He knew she wanted to speak to him, he felt it inside. Her lips parted then closed shortly after. Her tears had dried up and there was a slim red ring around the outside of her irises.

Her [h.color] hair was long, really long and rested above her waist. Her skin glowed a radiant [s.color] making her eyes pop out even more. She looked at him with pleading eyes. Her lips no longer quivering because she knew he got the message she was trying to convey. “I’ll stop,” Damian said softly. He gave one last look at Jason and lowered his fist.

It was like a switch in him flipped. He was no longer angry. He wasn’t upset at Jason for suddenly barging in without notice. All he felt was a sense of calmness and it was because of [Name]. “I’ll stop fighting, for you,” He whispered the last part and gently placed his hand on top of her head. Damian knew she couldn’t her the sincerity in his voice or his genuine words, but he still spoke. He felt that she understood him.

“What is going on here?” Alfred walked into the kitchen with haste and his feet came to a complete stop. His worn out blue eyes widening for a fraction. “Master Todd, you’re finally back,” Alfred said it with a tone of surprise.

Jason nodded his head, “Hey, Alfred.”

“Is that all you have to say?” Alfred said with quickness and an offended look on his face. He hasn’t seen this rogue boy in two years and he greets as if two years haven’t passed. “You left your daughter here at Wayne Manor for two years and you greet me like I haven’t done you a favor. As if your family hasn’t done a favor for you.”

Damian and Dick stayed silent. Alfred has never been so forward and harsh before. Forward and sarcastic, yes. But this was a different phase. A mood that didn’t show often during this time. It was probably because Alfred was so caught up with taking care of [Name] that most of the time this old man was filled with joy.

It dawned on Jason on how much pressure he put on his family. He left for two years without a word to any of them. Then his eyes loomed over to Dick. He did keep in touch with Dick and he wondered why it was only him. "I'm sorry that I left her behind. With Aurora gone, I felt lost. How could I, me," Jason pointed at himself with disgust, "raise a baby all on my own?"

"You are never alone, Master Todd," Alfred's glare turned into a caring look. Then he brought his gaze to Damian and- "Oh my, don't tell me that this young girl is [Name]." Alfred gestured to the ‘young girl’ hiding behind Damian’s back.

Stepping up, Dick nervously chuckled and walked over to the little girl. He placed his hands on her shoulders startling her. He gave her a warm smile and then looked up from her [e.color] eyes. “This is definitely the [Name] that was two years old five minutes ago,” Dick confirmed Alfred’s suspicions.

“I swear, there is always something that happens with you boys together,” Alfred shook his head with a deflated sigh.

……

“Her vitals are normal for a five year old kid,” Tim concluded pouring more coffee into his red mug. Then his fingers skimmed the keyboard typing along it. His eyes focused on the screen and analyzing the readings presented to him. “But her blood is quite special. From what Bruce has in his database, her blood is much like Superman’s.”

“So she’s an alien?” Dick asked.

Jason scoffed and placed his rough hands on his hips, “Half alien, Dick.” He pressed his lips in a thin line. His eyes scanned the room and he decided to come clean. “Aurora is from a planet called Inklopiat. It’s not too far from Earth, but it takes about six months to travel there. Any questions so far?”

The room was silent before Dick broke the ice. “You left telling me that you were visiting Aurora’s parents. Not to a different planet.”

“Wait,” Tim cut in, “he told you where he was going and you didn’t bother to tell us?”

“Hey, it was a tough time for him and if I knew he was traveling to outer space, I would have totally informed you guys,” Dick defended himself. “Kory knows more about space than I do, I could have at least let her travel with you.” Dick looked over at Jason.

“I asked her earlier, but Inklopiatians and Tamaraneans aren’t friendlies. I learned that the hard way, you were there Dick. When Aurora and Kory first met.” Jason’s words jogged Dick’s memory.

Dick chuckled, “Oh, I forgot about that incident.”

Damian stepped in, “Back to the priorities, we need to find out why [Name] aged three years within seconds.” His green eyes stayed on Jason. He had to learn from the Inklopiatians for a year. Which means Jason got some information. “Did the Inklopiatians tell you anything about what could happen to [Name]?”

Jason nodded his head, “They strongly believe in soulmates. There’s a legend about a man named Asht’n who was a fierce warrior. He only knew how to kill, it made everyone across the galaxy fear him. He went on rampages and murdered anyone who got in his way. The story is so old no one knew why he killed. Then one day it all stopped because he met a fair maiden. Her name was unknown and so were her orgins. All they know is that Asht’n fell in love with her and finally put his sword down just for her. Asht’n tried to make contact with the fair maiden, but she always ignored him. Little did he know was that she was deaf.”

Jason paused and watched [Name] play with her stuffed lion with Alfred.

“When he found that out, Asht’n used his actions to show her how much he loved her. Of course, the fair maiden was also infatuated with the mysterious man. She accepted his gifts of love and when he confessed to her, the fair maiden cried. She cried because she could finally hear his voice for the first time. They lived happily together and raised a family. Some hundred years passed and Inklopiat was born. Keep in mind, all the children are born deaf until their soulmate realizes their love for them.”

“I was waiting for some other guy to pop in and take the maiden away from Asht’n. So the question is, their story ends happily?” Tim questioned as he was quite taken by the legend of Inklopiat.

“Yes, their story ends happily, Timbo. Fun fact, for you, Inklopiatians also enhance their age to match their soulmates. [Name] obviously knows who her soulmate is and is trying her best to catch up with them.” Jason carefully glanced over at Damian.

……

‘My granddaughter is very special, Jason,” Queen Nadia’n smiled as she placed green flowers on the kitchen table. She sprayed them with water and placed the sprayer on the table. A maid came by and picked it up then scurried away. “Aurora’n and I always knew that [Name] would be special.”

