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sattlersquarry · 5 months

Text

superfreaky (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Summary: [AU inspired by Freaky (2020); modern body-swap-with-a-slasher AU] The Hawkins Hacker has been terrorizing your town for years now. What happens when he digs his hooks into you is surprising. It's shocking. It's downright superfreaky.

Word Count: ~7.3k

Warnings: 18+ PLEASE!!!! for language, violence, grief, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of death and serial killers/slashers. all the characters are at least 18 in this (and Steve is the same age as the others). There's no descriptors of the reader except when she and Henry Creel swap bodies (then, you're Jamie Campbell Bower). Also Officer Callahan is your stepbrother in this.

a/n: this is a halloween fic. I'm aware that it's mid-November and everyone on this website has moved onto winter/holiday fics. I'm late! I'm sorry! Blame depression/personal life weirdness/my horoscope.

🔪🔪🔪

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 12th, 2023

Your life kind of sucks.

Just a little.

Currently, you’re dressed in a godawful tiger suit on a Thursday night, shaking your clip-on tiger tail like there’s no tomorrow. You don’t want to be here, but extracurriculars look great on college applications. If you want to get far, far away from Hawkins, Indiana after graduation, this is the kind of shit you have to do to be impressive on paper.

Plus, someone must be the brave soul that dons the Hawkins High school mascot costume on the sidelines of basketball games. The brave soul that gets soda cans chucked at your head by Billy Hargrove.

You turn and scowl when you feel the liquid splash across your back—not that Billy can see through your stitched-on tiger expression.

He and his buddies laugh and laugh, until team captain Steve Harrington chews them out for being assholes. You can’t help it—you inwardly swoon at the sight of him defending your honor. With that floppy hair and those gorgeous eyes and…

You snap yourself out of your wild, romantically charged fantasies about said basketball player when he jogs his way toward you.

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” he asks quietly. You lift your mascot head and give him a small smile.

“I’m good,” you say. You shrug. “I’m used to it.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head.

“I’m really sorry. I told Hargrove to cut it out when you threw the nachos last week, but he just doesn’t know when to quit.”

The Tiger cheerleaders begin the school fight song.

“I’ve gotta get back into it,” you say. “But, um, thanks.”

“Anytime,” Steve says. He shoots you a smile before jogging back to his teammates. The timeout is over, and he steps back onto the court.

As you flail around next to the cheerleaders, the Tigers sink a three-pointer thanks to Steve and win the game.

Post-game, you shuffle into the parking lot with your best friends Robin Buckley and Jonathan Byers by your side. Jonathan works for the school paper and photographs the games while his girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, interviews players and attendees on the sidelines. Robin is in band and plays the trumpet. (Sometimes, you wish you’d followed their extracurricular pathways instead of going the mascot route.)

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Robin points out, sensing your disdain as you glare at the tiger head in your hands and the oversize, fuzzy orange slippers adorning your feet.

“I do!” you say. “It’s senior year, fall semester. I can’t flake now. It’ll look bad on my applications.”

“You and those applications,” Jonathan says with a shake of his head. “You’ve been worrying about them since we were freshmen.”

“Obviously! They’re my ticket out of this town. It’s not safe here anymore.”

Robin and Jonathan share a look. They know what you’re referring to: the Hawkins Hacker.

The Hacker is the town's own slasher. He claimed victims every year around homecoming for years and years, until 2016, when he suddenly stopped. However, just last night he killed again. The whole town—including your stepbrother Phil, who’s a cop—are on edge.

“Do you need a ride home?” Jonathan asks, spinning his car keys in his hand.

“No, it’s okay,” you say. “My stepmom’s on her way. And there are plenty of people around. I’m totally safe!”

Famous last words.

Literally. (Almost.)

“You sure?” Robin questions. “Because he’s taking me and Nancy home too, but he’s got an extra seat!”

“I’m good,” you say. You hold up your cell phone. “She texted me an hour ago to say she’d get me on time. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?”

Your friends look a little worried, but you wave them off. Game attendees meander out of the school and head to their cars. It’s a sea of people. You’re fine.

However, the minutes tick by, and the crowd thins out. You watch the away team hop a school bus and zip back to their hometown. You feel the temperature of your tiger suit inch up a few degrees when you see Steve wander to his BMW with a couple teammates in tow.

It’s considerably quieter than it was when you first left the game. You text your stepmom LeAnn once, twice. Then you call her once, twice, three times. A third text, a fourth call. Nothing. Radio silence.

By now, it’s dead quiet. Everyone is gone. You feel an icy chill zip down your spine, like you’re being watched…

You miss your father. He died about a year ago, and he was always on time.

You startle when the phone in your hand buzzes. It’s your stepbrother Phil.

“Hey!” you say. “Where’s LeAnn?”

“Passed out again,” Phil says with a beleaguered sigh. “Where are you? Did Jonathan give you a ride home?”

“No, I told him your mom was coming to get me,” you say. “Can you—”

Beep! Beep! Beep!

You pull the phone away from your ear and groan. It’s dead. Just great.

A streetlight across the parking lot flickers. When your eyes adjust, your heart drops through your stupid mascot feet and to the center of the earth: there’s a man watching you.

You can’t tell, but it looks like he’s wearing a mask. You gulp, panic stretching itself through every fiber of your being.

“Please don’t be the Hawkins Hacker,” you mumble to yourself. “Please don’t be the Hacker. Please don’t be the Hacker.”

The Man continues to stare. Something glints in his hand. It frightens you.

“My stepbrother is on his way!” you yell, hoping to scare him off. “He’s a cop. With a gun.”

That doesn’t seem to bother the man at all. In fact, you see him walk toward you—a slow, Michael-Meyers-esque stride that has you shrieking in fear and stumbling to the school doors.

You yank at them to no avail. You don’t bother looking back and instead run around the school building to the football field. Panting from exertion and sheer fear, you duck under the bleachers and hide behind a big banner.

You slap a hand over your mouth to quiet your panicked whimpers. Why oh why did you trust LeAnn to get you on time, when every night for the past month she’s drank a whole bottle of chardonnay at 6 p.m. and passed out? Why didn’t you go with Jonathan when he offered? Hell, why didn’t you ask Steve for a ride? He’s a nice guy! He would’ve done it!

Now, you’re hiding from a slasher in a stupid rubber gray mask. And if you die and come back as a ghost, you’ll be wearing the Hawkins High mascot suit for all eternity.

You watch the Hackers’ feet as he stands in front of the bleachers and listen as he steps on them. He seems to think you’ve left, and you hear him wander off.

Or, so you think. Actually, he sneaks up behind you and grabs your leg, yanking you out from your hiding place.

You scream and kick at him, hitting him right in the nose and giving you the chance to run.

You don’t get far, though. He tackles you somewhere around the fifty-yard line.

“No! No!” you scream as he raises the knife above you. The knife has a spider carved in the handle with red ruby eyes. “Please! No!”

You push at him, knocking his mask off. His face is gaunt: all sallow cheekbones and purple under-eye bags. His eyes are a dull, washed-out blue, and his blonde hair is scraggly and unwashed.

You hate that his face is the last face you’ll ever see.

He plunges the dagger into your shoulder just a few inches shy of your heart and you scream in pain, the bloodcurdling sound echoing across the football field. The Hacker hisses in pain and drops the knife. He touches his shoulder and looks angry at the sight of blood on his fingertips.

His blood. From the wound that appeared on his shoulder after he stabbed you in the same spot.

Bang! Bang!

“GET AWAY FROM HER!” Phil roars from across the football stadium, gun raised in the air.

The Hacker stumbles to his feet and ambles off. Still prone on the ground, you turn on your stomach and watch him go, shocked at what you witnessed. How did he get stabbed?

You’re in so much shock, you don’t even realize that Phil is by your side until he gently helps you sit up.

“You’re okay!” he says, voice tinged with an urgency you’ve never heard from him before. “I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”

“It hurt him too,” you mutter, a bit delirious. “It hurt him too!”

“Try to stay calm, okay?” Phil says. “You’re in shock. I got you, Y/N.”

You hear him bark into his radio: “This is Officer Callahan! Send an RA unit to the Hawkins High football field! My stepsisters’ been stabbed!”

The rest of your evening is a blur. You get patched up by paramedics and then taken to the police station to give a statement.

LeAnn arrives as you’re sitting with the sketch artist, crying and screaming and apologizing a million times. You forgive her (even though you aren’t sure you want to), and later that night, you hear Phil chewing her out for drinking and forgetting you again.

“She could’ve died, Mom!” you hear him yell as you lie in bed and try to sleep. “If I had been just a minute too late, we would’ve lost her and Allen in the span of 11 months!”

“I’m sorry!” LeAnn sobs. “I just had one glass—”

“One glass, Mom?! Try the whole bottle!”

Despite your anger at her, your heart breaks for LeAnn. You know your dad’s death has been hard on her. She hasn’t been doing too well since he passed, but sometimes you wish she’d realize you weren’t doing that great either. Phil tries to comfort you both, but he’s so busy with work, his pep talks are usually thirty seconds long between bites of a bagel before he’s rushing off to save Hawkins again.

Your phone blows up with texts and DMs. Somehow, the kids at school found out what happened and won’t stop messaging you for details on your encounter with the Hacker. You can’t deal with it. Except, there are some messages that you do respond to:

---

Text Thread with BOBBIN and JONNY B GOOD

BOBBIN: Oh my God!!! Y/N are you okay??? Please text back!!!

JONNY B GOOD: We saw what happened on the news. Please text us when you have a chance. We’re worried about you and thinking of you rn.

BOBBIN: WE’RE FREAKING OUT!!! ARE YOU OKAY???

JONNY B GOOD: Robin, just chill. She’s probably resting.

BOBBIN: Please don’t die and leave me alone to third wheel Nancy and Jonathan!!

JONNY B GOOD: Wooooow.

YOU: Wow is right. I got stabbed and those are your priorities?

BOBBIN: SHE LIVES!!!! YEAHHHHHHH!!!

YOU: Yep, I’m alive. I’m really sorry but I feel like shit. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?

JONNY B GOOD: Of course. We’re here when you need us.

BOBBIN: WE LOVE YOU <3

YOU: <3

---

DMs from steve.anthony.h83

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Hey Y/N I saw the news I rly hope ur OK

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Hi Steve, thank you for reaching out. It means a lot to me. I’m not feeling too good right now.

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Im sry to here that that sux 😞😢💔

---

God, even his text message typos and cheesy emoji usage are endearing. You’re in too deep with this crush.

---

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Yeah. But I think I’ll be okay.

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Anything I can do 2 help? Maybe I can get u smtg, wats ur fav candy?

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Oh, that’s sweet, but you don’t have to do that!

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): I want too 😃 do u like nougat

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): I love nougat!

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Perfect 😃 Ill bring u sum tmrw after school 🍫

YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Thank you, Steve ❤️

STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Feel better Y/N 😃😃

You go to sleep, shaken up but in slightly higher spirits thanks to your conversation with Steve.

🔪🔪🔪

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 13th, 2023

You blink awake hours later, startled at the sight around you.

You aren’t in your room. You’re lying on a mattress on a concrete floor. The room around you is full of weird stuff: grandfather clocks, paintings upon paintings of black widow spiders, and mannequins with nails in their faces like Pinhead.

“What the hell!” you say. You gasp and clutch your neck. “Why is my voice so deep?!”

You stagger to your feet and look around the creepy space. Why are you further from the floor than usual? In the corner, you see a mirror half-covered with a sheet. You yank it off and gasp.

“AHHHH! IT’S THE HAWKINS HACKER!” you scream.

The Hacker screams as well. You reach your hand toward the glass—and the Hacker reaches his hand toward it as well. You pull it away and so does he.

The you in the reflection is the Hacker. Holy shit.

You realize where you are: the old mill. Phil told you to stay away from this place because it’s where drug deals go down, and where Eleanor Gillespie got attacked by birds that one time.

You rush away before you can freak out too much. You head downtown, mind swirling.

This must just be a nightmare. Right? A really, really realistic, terrifying lucid dream.

But when you hit your head on a tree branch (because you’re way, way taller than you used to be) and it actually hurts, you realize it’s not a dream. You’re really the Hawkins Hacker. Somehow, you’ve swapped bodies with a homicidal maniac.

You need to find Phil. He’s been your stepbrother for a decade now and you trust him more than anyone else. He might be able to know what to do—or just be a shoulder to cry on.

You pass an electronics store, and your heart sinks when you see your face—the Hackers’ face—on TV.

“The Hawkins Hacker has been identified as Henry Creel,” the news anchor says, showing a photo of the face that you are unfortunately saddled with now. “He’s most known for killing his mother, father, and sister as a teenager—and also for driving a Jeep Wrangler through a Dairy Queen drive-through window without a license.”

“Hey!” someone shouts nearby, having connected the dots. “You’re the killer guy from TV!”

You don’t even stop to see who’s yelling at you before you run as fast as you can, ducking through alleyways to lose whoever’s chasing you.

You can’t go to the police station now that your face is plastered all over the news and social media. But you need an ally, or allies.

Besides Phil, the people you trust the most are Robin and Jonathan. You sneak into Hawkins High through the gymnasium doors, wishing you had your mascot head to hide under. Then, you take a quick shower in the locker rooms and hide until class change is done.

You slink through the empty hallways and make it to the school’s auditorium. That’s where you, Robin, and Jonathan spend study hall every day.

You open the door to the theater as quiet as a mouse, hiding in the wings for a moment when you overhear them talking about you.

“I hope Y/N’s doing okay,” Robin says with a sigh. She takes a bite of an apple and says through chews, “Why did she blow us off earlier?”

“Give her a break, Rob,” Jonathan says. “She’s probably really shaken up. But it is weird that she even came to school anyway. I wonder—”

“Guys!” you say, stepping onto the stage. “It’s me! Don’t freak out.”

They immediately freak out.

“AHHHHH!!! THE HACKER!!!” Robin screams. She chucks an apple core at your head and it bounces between your eyes. You stumble back and groan.

“COME ON!” Jonathan says, grabbing her hand and dragging her away from your, fear flashing in both of their eyes.

“Wait!” you shout. “Come back!”

You follow them as they run through the hallways and end up in the school cafeteria’s kitchen. A lunch lady shrieks and runs out when she sees you.

“Stop!” you call, following Robin and Jonathan to the back room. “Wait! Please just hear me out.”

Jonathan snatches up a soup ladle and hits you in the spine with it.

“ARGH! Dude, stop!”

Robin grabs a tray of mozzarella sticks and lifts it above her head. The sticks go flying when she whacks you in the head. Repeatedly.

Angry that they won’t stop hitting you, you yank the tray out of Robin’s hand and toss it away. Your newfound strength the body you’ve found yourself in possesses surprises you. The old you would’ve grappled with Robin a lot longer before getting the tray from her, if you even got it at all.

Robin tries to jump on your back piggyback-style to tackle you to the ground, and you elbow her in the stomach.

“Cut that out!” you bark as she wheezes.

Jonathan hits you again with the ladle and you shove his shoulder, a bit too hard. He falls on his butt and winces.

“Enough!” you say. “We’ve hit each other over and over. Can we agree we’re all tired and end this?!”

“No!” Jonathan says, pulling himself back to his feet by gripping a countertop. “You attacked our friend and now you’re attacking us!”

“I’m not attacking you!” you say. “I’m trying to get you to listen. I am not Henry Creel. I am not the Hawkins Hacker. I’M Y/N! YOUR FRIEND Y/N Y/L/N!”

“As if!” Robin scoffs. “I’m calling 911.”

You snatch the phone from her hands and hold it high above your head. She’s tall, but not tall enough to reach it thanks to your longer arms.

“I promise!” you beg, holding your other arm up in surrender. “It’s me. It’s Y/N!”

“Yeah, right!” Jonathan says darkly. He picks up the ladle again, wielding it like a lethal weapon. “Tell us something only Y/N would know or we’re going to the cops.”

“What’s Y/N’s favorite movie?” Robin asks, eyes narrowed.

“I tell everyone it’s Casablanca but it’s The Muppets Take Manhattan!”

“Favorite candy?” Jonathan demands.

“Three Musketeers because I feel guilty that everyone shits on nougat when it’s really not that bad!”

“Who’s Y/N’s biggest crush?” Robin asks.

The face that’s not yours blushes deeply.

“Duh,” you say. “It’s Steve the Hair Harrington.”

Jonathan and Robin share a look. A sense of realization flashes on their faces.

“Handshake?” you offer. You hand Robin her phone back and hold out your hands—or, Henry Creel’s hands—and wait.

Robin and Jonathan slap you five, before the three of you complete the intricate handshake you made up in seventh grade.

“Holy shit!” Robin shrieks, eyes shining. “You’re really Y/N!”

She pulls you and Jonathan in for a group hug and you laugh.

“Oh, thank god,” you say. “If you didn’t believe me, I don’t know what I’d—"

“Hold on,” Jonathan says, pulling out of the hug. “If you’re actually Y/N, that means the Hawkins Hacker is going around school wearing your face!”

“Oh damn,” Robin says. “Is that why you look hot today?”

“What do you mean I look hot?” you say, trying not to take offense to the implication that you don’t look hot every day.

Robin opens Instagram and shows you a photo posted to the student-run Hawkins High Gossip Instagram page. It’s a blurry photo of you (or Henry Creel in your body) walking in the hall past Billy and his asshole friends, who are checking you out. Instead of your usual mousy wardrobe of flowy skirts and cardigans, you’re wearing a tight black tank top, a red leather jacket, and bright red lipstick.

“Hot damn!” you blurt out. “I do look hot! Shit, have I hurt anyone? Or, has he hurt anyone?”

Jonathan grimaces.

“Tommy H. was found unconscious in the chem lab,” he says. “He was mostly fine, except his eyebrows were burned clean off…”

“But if fake-you did that,” Robin says quickly, “you aren’t liable because you weren’t in control of your body!”

“I don’t even know how we body-swapped in the first place!” you lament. “How do I get control of my body back?!”

“Let’s think about this,” Jonathan says. “Maybe it was some kind…spell? Or enchantment?”

“Enchantment?!” you snap. “Dude, be for real!”

“Wait,” Robin says, eyes shining. “I heard about this!”

She opened the internet app on her phone and went to www,theweeklywatcher,com/body-swap.

“No fucking way,” you say. “The Weekly Watcher is not a refutable source!”

“Why not?!” she says, scrolling ferociously until— “Ah! Found it.”

She shows you an article about the mythology of body swapping. At first, you roll your eyes, but then—

“That knife!” you gasp. “That’s the knife he had!”

You point to the photo, featuring the ruby-eyed spider in the knife handle.

“According to this,” Jonathan says, “that knife is an artifact that was used in ancient rituals."

“If you’re struck with the blade when the clock strikes midnight,” Robin reads, “you and your attacker switch places. And you have 24 hours to stab him and switch back.”

“No, no, no!” you groan. “That means we only have 12 hours left!”

“That’s plenty of time,” Jonathan says. “Where’s the knife? You have it, right?”

“No!” you say. “Phil took it as evidence.”

“So we’ll just steal it from the police station,” Robin says, as if it’s easy and obvious.

“Oh, sure,” you lament. “We’ll just waltz into the police station while I have the face and body of a mass murderer and steal evidence. Easy-peasy!”

“We’ll figure something out,” Jonathan says. “Come on.”

The three of you head toward the exit and end up walking past the woodshop classroom. You do a double-take and watch yourself enter the hallway. Or, you watch the Hawkins Hacker parade around as you.

“Hey, stop!” you shout at Henry Creel. He pauses and turns. A shiver runs down your spine at the dark, evil look gracing your features. Features you’ve seen your whole life, features you’ve struggled to like after years of taunting and bullying. Now, they’re marred with the evil spirit of the Hawkins Hacker.

Yet, goddamn. You look hot with red lipstick. Who knew slashers had good fashion sense?

“Don’t try to run,” Jonathan says, the waver in his voice indicating that his bravery is false. “We’ve got you cornered.”

The Hacker suddenly changes expressions. Instead of a nasty glare, he opens his eyes wide, covers his cheeks with his hands, and shrieks: “AHHHH! IT’S THE HAWKINS HACKER! GET HIM!”

A couple cops run around the corner of the hall and you curse, rushing toward a side door with Robin and Jonathan in tow.

“GET YOUR KEYS!” you yell. “We have to get out of here or I’m headed to jail forever!”

Jonathan struggles to start his car, but he peels away just before the cops can stop you all. After your first-ever police chase, you three lose your tail in the parking lot of the big-box store LeAnn works at.