Jason shook his head and took a sip of the drink that a maid offered him, “Why do you say that?” He set down on a ledge looking out to the stars Inklopiat had to offer. The twinkling reminding him of his girlfriend. His heart still ached for her touch and her voice.

Queen Nadia’n walked out to the porch and stood next to her daughter’s soulmate, “Because the Elders said so. They told us that when you and Jayd’n were out catching the Saloms out by the river.”

Jason chuckled, “I hated those Saloms, they were sneaky bastards.”

“Language, Jays’n,” Queen Nadia’n gently scolded then she took the cup from his hand. Her eyes changed colors repeating a pattern from brown to blue to green to hazel. “The Elders blessed you and Aurora’n with a special child. A child that could end wars and stop the biggest foes even the Justice League has faced.” She put the cup down on the ledge.

“You’re telling me that [Name] has the power to take down anyone she wants? Even Superman?” Jason wasn’t believing a word she said. “I don’t get it, [Name] is only half Inklopiatian and the other half is human. I have no power to my name.”

Queen Nadia’n shook her head, “Jays’n, let me show you something the Elders want you to see. A vision that shows [Name]’s true powers.”

……

Jason never felt so scared in his life before. Laying at his feet was Batman covered in wounds and blood. Next to him was Barbara and Timothy all in the same disturbing fashion Batman was in. Their costumes had various holes in them and Batman’s mask was torn off. He knelt down and took Bruce’s face into his hands. “Bruce, wake up,’ Jason pleaded and looked around his surroundings. Everything was destroyed. Gotham was no longer standing.

“Father, is that you?” Jason heard a trembling voice coming from behind him. Slowly, Jason placed Bruce’s head down and he stood up. He turned his body to the voice and saw [Name] all grown up. Her hair was down and blowing along with the wind. Her face covered in dirt, but her eyes remained unchanged. They had not stopped sparkling.

“[Name], what happened here?” Jason asked cautiously stepping over the bodies that littered at his feet. He noticed Wonder Woman with her lasso held weakly with bloody and broken fingers. He saw Superman groaning with rubble above his chest, his breathing shallow. Aquaman was surrounded by a ring of fire and he was also passed out. “Please, tell me you didn’t do this.” Jason whispered.

[Name] took a shaky breath in, “I had no choice, they were going to kill me.” She clenched her fists tightly and a tear streamed down her face. She was holding back. “Father, they thought I killed him.” She pointed down the hill and Jason stopped walking. Surrounded by a multitude of flowers was the one and only, Damian Wayne.

The young Wayne had blood leaking from his mouth and a lone stream went down his chin. His back resting against the mountain of rubble. His eyes closed shut with dark bags underneath. His hands clutching onto a dagger and the other held a rose. “They thought I killed my soulmate, but I was only trying to protect him.”

Jason ran over to Damian, not believing what he saw. Damian was strong, stronger than anyone. Jason put two fingers against Damian’s neck and found no pulse. Damian was indeed dead. He looked behind him and at the fallen Justice League. They were all either dead or on the verge of dying. “[Name],” Jason called out to his daughter from below the hill, “who were you protecting him from?”

[Name] sniffled and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. Her entire body was trembling and Jason didn’t know if it was from fear or...the adrenaline pumping throughout her body. Her clothes, the only damage done to it was that there was blood and dirt on it. She seemed to be unharmed, but he knew that her heart was breaking inside. It was like he was watching himself when he saw Aurora flatline.

“Hey, Princess,” Jason called out to her gently. He carefully climbed up the mountain of rubble being wary not to disturb Damian’s resting place. His hands gripped the top of the hill and he pushed himself upward. Jason would have lost his footing if [Name] didn’t grip his forearm to keep his balance. She looked at him with red eyes due to her crying. “I know you meant no harm to them. Although I need you to tell me who killed Damian, it’s important.” Jason clarified with importance.

At the mention of his name, [Name] cried more. “We were investigating the League. Damian believed that his grandfather came back to life and I told him that it wasn’t wise to go without Bruce. He didn’t listen to me.”

“The League? You mean to say Ra’s al Ghul is alive?” Jason asked dumbstruck by her words.

“They sent us a calling card,” [Name] pointed down the hill where Damian rested. She didn’t dare lay her eyes upon him though. She was ashamed that with her limitless power, she couldn’t save her soulmate. “The dagger that he holds, it’s from Talia. Damian said so because of the carving.”

Jason’s vision was starting to get blurry. [Name] noticed this and she brought her father in for a tight hug. “You have to promise me something, Father.”

Jason wrapped his arms around his daughter, “What is it, Princess?”

She pulled away just enough to look into his gunmetal eyes. He wiped her tears away and held her chin up high. She smiled at him, “Promise me that whatever happens, you keep Damian away from me. This is what the future holds if we are together, Father.”

“But you two are meant for each other. Soulmates are-”

“There’s more to the legend of Asht’n and the Maiden. In that story lies the truth. Father, if you don’t find the truth before Damian confesses to me on my 17th birthday then you have to keep him away from me. If not, the Justice League will come after me and so will Ra’s al Ghul.” [Name] explained more to him. She would have told him more, but her grandmother was pulling him out of the vision. “Promise me?”

“H-how do I keep you two apart? You guys are practically inseparable, Damian won’t let go of you.” Jason gripped her shoulders. He felt like vomiting right now. Something was pulling at his chest.

[Name] outstretched her hand and the dagger from Damian’s hand levitated to her empty one. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of the dagger and her eyes glared at the weapon. “I’m not sure,” She brought her bright [e.color] eyes to him, “but when the time comes I’m sure you’ll know what to do. You’re a smart guy.” Adult [Name] finished with a smile.

……

Finally, Jason woke up from his episode and took a deep breath as he was trying to make sense of his surroundings. Apparently, he was on the floor of the bat cave because standing above him was his brothers. Damian had his arms crossed over his chest and most likely said something along a smart remark prior to him waking up. Meanwhile Tim and Dick were genuinely confused as to why Jason had suddenly passed out.

Before he could tell them what happened, [Name] had came into his view with her beautiful eyes. He sat up and blinked once at her appearance. Promise me. Future [Name]’s voice echoed in his head and Jason subconsciously nodded his head which in turn made little [Name] smile. She jumped into his lap and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck. Jason was astounded that she hugged him first. Did she know who he was?

That doesn’t matter right now, Jason mentally scolded himself. He had to make a promise to her and he was going to find out the truth about the legend in Inklopiat or else he would have to deal with [Name] himself. Jason hugged his little girl back with the same amount of love she gave him and pressed a kiss at the top of her head, “I promise, Princess. I’ll find out the truth.”

......

Tags: @zalladane @buchanangaby @poisoned-pineapple @i-dont-even-know-fck @diabeticsugarush

#Damian Wayne #damian and dick #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #Jason Todd #jason todd imagine #batman imagine #batfam imagine #batman #dc imagine #DC Universe #slight angst #my universe

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bondsmagii · 3 years

Note

2, 8, 26, 37, 38, 57, 72, 91, 94, 100

> questions to ask at 4:02am meme 🌕🌃

thank you!

2: Do you mourn for a place or person you’ve never known?

yes 😩 I can’t even adequately describe what’s going on here, but there’s a lot of people and a lot of places that feel familiar even if I don’t know them, if that makes sense? and there’s also a lot of people I could have become, and a lot of places I could have been, and I do have moments where I kind of mourn them even though I have no proof that they would have even existed in that specific way. I do think this is normal to an extent, but also I do this a lot, lol.

on a slightly less philosophical level, I of course mourn my older brother, who’s quite literally a person I never got the chance to know.

8: Do you think you can put love into categories (family, platonic, romantic, etc.) or is it just one general sensation?

oh man definitely. the love you feel for your friends isn’t the same love you feel for your spouse or your parents, and so on and so forth. there’s lots of different kinds of love, and lots of different levels within those types, and you’re also more than capable of feeling several different types and levels towards the same person, in my opinion. I don’t know if I would try and categorise everything, because something like love doesn’t really suit being shoved into boxes, but there are different types of love and I find it’s constantly shifting and changing along with you and the object of your love, which is cool.

I should add that I don’t find any one type of love more or less important than the others. seriously, destroy the idea that romantic love is the One True Love, and all other forms are somehow lesser. that’s just garbage.

26: What’s the most life-changing choice you’ve made so far?

this is kind of embarrassing but the truth often is: almost eight years ago I decided to make a sideblog on here that has... something to do with writing, let’s say, and something to do with... a certain character... and anyway that decision led to me meeting a certain person and going from awkward messages on Tumblr to awkward messages on Skype, to eighteen hour conversations and constant texting, to living in a car together for three months on a roadtrip and then living in a car together for many more months while homeless (and a million other places in between), to moving in together and then holy shit we got married.

so I guess that one impulsive decision to make a shitpost sideblog at stupid o’clock in the morning when I was bored one summer has been the single most life-changing choice I’ve ever made.

37: Do opposites attract?

eh. I mean, yeah, sometimes? but similarities attract, too. I think for any kind of relationship to be successful you’ve kind of got to have an element of both, and I think that “opposites” usually refers to something very specific. for example, I don’t mind cleaning the bathroom and you hate it. that’s a useful kind of opposite, because it means a compromise neither of us feel cheated by. you’re unshakable when it comes to slogging through bureaucratic minutiae, and I’m a beast in high-stress quick-thinking scenarios. together we make a pretty unstoppable team, for being opposites in that regard. I think that’s kind of what’s meant by this saying, but unfortunately it seems to have been appropriated to mean “yes honey, I know you work 10 hour shifts and come home to find your partner hasn’t cleaned the house or done anything to help, but opposites attract!” or “my partner supports Trump and genuinely believes that vaccines and masks are a government conspiracy to control us all, and I am a normal human being, but opposites attract so I guess I’ll have to put up with it”. like no, kings and queens. that isn’t what it means. dump them.

38: Is your life what you expected it would be five years ago?

lmao no. not in the slightest. five years ago it would have been... just into 2016, and yeah, no. there is not a single thing about me right now that I would have predicted, aside from the general stuff that’s never changed about me. I had different ideas about what I would be doing for work, about what I’d be working towards; I had completely different levels of commitment and discipline to various tasks, and I certainly wasn’t planning an international move. I can at least say that I’m happier with my current plan than the one I used to have (it wasn’t a bad plan, it just no longer suits me) but there’s no way I would have expected this.

and of course, there’s the whole issue with the pandemic. five years ago I had no idea I would be living through a global natural disaster, and if you’d told me, I would have thought it would be something like a supervolcano eruption or a nuclear winter. like, I’m glad it’s not, but also “you have to stay in your house for over a year” still kind of sucks.

57: Do you thinks humans are obsessed with escapism (books, video games, movies, etc.)? Are you looking for an escape? Do you think that’s a bad thing?

I think we are sometimes, when things are tough and there’s a need to wish to escape (see how many books I read over quarantine in March, for example). most of the time, however, I think humans just like stories. I don’t think it’s any deeper than the fact that humans love stories, we’ve always loved stories, we’ve always loved telling and hearing stories, before we had books and archives we passed our stories down orally and we drew them on cave walls with our own fingers, and this love for the story has never changed or altered in the hundreds of thousands of years since. I think that’s the major driving force here.

right now I’m looking for an escape 24/7, because I’m sick to death of the real world. I don’t think that’s a bad thing at all. without books, without the fictional things I love, without reading and writing and music, I would have gone absolutely bonkers in 2020. being able to fall into a book or play around in the worlds I’ve created, both my own and things I’ve co-written with you, has literally saved my ass over the past eight months. escapism is never a bad thing. like anything, it only becomes troubling when it starts creating problems. but I do not think there’s any shame in occasionally saying “fuck it” and going to worry about someone else’s fictional problems for a while.