You hide out in a changing room while Jonathan and Robin find you a disguise—a plastic Halloween mask of Bill Clinton’s face.

“I can’t see or breathe in this thing,” you grumble as your friends lead you back to the car.

“If you get arrested,” Robin points out, “you won’t be able to switch back.”

You bite your tongue from any further complaints, too worried about just that.

“So, what’s the plan?” Jonathan asks, once you all are back in his car. “How can we get the knife?”

“About that,” Robin says. “I think we need to bring in your stepbrother.”

“If Phil doesn't believe us, we're in big trouble!” you protest.

“He’s an ally!” Robin shoots back. “And we need one if we’re going to…oh shit.”

She holds up her phone screen for you and Jonathan to see. You squint through the eye holes of your uncomfortable mask and gasp when you realize what’s going on.

“Fuck!” you groan. “What the hell is he doing?!”

It’s another post from the school gossip Insta. The Hawkins Hacker is schmoozing with Billy and his clique of jerks at the local indoor mini-golf place. You watch in the video as he leans into Billy’s ear and whispers something before sauntering off.

The caption of the post says, “OMG is Y/N Y/L/N like, hot now?!”

“I resent this!” you snap. “Why is everyone under the impression that I’m not hot all the time?!”

“No, no, no!” Jonathan gasps. “Look!”

At the tail end of the video, you see Nancy and Steve follow Henry Creel into the glow-in-the-dark golf course.

“They’re going to get killed!” he says, turning the ignition in his car with shaking hands and reversing haphazardly, almost taking out a mulberry bush as he speeds toward the golf place. “Robin, call Nancy now.”

“She’s not picking up!” Robin says, phone to her ear. “I’ll text!”

Your stomach churns with anxiety. If the Hacker kills Nancy and Steve while he’s in your body and you switch back, you’ll feel guilty forever. You’ll also go to jail. But if you don’t switch back, you’ll go to jail as Henry! This is all too much.

You’re certain the pale face that doesn’t belong to you is green right now as Jonathan drives like a racecar driver to save his girlfriend and your crush from “your” wrath.

🔪🔪🔪

Steve’s not sure what’s gotten into you today.

First, you showed up to school. That was surprising after your attack.

“Hey!” he had said when you walked into woodshop class. “How you feeling?”

You hadn’t responded, but you had looked quite intrigued when he accidentally cut his finger working on his birdhouse.

“Ah, shit,” he’d grumbled. “Do you have a—”

You leaned over and licked the blood clean off his finger. It startled him—and annoyed him when that freak Eddie Munson mumbled, “Whoa, that’s hot,” from across the worktable.

Steve’s cheeks glowed rosy red, flustered at your boldness. But you’d left class before he could do or say anything about it (or give you the candy he brought for you).

And now, after school, you’re standing with Billy and whispering salacious things into his ear. Since when do you like Billy? Billy, the guy that throws things at you? Billy, the guy that wrote “Y/N Y/L/N is an ugly stupid bitch” on the bathroom stalls? Billy, the guy that didn’t give you the time of day until you dressed differently?!

Why doesn’t she like me?! Steve thought, trying to look unaffected as you continued flirting with Billy. He fails, the wrinkle between his brows getting deeper as you continue talking to Billy in a low voice.

“Steve,” Nancy says urgently, rushing up to him. “We need to talk.”

“Can it wait?” Steve says. He crosses his arms. “I don’t want to do anything right now except sulk.”

“Something’s really, really wrong,” Nancy continues, ignoring Steve’s pity party. “Jonathan’s MIA and isn’t messaging me back. And neither is Robin. And Carol claims she saw them earlier get in Jonathan’s car with a tall, blond weirdo.”

“So, maybe they have a new friend,” Steve says. He squeezes the handle of his mini-golf putter and watches you walk toward the glow-in-the-dark course. “I need to go talk to Y/N.”

“No!” Nancy hisses, following him as they cut through the crowds. She tucks her phone deep in her purse. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. The Hawkins Hacker is a tall, blond weirdo. Carol didn’t get a good look, but—”

“But you think your boyfriend and Robin are rubbing elbows with a killer? Nance, that’s bullshit.”

“It’s not!” she snaps. “I think that, somehow, that tall blond weirdo is actually Y/N and that girl that you’re going to go talk to is the Hacker.”

“That makes no goddamn sense,” Steve says. “Body-swapping isn’t possible.”

“Just listen to me! I was reading an article in The Weekly Watcher…”

Nancy follows Steve into the course, whispering her findings and bringing up Y/N’s odd behavior as they navigate the dark room lit up with black lights.

The more he listens, the more it makes sense. You’re not acting like yourself. But it still seems too far-fetched.

“I don’t know, Nance,” Steve says, scanning the room for you. “I think you need to stop listening to Robin so much.”

Swish! The beaded curtain leading into the next section of the course rattles as Henry Creel barrels through.

“Nancy! Steve!” he yells. “Watch out!”

Henry pushes them to the side and grabs Y/N’s hand—huh, when did you sneak up behind Steve and Nancy? The Hacker twists your wrist and you cry out.

“Y/N!” Steve shouts, rushing forward to protect you. Before he can, Jonathan and Robin grab his arms.

“No, no, let them fight!” Robin says.

“Let go of me!” Steve snaps.

He watches, helpless, as the Hawkins Hacker punches you between the eyes and you crumple like sand.

“Whoa, cool!” Henry Creel says, turning around and facing the four teens with an excited glimmer in his eye. “I’ve never knocked someone out with one punch before.”

“Wait!” Nancy says. “Am I right?”

“Right about what?” Jonathan asks.

“Did Henry and Y/N…switch bodies?”

Henry (or, Y/N?) puts his hands on his hips.

“Girl, how did you know?”

It all becomes too much for Steve. He blacks out.

🔪🔪🔪

When Steve wakes, he’s lying on the Byers’ couch. Henry Creel sits on a kitchen chair next to him.

Steve opens his mouth to scream.

“Wait!” Henry says. “Steve, don’t freak out. It’s me! I know I look like the Hacker, but it’s Y/N!”

Across the room, the person that looks like you is tied to another kitchen chair.

“Steve, don’t listen to him!” Y/N laments. “He’s crazy! He brainwashed these three idiots into working for him!”

“Who are you calling idiot, idiot?” Robin snaps.

“Steve, I was right,” Nancy explains patiently, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Y/N and Henry Creel have switched places.”

“No!” the tied-up Y/N shrieks. “Please! Steve, look at me.”

Steve turns his head toward her.

“No!” Henry says. “Look at me, Steve.”

Steve turns back toward the Hacker/potential real you.

“Steve!” the tied-up Y/N groans, trying to sound in distress but actually moaning like a Bridgerton reject. “Steve! Steeeeeeeve!”

“Oh, dry up, bitch!” Robin snaps.

“Jesus Christ, Robin!” Henry says. “Don’t talk to him like that when he’s got my face. That’s rude.”

“This is all too much,” Steve says, jumping to his feet. “I—I can’t be here.”

He darts toward the door, but before he can exit the Byers house, Henry stands and says, “We danced together at our freshman year Snow Ball!”

Steve pauses with his hand on the door handle.

“It was in the parking lot,” Henry continues. “You were vaping and I was leaving early, because truthfully, I was having a terrible time. But I saw you, and you saw me, and we split a snowflake-shaped sugar cookie and talked for, like, half an hour. And then someone propped the doors open and we could hear the DJ, and he was playing that creepy ’80s song about always watching someone, and we ragged on the lyrics for being weird and stalker-y. But you asked me if I wanted to dance, and we did for half a minute, and then my dad came to pick me up and I left. But that was the most fun I had had all semester and it gave me a fat, embarrassing crush on you. And I really, really wish I wasn’t a total coward, or I would’ve told you way sooner than our senior year—and when I wasn’t in the body of a serial killer.”

Steve watches the way Henry nervously wrings his hands—he recognizes it as a habit of yours. For a long minute, he’s not sure what to think.

🔪🔪🔪

For a long minute, you’re not sure what to think.

You just blurted out your secret crush on Steve Harrington to Steve Harrington, and he’s staring at you like he doesn’t understand you.

But then, he gives you a small smile.

“Maybe this is weird to say while you’re in the body of a serial killer,” Steve says, “but I have a fat, embarrassing crush on you, too.”

Your heart soars.

“Pathetic,” the fake-you/the Hacker grumbles. “You’re both cowards. I can’t wait to gut you like a fish.”

“That’s enough!” Nancy says sharply, shoving a sock into the Hacker’s mouth. He glares up at her with your face, but Nancy doesn’t even flinch.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Jonathan says, “let’s divide and conquer. I’ll stay here to keep an eye on murder Barbie.”

He nods in the direction of the scowling, incapacitated Hacker.

“And I’ll drive the rest of us to the police station,” Nancy says. “Y/N, you’ll stay in the car while we distract your stepbrother and steal that knife back. He should be the only one working, because everyone else is hunting you. Er, Henry.”

“Knife?” Steve asks. “What knife?”

“It’s a spooky, magic dagger and it’s the reason Y/N and Henry Creel are swapped!” Robin says.

Steve blinks once, twice.

“Right. Totally. That makes sense.”

“Let’s go!” you say. “We have four more hours to do this!”

🔪🔪🔪

While Nancy and Robin go to get the knife, you and Steve wait in the car.

It’s a little awkward, due to the circumstances. When you imagined sitting in the backseat of a car with Steve Harrington, you hoped for something a little more amorous. Not you in the body of the Hawkins Hacker.

You start to feel a little brave and even consider reaching for his hand to hold—when you see the fake you running down the sidewalk and into the station.

“What?!” you say. “How’d he get out?!”

“Shit,” Steve says. “You stay out of sight, I’ll try and stop him.”

“No!” you say. “My stepbrother’s in there! I have to go help. You stay here and call Jonathan! Make sure he’s okay.”

Steve frowns but nods, agreeing to stay behind.

When you bolt into the police station, you see Phil with his hand on his holster, glaring at Robin and Nancy. Fake you feigns a frightened gasp and runs behind him when you enter, and Phil pulls his gun and points it at you. You throw your hands up.

“Don’t shoot!” you squeak.

“Kill him!” Henry says from his hiding spot.

“Don’t! Stop!” Robin and Nancy shout.

You see the spider dagger on the ground by your friends’ feet. Before you can try and grab it, Henry does and runs out of the station.

Phil doesn’t even give him a second look.

“Put your hands behind your head,” he says to you, “and walk slowly into the cell.”

“This is a mistake!” you protest, but following his instructions so you don’t get pumped with lead.

“Please, Officer Callahan,” Robin begs.

“We’re telling the truth,” Nancy says, “just—”

“Quiet, you two!” he barks. “You! Keep walking.”

You gulp and step into the cell.

“Do you remember what I got you for Christmas in 2017?” you ask.

“Shut up,” Phil says. You glance behind. He still has the gun pointed at your back, but you see his hands shaking. And his finger’s not on the trigger.

“It was a pack of limited-edition Pokémon cards,” you continue. “Mint condition. With a holographic Charizard. But I didn’t realize I ordered a rip-off pack called Pokeymans, so it was actually a Chumpizard card.”

“How the fuck do you know that?!” Phil demands, voice shaking in tandem with his hands.

“Because I’m not the Hawkins Hacker!” you say. “I’m really Y/N. And…I’m sorry about this.”

With Henry Creel’s strength, you knock the gun out of Phil’s hands. It skitters across the floor, and you yank him by the arm into the cell.

He stumbles against the back wall and you step out, closing the door and locking him inside.

“HEY!” Phil screams, yanking at the bars. “LET ME OUT!”

“I’m so sorry!” you say. “But it’s really me. I have to hunt that bitch down and stab him with the stolen dagger and then our bodies will switch back and things will be normal again!”

“STAY AWAY FROM MY SISTER!” Phil roars, evidently not buying into the body-swap story.

Touched, you clasp your hands to your chest.

“Wait, you called me your sister!” you say. “Not stepsister! That’s so sweet. You’re my brother, Phil. And I’m going to make things right.”

Phil furrows his brow, confused, as you run out with Nancy and Robin in tow.

Jonathan and Steve meet you three out front.

“Your brother can’t drive for shit!” Steve says. “He just almost ran us over with his squad car.” “That wasn’t Phil!” you say. “It was Henry! He stole his cop car. But why? Where the fuck is he going?”

“Earlier this evening,” Nancy says urgently, “I heard you—uh, him—tell Billy that they should throw a homecoming party at the old mill, since they canceled the real dance.”

“That’s where he lives!" you say. "His homebase. It’s where I woke up this morning.”

“It’s his hunting ground,” Robin says darkly. “No doubt he’ll be killing teens left and right.”

“We have to stop him,” Jonathan says.

“No shit, Byers!” Steve says. “Let’s go!”

🔪🔪🔪

When you arrive at the mill, your group agrees to split up.

“Wait!” Steve says, before you dart off. “Hold out your arm.”

You hesitate and do as he says. He attaches his watch to your wrist.

“I always have it set for five minutes ahead,” Steve explains. “So I’m not late to stuff. So we have 30 minutes to find the Hacker, get the knife, and do the switch.”

“Everyone keep your phones close,” Jonathan says. “Move out!”

You divide and conquer, searching the party of wild, drunk teenagers for the evil man wearing your face. Eventually, you find him in an empty back room — towering over an unconscious Billy with an axe in hand, ready to whack the bully in the skull.

“WAIT!” you yell. “STOP!”

The Hacker freezes and turns, giving you an evil smile. You see the hilt of the magical dagger shining in a sheath attached to his belt.

“It’s you again,” he spits.

“Yes, hi,” you say. “It’s me. And I’m going to ask you to put the axe down before I make you.”

The Hacker cackles.

“Really?” he says. “Even in your pathetic, puny body, I could overpower you in half a second. Plus, this jerk makes your life hell. Don’t you want me to finish him off?”

“No!” you snap. “Because I’m not a monster like you!”

You notice Jonathan in a doorframe behind the Hacker, staying out of his eyeline.

“What’s your problem, man?” you ask, hoping to distract him so Jonathan can take him by surprise. “Why do you kill people?”

“Do you really want to know why?” Henry asks. You nod.

“Well, guess what: there’s no reason. None at all. I kill people because I think it’s fun!”

“You’re sick,” you mutter.

He grins evilly.

“And you’re my next vict—Argh!”

Jonathan interrupts the Hacker’s evil spiel by hitting him in the back of the skull with a fire extinguisher. The murderer crumples to the ground, the axe flying out of his reach.

He doesn’t stay down for long. Thankfully, you’re able to tackle him and snatch the magical knife into your hand.

You raise it above your head, and—

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You gasp and look at Steve’s watch. The timer is done. You’re out of time.

The Hacker laughs and laughs and laughs.

“Shit,” you say, tears of anger and despair welling up in your eyes. “Shit! I’m stuck like this!”

“I win!” the Hacker cackles. “You’ll be tossed in jail, and I’ll be free to keep killing. I think I'll stab your little boyfriend Steve next.”

You’re about to drop the dagger and run, unsure of where to go or what to do, when Jonathan says: “Wait, the clock tower!”

You whip your head over to look at him, brow furrowed.

“The clock tower in the library!” Jonathan continues. “It’s not going off! You still have time!”

Puzzle pieces fall into place.

“Steve sets his watch five minutes ahead,” you say, glancing at your wrist.

Henry Creel’s eyes widen, and then you plunge the dagger into his shoulder.

You feel strange, like you’re floating in the air. Then, suddenly, both you and the Hacker are thrown backward.

When you hazily blink and sit up, you see the Hacker doing the same.

“It worked!” you say, face splitting into a grin.

The Hacker glares at you. You feel a chill down your spine. But before he can do or say anything, your brother swoops in with his gun raised.

“Hands where I can see them!” Phil yells. The Hacker grumbles but obeys. You and Jonathan skirt away from him as Phil slaps handcuffs on the killer and drags him into a squad car.

“Y/N!” Robin shouts, running over with Nancy and Steve in tow. “Are you okay?!”

“I’m okay,” you say. You wince and grip your shoulder. “Except I reopened my shoulder wound, and I think I’m going to have really, really freaky dreams every night for the rest of my life.”

Phil races back over once his colleagues have Henry Creel in custody, fussing over you like a mother (brother) hen. You find yourself seated in the back of an ambulance with a freshly bandaged shoulder.

After Phil steps away to debrief Chief Hopper on the arrest (and to lock the magical dagger away once and for all), Steve wanders over.

“Can I sit here?” he asks, gesturing vaguely next to you on the back bumper of the ambulance. You nod and scoot over.

“How’s your arm?” Steve asks.

“It’s mine again,” you say, “so it feels amazing, despite the stab wound.”

“I’m definitely glad to see you as yourself again,” Steve says, cheeks flushing pink. He looks down at his fidgeting hands, the epitome of bashful, when he adds, “Actually, now that you’re yourself again, I was going to ask if you wanted to go on a date with me sometime.”

Your insides melt.

“Really?” you practically squeal, trying not to sound too eager. “Ah, I mean. That would be cool, or whatever.”

Before you can convince yourself not to, you give Steve a quick kiss on the cheek. He beams at you, but you both roll your eyes when you hear Robin, Jonathan, and Nancy hoot and holler from a few yards away.

Everything will be fine, now. You’ll be fine. That’s what you tell yourself when Phil drives you home and LeAnn gives you a million hugs and says how happy she is that you’re okay. That’s what you tell yourself when you fall asleep after having a lovely text conversation with Steve. That’s what you tell yourself when you have nightmares about being stuck as the Hacker forever, nightmares where he escapes jail and kills you (and everyone you love) once and for all.

But you tell yourself it’s fine, that you’re fine. That nothing is wrong, despite the chill down your spine that can’t quite go away.

🔪🔪🔪

a/n a happy yet spooky ending. is everything really fine? is the hacker really gone for good? maybe I'll write a sequel one day. or maybe I won't, as to not torture y/n any more.

tag list: @hollandweather @starry-eyed-steve @aloneinthehellfire @a-dealwith-god

if any of my mutuals (or anyone else) would like to be tagged in any of my future steve fics, lmk!

#st fic: superfreaky #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n

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justanotherdayhsusu · 2 months

Text

Apologies

Warning mention of grooming, sexualizing minors, and nsfw

the grooming allegations.

honestly I didn’t even know my interaction was considered grooming. I never had that intention or even planned to do that. I just didn’t know boundaries or even heard of it. I grew up in an environment where everyone just made dirty jokes and even talk about what they think without filters. Hell even my family openly talked about their sex life.

I also have a hard time trying to understand what is okay and what isn’t in social situations. It’s been a problem I had even when I was a kid.

I wanted to come as a friendly person. So I thought mimicking what my mom does and any other caring person would do would help. I even mimic what I’ve seen people would like to hear. I just didn’t know that it would be taken as grooming.

but that’s not an excuse. And I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable or even feel threatened by me. But I did.

I know that my interaction is going to affect the person for the rest of their life. And I’m sorry. If you don’t believe me and still are angry at me that’s valid! You have every right to be angry at me and not forgive me. But I’m still going to say I’m sorry. As I am truly sorry.

I’ve been working on learning boundaries and how to interact with others. I’ve been going through group therapy and even talk to my therapist about this. I’m not saying I’m all better and that I’m going back online. No i actually plan on staying away from social media in general. And if I do come back it’s going to be in nsfw spaces. I will also go for websites that is adults only. And won’t go to like tiktok,x,tumblr or any website that is targeted to minors.

meaning I won’t use this account to post art or interact with people.

Sexualizing minors

honestly I thought this was about Percy but no it was about Janice. I was confused as I didn’t draw Janice in any nsfw or even drew her sexually. Up until someone confronted me about it.

I remember the post I made about being happy about not caring that people where shipping Panny with Janice . And a lot of people got mad about it and I really didn’t understand. My mind can’t connect things that are obvious. And sometimes I don’t really understand others point of view. It takes me a while to try and understand it.

I didn’t ship the whole Panny x Janice thing. In fact I just mentioned being happy in not hurting anymore. People have been taking Panny and doing whatever the hell they want with her. Even if I go out of my way to ask them to stop.

people have been shipping Panny with a child oc, or other characters. Some have made nsfw of her and send it to me. Which made me really uncomfortable. It hurt badly to see this. So when I saw that I stopped caring I was just happy. So happy to not cry and feel this emotional pain on my chest. I was happy. To not be tormented by this. I know it sounds silly how something like this can affected me so badly to the point of messing with my mental health.

but I was really attached to Panny. She was a comfort character of mine that helped me understand what a happy relationship could look like. And make ridiculous storylines.

and in my train of thought. I thought if I worked with the person that made this Percy’s x Panny x Janice thing it would help me to become immune? I dont know if thats the word. But something that just makes me not be so bothered by it.

but I will make it clear. I don’t draw any nsfw of minors or make a grown up version just to make nsfw of them. I am extremely picky and cautious on what characters I draw nsfw of. I even go out of my way to make sure the characters are 19 or older.