72: Should people be prosecuted for crimes that weren’t considered crimes at the time?

this is a tough one. on the one hand I want to say no, because it could easily be abused. some asshole could get into power and make something illegal, and then round up all the people who have committed that now-crime and lock them up, and oh, would you look at that! all the people who have committed the now-crime just so happen to be the dictator’s biggest critics and threats, how convenient.

at the same time, dictators are going to wipe out their enemies no matter how legal it is, and I also have to consider the fact that before WWII, for example, words like “genocide” and “crimes against humanity” didn’t exist. how could we decide that these things are crimes, but then not try those who literally gave cause for the crime to be acknowledged? we can hardly say “alright, genocide is now a crime against humanity, but because these guys did it before this was law they can’t be tried”. that’s just... not really a great precedent to set, you know?

so I suppose a tentative yes? I think it would probably depend entirely on the severity of the crime. for example, if they found out that... I don’t know, some normal everyday substance was something that people could suddenly get high off, and they declared it a drug, I don’t think everyone who’s ever sold it or used it should be rounded up and jailed. but like, if the act of cannibalism itself became a crime (and not just murder or desecration of a corpse, which is what “cannibalism” usually falls under in terms of legality) we should probably go round up all the people who are stealing human legs to eat, yanno?

91: Is hate as strong as love? Who do you hate?

sick totheark reference bro. anyway yeah, hate is as strong as love, though it appears and reacts in different ways. hate and love are two sides of the same coin, if you ask me. the deeper you love somebody, the harder you hate them if things go wrong. hate is betrayed love. something something, a tree’s branches cannot reach to heaven unless its roots reach to hell, and all that. something so powerful is going to leave a lot of damage if it goes wrong.

I hate a few people. I don’t want to go into detail as to their specific identities, because I’m sure that if you know me well, you’ll know who they are. both of them were people whom I loved very deeply, and who betrayed that love in ferociously cruel ways. both people taught me very difficult lessons about the nature of love, and how sometimes it really cannot conquer everything, but while this would be a nasty lesson to learn it’s compounded by the fact that I learned this not out of any kind of extraneous circumstance, but rather through their cruelty and their refusal to work with me, listen to me, or love me in the way I deserved to be loved. my hatred for these people will never go away, even though it certainly doesn’t dominate my life. it is there, though, and I can easily draw on it whenever I need it. should I get the opportunity, I have no doubt in my mind that I have the capacity to be very cruel to these people in my own right, and I won’t feel bad about it.

94: How would you describe yourself when you love? Do you love forcefully, unconditionally, gently, quietly, desperately?

oh damn. forcefully, conditionally, stubbornly, and probably slightly possessively.

I don’t show love in conventional means. I’m one of those stereotypes, I guess. I don’t like declarations of love, I don’t really go in for physical affection, and I’m not sappy at all. my love language is more subtle, but it’s there. I like to do things for people, I like to create things for/with people, I like to have adventures with people. that’s how I love, and I can be pretty forceful about it. I also want people to improve themselves as much as possible -- I think the greatest thing I can witness someone I love doing is becoming the best version of themselves, and I will support them 100% in this effort -- also very forcefully. I don’t think there are many people who could put up with that level of intensity for so long, if I’m honest. I demand a lot of the ones I love, but I also like to think I give a lot, too.

my love is never unconditional. while I believe unconditional love exists, I have never seen it. my love always comes with conditions -- conditions about how I expect to be treated, about ideology, about worldview. these are all huge deal breakers, of course -- my conditions aren’t vague, or petty, or small in any way. but there is nobody on earth, nor will there ever be, who I will not walk away from if I feel the relationship is harmful in any way. I might not stop loving them, but I sure as hell will not assume that my love for them will protect me from them.

at the same time I’m a very stubborn person when it comes to love. people will do things they think must break one of my conditions, but I’ll see something else in it and I’ll stick around even if we both think it’s useless. I’m never wrong, so I suppose I have that going for me. but I am very, very stubborn when it comes to love. I have a high level of endurance and I know how to nurture love; how to stop pessimism from setting in. I’m also slightly possessive, so I don’t let go of anything easily -- and this includes the people I love. I’ll never stifle a person, but I’ll definitely fight for them, and something something everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.

100: What belief do you have that isn’t logically grounded, but you still firmly believe in?

I suppose something like this could never be logically grounded because there’s no logical proof at all, and “I Just Know” is apparently not a scientific argument (it should be), but I know I’ve had past lives. I just do. I have no solid proof for this, only gut feelings and Just Knowing and weird memories and some crazy shit that I can’t explain -- like being able to find my way around a strange city because I remembered it from a past life, for example -- but I just know I’ve had many different lives before and I will have many more to come. this is just an unshakable belief and it always has been.

#4:02am meme #long post #about me #vestriis #asks

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nctzendreamz · 4 years

Text

Psycho — Bae Joohyun (Continued)

Irene really, really loves you. Too much, you begin to realize.

Warnings: Psychotic!Au, mentions of abuse, murder, language, and in general dark themes.

“What the fuck just happened!” Chungha trembles. She never did good in high-pressure situations. Why did it seem that one thing was happening after the other? All bad?

“I don’t know.” You whisper. “Why the fuck would they think Johnny did it?”

“Because he was her boyfriend.” Ten responds. “But even so, isn’t that why he was going into questioning? So he could answer any questions they had about where he was at the time. I mean, we can prove he was drunk.”

“I don’t know if that would help his case.” Momo counters.

“It had to have been some proof of him being there. Maybe a letter he wrote her before or something.” Taeyong is walking around looking nothing less of L from Death Note, trying to figure out exactly how this could have happened.

“Tell me everything you two did that day.”

Taeyong snaps out of his thoughts at the sound of your voice. Words couldn’t describe how much he missed being able to talk to you—figure out life with you. There were so many things he wanted to say. So many things he needed you to know.

“We uh...we went to get coffee first thing in the morning.”

“Greenhouse?” You question. A familiar sight to him—you’re chewing on your bottom lip. You probably have a million things running through your head, just like him. The two of you were always so alike.

“Yes.” He confirms. He’s trying so hard to focus on his friend, and not all of your memories there. All the study sessions. All of the sneaky touches and kisses when everyone was nose deep in their books. “We were only there for like an hour before we bounced.”

“Did Johnny leave anything?” Chungha breathes out.

“I mean we got up for like 20 seconds to refill our coffee, but we were in a library. It was full of nerds, they wouldn’t be trying to set him up for murder. They were literally shushing us.”

Irene almost laughs out loud from his little snarky comment. He really was a cocky asshole wasn’t he?

“He’s right.” You breathe out. “Nobody even knew about Johnny and her being together anyway.”

“Nobody but us.” Ten agrees. Ten didn’t talk much when he was around his friends—only when necessary, but he loved them dearly. He also wanted to ask Irene to leave the house, as this was just too personal. He could care less about your dating life as long as you were safe, but she didn’t need to be here. “I think we need to find a more private area to discuss this shit.” He doesn’t try to quiet his voice. He doesn’t care if she hears.

Everyone is looking at you now, and you don’t know what to do. Irene is already pissed at you, and you don’t want to add on to it. She’s still not looking at you, and honestly it’s creepy.

“I’m gonna just take her home. She doesn’t need to be around all of this.”

“Fine, but don’t get sidetracked. I think I have an idea.” Taeyong says.

Irene gets up, not saying goodbye to anyone in the room. She’s outside as you and your friends exchange a look of confusion.

“Baby.” You prompt, grabbing her hand as she tried to run to the car. “Stop.”

“What?” She’s angry. You had never seen her angry before. She was always sweet, and ready to kneel for whatever you wanted. You enjoyed that power, no matter how bad it sounded. It was unusual, but you felt so secure.

“What is your problem? My friend just got fucking arrested, and you’re giving me attitude? Really?”

How dare you talk to her like this? She ought to slap the taste out of your mouth, so she does. She slaps you so hard she wouldn’t be surprised if your stupid friends heard it.

“Did you just—

“I’m sorry.” She says quickly. She’s rubbing your cheek as soft as possible, while the other hand is covering her mouth. “I can’t believe I just did that. Baby wait—

But you’re already walking to the car. She follows right behind you, barely getting a foot in before you’re backing out of the spot chosen early this morning.

“Please talk to me.” She’s crying now, the damage pooling out of her eyes.

“What?”

“Is this not your fucking earring, Suh!”

The detective slaps the desk, as if it would phase Johnny, who had now calmed down. He threw his fit in the back of the police car because he was smarter than he seemed. He knew the pressure had to be off when it came to this part. Except, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He hadn’t even realized he lost one of his earrings, but it was quite sad that the other was currently in his ear.

“It—it is. But I don’t know how it got on the scene—

“So you admit it. You admit that you killed her!”

“No!” Johnny shouts, “I’m just admitting that it’s my earring. You clearly see the other one in my ear!”

“If you didn’t kill her, then how did it get there? You’re lying right to my face.”

“Someone put it there to make it look like it was me! Do I look like I’m capable of killing someone? Look at me!” He screams. All of the hard work he had put in to keep his cool was washing away at once, and he needed to be out of here. He needed to be released from the cuffs.

“Who would go through the trouble Johnny? According to your reports, the only friends you have were her and the people who were at your apartment.”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know, but I can tell you I didn’t do it. You can check my friends phones, any of it. Check her phone!”

“You destroyed it!”

“No I didn’t!”

“Did you text her?” Momo asks. She’s impatient—pacing back and forth through the dead, but full apartment.

“I did. Just waiting on a response.”

That was the first exchange Taeyong and Momo had in months, but none seemed to celebrate the achievement. The only thing on both their minds is you.

“If no one knew they were together,” Ten is mumbling as he rocks back and forth on the floor. “Then who?”

“We still don’t know why they arrested him. Let’s just relax.” Chungha says.

Suddenly the house phone is ringing. Once again everyone is looking around, but since you aren’t here to save them, Taeyong has to step up.

“Hello? Johnny is it you?”

The crew is looking on, eyes filled with fear as they trying their hardest to hear their friend on the other line.

“What is that going to do Johnny? We won’t be able to see an earring falling from that distance.”

The line dies, and so does the hope of everyone around the room.

“What did he say?” Ten stands.

“He wants us to go to the library and look at the survaliance cameras.”

“So they arrested him because of a fucking earring?”

“A fucking earring!” Taeyong smacks the wall, hand not even feeling the pain because he’s that angry. Was it really that easy?

“Even if we can’t find any proof of his earring being at the library, I have the proof that he was at my house last night. I have all the messages and time stamps of it all.”

“Okay. So we need to split up.”

“Me and Chungha will go to the police station.” Ten is already moving to put on his coat—protection from the cold weather.

“And I’ll text Y/N. I guess we let her decide which one she wants to handle.” Chungha adds, dragging her phone out.

So that left Taeyong and Momo—together. It’s obvious neither of them want to do it, but they have to.

“Okay.” They say in unison.

“Go.”

Your voice is barely audible as you grip the steering wheel tightly. God, you were never the type to put your hands on your significant other, but you were so angry. Even so, you’ll always keep your hands to yourself. Irene obviously couldn’t relate.

“Let me say sorry.” Irene pleads from the other side. Her hands are on your elbow now, clearly trying to soothe you into forgiving her. Your silence tells her she can speak. “I really don’t know what got into me. You know I love you, and you know that I would never want to hurt you. You just hurt my feelings and that’s how I reacted.”

“That’s your apology? Blaming me?”

“No.” She takes a deep breath. Her hair falls infront of her face, but even so, you can’t help but to admire her beautiful features. Why was she so good at this? “I was jealous.” She confesses. “First, I heard you and Momo talking, and I felt a connection. It was something there and it made me upset.”