Percy doesn’t have a canonical age. And I’ve have imagined him to be an adult since I was 13.

I’m also very strict with characters that aren’t cannon. Just to avoid making any author of that character doesn’t get uncomfortable like I have when people made nsfw of Panny.

but I’m not going to lie and say I’m a saint. I have drawn nsfw of wiki characters. But after that experience I had. I stopped. And if I do draw those things with the wiki characters I won’t post them. I will only post them if I knew the admins are comfortable with that sort of things

But this is the internet. Not everyone is going to respect you. Not everyone is going to listen. I needed that thick skin that many other popular creators have.

Even if you make boundaries people will go out of their way and purposely disrespect that.

and again I am sorry that I’ve hurt you and your trust.

I’m not planning to come back to social media or post my art. And if I do then it will be nsfw spaces that is specifically only for adults. As I enjoy making nsfw. Plus I would prefer to be in a space where people are comfortable with talking about that sort of things. And I like to meet people around my age.

and if you’re still mad and don’t forgive me that’s valid. Like I said you have The right to be mad at me. And I won’t force you to forgive me. Thats for you to decide. Not me.

I’ve just wanted to make an apology post. For months I wanted to make a apology post.

Another thing. I’ve once gotten into a discoed group cha And got blocked. And honestly that’s the best Thing to ever happen to me. My mental health wasn’t great and I was extremely chronically online. And being blocked gave me the push that I needed to get my shit together.

I’ve only had TikTok but deleted it when someone spam my comments with pedo. Causing me to have a mental breakdown. Honestly it’s ridiculous how I handled that situation. I wished I could have handled that maturely but I didn’t. And I’m sorry.

I’m not planning to use this account. I made sure to not remember the password to this account or have any access to it. As I really don’t want to come back to this account obsessing over something that I have no control over.

#Candle cove

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moekawa · 3 months

Text

i need help . . . o(╥﹏╥)o

ok first of all i’m reallyyyyy sorry for not posting on this blog .ᐟ.ᐟ i sort of forgot about it . . .

second of all, i’m struggling with something - i’ll put it under a cut since not everyone wants to see people ramble about their possible disorders .ᐟ

please note that under the cut , there may be mentions of trauma & all sorts of things related to mental disorders; so please assume that anything associated may be mentioned .ᐟ

ok , hiiii .ᐟ so , i’ve been thinking of something that’s been happening for a while now .

i don’t really expect anyone to actually be able to help with this, but i’d like to try to find out . . . and this post might be able to help me get it off my chest + have my thoughts in one place for when i can tell a therapist about it .ᐟ.ᐟ i’m extremely worried about telling people this , so that’s also why i’m posting this here - since not many people know this blog even exists .ᐟ

also , please keep in mind i’m not very sure about anything . . . i’m sorry if i make wrong assumptions or misuse any terms .ᐟ

i’ve always been sort of switching constantly between my favorite stuff - like , i’ve always had a main favorite thing (a special interest maybe .ᐣ.ᐣ i’m about to get evaluated for autism, so this may be the term) , but i constantly switch my second favorite stuff . . . (hyperfixations . . .ᐣ but i don’t know if that term could even apply to me)

for example; my special interest(.ᐣ) in 2020/2021 was danganronpa , but my favorite character would switch constantly (like , to the point i changed my entire layout way more than normal . . .) , and i’m not saying this is a mental issue itself but it did develop into something more

i can’t really remember when i started associating the identity of the character i was currently fixated on with my own , but the earliest time i can remember it happening was around summer 2022 . . . i started associating a character’s whole identity with my own - it wasn’t a delusion and i was aware i still exist , but i was mostly convinced i was that character

i would say it’s just some odd thing happening to me , but it’s happened multiple times , and sometimes it’s the exact same character

maybe my wording 2 lines ago was wrong - it’s less associating and more . . . becoming that character , kind of .ᐣ it like . . . controls everything i do.

it feels real , but yet i can’t stop feeling like i’m secretly just making things up in my brain . . . but then again , i feel like i’d know if i was forcing myself to think this .ᐣ the fact i constantly switch these .ᐣ.ᐣ idk what to call them . . . alters is the term for systems and that’s what i feel like i may have but i don’t feel comfortable using that term until i know more . . . well , whatever , the fact i’m constantly switching is true.

i’ve been looking at countless websites and sources for did & osdd; i feel like the absolutely closest one out of those is osdd-1b , i don’t really have amnesia about the things i do.

my doubts (+ notes trying to figure these doubts out) about this are:

does my trauma actually count .ᐣ (i did have something major at 9 + possibly just . . . emotional neglect all throughout my childhood .ᐣ i can’t tell if it counts but i was just for almost all of my childhood on a screen + repeated stuff recently so maybe that’s why i’m splitting maybe .ᐣ.ᐣ still don’t like using those terms since i’m not 100% sure)

almost everyone is a fictional character (1 is like… a group of fictional characters mashed together . . .ᐣ i feel like splitroject would describe that but i’m also not sure) (the other just goes by my online name and’s the host maybe .ᐣ.ᐣ) (from a small search it seems like this is possible but i’ll have to look more into it - also all my life i’ve kinda found comfort in fictional characters more than my own made up ones , idk if that could play a part .ᐣ)

online people are just influencing me (i proved this wrong earlier in this post about how what i’m experiencing is real and i know i’m not coming up with this since it’s been happening for a while)

straight up denial (i have a MASSIVE fear of being wrong and i feel like that’s where this starts happening . . . i know lots of people say it’s okay to be wrong about yourself but it’s too scary . . . + i’ve always relied on other people to help me discover myself but with a disorder like this it’s hard to seek help from anyone that isn’t a professional - especially when i’m too scared to open up about it) (this also comes from me looking at those fakeclaiming subreddits that say things like “13 year olds can’t recognize they’re a system” (i do think it would be hard - i still have a giant chance of being wrong and even then i’m questioning myself like crazy) and i think it’s just fed me misinformation (not to say other social media isn’t feeding me just as much misinformation))

the “funny” thing is just recently i had a switch where i dissociated which kind of proves that what i’m experiencing is real + i’ve seen several times that denial is common

anyways i think one more thing i need to get off my chest since it’s mostly fictional characters - i don’t think i’m an irl or fictionkin of my alters(.ᐣ) since not only does switching describe it more than shifting , but when they switch they take control , something fictionkins don’t do. also , being an irl means you have psychosis or a delusion or something related to that; i don’t have psychosis.

also, for coping-links; i didn’t choose to have these alters(.ᐣ) , so it doesn’t make it a coping-link.

EDIT!!!! so about switching , when it happened my brain felt a little funny , but i thought i was just overthinking. when i woke up though , my brain didn’t feel like that , even when i was thinking a lot about my brain. also , i was thinking about myself and honestly i don’t really feel like one person. i feel like multiple people. i was also thinking about bpd, but wouldn’t that just change my personality constantly , not me as a person .ᐣ i’ve always preferred referring to myself as ‘us’ when i talk to my mom though , which is strange. i’m not too sure yet though , so i’ll keep doing more research .ᐟ

i can’t really think of anything else to add here . . . i’m going to do more research tomorrow , i just needed to get this down. please reply if i said anything wrong/misleading .ᐟ

#emyu needs help !!#other specified dissociative disorder #osdd 1b #osdd #system #trying to figure something out #osdd system #please note that i’m only like… 60 to 70% sure if i’m a system #do NOT take this as if i’m an actual system since i’m still unsure #also i did research but i may or may not be wrong #+ the internet has lots of misinformation #also plz don’t say “ur valid!!!” without reading and comprehending #it’s validating but if i’m wrong it could be harmful #DO UR OWN RESEARCH IF U SEE THIS AND UR QUESTIONING TOO BTW I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING MORE THAN YOU DO!!!!

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keytaryourheart · 2 years

Text

A LOT HAPPENED TODAY…

i knew the sweet hot merch was dropping today because it’s good old bandcamp friday. what i did not know was that there was gonna be a lovely fresh single paired with it.

i also stumbled upon DEFS. i searched for RJM on youtube which usually has brett domino as the first result. but it didn’t this time, it had RJM come up first with a different pfp, DEFS.

i was a bit confused then absolutely FLABBERGASTED by the fact he’d only gone and done a leave the door open cover. not to mention the fact it was by this so called “DEFS”.

so this project has been going on for a while now and somehow it’s gone completely under my radar which is a bit embarrassing.

the point is im part of the DEFS party now!

it’s come at such a perfect time for me. i was watching old rocco la bête videos and tried seeing if his website was still up and it wasn’t. which was a shame. i felt kinda sad that RJM wasn’t really doing much for the “madinverse” per se. back then it seemed like all these crazy characters were knocking about and had all their own social media pages, websites and songs. but at the minute it’s only really brett and rob doing stuff given c-bomb has been inactive for ages. turns out i was WRONG! (btw im excluding APPLZAFT because there wasn’t really a persona attached the project)

this character seems c-bomb adjacent in terms of /character/ with the spiky hair, big glasses and brash tone. also with the whole “PRE-EMINENT. POST-PUNK. SHEFFIELD.” ordeal. okay now listen, i don’t know anything about music so i can’t tell you what genre this is or who he may have been inspired by. the only punk i’ve listened to extensively is stuff by the tuts. i guess i know punk from lady parts too but YEAH OKAY SO THE GENRE IS PUNK!!

c-bomb had a “political song” (mutha nature) but it wasn’t really punk-esc (yeah he’s EDM but i mean in terms of lyrics). but DEFS is very steamroller, the track not the album. honestly it’s overall very on brand for RJM if you think about:

get the tories out

manifesto

fireball

steamroller

middle-of-the-road comedian

everybody defecates

trees

you know i could talk for hours about RJM

motifs but i’ll spare you. i’ll be mainly talking about so sue me! first of all, when i found out the difference between initialisms and acronyms a few months ago i was blown away. i told everyone i knew but he’s taken it a step further and put it in this song.

he talks about the mundane and how it continues until the world ends. which is why i said it’s similar to MOTRC (when’s the earths just dust and dying embers), fireball (if we’re ever in the middle of nuclear war) and trees (will someone tell me how it’s going to end // how much time have we got to spend). the things he lists at the start (will they just go on forever) is so perfect. i love weird stupid stuff like that, things that i’d like to ask if they’d go on forever are: ipads, the bachelor, oodies, starbucks, wordle and liquid eyeliner. he does a similar thing in blackberry: am-dram phantom //!road race on tandems // …overpriced candles // … reaching out the fandom.

after the silly stuff he actually says some serious stuff. after a quick google apparently punk critiques “pop culture and conventional society” which is basically what happens. societal issues being the monarchy and the working week (anti-capitalist yet some how just released a song call buy stuff! lol i know it was ironic. plus im supporting a *smaller* artist directly not doing a haul off shein.)

tbh i can’t understand some of it because i’m terrible with these things and maybe also a bit because of his accent i’m sorry.

back to the acronyms, i feel like he always has to add someone sciencey. in this it’s lasers, previously (most notably on steamroller the album) it’s been mentions of acrylamide, dysprosium with opposing magnetic charge, hydrogen peroxide, bituminous coal. funk also has similar stuff with ngc4945 which actually has NASA in it. i just love the physics lyrics. even tho i do not understand physics and it was my second worst subject i adore mentions of supernovas, black hole entropy, thousand watt incandescent bulbs, the earths curvature and the hippocampus.

okay i went really off topic. but anyway there’s a little skit part after that which SCREAMS alistair green (i was gonna say alastair campbell that would be very wrong). not that RJM hasn’t done skits before, but this one reminded me a lot of mr alistair green rather than stuff he’s done as brett.

it’s also good just to see him scream!!! go girl let it all out.

there was obviously a reason why he hadn’t mentioned this project on brett domino or RJM (at least i don’t think did? maybe he said something on instagram i gave no idea) and i’m not gonna pretend to know that reason. regardless i’m glad he’s having fun with it. it seems that way anyway! he’s mentioned through c-bomb that sometimes it feels like you gotta produce “content” for “the man” and that some people say his political stuff is “not what they signed up for” so having this be completely seperate from BDT and RJM makes sense. i’m glad he’s able to say and do the things he wants to say that he can’t necessarily say through brett.

i love what’s he’s doing and i don’t care how he does it. it’s his art. social media (and the algorithm) is a bitch and whether or not it positively impacts creative work is still being debated.

bonus: as someone who’s trans queer and asian it’s so fucking amazing that my favourite artist is involved politically (in a good way aka not a right wing nut). i think a lot of people can relate to this actually. (shoutout to those who’s favs are political satirists)

#DEFS #brett domino #rob j madin #teddy text #well that was a lot #i said i wasn’t gonna talk about motifs but i did #thank RJM and tim key for ur anti tory bangers #i’m not even british #but fuck them #fuck scomo #i’m gonna read this next week and cringe #i ordered the beanie and tote but not any of the prints #i didn’t even talk about the leave the door open cover tha much #i need to listen to bd to calm downI find him relaxing #because this was A Lot

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fiddles-ifs · 3 years

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Hello! Aspiring author here.

First off, I want to say Greenwarden is a masterpiece that I have been following since its release in 2019. It broke my heart when you announced about switching to Twine, which I don't find the interface appealing (I only read on my phone, and Twine doesn't automatically adjust the text for a more mobile-friendly experience.) But because I love your story so much, I'm determined to read it once it comes out in itch.io 😤 that's how much I love this book.

I'm planning on making my own book under CoG/HG as well, however there are certain themes in my story that might not be published due to creative differences with its administration.

My question is: What were CoG/HG's content standards that restricted you from publishing under their name? And what policies that you reconsidered under their contract?

If this is too uncomfortable and personal to answer, please don't feel obligated in answering. I'm just a fan having second thoughts on releasing my own if.

Thanks and you have a great day!

It’s no problem!!! I’m also planning on making Greenwarden friendly for mobile — I just have to brush up on my JavaScript.

Long post below!

As for CoG’s content standards, what made me most uncomfortable was their lack of transparency regarding what their content standards actually are. First and foremost they allow games like Samurai of Hyuga on their platform (I assume because Devon Connell is tight with Jason Hill). I’m of the opinion that particular cesspit is best put on fetish sites for the consumption of 4chan neckbeards, for reasons I’ve already explained. It’s not even the kind of edgy that explores deep concepts like “the freedom of self in the face of predetermination” or “how minority voices are silenced by oppositional forces.” It’s just weeb wank written by a white guy.

Secondly, their forum moderation is hot garbage, the stink I’ve which I’ve been quaffed with first-hand. Half the time the CoG forums are rampant with straight up homophobes and transphobes, and as a queer trans person I do not ever want to be associated with, nor do I feel safe around, that. I get that they can’t control everyone, but when multiple people have asked you to clean up the TERFs on their website and you don’t — and on several occasions ban the people asking instead — then I’m pulling my shit out of there faster than if you gave a cow a laxative. Not to mention the fact that they have permabanned users for *looks at my ipad* rightfully complaining about their forum policies on their Tumblr pages, a third party website not affiliated with CoG???? But ok the users who openly call people slurs on other websites can stay. Sure.

Lastly, CoG pays Hosted authors very, very little in comparison to their contracted authors. As in, contracted authors are paid around 10k for even producing a proof of concept, while Hosted authors have to be content with the majority share of their profits going to CoG. Which, to me, feels like the biggest and most insidious pyramid scheme I’ve ever heard of. I think I’d rather have a tea party with the ghost of Ronald Reagan, now that I think about it.

Anyways. Sorry about the rant!! Now that I’m not beholden to Jason Hill’s all-seeing eye I might have gone a little ham.

#answered #essentially i think cog hides under a thin veneer of feminism #while simultaneously censoring and refusing to publish authors who write meaningful content #and publishing authors who would prefer to write barely-veiled fetishism #which is not implying that 18+ art isnt meaningful art but if youre going to do that at least say it with your chest #rather than entrapping people into shelling out 5 bucks for a story they neither expected nor wanted

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gb-patch · 3 years

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Ask Answers: July 10th

I really let asks get away from me lately. I was super focused on working on that Patreon Moment. With that done I can finally think about doing other things, so here’s a new collection of answers!

Thank you for sending in questions everyone ^^.

For the new Patreon moment, will you be able to reference it in step 4? Or just like a tiny nod to it if you pick certain choices?

There won’t be. I’m sorry if you were hoping for that! The Patreon moment is meant to be entirely optional, it’s not something that gets you extra content in the main game.

Is the new CG artist the main one now? :0 I’ve noticed theres been a difference in the art style recently. Is the old CG artist still going to make art for the game? :0

The original artist still makes CGs for the game sometimes, but he mainly focuses on character sprites.

Are you going to put the NSFW our life moment on a website other than patreon? I would love to get it but I can't use patreon atm.

I don’t know. I'm afraid we can't release the Patreon Moment on a normal game storefront because we can't mix 18+ content with our family friendly game. If there's some other place similar to Patreon where it's not the normal type of full-scale public content releases we'd consider using that, but I’m not sure if there is another site that’s better than Patreon in that regard. I'm sorry.

Out of curiosity, in all of your games so far, which characters in each were the most fun to write? They obviously don't have to be your favorite characters!

Buffalo Seer in AFA, really everyone in XOD/XOBD is pretty equally entertaining to write, The Guide in LoV, and Cove in OL!

idk if you accept "personal" questions, but is there anything you've been watching/ listening to lately

Mostly, I’ve been watching/listening to Authortube videos as of late! It’s people who talk generally about the process of how books become traditionally published and/or share their own experience as they attempt to be published. I don’t have an interest in writing normal text based books, but it’s really interesting to hear about that world. I’m listening to a video about royalties right now as I answer these asks.

Will one of the desserts we get to pick be fudge? That'd be such a cute reference!

Haha, yeah, it should. Unless I completely blank on it and forget when trying to include the various referential food options.

I don't know if this has been asked previously but what would be the approximate heights for the presets MC can choose from Step 2 ~ 4? Are there any measurement you had in mind? Sorry if I didn't make myself clear kk I've been struggling with my English lately 💀

I don’t know, ahah. I didn’t have any numbers in mind for that. So it’s whatever you imagine it is!

I noticed a bug with the Patreon moment when it comes to what your character wears. When Jamie and Cove are kissing while my character only had dresses selected, I had both the option to remove the dress or to remove the shirt... Picking one of the options to interact with Cove, after he removed his shirt, it had Jamie remove their shirt followed by ther pants despite only having dresses picked.

Thank you for reporting ^^

I keep refreshing steam to see when the new doc for xobd will be released. I noticed you haven't posted anything about it in quite some time. Would it be possible to ask about a timeline/potential date? (If it's even this year—) I know you and your team are probably working super hard, I'm just super curious! ~Thank you!~

There are more stories done, I just haven’t gotten around to publicly releasing them. Hopefully I will have a chance to spend the time on that sooner rather than later!

hello!! i’m not sure if it’s an update but i’ve just replayed our life and at the end i can’t propose to cove anymore? :(( i’ve actually tried playing twice but the options are not there anymore, did you guys remove the options? i’m sorry if you’ve answered this before!! thank you and have a good one :)

I’m afraid things haven’t been changed or removed, so I think you might’ve accidentally picked the wrong things somewhere along the way and locked yourself out of being able to propose by mistake. Sometimes you meant to say you want to get married but instead you mis-click and have it so the MC isn’t thinking about marriage or something. All I can suggest is starting from the beginning of Step 3 and making sure to follow the steps listed in the FAQ. I’m sorry for that.

Did yall remove some of the options for when youre making out with Cove in the charity moment? I could've sworn you could grab his bonkadonk and its not there anymore

This is the same situation as the above. We didn’t remove things and you’re not wrong that there are sometimes those options. But there are various choices you have to make to get those options and it sounds like you accidentally missed something. If your relationship isn’t long-term, you can’t do it for example.

HI IM SO EXCITED I CAN FINALLY GET THE STEP 3 DLC

Thank you for getting it!

Is Shiloh super totally straight bc I’m very gay and a huge Shiloh fan, would my man make an exception?😩

Sadly, he is one of our super straight characters. I’m sorry.

Hi, I have a very dumb question. In Step 2 does Cove not wanna share his drink with us at the mall (or rather why he stops drinking it) because it's an indirect kiss? Or is it like ...weird to him to share? Because if I remember right he eats off our spoon in the birthday scene right?

Yeah, he’s awkward about it because he likes the MC and it feels very personal to share a straw with his crush.

Hi! If you don't mind me asking, who is the artist for OL2? Their style is so pretty!

Thank you for saying so! This is her Twitter- https://twitter.com/redridingheart

Do Beginnings & Always and Now & Forever exist in the same universe?

Yep! XOXO Droplets also exists in the same universe. It’s one big GB Patch world, haha.

Do Pran's parents regret the way they raised him? Do they feel ashamed of it?

No. They’re the type of people best cut out because they’re not gonna change. Which is why Pran does go very limited contact when he’s an adult.

Hi! I just wrapped up my second playthrough of Our Life, and I absolutely adore it, but I had a question. I went to the gallery and found I was missing 2 CGS (specifically Step 1-3 and 2-3) and I had no clue where they would've shown up. Which moments are those found in?

You get it by telling Cove about his dad offering you money to be his friend in Step 1 and Step 2. You can’t get both in one playthrough, since you can only tell Cove the truth once. I’m really glad you liked it!

Hi hi! Please, how tall is Baxter and Derek? Love the game so much and I can't wait to see more!

I don’t know, aha. I think Baxter was around 5′10 and Derek was like 5′8/5′9, maybe. I really am not one who has specific heights for things in mind.

is adult cove a bottom, top, or switch?

A switch, though would choose the top if he had to pick.

I was wondering if there is a way to transfer save data? Even if through the game files. I wanted to be able to transfer my save data from my desktop over to my laptop so that I could continue playing right where I left off from but I'm not entirely sure how to go about that.

If you save the save folder/persistent data of the game from your desktop and put it into the game folder on your other device, that could work.

Hi! Is it possible for us to know the date when our life: now and forever comes out on steam? Sorry if you've mentioned it before but I haven't seen it and I'm looking foward to that happening and just wanted to know :)

It’s gonna be a long time, I’m afraid. There’s no estimate right now.

I started playing Our Life with my sister a while ago, and I think you guys should know that we discovered your secret. >:)

L from death note and Cove are clearly the same person, and this whole game is just an origin story!!

I’ve never seen that show so I’m sorry to say I don’t understand the connection/reference you’re trying to make. I’m pretty out of the loop when it comes to media. I don’t watch movies or TV.

Will OL2 have options for disabled MCs?

I understand if it's too complicated, just curious

Unfortunately, it’s not really something we have a plan for. We couldn’t finish the game if we tried to include every disability and have it be meaningful. It’d just be too much content to create. But if we decide to only include a few, how would we choose which disabilities get to be represented and which are left out? I don’t know. It’ll probably have to be something we don’t include as an option again, sadly. I’m sorry.

playing our life > anything else

Haha, I’m glad you’re enjoying it.

Honestly, I would like to thank Our Life for helping me come to terms with my sexuality. Before, I never would've actually thought that it was possible to like boys romantically and still be asexual. Almost all of the BL visual novels I've read had unskippable sexual content in them and it honestly just didn't click with what I feel. I'm glad I found Our Life. I love the game, the developers, and this fandom so much. Now, I can safely come out as homoromantic AND asexual (at least anonymously here anyway; my parents are still huge homophobes 😂).

Aw, it’s great to hear you felt comfortable being yourself in the game! That’s wonderful. I’m really sorry about your parents, though.

Will the demo for OL2 be on android? Really not sure if I could wait any longer than I have to aha

Yeah, it’ll be available for Android once we eventually release a demo!

Do all these reveals perhaps mean development is progressing ahead of schedule? Please let that be the case I'm already obsessed with Qiu

No, sorry, aha. Art comes along much faster than script/programming-work for us. It’s gonna be a long time before the game is a finished thing you can actually play. But at least we can look at the beautiful images.

Hey! First of all I wanna say I reallllllyyyyy loooovvveeee Our Life and XOXO Droplets! I have over 300 hours of playtime on Our Life… Anyways, I was just wondering, are the Derek and Baxter DLCs going to come out at the same time? If not, which one do you plan to release first? :3

They will come out separately and Derek will be first! Glad you like the game.

I keep replaying Our Life to get every possible iteration and I am loving it <3 I was wondering if Cove gets locked out of his confession because MC was talking to Lee, would it be possible to confess to him in step 4?

Yeah, you can avoid the confession in Step 3 and then get it in Step 4.

Hi, my Cove wears bracelets through step 2 and 3 but I still don't get an option to give him a bracelet? I didn't even know that was possible until I seen someone else ask about it lol

Hm, did you use the Cove creator? Maybe there’s a bug where using the creator to add bracelets doesn’t fulfill the requirement to give Cove a bracelet in Step 3.

Wait, I'm dense, when does Baxter appear in step 2? Is it from big park firework? I feel so bad since i really love Baxter and waiting to buy his dlc.

It’s in the Soiree Moment. You have to be just friends with Cove, indifferent, or crushing but not ask Cove to the dance at all. Then while there you can find someone new to dance with. But if you bring Cove to the dance while crushing, the MC won’t wanna dance with anyone else so you can’t get the scene.

In step 2 when we go to the soiree I made my mc go alone and baxter chooses the mc to dance, i'm curious, why did he pick the mc? sorry if this has been asked before!

Because the MC looked to be around his age, seemed to also be searching for a partner, and had nice legs. A perfect option for him.

I read some of the FAQs, and I saw that we could tell Baxter about the condo that he rented there was previously the mean old grandparents. how do we get the mc to tell him that?

It happens in the DLC Moment “Late Shift”. If you don’t have a job you instead get a longer scene with Baxter.

I don’t know if you’ve addressed this or not, but are you planning on paying voice actors for our life: now and forever?

Yeah, we pay our VAs in all our projects.

hey can i ask how you did the moments thing in ol? im trying to get into making visual novels and while im VERY sure its out of my comfort zone and all that atm i kinda wanna know just for the future, bc im p sure it would work well for something i wanna do :O but its also fine if you cant say for other reasons :>

I’m afraid I’m not sure what you mean. Are you asking how we programmed the screen or something script related? Adding Moments like that is pretty straightforward, though. You just have buttons that open to different labels and then the scripts are essentially individual short stories/vignettes. Good luck with your VN!

Since Autumn becomes gender fluid later in the game, will there be a character who remains as he/him to romance in game?

OL1 has the he/him LIs, OL2 is all about other genders.

I don't want to impose on your creative plans, but a parrot could possibly make a good pet in an OL-type game? They're pretty long-lived and likely to still be thriving by the end even if the MC got them back in step 1.

I do appreciate the suggestion, but I’m afraid it’s not likely going to happen. I understand there are technically some animals that could theoretically live long enough to last the whole game that or we could have the MC only get a pet after some years have already passed. But the many things that would have to be considered/accommodated for makes it just something we probably can’t manage adding. I’m sorry.

As time passes will we be able to see Qiu and Tamarack's other stage arts as well?

They are both so cute i can't wait to be friends with them!

Yeah, we’ll show content from other Steps in the future. It’ll be a little while from now, though.

Can you date Cove and still have your family comfort you in the car?

You can’t get Cove’s Step 3 confession scene if you have the family comfort you in the car. But that’s not the only way to date him. You can get together with him earlier in the game or later on in Step 4.

Is Mc always going to be the one walking down the aisle or could Cove do it? Also could you choose to have one of your moms walk you?

No. Cove wouldn’t want to walk down the aisle like that and the MC automatically respects that. And the MC also gets to have their preferences respected, so it’s up to you whether they want to do an aisle walk or not. You also can pick who, if anyone, walks with you.

Once step 4 is out, will you be able to go the whole game on crush/love without either of you confessing?

Yes, as long as you tell the game you don’t want to progress the relationship. Even in Step 4 it won’t force you to officially get together.

Howdy, so in Step 4, there will be any Romance with Derek that is not part of any dlc?

He’s only a friend unless you get his romance story.

Will the step 4 in OL2 be one big step or are you considering moments?

Step 4 is just an epilogue in both games.

hi kind of a weird question but!! we know tht cliff doesn't start dating again but. wht abt flings? like does he ever do 1 night stands or anything? thank u!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nope. Cliff has a very small interest in sex. If he’s not in a real relationship with a partner he’s crazy about it simply isn’t something he feels a need for, so one night stands wouldn’t even cross his mind.

sorry if you've already answered this, but i was wondering if there were plans for there to be bonus love interests in OL2 like how we have derek and baxter in OL1.

Maybe! There are side characters who could be given romance stories, but whether or not it will happen depends on funding and how long everything else takes to finish.

I don't know if i'm allowed to ask about ol2 here yet, if not u can ignore this or answer it later. My question is can you date one of them and be good friends with the other? I don't want to be strangers with the other bcs i love them both a lot :<

Yes you can!

what patreon level do i have to be to unlock the nsfw moment? im on the $5 one right now, will that give me access to the moment, or just access to the moment progress?

That’ll give you access! Tier 2 and anything higher allows the player to download it.

#our life #ask #gb patch #gb patch games #all projects #Our Life Beginnings & Always #Our Life: Now & Forever

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ravennm84 · 3 years

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Complicity

Hey everyone! Sorry I’ve been missing for a while, but I’ve had a lot going on and lacking inspiration, until the other day! I know that Lila thinks she’s the smartest person in the room and that everyone else it too stupid to figure her out. So, I decided to let her “think” she’s being smart, but gets caught because she did something stupid. Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!

Lila was happy. Since she had become a model, she had acquired a small fan base of people that thought she had beauty and talent. Granted, it wasn’t as large as she thought it should be, but she had only done three photo shoots and had been mentioned in one magazine. But this was just the beginning; soon, all of Europe would know her name and reporters would be clamoring after her for pictures.

But at the same time she was very angry.

This was because Marinette had been mentioned in the same magazine as her. And where Lila got a single photo that showed more of Adrien than it did of her, Maribrat had gotten an entire article and multiple photos about her designs and the collaboration she was doing with Style Queen Audrey Bourgeois since the woman had decided to stay in Paris. She had even looked at the girl’s website and saw that there was an actual wait list to receive one of her original designs.

Enraged that someone she considered to be plain, talentless, and all around lower in status than her, Lila started coming up with plans. She wasn’t about to share her spotlight with anyone, let alone Maribrat.

She was tempted to accuse the bluenette of stealing her designs and ruining her reputation, but since she had been designing for longer than Lila had been in Paris, that had too much of a chance to backfire. She’s thought of sicking one of her classmates/sheep to break into her house and destroy her commission projects, but that also had too much of a chance to backfire since they would likely blab if they were caught.

No, she needed a different type of plan. Something that would be farther removed from herself so nothing would blow back on her, but harsh enough so that even Maribrat wouldn’t connect what happened to her. It took a few weeks and a lot of planning, but she came up with something that would work. It had been the perfect plan, a way to get Marinette out of her life and the spotlight for good.

All it took was some sweet talking one of her new followers; a large, burly boy named Henry that was a couple years older than her and not very bright. He would have done anything for her… including going after a “stalker” that had threatened to hurt her. She barely even had to suggest anything before the boy assured her that he would protect her at all costs. It even seemed to be working when Maribrat was suspiciously absent from school for a few days after Henry said he would “take care of it”.

It had been the perfect plan...

Until the police showed up.

She had just gotten home when the police arrived, saying that she was wanted for questioning in an open case. They had already been in contact with her mother and Greta Rossi had promised them their full cooperation. Rather than risk looking guilty, Lila called her mother to make sure they were telling the truth before grudgingly going with them.

When she got to the police station, she was met by her very confused and furious mother. This wasn’t the first time she had been in trouble with the law. There had been an incident in Rome where she’d been accused of pushing a boy, Simone, down the stairs, and her mother had been forced to pay his medical bills. She had made it very clear that if Lila caused any more problems at school, it would not be pleasant.

So there she was; sitting with her mother and a couple of police detectives that she didn’t recognize, who were giving her condescending looks. “I am Detective Cooper, and this is Detective Raimus. We understand that you have been made aware of your rights, correct?”

“Yes, multiple times. What is this all about? You can’t just bring my daughter in for questioning like she’s some common criminal.” Her mother said as she stared down the two men.

“Mme. Rossi, we need to ask your daughter some questions in connection to an assault that took place against one of her classmates.” Stated Cooper, a detective with a thick mustache.

“Are you or your daughter familiar with a M. Henry Mortaure?”

“I’ve never heard of him,” Lila lied with a shrug.

“Neither have I, who was attacked?” Her mother asked, suddenly worried about what her daughter might have gotten involved in.

“A Mlle. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, are you familiar with the name?” Asked Raimus, who looked a bit older than his partner.

Greta Rossi thought for a second before nodding. “Lila has mentioned her a couple of times, said that she was a bully. What about her?”

“The Dupain-Cheng residence was broken into a few days ago by M. Mortaure. He was armed and confessed to be doing so with the intent of killing Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.” Mme. Rossi gasped in shock while Lila was attempting to hide her smirk with a look of worry. “The Dupain-Chengs were not harmed, although the same cannot be said for M. Mortaure.” Cooper placed some photos in front of them on the table, gaining another gasp from Greta. Three of the man’s limbs were wrapped in heavy gauze, his face was swollen and bruised from a black eye and a seriously broken nose.

Lila didn’t flinch when she saw the photos, but was now fighting a scowl at the knowledge that Henry had failed her. And since she was here in an interrogation room, it could only mean that the idiot had blabbed. But that didn’t matter, she could just say that he must be a crazy stalker who had somehow found out that Maribrat was bullying her and decided to take things into his own hands. After all, it wasn’t like she had called or messaged him from her personal phone. She had bought a burner phone with cash just for this occasion.

“Despite being armed with a pistol, he never had a chance to use it,” Raimus stated as pushed one of the photos towards Lila. “He will require reconstructive surgery on his face from being hit multiple times with a rolling pin. His arms were severely burned when he fell into a fryer, it’s likely that he’ll never have full use of them again. Despite the burns, he attempted to go for a kitchen knife after being disarmed. That knife was turned on him and he ended up with a perforated lung.”

Greta looked like she was going to be sick, unable to look away from the pictures in front of her. But she eventually did, casting a harsh stare at her daughter. “Please, tell me you had nothing to do with this.”

Doing her best to fake her shock, she shook her head and pushed away the photos. “I swear, I had nothing to do with this. I don’t even know why he would do this.”

“We were wondering the same thing and discovered that he’s a fan of yours. He has multiple pictures of you, as well as Mlle. Dupain-Cheng. We suspected that he had been stalking you and came to the conclusion that he thought she was bullying you and decided to protect you on his own-”

“Oh no, that has to be it!” She exclaimed, skillfully faking shock. “Marinette followed me out of school last week and threatened me to stay away from my boyfriend. This boy must have seen her and decided to get rid of her.”

“If that’s the case, why are you questioning my daughter?” Greta pressed, not completely believing Lila but seeming to be coming around to her side.

“As I was saying,” stressed Detective Cooper. “We had suspected that M. Mortaure was stalking your daughter, until we got the warrant for his phone. It seems that someone, supposedly Lila, has been corresponding with him for many weeks. She had been flirting with him, sending him photos of herself, and then Marinette. She went on to tell him that Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was a stalker and had threatened her. M. Mortaure seems to have done what he did with the understanding that he was protecting Lila, at Lila’s own behest.”

“I would never do that!” Lila cried before reaching into her purse to pull out her personal mobile and set it on the table in front of them. “Check my phone, I never messaged him.”

“We have already checked your phone records against the one that has been messaging M. Mortaure, and found that the numbers did not match.” Detective Raimus said, and Lila watched her mother visibly slump from relief… but it was short lived.

“We did, however, track the number to a burner phone that was purchased in cash from a gas station. We thought it was a dead end, but the person who bought the phone made a mistake.” Raimus continued as Detective Cooper pulled out his own mobile and dialed a number. “The person who bought it has kept it on, and it is currently active.”

Seconds after Cooper pressed send, a ringing came from Lila’s purse. Greta Rossi stared at her daughter in shock before yanking the purse out of Lila’s hands and pulling out a second phone from inside. When Cooper cancelled the call, the second phone stopped ringing.

“What have you done?” She spat at Lila.

Panicking, she shook her head while looking around the room for an exit. “That’s not mine! They must have planted it on me when they brought me here! They’re trying to frame me!”

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” Greta screamed at her daughter, causing Lila to practically fall out of her seat in fear. “You convinced someone to commit MURDER for you! That makes you just as guilty as him!”

“But-but I have diplomatic immunity! I can’t be charged for any of this!”

“Yes, you can,” Greta said, her voice going cold. “I may be a secretary to the Italian Ambassador, which grants me immunity, but that doesn’t extend to you! I told you to behave! I told you to never cause trouble like you did in Roma after what you did to that boy that called you out on your…” Understanding washed over Greta’s features as her expression morphed from anger, to understanding, and then disgust. “That’s it, isn’t it? Marinette never bullied you. She knew about your lies and you set out to hurt her just like before!”

Standing up quickly, her mother started pacing the room before looking back to the detectives. “I’ll still need to speak with the ambassador, but you can expect our full cooperation in this.”

“Mom, no!”

“What are the charges?” Greta asked, acting as though Lila wasn’t even there.

“As Lila is a minor, she can be charged with Complicity to Commit Murder, the decision of sentencing is ultimately up to the judge. But seeing as she purposefully bought a burner phone to use and has also lied to the police, I wouldn’t hold much hope.”

~oOo~

The trial took longer than expected. At first, things had been looking up since her followers from class had come to act as character witnesses. All of them saying how wonderful she was, a great friend that did so much for them and everyone she knew, and that she would never do something so terrible. That Marinette was just jealous of Lila, so it was better to take whatever she said with a grain of salt.

Then, the prosecution started their case. Showing evidence of Lila falsifying records at school, video evidence of her purposefully framing Marinette for assault and theft. As well as the communications between herself and Henry, encouraging him to kill Marinette.

Her followers had still been a bit sceptical to believe what the prosecutor was saying about her, not wanting to believe that they had supported someone who would try to get another person murdered. But then came her past victims, many of whom her mother had never known about. Simone from Rome, Sara from Florence, Giulia from Venice, Daniel from Viterbo, and Sofia from Palermo. All of them testifying against Lila, many with screenshots of threatening texts from her, photos of ruined property and injuries she had inflicted on them, and all around proof that Lila was the reason behind many hardships that had happened to them. And all because they had figured out that she was a liar and she had done everything in her power to hurt them.

After all that, the judge had not been kind.

“It is clear, Mlle. Rossi, that you are a very disturbed girl in need of help,” the judge said, not bothering to hide how offput he was by Lila. “I cannot, in good conscious, allow you to roam freely. Having seen that these habits of yours have not only been repeated over and again, but have escalated to attempted murder. I have no choice but to have you returned to Italy where you will be kept in a juvenile detention center until you turn 18, at which point you will be transferred to a mental hospital for treatment for no less than five years. At which point, you will be evaluated to see if you will be able to safely rejoin society.”

Lila was immediately escorted back to Italy in disgrace. Her name slandered across every newspaper and magazine across Europe for what she had done. She was now famous, with most everyone knowing her name and reporters scrambling to take her picture as she did her walk of shame out of the courthouse. She was finally famous, but for all the wrong reasons

In case you are wondering. Henry made the mistake of coming after Marinette when she was with her parents. Tom and Marinette were in the bakery kitchen and Sabine was at the front. Tom saw the gun and hit him in the face with his rolling pin twice. He dropped the gun but was still coming after Marinette, she tripped him and he landed in the frier, which had been turned on to make donuts, and splashed oil all over him. Sabine had rushed back in time to see a bleeding and badly burned Henry grabbing a knife, she did some wicked moves that resulted in Henry stabbing himself. By then, he passed out from the pain and the Dupain-Chengs had called the police. The officers that came were both impressed and terrified by what happened to the boy, but the surveillance footage proved that they were only defending themselves.