“Me and Momo are friends.”

“I know!” She squeals. “I’m stupid, and don’t deserve you, and all of those things. My past just got in the way and it just happened.”

“Your past? What are you talking about?”

“I...I got abused as a child.”

That word is a trigger word for you. You had never went through it, but you knew plenty of people that did. And they always went untreated, hoping that it would just go away; the pain.

“What...” you trail off, taking her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that Taeyong cheated on you?”

“What the fuck does one thing have to do with another? You know what—get out.”

You don’t know where all this anger is stemming from. Maybe because you were never attracted to the jealous type. Or maybe because none of this was making sense.

“I just told you I was abused as a child, and you’re kicking me out?” Her voice cracks as she speaks.

You know you need to go. You had been sitting here for way too long, and the more that time passes, the more likely Johnny is to get convicted.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is genuine, and your hands is gently grabbing her chin. She’s crying now, and you do feel horrible. “Come here.” You prompt, pressing your lips against hers softly. The two of you stay this way until you feel her groping you in the places that usually made you hot and nervous, but you didn’t want it right now. You pull away. “I have to go.”

“No.” She pouts. “Please.” She knows she’s being selfish, but she doesn’t care. Johnny deserved to rot in prison after what he did to you. I mean, it was his fault that you and Taeyong broke up in the first place. The reason why you were so damaged.

The car ride there is silent. Even as the two of them walk into the library, it’s awkward.

“Where should we start.” Taeyong finally speaks up, trying to clean up the air. He doesn’t know why Momo hates him so much. I mean, Chungha hates him too, but not this much. It had crossed his mind that maybe Momo had some unspoken feelings for you, or maybe even for him, but he never had to deal with it before. He could always just brush it under the rug.

“I guess we tell the owner that we’re investigating a case? Like unofficially?”

“Will that even work? I mean, we’re not the police.”

Taeyong opens the door for her, and the ringing is soothing. As always, the large study hall is peaceful, and the same girls are sitting at the tables preparing for whatever big test was coming their way.

“Welcome.” The receptionist whispers. “Mr. Lee.” She bows from her seat.

“Good morning.” He bows back, before placing shaky hands on the desk. “May I ask for a favor?”

She eyes him carefully—seemingly used to his antics, but not his tone. He was a regular here; all of you were. “What is it?”

“We want to look at the cameras.” He pleads with his eyes.

“The cameras? Why?”

“It’s a long story.”

“That you need to tell me if you want to look at my cameras.”

So the two of them explain everything. They watch as her face goes from inquisitive, to horror. Taeyong and Johnny especially weren’t her favorite people to walk in here, especially with their rowdy nature, but she could never believe this.

“He didn’t murder his girlfriend ma’am. I know you know that.”

“If you go to the police, you have to pretend you didn’t look at these okay? You don’t work here therefore you’re not authorized to do their job for them, and that could make Johnny’s situation worse.

“Got it.” They both say. Taeyong can’t help but to stick his fist out to Momo. “We make a pretty good team.” He whispers so only she can hear.

“Agreed.” It wasn’t the best response she had, but it was a step. And a step could take you farther than you think.

The room is old fashioned, as expected. The tv’s are box shaped, and the owner is leading the two of them to a Dell laptop that sat on a foldable table.

“Now you guys are going to have to figure this part out. I usually get the younger kids to work this for me when I’m trying to see who left food on my tables. Never for a murder.”

“Taeyong can do it. He’s good with this stuff.” Momo encourages, patting him on the back.

He takes the lead, sitting in the leather chair made for this occasion, and he’s search for the day. February 17, 2020.

He fast forwards to when him and Johnny walk in. He doesn’t feel it, but a bead of sweat drops from his forehead and onto the keys. That’s how high pressure this was for him.

He sees the two of them sit down. He sees them chatting. He remembers it all to the T. Him complaining about Irene, Johnny talking about Cierra, and all of the disgusting positions he put her in. He sees himself covering his ears from the stories, and this is the part. They both get up, realizing they had drunk all of their coffee. They go to the bathroom first, and then to the refill station.

“Can you zoom in?” Momo questions.

Taeyong does what he can, but even so, it becomes too pixelated.

“Shit!” He sighs, and his head hits the keys too hard. The video is moving ahead, and Momo quickly grabs him by his locks to prevent further damage.

“Watch your mouth!” The owner warns. The cross on her neck should’ve been a giveaway that she didn’t want to hear that kind of talk, but he didn’t care. He hated to fail. “I’m sorry. We tried.”

“Wait wait...” Momo trails off. The library is now empty, minus one person. She has a black bob, as well as the Seoul Performing Arts yellow uniform. She’s looking around slowly, before she goes to where Johnny and Taeyong were sitting hours before. “What the—

“She’s picking something up.” Taeyong trembles.

“And look at the way she’s picking it up.”

“She has gloves on!” Taeyong raises.

“Zoom in.” The owner requests. It’s barely visible, but it’s still so clear.

“That’s his earring.” Taeyong confirms.

“Are you sure?”

“I bought them. I know it.”

“Then who the hell is this? Sorry.” Momo apologizes before she can get scolded.

“You keep a list of everyone that has checked in, right?” Taeyong is standing now as if he already knows the answer.

“I—I do.” And now she’s scrambling and on edge. She pulls the book out easily, as this incident was so recent. She flips to the last page, which reads the final name.

Bae Joohyun

“I appreciate the fact that you’re trying to help your friend, but you need to let the police do their job. Please.” The officer sighs.

“We have evidence proving that he was with me last night! He should be free!”

“And we took the evidence, okay? As stated for the past 30 minutes, we’re looking at it. He hasn’t been put in any facility yet.”

“Yet.” Chungha huffs, grabbing her purse from the desk and throwing it over her shoulder. “Come on, Ten.”