TAGLIST:

@2confused-2doanything @7-sage-7 @aadnrsstar @abrx2002 @awkwardromances @bayball @babylovebug18 @botanicalfoxx @caffeinetheory @cheshire5210 @chocolateherringtacofan @city-of-all-tunas @classycollectorreviewworld @corabeth11 @darkened-flame @delightfulcookiesrecipespizza @fandom-trapped-03 @ghostmaster @iamblinkmarvelarmy @interobanginyourmom @izang @jesussavedevenme @kazedancer @kitten12113 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @lilypotter2018 @lunataravler @maskedpainter @ miraculouslydumb @nerd-nowandforever @ola-is-dead @pandacatxd @plushbookworm @plz-excuse-my-inner-ravenclaw @pheonix-biach @raiderofthelostbooks @ramos123 @rowanrouge @rowanyx @ren121 @seesea22 @seraphichana @sashakoi @shypeacekitten @tazer6787 @that-girl-sakea @thecrazyfantrollshasmoved @the-smallest-kittenz @tishwinchesterannabethjackson @t1dwarrior-of-earth @ulmban @with-forward-motion @wonderbat91939 @zoiechance

#lila salt #lila gets exposed #class salt #miraculous justice #lila karma #tom dupain #sabine cheng #marinette dupain cheng

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nev3rfound · 3 years

Text

resonate : b.b

in a world after the blip, like many you find yourself in therapy. yet, you run into someone you never anticipated meeting. (4k - it’s long, i couldn’t stop but i hope you like it!!)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

requested: yes! by the lovely @interestedcas - thank you sm for the request angel :) (i’ve changed one or two details around, but i hope that’s okay!) warnings: mentions of depression, murder, being in therapy, angst but fluffy ending

It doesn’t matter how many times you visit, you still despise going to her office. The routine never changes; you walk into the lobby and sign in, scribbling an attempted signature before entering the elevator.

Four floors up, you exit and simply wait on the sunken grey sofa. The magazines are out of date- from before everything happened. No one ever talks to one another, too lost in their own thoughts whilst your head remains too empty.

And then something changes. You can hear her door opening and a heavy sigh from someone exiting. “James,” She calls after the person emerging from her office who keeps his head low.

You can’t help but watch the spectacle before you, clad in leather and dark jeans, his face shielded from your view as he passes you by.

Doctor Raynor stands in the waiting room with her hands on her hips, notepad in hand as she mutters something under her breath.

“Hey, Doc.” You wave, breaking her deep thought as she looks over to you with that set frown across her lips.

“Y/n,” Doctor Raynor walks toward you, lowering her notebook into her pocket. “sorry for the wait, come on through.”

Rising to your feet, you follow behind her as you walk through the bleak corridors lined with framed photos of brighter scenes; couples on a beach during sunset, animals on a farm and your personal favourite- fireworks in New York City.

“So,” Closing the door, Raynor takes her seat opposite you, observing you as you lean back on the large couch. “how are you doing this week, Y/n?”

“Fine, I guess.” Shrugging your shoulders is an automatic response to those words. Yet, it’s never enough to keep Raynor happy as she opens her notebook. “You really have something to write already, after one sentence?” You remark, tutting under your breath as you look around the room whilst she scribbles on her pages.

“You know the whole purpose of coming here is to talk.” She comments, now looking up at you. “Let’s try again, shall we? How are you doing this week?”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you stare blankly back at her. “Why’d your last patient storm out like that?” Avoiding her question, you can see her jaw clenching as she leans back in the armchair. “Guess someone else was having a bad day, huh?” You chuckle dryly, and to your surprise, she nods along.

“Everyone has bad days,” She remarks. “some worse than others.”

“Tell me ‘bout it.” You respond, bringing your legs up as you sit cross-legged and hug the nearest cushion into your lap. “I, I had another nightmare,” You admit, trying to ignore the sound of her pen against paper. “it wasn’t as graphic, or, violent.”

“What happened this time?” Doctor Raynor asks, averting her attention from her notebook as you bite your lower lip, unaware of how hard you’re biting down until you feel blood against your tongue. “Y/n?” Snapping her fingers, you emerge from your thoughts and wipe your lip, ignoring the crimson on your fingertips.

“I just saw them, lying there whilst the building was burning.” You try to ignore the sound of cries, distant sirens and pleas for help in the back of your mind. “But there wasn’t any blood, they were just lying there like they were fine, just, sleeping.”

“And why do you think that is?” Raynor taps her pen repetitively.

“Is there a reason? Some sort of coping mechanism or mental response?” You ask, turning it back on her as she purses her lips, contemplating her response.

“It can be perceived as you purifying them,” She suggests. “trying to see them as innocent.”

“But they weren’t.” You quickly comment. “No one was during that time.”

“What about yourself?” Raynor questions and you scoff loudly.

“Course I wasn’t innocent during that, I mean,” You motion to the room you’re currently in. “I’m here, aren’t I?” You laugh, feeling your nails digging into the cushion on your lap.

“Listen, Y/n, you have to break through this. Have you tried writing down about these nightmares after they happen?” You nod and Doctor Raynor shuffles in her seat, now resting her arms against her legs. “How about you get some fresh air? Have you tried contacting anyone you lost touch with since the blip?”

“They don’t know who I am anymore.” You mutter.

“Get a grip, Y/n. You’re not the lead in a rom-com.” Raynor sighs.

“You’re kinda mean, you know that, right?” You snap back, and she simply holds her hands up in defence. “I’ll try again this week, maybe I’ll meet a nice guy at a coffee shop.” The sarcasm rolls off your tongue as you stand up. “This was fun, Doc,” You flash a smile, ignoring the abrupt closing of her notebook.

“Y/n,” Doctor Raynor drags your name out as you reach the door.

“Can’t wait for next week!” You wave slowly whilst your back faces the door, unaware of the strong wall you collide against. “Oof.” A noise escapes your lips as you quickly turn around.

Forcing your gaze upwards, you recognise the unapologetic stoic expression from anywhere. He was listed amongst those lost in the blip, one of the fallen Avengers.

Yet, standing before you he seems softer. His eyes remain locked on you despite Doctor Raynor nearing you both.

“James, decided to try our session again?” Doctor Raynor comments, and you break your focus from the former soldier.

“I’ll see you next week, Doc.” Your tone softens as you slip past Bucky and quickly walk down the corridor, unaware of his eyes following you, wishing he at least introduced himself.

“You can try again next week, James. She'll be back.” Doctor Raynor pulls the door further open, and with his head hanging low, Bucky nods to himself before taking up your seat.

Screaming yourself awake, you heave a breath as you clutch your chest, trying to focus on controlling your heart rate.

Tears stream down your cheeks uncontrollably. “Y/n?” Your roommate calls out, knocking lightly on your door. “Can I come in?” She asks quietly, peering through the door to see you sat upright with one hand covering your mouth whilst the other grips the bedsheets. “Oh, babe.” She hums, walking over and sits beside you.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, allowing you time to process what just happened, the sight of their body beneath your feet, your hands coated in crimson as the flames roared through the windows, shattering in an instant. “Why is it we can never remember dreams, but we always remember our nightmares?” You think aloud into the darkness, glancing over to see it was only 1 in the morning.

“I, I don’t know.” She mutters. “Can I get you anything?”

Shaking your head, your roommate rises to her feet. “I think I’m going to get some fresh air.” You state, tearing the covers from your body as you grab your jacket, slipping it on over your pyjamas.

“Y/n, I love you but it’s 1am. It’s not exactly safe to go out.” She crosses her arms over her chest, ignoring you shrugging your shoulders in response. “At least let me come with you.”

“It’s fine, really.” You object, walking towards the front door knowing you've experienced a lot worse during the blip whilst she was absent, one of the missing. “I’ve got my phone, I’ll be back in a bit.”

Before she can say anything else, you walk out and close the door quietly behind you, craving solitude from the one place you’ll know you can get it.

Feeling the cool chill of Autumn creeping in, you tug your jacket further across your chest and bury your hands into the deep pockets. You fiddle with the remanents of tissue in the left pocket, picking it apart to suppress the memories of the nightmare that begin to plague your thoughts once more.

Your feet lead the way whilst your mind remains preoccupied, unaware of the dewy grass beneath your sneakers and the quiet conversations occurring across the park.

Sitting down, you can feel the coolness dampening your trousers, but you’re too lost to care; and seemingly too oblivious to notice the man approaching you with a deep-set frown.

“It’s not exactly wise to be out alone this late you know.” He tells you, standing a few feet away from you whilst your eyes remain locked on the trampled dandelion in front of your scuffed sneakers. “Is everything okay?”

You force yourself to nod. “Yeah, thanks.” You mutter, hearing him shuffle closer until he’s sat by your side, allowing a gap between you both as he sighs loudly. “Why’re you sitting with me? There’s an entire park for you to enjoy.” You remark, now glancing over to the stranger who notices you tense. “You’re,”

He simply nods. “Yeah.” Bucky lowers his head, knowing you’d recognise him for that reason, of course, that’s all he’s known for.

“You’re the guy from Raynor's office, right?” You finish, and Bucky lifts his head up, a genuine small smile crossing his lips as he nods.

“Yeah.” His voice is softer now, his heart rising in his chest. “I’m James.” He holds his gloved hand out, and you accept it.

“Y/n.” You shake it before hiding your hand once more into your pocket. “So, what’s wrong with you then?” You chuckle dryly. “Traumatic childhood? Oh, how about PTSD?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Something like that.” He remarks, looking up at the stars pinpricked in the sky. “So why’re you out here then?”

“I could ask you the same,” You retort, glancing over to focus on him, having only briefly noticed him the other day at the bleak office. Yet here, he seems calm, his expression is relaxed as opposed to stoic, you could even say he seems happy at a stretch. “but I won’t, ‘cause I’m not Raynor.”

“Coulda fooled me.” Bucky jokes with ease as he hears you laugh quietly. “The pyjamas really add to it I’ll admit.” He glances down, quickly noticing you rolling your eyes, but there’s only humour lining your expression, no sign of disgust.

“I, I couldn’t sleep.” You speak up, bringing your legs to your chest as you wrap your arms around them, keeping them in place. “Nightmares, you know?”

Nodding knowingly, Bucky turns his attention to the homeless man curled up on the bench, a knife catching his gaze.

“Do you wanna go for a walk? I know from experience that usually helps me clear my head.” Bucky suggests, rising to his feet as he holds his gloved hand out for you.

“And why would I do such a thing? I barely know you, James.” You remind him, looking up at his hand before lifting your eyes up to meet his.

“True,” He hums, secretly relieved that you don’t know him. “at least let me walk you home?”

Hearing the homeless man beginning to stir and muttering nonsense, you sigh before taking Bucky’s hand as he pulls you up with ease. You almost fall into his chest, but you force your hand out to rest on his shoulder to stop yourself.

“Sorry,” You mutter, focusing on how your shoes are almost touching his.

Breathing out a laugh in your hair, Bucky shrugs his shoulder. “No worries, doll.” It slips out too easily, but you don’t seem to notice as you walk alongside Bucky.

The two of you walk through the streets in comfortable silence. For once, you don’t feel obliged to talk through the short walk, that you have to somehow convince him that you’re feeling fine; because he knows how it feels.

You can mentally list over one hundred questions you could potentially ask him about his past, about the 40′s and who he once was. But you know it isn’t fair to delve into someone else’s memories, invade into something he might not fully remember. So tonight, he remains as James from Doctor Raynor's office, and you’re content with just that.

“Well, this is me.” You motion to the front door of the small apartment building, noticing your lamp is still on in your room. “Thanks again for walking me back, James.”

“Anytime.” Bucky smiles. “I guess I’ll erm,” He stumbles over his words, internally screaming at himself to just ask for your number or to take you out for coffee sometime. “I’ll see you around.” He nods, unable to form the words he wishes he could say. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” You smile before opening the front door, disappearing out of sight as Bucky turns on his heels, about to force himself to ask for your number.

“Next time, Buck.” He mutters to himself, knowing Raynor will give him shit for not trying hard enough when he next visits her.

“-stupid fucking elevator!” You groan loudly as the doors finally open and you stumble out, oblivious to Bucky exiting Raynor's office and standing in the waiting room, hearing you coming his way.

Looking around, Bucky shuffles the outdated magazines and takes a seat. He tugs on his trousers and his jacket, wishing he wore something different this morning if he knew you’d be coming today.

As you turn the corner, the anxieties slowly ease when Bucky smiles your way. “Morning.” Bucky waves, trying to hide how fast his heart is beating in his chest as you walk toward him apprehensively.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” You state, looking at the options before you as the waiting room remains empty beside the two of you.

Yet, before you can fully run through your options on where would be best to sit, Bucky moves along on the grey sofa, allowing you room to sit beside him.

“I just, er, finished.” He mutters, unsure where to focus.

“And you decided to hang out at the happiest place on Earth for the sake of it?” You raise a brow to him.

“I was leaving, but then I heard you.” Bucky mentally applauds himself, knowing Sam would be proud once he tells him. “Not to sound creepy or anything,” He quickly adds, but you’re laughing to yourself, shaking your head happily.

“Not creepy at all, James.” You assure him, giving him a playful nudge of his arm. “So, solve any deep routed trauma today?” You joke with ease, something Bucky is secretly thankful for.

Usually, in the waiting room, there’s a man in his fifties who shakes with nerves. He’s never met Bucky’s gaze once, refuses to.

“Gettin’ there.” Bucky tells you, now turning his body toward yours as he rests his arm over the couch. “Listen, Y/n,” He starts, only to be cut off by the sound of the door opening and Doctor Raynor presenting herself.

“James? You’re still here?” The Doctor questions, clearly surprised until her eyes pan over to see you sat beside him. “Hi Y/n, come on through.” She motions and you stand up.

“Wish me luck.” You wink to Bucky, oblivious to the near heart palpitations you cause as the door closes behind you.

Averting his attention to the dusty clock, Bucky contemplates his next move. He could leave now, and simply hope he’ll see you again next time he visits. Or, he could wait for you. You could only be an hour at the most, and it isn’t Wednesday so Yori isn’t anticipating a lunch trip either.

So, Bucky leant back on the sofa, closing his eyes to stop himself from homing in on the conversation on the other side of that door.

“Well, I’ve got to say, you seem happier today.” Raynor remarks.

“I guess I am.” You honestly answer, not forcing your self-defence shield up before your eyes for the first time in a while. “I, I’ve not had a nightmare in three days.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

You breathe out a sigh. “Relieved? But I don’t know like I’ve gotten so used to reliving it, and everything that happened and now not seeing it feels,” You pause as you grab a hold of the cushion beside you. “alien.”

“That’s perfectly normal, Y/n.” Raynor assures you. “Simple things such as distractions can often cause nightmares to diminish, or perhaps new people in your lives who cause a positive influence.” She trails off, turning her head toward the closed door; motioning to the man sat in the waiting room.

“James?” You scoff lightly, trying to brush it off. However, Doctor Raynor notices you shift as you pick up the cushion, relaxing it on your lap. “No, he’s, I barely know him.” You tell her, hearing her hum in response.

“Do you know about him, though?” Raynor questions, watching as you nod slowly.

“Of course I do,” You say sadly. “I remember the news broadcasts and when the blip happened, him being among those lost.” You explain, fiddling with the hem of the cushion as a distraction.

Outside the room, Bucky can feel his heart sink. You know who he is, and what he’s done. How could he think someone like you could trust him, get to know him after his past?

“He’s changing though,” The words leave your lips quickly, and Bucky tilts his head up toward the door once more. “I, I don’t know how to explain it, but he seems like a good guy.”

Scribbling in her notepad, Doctor Raynor nods along. “I can’t comment due to patient confidentiality, Y/n.” She shrugs, looking past you and up toward the small camera hidden in the ceiling light. “But, I will say he’s mentioned you.”

A gentle laugh leaves your lips as you raise a brow. “So much for confidentiality there, Doc.” Pausing, you think back to the other night when he found you in the park and walked you home. He didn’t say much, but then again he didn’t need to. His company alone was warm, and it was since that night your nightmares stopped.

“What’re you thinking, Y/n?” Raynor tilts her head, trying to gauge your current thought process.

Glancing up, you stare blankly back at her. “What if my nightmares come back?” You sadly ask. “What if them stopping was just a temporary fix? I, I don’t want to see it anymore, I don’t want to wake up thinking my hands are coated in their blood.” Tears build up in your eyes for the first time in days, threatening to spill over like your misconstrued thoughts.

“Have you practised any of your coping methods since I last saw you?”

You pause, looking up as tears fall from your eyes. “Yeah,” You breathe out. “I went to the park, the one down the street.” You slowly explain, your ears perking up at the familiar sound of her pen against paper. “And, and James was there.”

“So, since that night, you haven’t?” Doctor Raynor trails off at the motion of your head shaking. “Alright,” She closes her notebook over and places it on the floor beside her. “Y/n, I want you to go out there, talk to James and ask him out or something.”

“I, I can’t do that.” Tensing up, you tighten your grip on the cushion that previously remained relaxed against your lap. “That’s just dumb.” You defend yourself, ignoring your heart that’s been thinking about the man since that night.

“Dumb or not, it’s worth a try.” Raynor leans back, crossing her arms having listened to an identical conversation with Bucky just over an hour before.

“Is that it then?” You ask.

“Until you have something else to tell me,” Doctor Raynor rises to her feet as she approaches the door whilst you remain seated, apprehensive to face James whenever you’ll next see him.

“Am I just meant to find him somehow?” You quietly ask in the Doctors direction, hearing the door creep open.

Unaware of the small smile crossing her lips, she glances back at you. “I’m sure you will, Y/n.” She comments, returning to her seat whilst you head to the door, slipping out without any further discussion.

Yet, as you glance up, you freeze.

“James?” Utterly perplexed, Bucky half-heartedly waves to you. “I, why’re you still here?” You step forward, only to witness Bucky stepping backwards.

“You know who I am?” Sadness drips from his words as he struggles to meet your gaze.

“James,” You speak up, but Bucky shakes his head before he brushes past you, heading toward the elevator.

Remaining glued to the spot you’re standing in, you simply watch the elevator doors open as Bucky slips inside.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Doctor Raynor sighs loudly, standing in the doorway. “Go!” Watching you walk away, a smile ghosts her lips as she reflects on the pair of you, both lost souls so close to finding a home.

Without needing to be told twice, your feet suddenly move with ease. You’re running through the bleak corridors, seeing blurs of colour crossing your peripheral vision as you reach the stairwell.

“Stupid.” Bucky mutters to himself. How could he have gotten his hopes up?

Exiting the building, Bucky takes the left turn and walks down the street, burying his gloved hands in his pockets.

“James!” You yell, puffing heavily as you slam the office doors open, looking around for any sign of him.

Upon hearing you call his name, Bucky pauses and dares to look over his shoulder to see you wiping your face. “Fuck.” You mutter, burying your face in your hands, only flinching and moving when a hand rests on your shoulder.

Looking up, those sweet blue eyes home in on yours. “Wanna go to the park?” Bucky calmly suggests, relieved when you nod and walk alongside him in silence, the only sound between you both being you sniffing and the hammering of his heart against his chest.

As the pair of you reach the large metal gate, Bucky allows you to walk ahead whilst he holds it open. Usually, you might have a joke or suave comment to make, but today you mutter a thank you before he returns to your side.

“James,”

“Y/n,”

You both pause, interrupting one another as you stop in the middle of the pathway, ignoring the laughter of children around you playing happily.

“I’m sorry,” You start the conversation whilst he remains quiet by your side. “I didn’t want to say anything or bring it up as I know what it’s like to be known by your past actions.” Furrowing your brows, you try to ignore the child screaming and crying ahead of you, watching their Mother pick them up and cradle them close in her arms.

Bucky follows your line of vision, seeing the Mother sway side to side as her child’s cries begin to subside.

“I just wanted to get to know you.” Whispering the sentence you can’t help but close your eyes as it simply hangs in front of him, unsure whether to accept or decline. “And if you don’t that’s perfectly fine, I’ll just walk back that way and, and you can go that way.” Opening your eyes, you point in two differing directions.

And to your surprise, Bucky breathes out a laugh at your crossed arms. “I, I’d like to get to know you too, Y/n.” He smiles, mentally repeating everything he’s talked about with Doctor Raynor. “I’m no longer the Winter Soldier, my name is James Barnes.” He mutters to himself, aware of your eyes on him as you kick some stones beneath your feet, scuffing the white of your sneakers.

“I’m not a killer anymore. I’m not a monster, nor an agent.” You breathe out, listening to Bucky shifting beside you. “I’m just me,” Looking up, you shyly smile at him as he mirrors your reaction. “just Y/n.”

Holding his hand out, you notice his glove is gone. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/n.”

With brief hesitancy, you accept his hand, revelling in the warmth as it weaves through your skin, causing goosebumps to ignite. “It’s lovely to meet you too, James.”

Lowering your hand, you don’t notice that it still remains in his as you both walk through the park. There’s a lot to be uncovered from you both, but maybe, just maybe doing it together won’t be so bad.

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 6

Hannibal sits in on a regular conversation between y/n and her family. Y/n insists it could have gone worse.

⚠️Bigass trigger warning⚠️: Verbal abuse, emotional manipulation, blood, mention of alcohol abuse and suicide

Anna lived her life believing that she was the main character, constantly denying personhood to everyone around her. She was the romantic hero, and everyone else existed to forward her plot.

This metaphor was imperfect, however, because in all the books you'd read, the main character must overcome some kind of challenge. Nobody ever said no to Anna. Nobody ever criticized Anna. Nobody but you. So you were pigeonholed into the role of antagonist for it. You had to give her credit; growing up on the receiving end of her and Theresa's torture was a compelling villain origin story.

It was obvious that she only wanted you at her wedding to present her with an obstacle. Heaven forbid her story progress without some semblance of petty drama out of her control. She'd cornered you into a painful catch-22; you wanted vengeance, but you couldn't give her the satisfaction of having her special day ruined. What was your play? Ruin it just a little? Walk away?

These thoughts passed through your mind as you sat through the boring ceremony. You wanted to lean over and whisper everything to Hannibal, but he seemed lost in his own thoughts. The vows seemed to drag on forever. Liam's English accent grated on your ears and you wished that he would just shut the hell up.

The ceremony concluded and you hoped to skip out on the reception with a purse full of mini cannolis, but fate had other plans. In a last-minute reach for some kind of scene, the blushing bride waved you over to the head table.

"[F/N]!" Anna shouted, with a big smile across her face. "Come on!"

You fought the urge to feel endeared by this. She looked too happy to be harmful. Your guard was all the way up as you and Hannibal approached the table.

Hannibal pulled a seat out for you while you studied Anna's expression. She fixed her doe eyes on Hannibal. You knew from experience that Anna had the same powerlust as grandma and Theresa. She was just better at keeping a lid on it.

"[F/N], you remember Liam?" Anna said, her voice brimming with excitement.

"Yeah." You nodded, scooting your chair up. "Nice to see you again, Liam."

"Good to see you again, too [F/N]."

"Liam is from Birmingham." She bragged, her smile somehow growing wider.

"Alabama?" You piped up before taking a drink from your water glass.

Every time you were forced to interact with Liam, she reminded you that the man with the strong and unmistakable English accent, was in fact from England. And every time, you slipped in the Alabama comment. It was never not funny.

"Liam, Anna," you said. "This is my fiance, Dr. Hannibal Lecter."

"Many congratulations to you two." Hannibal offered.

"Dr. Lecter, thank you so much for coming." Anna returned. "And thank you for taking such good care of our precious [F/N]. I hope she's not giving you too much trouble. She was quite a handful growing up, but we made it work."

"Don't flatter yourself, you're only four years older than me." You hide your passive-aggressive jab beneath a smile. "You can't take credit for a job you didn't do."

Grandma always thought Anna's protective, borderline maternal behavior towards you was adorable. Of course, it disgusted you. You were little more than an accessory to her. A baby doll she could simulate motherhood with. But, in fairness to her, that was all you were to the adult in the house too. Monkey see, monkey do.

"So have you two set a date yet?" Grandma interrupted your thoughts, just trying to keep the tension down.

"Goodness, no." Hannibal answered. "Ours is a long-term engagement."

"Yeah." You added. "Not until I finish school."

"Well, it's not my fault you aren't expected to graduate on time." Grandma said into her wine.

You tightened your grip on your water glass. "Well, changing your major halfway through will do that."

"I'm just saying," Grandma continued. Whenever she was 'just saying' anything, you knew she was raring to stir things up. "If you had just stayed the engineering track, you wouldn't have to keep Hannibal waiting."

"Well!" Anna cut in, offended that the attention was off her for more than a minute. "Liam and I waited until after college."

"Yes, Anna," Grandma said dismissively, before turning back to you. "Y'know, Dr. Lecter here could probably tell you that psychologically speaking, women are more likely to drop out of college and become strippers when they change their majors?"

Now it was Hannibal's turn to down his entire glass of wine. "Ms. [L/N], where did you get that information?"

"Oh, it was an article I found on Facebook." Grandma answered. "I'll have [F/N] send you a link."

"Ms. [L/N]," Hannibal cleared his throat. "Are you familiar with the concept of misinformation?"

"Of course." She looked offended at the implication that she could possibly not know something.

"See, social media websites like Facebook are inundated with misinformation campaigns." Hannibal explained. "Your claim is not rooted in any psychological fact."

"Yeah, also," You cut in. You scanned the area for escape routes if your attempt to change the subject went awry. "There's a wonderful documentary about how Facebook misinformation campaigns targeted rural counties in England leading up to the Brexit vote."

"Oh, we have a funny story about Brexit." Anna interrupted, taking the bait, hook line and sinker.

Before she could recount the same boring anecdote about being at some regional chain restaurant when the vote was cast, Theresa and her husband joined the table.

"Sorry we're late," Theresa sat down. "Damage control is a twenty-four hour job. What were we talking about?"

"Misinformation." Liam said.

"Perfect timing." You muttered.

"Finally, all three of my girls are together again." Grandma threw her head back and rejoiced. "When was the last time we all got together? Just us four girls, huh?"

"Remember the day before prom, we all went out go get manicures?" Anna reminisced. "And we took pictures of us all dressed up?"

"Oh I remember." You scanned the area for any alcohol to ingest.

"Oh, this is so funny." Grandma laughed hysterically. "Dr. Lecter, did you hear this story? [F/N] went to the prom with a boy who had all along been using her to get close to Theresa! They got together that night! Dated for two whole years after that."

"I've heard an iteration of it." He said, looking over his shoulder. He flagged down a waiter who was holding a bottle of champagne. "Leave the bottle, please."

"Don't drink too much, [F/N]." Anna scolded. "Save some alcohol for the rest of us."

You made sure to maintain eye contact with her as you filled your flute to capacity. "Grandma's paying, isn't she?"

"Anna, baby," Grandma said, rubbing her temples. "It's fine. Let [F/N] drink herself silly. It's a party, right?"

"Wow," Theresa sneered. You knew exactly what she was going to say next. "Like mother, like daughter."

Everyone at the table had enough decorum to recognize that Theresa went too far. You crushed the champagne flute in your grip, letting shards of glass dig into your skin. You glared at Theresa, blood oozing from your palm and dripping onto the white tablecloth.

Wordlessly, Hannibal removed the offending glass from your hand and swaddled the affected area in a napkin. He put pressure on the cut, letting the blood absorb into the cloth.

"Is this the famed '[L/N] woman telepathy'?" Liam whispered to Anna.

"No, [F/N] is just mad because her mother was a drunk who killed herself." Anna thought she was being inconspicuous.

"This has been fun." You stand up from the table. "Really. Great way to spend a Saturday."

"[F/N], sit down..." Grandma ordered, sounding exhausted. "You know Theresa didn't mean that."

"No." You said, each syllable out of her mouth pushing you a step closer to your breaking point. "Y'know what? No. I don't have to put up with this anymore. Anna, congratulations. I hope you and Liam have many long years together."

You turned around to exit as quietly as you could, Hannibal at your side. Your grandmother, who somehow hadn't hit her daily allotted dose of confrontation, wouldn't have it.

"Dr. Lecter, tell [F/N] she's being unreasonable." Grandma pleaded.

Hannibal raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. In his long-spanning career, he'd never once met a person as tone-deaf as Beatrice [L/N]. He kept his quiet composure as he slowly approached the table.

"Beatrice," he said, beckoning her to lean in. He whispered something into her ear that left her stunned and quaking.

You could hear your grandmother's hysterical sobs growing softer as Hannibal hurried you out.

"Keep pressure on that cut, love." He instructed, talking over the increasingly loud shouts of agony from the head table. "You'll need a few stitches."

Once you were far enough from the venue, you had to ask. "What on earth did you say to her?"

"Nothing that you don't already know." He answered, facing forward.

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal x you #tw blood #tw emotional manipulation #cult girl

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tsukiihime · 3 years

Text

Heartbreak (Bakugo x Reader, Shinsou x Reader)

Hey everyone! This is my first BNHA piece, something I wrote when I was bored and thought what the hey, I’ll post it! Feedback is appreciated!

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairings: Bakugo x Reader, Shinsou x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of cyberbulling, swearing, breakup, angst, just kind of a sad piece overall?

Next Chapter

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When you started dating the Explosion Hero Dynamight, you knew that you were throwing yourself to the wolves. The media is cruel and the fans even crueller - if they deem you unworthy for their Hero then you’re in for a hell of a time - and not in a good way. But you loved Bakugo - you’ve loved him more than you’ve ever loved anyone, and for two years of your life you’ve been by his side as he climbs through the Hero charts.

But recently, the media has been sniffing a little too close to home. Someone has tipped the tabloids off to your existence and ravenous fans have been finding your social media day after day. Your selfies on Instagram are being bombarded with hateful comments on everything ranging from your weight to your skin color to your fashion sense, while your Twitter messages are flooded with paragraph after paragraph full of venom and vitriol. You can no longer take the headlines, the hate, the disgust being dished out at you day and day out. You beg your boyfriend to do something, anything to make the media leave you alone. Which brings you to tonight - in a heated argument with the Hero Dynamight.

“All I’m saying is that if you address the media, if you tell them that I’m your girlfriend, they might back off. I can’t do this anymore Katsuki, I can’t keep waking up and seeing this shit on my feed!” You’re so angry you’re shaking, and it’s pissing you off even more that Bakugo stares at you, unblinking and unfazed, arms crossed in indifference.

“You know I can’t do that. I do that, and my ratings plunge.” Your eyes widen in disbelief as soon as those words leave his mouth, you can’t believe he even said that.

“Are you serious Katsuki? Is beating Deku and becoming the number one hero really worth more to you than us? Than me?” Tears threatened to spill over at any moment, your fists clenching until your nails left tiny red crescents in your skin. You stared at vermilion eyes refusing to back down, waiting with trembling lips for his answer.

“You knew what you were getting into when you started dating me. I don’t know why you need so much fuckin’ reassurance that you’re different from all those other damn extras.” That sentence sends you from angry to fuckin’ pissed in less than a second.

You jab at his chest, practically screaming: “Excuse me? When we started dating, I was promised that you’d protect me from everything, including the media. Do you see the shit they say about me Katsuki? What they say about my body, my family, my upbringing? How they call me a slut and a whore because my Instagram has ‘Toshi on it and now I’ve been spotted with you? I can’t even visit my parents because I’m afraid they’ll follow me. I can’t go and see “Toshi because they’ll shit talk me even more! And you sit there and do nothing. Say nothing. All I want is for you to tell them the truth, that we are dating and that we are a couple.”

Now, it’s Bakugo’s turn to bite back. “And I’m sayin’ my hands are tied. They know I’m with someone, and I lose fans. Which means, I ain’t gonna beat that damn Deku at the rankings next month.”

“Fuck the rankings Bakugo! Can you get your head out of your ass for a second?! How in the world,” you turn to go to grab your phone, pulling up the latest headline about you on the tabloid’s website, “can you let them say this about me? Don’t you at least care that I’m being attacked on the daily?” Tears fall freely from your eyes now, and Bakugo flinches for a second, but only a second. You laugh in anger, turning away from him. “I already know the answer, Katsuki. You care more about the rankings than me. I’m in the way of your dream if you say I’m with you, so let me remove myself from the equation.” You grab a jacket, an umbrella and your phone, and put on your shoes. “It’s over Katsuki. I’m done. If you won’t say that we’re together, then we shouldn’t be together.”

You turn to leave, and a part of you hopes that he’ll follow - that he’ll grab you and hold you tight and tell you that he loves you, loves you more than the stupid rankings and that he’ll stand by you no matter what the media says.

But he doesn’t.

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You walk a couple of blocks to another apartment building, ring the doorbell and wait for the response to come from the other side. A deep voice responds, belonging to someone who had obviously been sleeping. “Who the hell is it?”

“‘Toshi, it’s me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? It’s raining idiot, get in here.” The doors unlock and you make your way inside. You know this building like the back of your hand, it’s the home of your best friend and your second home. You make your way to his apartment and he’s waiting for you in the hallway - purple hair tousled and messy, body heavy with sleep and dark undereye circles accentuating violet eyes as he scratches the back of his neck. It’s a tic of his, one you know well - he’s nervous.

“A fight huh?”

“Worse. I broke it off.” Shinsou immediately tenses at the mention of this, and if you weren’t so pissed and hurt by Bakugo you would’ve laughed.

“Shit...I’m sorry. Come in, tell me all about it.” He steps aside and lets you into his apartment, closing the door as he prepares himself to listen to you complain until the sun rises. He agrees to help you get your things when you’re ready to return, and says you can crash at his place until you find somewhere else to stay.

You return two days later, punching in the code to the apartment you and Bakugo share - well, you supposed shared was the better word. It felt so foreign, being here after everything. Memories of the last two years flooded into your mind - lazy days where you spent all day with Katsuki on the couch doing nothing but watching horrible horror flicks and laughing the night away, those early mornings that had you waking up at five o’clock in the morning to cook pancakes while the sleepy blonde wraps his arms around your waist while teasing your culinary skills. Even the late nights when schoolwork kept you awake well into the twilight hours and your exhausted body dragged itself to the bed you and he shared, breathing in the caramel scent of the man you loved as your head hits the plush pillows and you drift off to sleep. But now, all of those memories have disappeared into the wind, replaced with the fight you and Bakugo had before you had stormed out of the house that night. He’s been texting you like mad, calling you like there is no tomorrow, but you ignore his calls. He never leaves a voicemail, so you don’t know what’s on his mind.

As the beige door swung open, you breathed a sigh of relief that Katsuki wasn’t home. You had neither the heart nor the energy to see him after all that had happened and instead resolved yourself to get all of your things before his shift ended at his agency. You spent the next hour rounding up everything you owned - books, pictures, everything that you had room to take and that you knew you wouldn’t miss if you left it behind. When you had a breather you sent a quick text to Shinsou to let him know you were almost ready to go - and took a deep breath as you entered your bedroom. No, your former bedroom now. “That’s all it is now.” you remind yourself.

You start dumping all your clothes into trash bags and gather up pictures and toiletries that belong to you as you clean up the bedroom from one end to the other. As you grab a pile and place it on the bed, an article of clothing falls that you don’t recognize. You bend over and pick it up to inspect it closer.

You know your clothes, all of them. But this lacy lingerie set that is discarded on the floor isn’t yours, hell, it isn’t even your size. Your throat feels like sandpaper and your nose crinkles as you drop the clothes as if burned by a flame. You can’t help but stare at it as a million things run through your mind at once: whose is it? How long has it been here? Was this before or after you and Katsuki broke up? Did he already move on? The last thought is something you know you shouldn’t dwell on, it isn’t your business what he does after you’re the one that ended the relationship. You know this and yet the tears come anyways, endless and stinging without end. Your legs give out and you fall to your knees clutching your heart as sobs fall from your lips, as your emotions bounce all over the place. The molten hot anger you felt at first is now transforming into deep sadness, all the bittersweet memories racing through your mind now replaced by images of Katsuki holding another woman, another lover just like he held you. You can’t stop as your brain formulates these what if situations - what if he was waiting for you to end it so he could be with her? You start to imagine him kissing another with the same passion he held for you. You see another in your place, eating the food that he insists on making to spoil you after a long night of homework, running their fingers through his hair as he falls asleep on their lap, and seeing another wrapped in his arms as they fall asleep together under the moonlit sky.

“I can’t stay here” you whisper to yourself, desperate to stop the tears that won’t end - desperate to feel anything but this pit of agony. You’ll take numbness over this endless heartbreak, this disappointment, this feeling of self-deprecation that tells you over and over that you weren’t good enough. “I-”

The door opens and you hear Shinsou’s voice behind you, calling your name and making his way through the hallway at the front of the apartment. “You didn’t answer my texts so I came up to check on you and-” The purple haired man freezes when he sees you, sitting on the floor with your head in your hands, sobbing uncontrollably as a waterfall of tears spill from your eyes dripping onto your fingers. You can no longer hold back your sobs as everything comes to a head - your insecurities, the hateful comments left on your social media, Katsuki’s own dismissal of your feelings as you two fought that night two days ago. Shinsou immediately drops to his knees in front of you, wrapping his arms around your frame and holding you close. “It’s okay...let it out.” You peer up at him from tear filled eyes, lunging at him to wrap your arms around his neck as you bury your face in his chest.

“Hitoshi…” is all you’re able to say before another sob wracks your body, tears staining your cheeks and dampening Shinsou’s hoodie. You try desperately to explain why you’re crying, and why you’re so upset but you can’t find the words as your tongue feels heavy like a bunch of bricks. Indigo eyes drift to the underwear discarded behind you, anger seething in his veins as he puts two and two together.

“Bakugo, you fucking tool.” He thinks to himself as he holds you, letting you cry out what you can’t tell him but he knows. He knows you better than anyone, just as you know him better than anyone. He remembers the vibrant little girl he met on the playground all those years ago, who spoke to him without a care even with his “villainous” quirk. He remembers your ecstatic scream as he calls you to let you know that he was able to get into the Hero Course at U.A, and he remembers you celebrating his acceptance at getting into a Hero Agency by getting blackout drunk and waking up with you in snuggled in his arms as you wear his favorite hoodie. He remembers being the one to introduce you to Bakugo at a Hero Ranking after party when you accompanied him as his plus one. He remembers how breathtaking you looked that night - an obsidian dress that hugged your figure closely, long legs accentuated by black stilettos and your plush lips painted in a ruby red hue. He remembers being the man of the hour, the hero Mindjack accompanied by a beauty on his arm, the envy of the venue. He remembers dancing with you, his most beloved childhood friend, his most precious person. He remembers watching you stride to the bar, smiling as you greet the bartender with glee and and he remembers watching you bump into Bakugo as you apologize quickly to the blonde before making your way back to him. He also remembers Bakugo following you to him, prompting him to introduce you to the man who would eventually become your boyfriend.

“If only you hadn’t bumped into him that night”, Shinsou thinks to himself, “Katsuki Bakugo, I’m going to give you a piece of my mind when I see you next.” How helpless he feels watching you cry as your heart shatters into a million pieces, how powerless he feels as he holds you tighter than he’s ever held anyone before. “C’mon, let’s get you home. I’ll take what I can and I��ll get the rest another day.” he smiles as he looks at you, giving you a small grin that he hopes makes you feel a bit better. “Don’t worry, I grabbed your Switch and your laptop, so the lazy girl hours can still happen” you punch him in the shoulder playfully as you wipe tears away on your sleeve, pouting as you roll your eyes at his lazy jokes before he continues, “and I’ll send Bakugo a text on what’s happening. You won’t have to deal with him. I promise.” It doesn’t escape his notice how you tense up when he says Bakugo, but the small smile you give at his joke makes him feel just a bit better. You stand up and press your lips to his forehead, tippy toeing to reach. “Thanks ‘Toshi. I really appreciate it, truly.”

“Anything for my Animal Crossing buddy.” You cross your arms and give him a questioning look, eliciting a chuckle from the taller male. “I’m jus’ kiddin’. You know I’d do anything for you. And your Switch.” You laugh as you turn to grab your boxes and make your way to the front of the apartment, the lingerie that had shattered your world moments ago momentarily forgotten in the corner of you and Bakugo’s bedroom. “It’s only Bakugo’s now” you remind yourself as you walk out into the living room, “this place belongs to Bakugo only.” You take one last look at your home for the last ten months, and quickly turn on your heels to make your way to the elevator with your entire life packed into a few boxes. A small sense of regret lingers in you, but you quickly shove that aside to stop yourself from crying some more. Shinsou grabs the rest of the boxes left on the table, and places your key to the apartment on the counter next to a picture frame with the glass faced down. He then turns and follows you out the door to his car.