He doesn’t want to leave. Something about this whole ordeal doesn’t feel right. But he follows her anyway.

“I guess Y/N decided to go with Taeyong.” Chungha is past annoyed right now. She knew it was nothing personal, but in this past month, she didn’t feel like your bestfriend. There used to be a time when you told her everything, talked to her everyday, always wanted her to be included in your plans. Now it was Irene that you ran to. The girl had seemed so sweet in the beginning, but she was getting jealous. She wanted her friend back.

“I’ll call her.” Ten sighs as he speed walks to car. The cold air is slapping the shit out of him, but he doesn’t have time to complain like he usually would. His finger is lingering over your contact before Taeyong’s number is popping up. “Hello?” He breathes out. “Please tell me you have good news. Fucking please.”

“So someone did pick up the earring.”

“A girl, skinny, black bob. She was in a uniform.”

“And you have a name?”

“Yes. We just wanted to wait for everyone to get here so we could all look together.”

“And as per usual, Y/N is too burried in Irene’s pussy to stay on task.” Chungha says, immediately regretting her words.

“Hey.” Taeyong defends. “I’m not happy about all the time she’s been spending with her either, but let’s not pretend like her not answering the phone is normal.”

“I agree, Taeyong.” Momo adds.

“Maybe she fell asleep?” Ten offers.

“How can you fall asleep at a time like this? You don’t fucking fall asleep!” Chungha yells.

“Everyone breathe! Damn!” Taeyong is getting hot now, hating all the animosity. “We won’t be able to figure anything out if we don’t work as a team.” He’s on his gaming computer as soon as he finishes his words, and he’s typing in the name.

Bae Joohyun. A million names are appearing.

“It’s a common korean name. It won’t be on the naked eye.” Ten reminds him.

He clicks on images, and a million girls pop up. Some young, some old, none looking capable of being a murderer.

“It has to be here. It has to be.” He mumbles to himself.

“Click on news.” Momo says.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

He listens to her. The first article that comes up is a search for a missing girl in Korea—name Joohyun. “Killed one of her classmates and hasn’t been found since.” Taeyong reads.

“It’s dated 2006.” Chungha notices. “Click on it.”

The image that pops up is unreal.

“What the fuck.” They all mewl in harmony.

You don’t know where you are. You remember you pushing Irene off of you, telling her that you think the two of you need a break. You remember her trying to fight it, saying that she was the only one for you and that no one could have you. But everything after that is a blur.

Little by little, the memories come back to you. Johnny got arrested. You shoot up at the thought, but you can’t move. What the fuck? You think to yourself. Now you’re screeching trying to get out, but you can’t. You fall over to a dusty and cold floor, and your eyes are coming back into focus.

“Irene?” Your voice is frail as you speak. You know those curves too well. You know that hair color. What you don’t know, is the white dress that’s draped on her figure. “Irene, what the fuck happened! Answer me!” You scream. The tears are pricking at your eyes as you can’t believe what you’re hearing—seeing.

“Oh, baby.” She cooes. The knife in her hand is under your chin now, and you jump back from it. “I can’t believe you would say such a thing. First you want a break, and now you’re cursing at me? So rude.”

Your heart is in too much shock. This is too much to handle. That’s why your eyes are rolling in the back of your head, and you’re passing out.

“Check her location.” Momo doesn’t know what to feel. And it’s not because she’s confused. It’s because she can’t believe any of this. She knew Irene was a psychotic bitch the minute she met her, and she knew she was overly obsessed with you, but she has you now. And she heard all of your plans. She must have seen all of the text messages, indicating her legal name as the culprit. Fuck.

Chungha is scrambling now, her anxiety at all time high. She just doubted you—her bestfriend, and the whole time you’ve probably been getting tortured.

“Please be on, please be on.” Taeyong is praying to whatever God is listening. He had already lost you once, but if he lost you like this? He can’t imagine it.

“It’s on!” Chungha screeches. She makes sure that Taeyong has his pen and pad ready, before she speaks. “901 Reveluv Court!”

No one thinks any more. Taeyong doesn’t even close his tabs. They’re all running, practically trampling eachother. All a coincidence, but because of his job, Taeyong drives a van. They all hop inside and he’s pulling off abruptly.

You’re awaking again, hoping that everything you saw was a horrible nightmare. It wouldn’t be the first time you had such a terrifying vision, but it all felt too real, didn’t it?

It was very real, and you know that because of the pain in your wrists. She tightened the hold, and to your surprise there’s no tape over your mouth.

“Goodmorning sunshine.” Her voice is sweet, and her smile is bright. She’s sitting in a wooden chair infront of you, but you can’t admire her with the disgusting smell that’s radiating from the room.

“Why are you doing this?” You huff, feeling how dehydrated you are. You hadn’t eaten today, you barely slept last night—you were in no shape to break free from your captivity and handle her.

“You know, I think you should ask your friends that. This is all for them.”

You really don’t understand what’s going on. You’re trying to put every single possible scenario together and form a reason as to why you were here, but it doesn’t make sense.

“Irene, we’re together. I love you. You love me. This is so random.”

“They’ll be here soon.” She whispers into the horrid air. “Look, were going to be fine baby. I’m not going to actually hurt you. It’s them I want to hurt.”

“Them? Why?” You’re heaving in the chair, trying not to breathe but not having a choice at the same time.

“They want to break us up, Y/N. I mean, they’re the reason you even mentioned having a break anyway. One conversation with Momo, and you changed your view on me. We need to work on that, don’t you think?”

You decide on silence, as your mind is blank.

“Poor Cierra.” She trails off, tapping your chin. “You want to see something cool?” She doesn’t give you a chance to answer. She’s going into the white fridge that made the room vibrate, and she’s pulling something out. It’s skinny.

“Irene...”

“Look babe!” She’s dangling the finger covered in dry blood and pink nail polish.

“It was you?” You cry out. The guilt is raining all over your body as you put the story together. “Why would you do that!” You scream at her, and just like before, her hand is connecting to your face.

“Don’t yell at me! And stop crying. I told you I’m not going to kill you or hurt you. This is a trap so we can be together forever. We can get rid of them.”

There a million things you can say, but you’re not stupid. “Okay baby.”

The van is pulling up right on time. Taeyong could care less about his tires or the unkept grass touching his vehicle. Everyone is waiting for him to make the next move, and Ten jumps when he sees him opening his glove compartment.

“Is that a—

“Gun. Yes.” Taeyong assures. He pulls out another, handing it to Ten.

“I don’t—

“Figure it out.” Taeyong instructs.

“Do you know how to work that thing?” Momo asks.

“Better than you think.” Is all he says, cocking it back and opening the door. Ten mimicks his actions. “I’m going to go in and distract her, okay? The three of you know what to do.”

“Why do I feel like we’re in a fucking gang.” Chungha complains.

Taeyong is already gone. He knows how to do this. You never knock, especially in a neighborhood like this where everyone thought it was safe. He opens the door as quiet as possible, but even so it sqeaks a tad.

Shit, he thinks to himself, but he keeps going. He had seen the movies. The only place you could be was the basement that was strangely wide open for him to walk in. She’s trying to set him up. She wanted them to come.

Taeyong was always a people pleaser, so he wanders down the steps—making an entrance at the same time. He stuffs his piece in his jeans. “I’m fucking here Irene!” He yells. “Come and get some. I know you want some, baby.” He chuckles. She’s no where in sight, you are. His body shuts down before he pulls it together. He doesn’t want to look at you. Your face has a welt on it. She had put her filthy fucking hands on you.

“Y/N.” He whispers, but as he walks to you, your eyes are telling him to stop. You’re not shaking your head, you’re not screaming through the tape covering your mouth, he just knows you. That looks in your eyes told him someone was behind him. The bitch that had to pay.

As he turns around, a bat is swinging at him. She underestimated his quickness as he dodges it, but he underestimated her psycho. She’s spitting a mist into his face that makes everything blurry.

“Fucking idiot!” She screams. She’s moving to get a chair. She throws him it it, before removing the smooth metal from his pants and onto his head. “This is actually fucking perfect.” She heaves. Irene rips the tape from your lips, and you cry out.

“I’m sorry.” You say to him, not her. How dare you not apologize to her when you were causing her to work up a cold sweat?

“She killed Cierra.” He’s able to say.

“I know.” You sniffle. He’s trying to look at you, but you can’t look back. He was going to die, and it was all your fault.

“Isn’t this just sweet.” Irene cooes, stomping around in her wedding dress as if it was her lucky day. “You know, I wanted it to end like this, but I didn’t think I could do it. I thought you were smarter than that.” She shoves Taeyong’s head with the gun. “Any last words?”

Taeyong spits on her. He was always a wild boy.

“Did you spit on Layla like that? Hm?” She chuckles.

Layla was the girl Taeyong cheated on you with a few months back. Johnny was the one who encouraged him to do it. It all came back, even though you thought you were over it. She was everything you weren’t and wanted to be at the same time.

“I love you, Y/N.” Taeyong ignores. “I know no matter how mad you still are with me, rightfully so, you know that. Johnny isn’t here to speak for himself but he’s sorry too. You were perfect. It was me that was messed up.”

“I know.” You repeat, staring at the wall.

“Did Sungyung spit on you like that?” He mocks.

“How the fuck do you know about that?”

“Google, idiot.” Taeyong was always the sweetest boy ever, until you crossed his friends over. “Did your lover tell you that, huh Y/N? How her parents abused her? How she murdered her ex girlfriend after she tried to break up with her, and is a wanted fugitive in Korea? They think she’s missing.”

You’re silent. You don’t have anything to say. Nothing surprises you anymore.

Irene is about to do the worst. You can see it in her eyes. Taeyong can see it in her eyes. But as she pulls the trigger, Taeyong falls back in the chair, and Ten, Momo, and Chungha are coming behind her. Momo takes the gun, and the minute you see this, you stand up and move to Taeyong to pick him up with your foot.

“You can’t beat me!” Irene yells, tears pooling out of her eyes unexpectedly. “I’m supposed to win this time!”

The three rookies have to freeze as the sad tone in her voice, just enough time for her to take the gun. She pulls the trigger, but she doesn’t know on who.

It’s Chungha. No one knows where she’s shot, but she immediately drops to the ground from the heat. Another shot goes off, and Momo and Ten go to check themselves, but it’s Irene who’s going down this time.

The tall figure is standing in the middle of the stairs like a God, and his pistol is smoking.

“Johnny!” You all praise in unison. He’s running downstairs now, watching Irene carefully.

“Where did she get shot.” He looks at Chungha, who’s screeching from the floor.

“My leg!” She cries.

“Put her in the car. Now!” He yells. Ten and Momo follow instructions, doing their best to run her up the stairs as her blood drips everywhere.

“You’re not going to kill me, Johnny.” Irene cowers—blood coming from the middle of her wedding dress. He got her right where he wanted to, and she could barely stand. “Do you think Cierra would’ve wanted this, huh? Why don’t you just join her? Kill yourself you bastard!”

“You’re so pathetic! He yells. “You deserve every bit of this.” He shouts—shaking the whole basement. Before he can fire the gun though, you’re infront of him. Taeyong and you had mangled eachother out of your ropes seconds ago.

“Y/N what are you doing!” Taeyong screams.

But you ignore him. You snatch the gun from Johnny, giving Irene three clean shots in the head. She’s out like a light. There’s no way she survived that.

“Fuck you.” You tremble, feeling the tears about to erupt out of you.

#red velvet #red velvet irene #irene #red velvet imagine #nct #nct imagines #nct imagine #nct scenario #nct 127 #red velvet scenarios #kpop #lgbt kpop #kpop imagine #kpop imagines

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