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The next few nights are the hardest - Shinsou’s apartment only has one bedroom, one bathroom and the living room which means you’re on the couch until you find your own place. You’ve known Shinsou since childhood and you wouldn’t mind sharing a bed but you’re so distraught from your discovery in Bakugo’s room that you want to be alone to cry it out if you need to - you already feel like a burden to Shinsou despite his protests against the idea. He’s not home tonight - on patrol around the city as you sit in the living room wrapped in a blanket and wearing his favorite hoodie. You flip through the channels and stumble across the Hero Rankings red carpet. It’s been ages since Hitoshi attended one, becoming more of an “underground hero” and avoiding the spotlight if possible. In fact, the only time he attended one was with you around the time you met Bakugo. You cringe at the thought of him, trying quickly to remove him from your mind. The rational part of your mind wants to change the channel, to watch those documentaries you love so much and wait until Shinsou gets back home but you don’t. Instead, you decide to remain on this channel, watching as heroes come and go on the red carpet with their dates and hear the host gush about each one’s accomplishments. This is torture, you know Bakugo will appear since he’s the number four Hero, you know he’ll be there and yet like a train wreck, you can’t look away. Maybe you’re curious as to what he’s up to, or maybe you want to see if he looks as miserable as you know you do. In any case, you wait with baited breath to see a pair of scarlet eyes and ash blonde hair to satiate your curiosity. A flash of green catches your attention and you see Izuku Midoriya appear on screen in front of you. Deku is the number three Hero and on his arm is his girlfriend Uraraka, another Hero ranked at number seven. You’ve met the both of them at parties you attend with Bakugo - they both received a lot of hate from “fans'' when they announced they were dating, but the love they exuded for each other made the media change their tune really fast. They truly adored one another and didn’t care if their ratings took a dive. You had wished Bakugo would do that for you, but you weren’t a Hero and you didn’t have an impressive quirk, so his agency decided that it would be better for his ratings if he kept you a secret and he agreed. At first, you didn’t mind but the comments on social media and the tabloids made you feel as if he wasn’t yours at all - instead all you felt was that he was ashamed of you.

Then you see him. You grip the remote so hard it almost hurts, but you keep on looking anyway. There stands the number four Hero Katsuki Bakugo, wearing a red and black suit and looking as he always does - confident to the point of arrogance, a grumpy face that makes him unapproachable, arms crossed in annoyance. The cameras go off flash after flash, and the announcer goes over his stats - how many people he’s saved, his amount of solved cases, so on and so forth. You smile at his ranking, he’s gone from eleven to four in such a short amount of time, and you know he has his determination to thank for that. He works hard, that you can’t deny.

Then you see her. You recognize her, from the tabloids and the makeup commercials. The Illusion Hero, Maboromicamie. She’s tall, beautiful, and has a gorgeous figure as well as a comfy place ranked as the number ten Hero. Her arm is linked with Bakugo’s, and he has an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close for the photoshoot. The announcer raises their voice in excitement, as a headline appears on your TV: “Dynamight and Maboromicamie an item? Seen together getting close at the awards ceremony!”

You shut off the TV and close your eyes. What were you expecting? Why did you do that? You can’t help the tears that escape, but they do. There you sit, alone in the apartment with the image of those two stuck in your head, burned into your memory. When Shinsou gets home, he says nothing and you’re grateful for it - you know he’s seen the ceremony and he knows you well enough to know that you’ve seen it too. Instead, he showers, lays down next to you, and holds you close as you cry quietly into his arms.

#bnha #bnha x fem!reader #shinsou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x you #hitoshi shinso x y/n #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bnha angst #mha x reader #my writing

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joheunsaram · 3 years

Text

To Make A Power Couple - 02 (knj)

Chapter 2 - Pizza and Life Chats

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

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Summary- Namjoon and Y/N go on their first date, and Namjoon is whipped.

word count- 5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- pg13 for now

genre- series, fluff, eventual smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- mentions of hangovers and panic attacks, tooth-rottingly fluffy

a.n- okay here’s the second part! I wrote this up fairly quickly (don’t expect this to be the norm!). This part I wanted to kind of address the stress of overworking as a young adult (GUILTY 🙋🏻‍♀️) so sorry if it gets a little serious at parts. I also wanted to switch it up so it’s from Namjoon’s perspective. I hope you enjoy it. SOFT JOON BEING A BIG OLD SOFTY.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut

Namjoon woke up startled as his phone alarm rang. He was groggy and his splitting headache made him nauseous. “I’m never going to drink again”, he mumbled. He groaned as he got off the couch he had crashed on the night before, trying not to trip over Taehyung who seemed to be dozing happily on the floor as he made his way to his room. He hadn’t stayed at the dorms in a while, preferring the quiet solitary of his own apartment nowadays, and with his hangover in full swing he felt like he was walking through a stranger’s house.

Last month was hell. He had procrastinated on his songs and none of the vocal guides were even halfway done before the due date. Every time he tried to finish a song a new one would pop up in his head and he would start on that, leading to a hard drive full of files labelled “finish soon” and “draft”, and a notebook full of scratched out scribbles. It was like his brain had decided to abandon him, deciding it had had enough of his perpetual melancholy. He had felt drained and burnt out, a husk with no creative juices left. Luckily, Yoongi and a few of the producers had taken pity on his stressed out state and lent a hand so he had been able to finish the bare minimum three days ago - before the label pressured him further. He was never more grateful for a small break.

In all honesty, he needed a way to jumpstart his brain, and get out of the routine of home, practice, meetings, studio, home. Sometimes, he almost wished he didn’t have the success he had so he could go out and let loose a little - a club, a party, anything. But the last time he went somewhere like that he got swarmed and the police had to be involved. He couldn’t risk that, not after the trouble Big Hit went to threaten media outlets a year and a half ago, when he was caught with what they called a hickey, but was actually a stress rash.

As he brushed his teeth today, however, he smiled at the mirror. Last month may have been terrible, but last night was one of the best he’d had in the past year.

When he had heard Bang PD’s team talk about how they were attending the charity gala as he met them for notes on his songs, he was intrigued. He had read about this non-profit in the paper before. They seemed to be helping bridge the gap between people through communication and that spoke to him. So much so that he had scrolled through their website multiple times, reading testimonials and almost memorizing the mission statement. They wanted to help kids learn English for free so they could communicate globally. He really liked the idea. It was hard for him to learn the language as a kid and he knew that the only reason he became as fluent as he is from the tutors his parents paid for and his obsession with American television and music. Although he didn’t need the tutoring anymore, he did enjoy talking to the in-house tutor at the company, John, from time to time and improving his skills. The fact that this company wanted to add a John to every school in Korea starting from the rural areas, made Namjoon want to meet the man behind the movement. Little did he know, he’d be meeting the girl who’d shift his idea of the ideal.

He had never been more glad to have convinced his company to let him and the boys attend an event. He had initially suggested it as a way to break the mundane before their comeback practices started and network while supporting a cause he liked. Two days ago, he wouldn’t have guessed it would have been an actual fun night leading to him nursing a headache.

He spent the next hour reliving last night as he showered and caught up on the news. He also read the messages he sent last night over a hundred times and had butterflies each time. Wasn’t he too old for butterflies? He wanted to message you again but every time he tried, he ended up overthinking it. Everything sounded forced or cheesy, and it was worse than any writer’s block. He threw his phone on the bed in frustration watching it bounce and land on the floor, before he grabbed it and pocketed it. Hopping around to get rid of his nerves, he decided to take a break from rereading the thread he already had memorized and check in with everyone. If his hangover was this bad he couldn’t imagine theirs.

Making his way back to the living room he found Taehyung now sitting on the floor, sleep still very evident on his features as he yawned and groaned. On the couch next to him sat Yoongi, holding an iced americano and staring into space. The rest were missing but he could hear a blender annoyingly whizzing in the kitchen.

“How’re you guys feeling this morning?” He asked as he sat across from Yoongi.

“This is why I don’t drink. Why did no one stop me?” Taehyung whined as he rose from the floor to leave, massaging his head.

“We tried. You were very excited to try all the disgustingly sweet drinks the hot bartender was making for you.” Yoongi replied with a sigh. “How was your date, Namjoon? You glad I forced you to go to the bar to talk to her?” he snickered, sipping his coffee before exhaling loudly in contentment.

“Honestly, I owe you big time. She was… amazing. I don’t think I’ve talked to someone that comfortably in a while” Namjoon sighed wistfully.

“I’ll add cupid to my resume,” he deadpanned. “Is she tolerating you for another date?”

“Yeah. We’re getting dinner on Tuesday, but I want to message her now. Argh!” He ran his hands over his face in frustration. “What do I even say? ‘Hi I’m the guy who was too scared to kiss you all night so you had to do it for him, what’s your favourite colour?’” Namjoon was annoyed at himself. It’s bad enough that he was having writer’s block in his music, did he have to have it for something as simple as texting too? This was ridiculous!

“Or you could just ask her how’s her hangover today. Jeez! Do I have to draft each of your messages? Stop being a dumbass and text the person you like.” Yoongi scoffed, clearly over Namjoon’s sudden and uncharacteristic insecurities.

Namjoon gave a resigned sigh as he reached for his phone and wrote out exactly what Yoongi suggested. Hey, he was his hyung for a reason - he had a full 6 months of life experience on him.

Namjoon: Hey! Hope your hangover is not too bad today.

As soon as the message was sent, he started getting nervous. Tapping his foot incessantly while he stared at his phone, willing it to buzz, annoying Yoongi enough to leave him alone on the couch in the process.

Y/N: Hi to you too! I actually don’t get hangovers so I’m doing great lol. What about you?

Namjoon: What do you mean you don’t get hangovers?

Y/N: I don’t know. Can’t get dehydrated if you’re always dehydrated!

Namjoon: That… makes no sense. Do I need to start reminding you to drink water?

Y/N: Only if you’re better than this app on my phone…

Namjoon: I can guarantee you I’m better than any app on this planet.

Y/N: Wow. Big claims! We’ll have to put it to the test I suppose.

Y/N: You never told me how you’re feeling. Oh and how’s Taehyung? Is he okay?

Namjoon: He’s doing fine. Made a pact to never drink again and if i’m being honest, I’m going to join him. I am shocked that your head is not exploding as well.

The messages continued easily after that, filled with updates of each other’s activities, playful flirting and even photos of dinner. By the time Monday rolled around, you had been messaging each other constantly, with no end to the conversation in sight and the only long pauses being when you were both asleep or working. It seemed like you would never run out things to talk about. Namjoon hadn’t messaged someone this frequently since he got out of his last relationship. It felt nice to relay his mundane day to day events to someone and he found himself excited to hear about your mundane, like how you decided to mix two different types of bad coffee blends to make a shockingly worse one. He was surprised again at how fast he felt comfortable around you. It was even starting to scare him a little - he only knew you for three days and it felt like he had known you forever! What was this weird spell you had on him?

The conversation Monday, however, was fairly sparse, and Namjoon was eager to set up plans for the next day, so that night he decided to call you.

After the first three rings, he was overthinking his decision. Maybe it was too soon to call? Maybe you didn’t like talking on the phone? What if it went to voicemail? Would he have to leave a message? What would he say? His inner monologue was quickly halted at the sound of your voice.

“Hello, this is Y/N” you sounded distant, almost too formal. He felt nervous.

“Hi… uh… this is Namjoon. Is this a bad time?”

“Oh Namjoon! Sorry I didn’t check who called when I picked up!” Relief washed over him at the change of your tone. “Sorry one sec can you hold on.” he heard you say as your voice got mumbled. He waited while he heard you talk to someone about proposals and deadlines. Were you still at work? He checked his watch - it was 10 pm. He didn’t know whether to be impressed by your work ethic or worried that you were overworking.

“Hi sorry about that! How are you?” He relaxed at your airy tone and smiled.

“I’m good. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah it’s only like 7 so it’s no big deal. I usually leave around 8” Were you serious?

“Y/N… It’s 10:04…” He was shocked at how nonchalant you sounded, and suddenly he had his answer - he was worried, not impressed. He had known you for three days and already you were setting his caretaker alarm off. He wanted to scold you for being careless and overworking, like he’s used to doing for the boys, but he knew it was too soon. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling that way all of a sudden and tried to suppress his protective instincts.

“No it’s not! It’s…” He could hear your voice going further away as he imagined you moving the phone in front of you to check the time. “Oh shit you’re right. What the hell? Okay sorry I’m gonna put you on hold again.” Before he could say anything he heard your voice again, distant again but loud. “Oh my god. Guys, it’s 10pm. Go home! Why did nobody tell me? No it doesn’t matter we can do that tomorrow. Please go home. Pack up now! You too Siwon, don’t worry I’ll go home after I get off the phone. See you!” He smiled at the sternness of your tone - it reminded him of a teacher dismissing class.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I overworked my team. Had to send the troops home” you laughed and Namjoon felt his heart flutter.

“I don’t wanna keep you from going home. I can call you back once you get there,” he offered. He felt bad that you were staying in an empty office on his account.

“Oh don’t worry about it. It was a lie to get Siwon off my back. I’m probably gonna be here till like 1 or something. I still have to get this done” you said matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He knew that tone fairly well, having used it multiple times himself when he locked himself in his studio, running on nothing but coffee and energy bars.

“Okay I know we’ve only just met and we have our first date tomorrow, but do you want some company?” He asked before he could stop himself. The line was silent for a bit, and he felt self conscious, scared that he had overstepped and driven you away. Before he could check his phone to see if you had hung up you spoke.

“It’d be pretty boring for you to watch me just type away. Are you sure? It’s pretty late.” He was sure his cheeks would hurt from how wide he smiled.

“It’s not a problem at all. I was going to work tonight too.” He wasn’t. “We can just work together. I’ll bring food. Did you eat yet?” his words tumbled over each other.

“How very college of you.” He could hear you giggling on the line. “Now that I think about it - I’m starving.”

“Okay text me the address, I’ll be there soon.”

He had never been this excited to pretend to work.

He spotted you as he walked through the doors of the 13th floor, pepperoni pizza in hand. You were sitting at a long desk near the middle of the room. He was surprised as he expected you in an office, but he found you typing away at your desktop. Your hair was tied up in a bun and you were dressed in an oversized beige t-shirt, eyebrows furrowed head bopping to the hip hop track playing through the speakers. You seemed to be in your own little world. He felt like he was spying on you as he leaned against the door watching but he also liked seeing how you acted when you thought no one was watching. He was about to announce his presence when the track changed to a Childish Gambino one and you whooped and started to rap along.

You were now fully head banging and rapping the verse at the top of your lungs. He would be impressed by your fairly good amateur skills if he didn’t find the entire scene so endearing. His heart was doing somersaults as he watched you now fully engrossed in the song, typing forgotten as you got up and started to pretend you were on stage, an imaginary mic in your hand asking haters if they “eatin’ though”. You looked so adorable that he couldn’t help but squeal a little “cute!”

That’s when you saw him, eyes wide. He felt a little bad when he saw how embarrassed you looked, immediately stopping and slapping a hand to your mouth before bursting out in nervous laughter. He could write a whole album with that laugh. Oh he was so whipped, he thought to himself as he made his way to you.

“You know you’re not half bad!” He exclaimed as he set the pizza on the table, pulling a chair next to yours and settling down.

“Do you think your fake compliments will save you from the fact that you were spying on me?” you asked, crossing your hands across your chest, pretending to scowl but failing to do so.

“First, real compliment. Second, would pizza save me?” He opened the box and proudly smiled, loving the way your eyes lit up as you reached for a slice.

“Yes it will!” you exclaimed as you took your first bite, lightly moaning at the taste. “But erase that memory from your brain please.”

“Nope. Never. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I’m going to save it forever” he said as he also started on his slice. You pouted up at him, cheeks puffed and it took all the self-control he had to not kiss it off your face. He hadn’t felt this way in so long, it was like you were his first crush. Trying to control his pulse, he asked “What are you working on so late?”

“Oh I have a proposal due for a meeting tomorrow at noon and I’m only halfway through it,” you frowned wistfully at the screen as if willing it to type on its own.

“Can I help?” He asked, knowing fully well that he couldn’t. He just had an overwhelming urge to make that frown disappear.

“You being here is help enough,” you smiled sincerely as you looked at him and he felt his heart explode, a blush creeping on his cheeks as he smiled bashfully. “What are you working on?”

“I have a few songs I have to finish the lyrics for. Been procrastinating” he rubbed the back of his neck as he pulled out the notebook from his back pocket.

“Can I help?” you echoed his question to which he echoed your response grinning. He wasn’t lying though. Even though he had planned to not really work, as the night progressed he found the change from his usual writing spot inspiring. Sitting next to you, the sound of the keyboard clicking was soothing leading to words pouring out of him. He filled pages as he stole glances at you concentrating on your proposal, tongue peeking from between your lips, still bobbing to the music which was now playing from your airpods instead of the speakers. He smiled at the sight, before focusing on his notebook.

After about an hour or so of hard work, he finished three songs that he had allotted himself the whole week to do. This was the most productive hour he had all month. Antsy for a break, he looked over at you and found you staring at him, a hand under your chin. As he met your gaze you smiled.

“You’re really hot when you concentrate. Has anyone ever told you that?” you commented. He was taken aback by your remark, heart fluttering at your smirking face. Not missing his chance and spurred on by the comment, he scooted closer in one sweep till your knees touched and you were face to face.

“You’re one to talk. I couldn’t stop looking at you this past hour.” Gazing into your eyes, he was amused to see your smirk disappear as it was now your turn to be shocked. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear letting his hand linger, enjoying the way you sighed as he did. “Can I make good on my promise now?” He whispered, his face centimeters away, looking at your lips. The way you bit your lower lip made him want to take you there and then. The desk looked big enough. Hell, even if it wasn’t he could make it work.

“Promise?” you whispered as he watched your eyes flutter to his lips.

“To kiss you first…” Too impatient to wait for your answer, he brought his lips to yours, relishing how soft they felt under his own. He was thrilled at you returning the kiss, deepening it as you grabbed the collar of his shirt to bring him closer just like you did after the party. He was beginning to think this was your signature move, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t immensely turn him on. He moved his hand cupping your face to rest on your neck and he could feel your heartbeat mimicking his. He put his other hand around your waist pulling you closer, wanting to be as close to you as he could get. He traced his tongue over your lips, his head cloudy with endorphins as you opened your mouth inviting him in. He had never tasted something so euphoric, his tongue exploring yours in a rush.

He could feel you pushing forward as he leaned back and allowed you to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of the chair. As soon as you were on his lap, he pulled you closer, both arms around on your hips, your chest flushed with his. He kissed the side of your mouth as he made his way down your jaw to your neck. You smelt like vanilla mixed with a fresh flower garden, and he was sure this smell was better than any drug in the world. He could hear your breathy moans as he sucked where your neck met your collarbone, licking to soothe it before moving further. He wanted to taste all of you. Your hands were in his hair and each tug made him groan into you, making him harder. He could kiss you like this forever. He wanted to save this moment so he could come back to it and relive it. He traced his hands up and down your sides, moving under your shirt but remaining on your waist, enjoying the feel of your soft skin.

“Namjoon… Namjoon… slow down” he heard you say breathlessly as he felt a slight push. He looked up at you, your eyes half lidded and lusty as you grabbed his face and brought it to yours. You were sending him mixed signals, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep kissing you.

“We have to slow down or I’m going to want to fuck you right here.” You whined as you both came back up for air, but you kissed him again nevertheless. Hearing you say that made him want to do anything in his power to make that happen.

“I don’t mind, baby,” he said against your lips, kissing you with urgency, biting your lower lip and pulling it gently to elicit another moan from you. To his disappointment, you seemed to have better self-control than him as you pushed him back, both of you panting as you struggled to catch your breath. He moved his hand back to your hips tracing little circles, feeling comforted by you smoothing his hair you had pulled earlier.

“There are cameras here. I’d rather not make a sex tape on our first date.” You giggled as you pointed to the black sphere in the corner of the room. He had never hated the obsession buildings had for security more, but the crudeness of your comment made him laugh. He had almost forgotten this was your first date, it felt like he had kissed you a thousand times before. You tasted like the relief of an awning in the middle of a summer downpour.

“I think we need to cool down,” you say as you climb off of his lap. “Let’s go.”

He followed you as you led him to the little kitchenette near the end of the room, unable to resist the urge to wrap his hands around your waist in a back hug. He knew he was being too clingy for a first date, but the way you giggled and put your hands over his gave him assurance.

“Lemonade, coke, or water,” you asked as you peered into the fridge.

“You.” He smirked kissing your neck, feeling bold off of the high from your makeout session.

“Joon!” you pretended to sound scandalized as you turned in his arms, smiling warmly. The nickname made his heart swell. It added a familiarity that he didn’t know he missed from you.

“You haven’t called me Joon before. I like it” he smiled as he pecked your lips.

“Hey! We are cooling down! No kissing! Now pick” you chided and Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder if you were this assertive in bed too, a million scenarios playing in his head. Okay, you were right, he needed to cool down.

“I’ll just have water, thanks,” he said as he grabbed the bottle you passed him, opening and gulping half of it. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was for something other than you. You both made your way to the tables, sitting across from each other.

“So did you finish your proposal?” He asked trying to cool himself but failing as he noticed you running the cold water bottle against your neck, the beads of condensation dripping on your shirt. He cleared his throat as he tried to focus his attention on your eyes, a mantra of stay focused playing in his head.

“Yes! Finally! It’s perfect.” you smiled proudly and somehow he felt a wave of pride too. “What about you? Made any progress?”

“Actually yes. I kind of finished my entire week’s writing in that one hour” he was still amazed by his own progress.

“Okay, Mr Overachiever” you joked and he chuckled.

“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything, but I don’t know your presence is kind of soothing. It helped me focus.” Watching your smile grow wide, he continued, “I’ve been having pretty severe burnout this past month and it has just been hard to put down my thoughts, even non-lyrical ones.” He fidgeted with the water bottle as he looked at it, avoiding eye contact.

He didn’t know why he was telling you this. He recalled when he told you about his struggles as a leader during your first conversation. Somehow being around you led him to vomit out his feelings. It was… unlike him. Namjoon was usually not this honest on dates, or relationships, as much as he would hate to admit it. That’s the reason he broke off his last one. He felt bad lying to her about a busy schedule when he just wanted to be alone. She would have understood, she was kind and thoughtful, but it just felt easier to lie and not put the effort in to explain his thoughts. Even when they broke up, he lied and told her that it was because he couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, when in reality things had cooled off a while ago and he felt guilty as his feelings faded.

He felt your hand reach out and grab one of his, intertwining your fingers. He felt comforted by the gesture as you rubbed your thumb across him before you spoke two words that warmed his heart. “I understand.”

“You know it’s hard to work at full speed all the time. It’s okay to not be at a hundred all the time. The valleys feed the peaks” you continued. It was a simple remark, but it sounded surprisingly poetic to him. He hadn’t felt this understood outside of the boys for a long time. It was refreshing. It was terrifying. He resisted his natural urge to run and hide.

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, needing to divert the attention away from his own vulnerabilities.

“Yeah. I had it pretty tough a couple of years ago. Too much pressure from myself, too many expectations. Led to too many vices and panic attacks” you shrugged as you continued and he squeezed your hand to comfort you. “It creeps up from time to time but my therapist and I have it handled” He looked at you in awe. You hadn’t given him a throwaway answer or switched the limelight back at him. You wasted no time in being as vulnerable as him, if not more. He knew at that moment that regardless of where this thing went, he wanted you to know you better.

“Thank you for being honest.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. It was an intimate gesture but he wanted you to know how much he appreciated your words - how much he appreciated you - in that moment. You both sat in comfortable silence for a little while, playing with each other’s hands that were still intertwined, till one of you yawned loudly causing the other to giggle. With the weight of the conversation lifting, you both fell back into playful banter as you decided to pack up and call it a night.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” Namjoon asked, wanting to drag the night on longer despite it already being almost 2 am.

“Don’t judge me but I actually don’t know how to drive. I was just going to cab back.” he saw you giggle bashfully as you pulled your backpack over your shoulders.

“Oh, no judgment here! Me neither” he laughed. Why does everyone think it is such a big deal to not drive? It’s better for the environment! “Do you want to take one together? I don’t really want you to ride alone this late.” He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t come off as if he was trying to dictate what you did.

“I’d really like that,” you said as you walked towards the elevators. He held your hand as you both got on, liking the way you moved closer to him at that.

In the cab you both sat closer than necessary, his arm wrapped around you as you both made plans for your scheduled date later that day, trying not to doze off. When the cab stopped all too soon at your apartment, he kissed you gently as he told you how much he enjoyed your company.

That night laying in bed, his heart felt full as he read your goodnight message. He was sure of it now. He really wanted you in his life.

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hartrathaway · 3 years

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Hii I'm interested in Hartley's story but I know literally nothing about him except that he was Wally's gay bestie in the 90s, what's his deal? Do you have any comic recs for him?

HI IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!!!!!!!

Okay, so really brief, his dealio is: born to ‘incredibly rich’ parents (we never get a specified ballpark, but Hartley states that he was ‘born with two silver spoons in [his] mouth’ if that helps context wise), Hartley’s deaf! His parents had him get cochlear implants when he was a child, which ‘medically healed him’. (His deafness has been treated extremely ablest by writers who actually remember he’s deaf, I need to warn you of this now.) He’s a music and sound waves guy, a former villain (it’s an on again off again relationship, but a lot of his character is defined by his time as a hero) and he’s very leftist. Gay best friend in the AIDS crisis turned Wally West from a midwestern conservative to a leftie as well. (Wally’s wife, Linda Park, was a major contributing factor, but we’re focusing on Hartley for this, so I’m gonna talk about him.)

I’ve got a mix of good reading from all over, so I’m gonna break this into sections, and do my best to describe which is which. (all my screencaps are from this website right here, because i do not own all the back issues and it would have taken much, much longer to do this post, and as such, some of them are not sized or formatted correctly) Click the read more if you’re interested! Please note: I am not a 100% authority figure on Hartley, and I know there’s a few stories I have left out (the story with Bart Allen’s first appearance is a good one that Hartley is in), but these are the gist of who is he, what he’s been up to, and what is the family drama.

So for New Earth (otherwise known as post-Crisis on Infinite Earths), is where Hartley actually becomes Wally’s friend, and is a hero! I’m going to focus on this section first. Unfortunately, due to being a minor character, a lot of stuff is broken into small stories, or things that are happening behind the scenes, so there’s no real issue x - y that’s gonna help much.

The Flash Vol 2 #31, #32 Quick summary: In issue 31, supervillain here is killing homeless people, Hartley has been helping these same people get up on their feet by helping them get squatter’s rights. They skip the fighting because a kid asks if they’re going to fight for a half hour and then team up, and go right to the team up. They get Linda Park in, supervillain ends up backfiring his powers. In issue 32, Wally, Hartley, and their pal Mason officially move to Keystone city. Hartley’s folks are in trouble while the three of them are trying to freeload (off of Hartley’s parents, his and his parents’ relationship is better now than it had been, for a multitude of reasons), Wally and Hartley rescue Hartley’s parents, we also meet Jerrie, Hartley’s sister, and all is resolved there. Yay, the family loves each other again!

(issue 31)

(issue 32)

The Flash Vol 2 #53 Special mention this is the issue where Hartley comes out and also has to inform Wally that Wally cannot tell who is a homosexual. Also Wally’s an IRS agent here, for shame Wallace. At least Hartley gets to cosplay Wally at the end, so that’s fun. Content warning for this issue specifically is some casual homophobia, just so you know that going in.

(issue 53)

The Flash Vol 2 #170 In 170, Hartley’s being contacted by his father to call in ‘a favor’ that Hartley owes him. The main plot line includes (one of) Wally’s ex(es) showing up, a former hero and teammate, Frances Kane, otherwise known as Magneta. A person has been found murdered at Keystone Motors, and supervillain Goldface begins rallying union workers (which seems to just be a poorly timed coincidence). The story itself (170 - 173) in and of itself is really fun, but I’m only going to talk about Hartley, or else I’ll be here all day.

(issue 170)

The Flash Vol 2 #174, #175, #178, #179 And here we get some drama! I’m grouping all of these together, since it’s all the same chunk of the story for Hartley, but since it’s the Flash, Wally’s center stage. In 174, the people who were living with the Rathaway family aren’t exactly big fans of Hartley. They know he’s changed his ways, he’s a hero now, but it’s just… something feels off. There’s loud music sounds, and bam! Suddenly Hartley’s there and oh boy is this gonna be a hot mess. In issue 175, we see some footage, and Hartley’s the lead suspect in his parents’ murder, considering that the footage has Hartley onscreen. 178 rolls up, and after Wally’s getting Gorilla Grodd taken care of (and that fight is a doozy), Wally gets to find out Hartley’s been arrested for the murder of his own parents, and Hartley confesses on-screen to his parents’ murder (Also Hartley’s got a beard now, that’s how you know he’s depressed.) 179 opens with Hartley being processed. Linda and Wally go to see him, and although Hartley confessed, he said “I think I did.” (emphasis is mine; in the panel Hartley says “I think I did.”) Joker? He’s got some Joker-fied people, and poor Hartley gets it too :( Hartley straight up nearly kills Captain Boomerang (it’s okay, Wally stops him), and surprise! Welcome back to Iron Heights Hartley. Gonna have a fun time :)

(issue 174; this is the least messy part of the panel, but it was intended to be that way)

(issue 175)

(issue 178)

(issue 179)

The Flash: Iron Heights Brief interlude from the main comic line, we’ve got a one-shot that’s taking place in Iron Heights. This takes place before Hartley gets arrested, presumably (since, y’know, they’re breaking in and all). Fun one-shot honestly, keeps me on my toes the whole time. Hartley’s a main character, and it’s less personal drama and very story driven. You don’t need this to enjoy Hartley regardless, but I enjoy it!

(The Flash: Iron Heights, which you can read here.)

The Flash Volume 2 #189, #190 189! Now we find out how Hartley’s parents were actually murdered! No spoilers, but we do get a prison breakout. This is where we get some origin story! Don’t read this first though, because you’re going to be spoiling yourself the plot of his arrest. In 190 we get more origin, including the way DC treated his deafness. (It’s ablest, and I’m still mentally grappling how you wouldn’t notice your child being deaf for two years, but okay Rachel and Osgood, you keep being bad.) The story goes on for now, with Hartley on the run from… well, everyone.

(issue 189)

(issue 190)

This is pretty much it for New Earth Hartley up until Countdown.

I don’t like Countdown at all. I’m much happier pretending that Countdown doesn’t exist (both because of how it treats Hartley for a multitude of reasons, and how Thad Thawne is treated leading up to Countdown). More happens with Hartley’s storyline in Countdown, but I hate it with such a passion that I wouldn’t recommend it at all. Countdown leads into Final Crisis, and I’m not a fan of either. However, should you wish to read and make your own opinions, here’s Countdown and here’s Final Crisis. Please note, Countdown’s issues are done in reverse order (so from issue 51 to 1, rather than 1 to 51)

And now I’m going to tell you the gospel truth:

I do like New 52 Hartley! A lot. Unfortunately, he’s not as much in the n52 Flash run as I would like (but I’m biased, as obvious by my url). What you need to know is that Hartley’s a musician now, like orchestra director, and he’s in a relationship with Barry’s boss, David Singh. (power move, honestly) Unfortunately, we don’t get a whole lot in the main line. Also at this point, the Wally West of New Earth hasn’t transitioned to the n52. Wallace West of n52 is an entirely different character, and that’s a whole other issue for another discussion. Wally West as we know him from New Earth doesn’t come back for a while. Wally and Hartley haven’t talked since before Flashpoint, and that’s a shame.

So read the Crimes of Passion Anthology he’s got please I’m begging you. The only downside is that the artist gave him a haircut.

(Crimes of Passion: Secret Admirer)

I haven’t read anything DCeased related, and while I know Hartley gets his time to shine and kiss David, I can’t tell you much beyond that. I’m pretty sure there’s other people who can tell you more, but it’s not me I’m afraid. (This is me saying guys, please tell me about Hartley in DCeased, someone tell me about my fictional lavender marriage husband.)

#Anonymous #ask #hartley rathaway #pied piper #pied piper dc #dc #(for my own records)#i'm biased and i hope the read more keeps the worst of this off of my followers' dashes #hope this helps!!!!

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amysubmits · 3 years

Text

Known & Owned

She left her ring on the pillow Right where it wouldn't be missed She left a note in the kitchen Next to the grocery list It said

You don't even know who I am You left me a long time ago You don't even know who I am So what do you care if I go

This song was on the radio while I was in the car the other day. I remembered my mom playing it often when I was a kid. Turning the radio up loud when it came on.

I have always liked sad songs that feel like they are true for someone, even if they aren’t my story. I don’t think that’s the case with my mom. I think this one resonated with her. I imagine that living out the story in this song would be a nightmare for most anyone.

It got me thinking though about how there are definitely varying degrees of intimacy that people seek, and in different ways. I think everyone wants their partner to know them. But, maybe what depth it requires to feel like someone really knows you varies from person to person. Or perhaps how well known we want to be, varies.

-------

Recently @cynicaldom and I got talking about scent preferences, somehow. I had said something like “it smells good, but not on ME.” and then I tried explaining how I can find some things to smell good in general, but I may not want that as a personal care product scent. Or I may like a smell in a candle but not as a laundry detergent scent. That scent has to ‘match’ the type of product that it is. I went to bathroom and pulled out a really old bottle of shampoo from under the sink, took the lid off and offered it to him to sniff. Like this? This smell is okay, I guess. But I don’t want to smell like this.”

He smelled it. “I think that smells really good!”

“Kinda but not for on your body?”

“What? No. I really like that....that smells like YOU.”

Like me?

“Yes! That’s how your hair and our old bathroom smelled when we lived on (road).”

I started laughing. “Oh my gosh. We were living there when I used this! I can’t believe you remembered that smell...”

It tickled me that he remembered my hair smell. As I was laying in bed that night trying to fall asleep, I was remembering it. And I got thinking about how multiple people in the past I’ve had experiences of commenting on someone’s new hair color or new haircut and had them reply that their partner never even noticed.

One memory in particular, the woman had cut off easily 6+ inches of hair, making her hair way shorter than she had kept it for many years. When she said her husband hadn’t noticed I said “Wow, i’m sorry” or something similar and she shook her head and said ‘men.” I know it was sort of a joke relating to a stereotype of men being oblivious/not caring. I know she knows not all men are like that. It still just seemed so sad to me. The joke didn’t help lighten it any.

---

A few days later I was working on making a curbside grocery order. I was telling CD what I was adding and he was telling me things to add, too. I had mentioned to him the day before that I want to go back to the type of deodorant I used to use. The last few months I had tried something different that I thought was working at first, but wasn’t now. Anyway, while trying to place this order I said I couldn’t seem to remember what my old deodorant was, I knew it was something clinical. “It was Secret, wasn’t it?” he asked. “I don’t think so, these don’t look right” I said after searching Secret on our grocery store’s website. A moment later he showed me his screen, pointing to an image on google search results. “Wasn’t it that one?”

He was pointing to the exact one I used to order, correct scent and everything.

It turned out that they had redone the labeling so that’s why the grocery store listings didn’t look right to me. Google brought up the old design that matched the one I had bought before.

Still, I thought it was funny that he remembered my deodorant and I didn’t.

---

I have always loved the ways that CD notices me, and really, truly sees me even in the detailed, tiny ways. It’s always meant a lot to me, and brings me warm, fuzzy feelings. Whether it’s somewhat silly things like remembering my old deodorant, or more meaningful ones. It feels so good when he remembers some detail I’ve shared about my childhood, that I don’t even remember having told him. Or the way he asks what’s wrong when I think I am doing a perfect job of acting fine. The way he notices my emotions and behaviors is particularly important to me. The way he reads my quiet, my nervous-hyper, my closed-off, my needy, my sensitive. All the tiny details of other things wouldn’t matter if he didn’t know my emotions, I think. It’s an essential type of intimacy, for me.

I want to know him in the same ways. I remember feeling a bit silly when I teared up when he once told me about a book he liked a lot as a little kid. Harold And The Purple Crayon. My ADHD betrays me with the details of things, but I try to overcome it because I want to know and remember the detailed pieces of him. How he wants his shirts hung up. How he wants his socks folded. I want to be able to tell when he wants attention and when he wants space. Exactly how he likes different foods prepared, how much seasoning, how long to took it so it’s ‘just right’, how he wants it plated.

I think it’s a factor of compatibility, how deeply you wish to try to know each other. I also think it plays into our D/s. He has to want to really, deeply know me in order to take care of me well while making the decisions. I have to value his preferences in order to try to follow them when serving him.

It also ties into a sense of ownership. I’ve noticed that some see ownership as a lack of attachment, almost. For example, I’ve been asked before if I need to have my needs ignored in order to feel owned. I don’t - at all. I think for me, feeling owned is being seen and understood as deeply as possible.

No specific kinky act makes me feel owned more than being seen and understood. The kinky moments where I practically burst with feeling owned are the ones where he reads me perfectly. When I start doubting my ability and he chooses that exact moment to reassure me that I’m doing a good job because somehow he knew my confidence was slipping right then. It feels magical, but it’s not magic, it’s knowing me that well, and that’s what ownership ultimately is to me.

#writing #sccwriting #this got crazy long #i didn't really know where it was going when i started #🤷#d/s

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kaimelia · 3 years

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Please write one about Charlotte going to visit Amelia after she had the baby

surprise visitor

a/n: hi! thank you for the prompt and I hope you enjoy it!

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

"Atticus Lincoln?" He looked up from his chart, seeing a familiar face walk towards him, but he couldn't quite place his finger on who it was. A blonde woman, and from the look on her face, Link felt as if he should recognize her. He blamed it on the masks. She continued in her hurried path towards him and stuck out her hand. "Come on, now, don't be a stranger."

"I'm sorry, I'm just blanking on-"

"Charlotte King. Amelia's friend?" Link's mouth dropped under his mask, his eyes widening as he eagerly took her hand.

"Oh, of course, I've just only seen you through a phone screen, and the mask threw me off," he muttered, brushing his other hand through his hair. "Amelia didn't mention you were coming, I-"

"Amelia doesn't know that I'm coming," Charlotte murmured, leaning back against the nurses' station beside Link. "Did she really think she could have a baby and not expect me to show up?"

"We were going to wait until after the pandemic."

"I couldn't wait any longer. I got tested this morning; I'm negative; I just want to meet this baby. Did you know that To Kill a Mockingbird is my favorite book?" He raised his eyebrows.

"No, I didn't; uh, why are you here at the hospital?"

"I don't know your address, and I figured one of you would be working, or I would find someone who could give it to me. I'm hoping to catch a ride with you."

"I've got two hours left on my shift, but I can call Amelia and ask her to come to pick you up," Link suggested, pulling out his phone. Charlotte placed her hand over the device.

"I'll wait. She'll freak out if she knows I'm here. Just tell me where to sit."

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

"So, you met at the conference?"

"No, we slept together at the conference. But, we were already working together at that point," Link muttered, backing the car out of the lot. "And then we slept together for a while, and then started dating, and then Scout. I know it's not the most traditional love story," he chuckled.

"I met my husband on a sex website. So, I'm not one to judge." Link raised his eyebrows, slightly wanting to question it but knowing Amelia would fill him in later. He glanced over to see Charlotte looking out the window, and he turned the radio on and drove in silence on the short drive to his family's home.

"Alright," he muttered, parking the car. "Welcome to the Shepherd-Lincoln abode." Link pushed open the door, a grin on his face as he anticipated his girlfriend's reaction. His face paused as soon as he looked around the apartment, and Charlotte jumped as he slammed the door closed. "Amelia? Put some clothes on," he shouted against the door, blushing as Charlotte eyed him. "We have a visitor." They listened to the sounds of Amelia clamoring around the apartment until the door opened, a robe clutched tightly around her body.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She gasped, pulling Charlotte into a hug. "And why didn't either of you say anything?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise, and I knew you would say no if I called," Charlotte smiled as Amelia released her, looking up and down the neurosurgeon's body. "Were you naked in there?"

"I was waiting for him to get home," her face flushed, and she glanced down, "and he didn't mention anything about a visitor."

"I ambushed him at the hospital and swore him to secrecy. You've been giving us absolutely nothing, and I need to hold a baby right now," Charlotte muttered, walking through the door.

"It's pretty empty in here right now; we just moved in, but we're getting it together," Amelia sighed, glancing around the barely furnished apartment covered in baby toys and a mess of moving boxes. "You should've said something; this place is a dump."

"I've got four kids; I'm not going to judge you for a messy house. Where is he?" Amelia glanced over at Link, who nodded and jogged down the hallway to their son's room. "He's nice."

"Hm?"

"Link. I like him. Reminds me of Cooper, but if he was more appropriate." Amelia grinned, laughing softly and wrapping her robe tighter around her body.

"You left him alone with all four kids?"

"They're old enough to where they only need us for food." Charlotte burst into a grin as Link walked out with a sleeping baby in his arms. "Oh, he's so big already." Amelia watched as her friend held her son, feeling Link's arm wrap around her shoulder and his lips against her head.

"I've gotta go shower," he whispered, dropping his arm and waving to Charlotte before leaving them alone.

"Amelia, he looks just like Christopher," Charlotte murmured, running her thumb over the baby's head. "Are you okay? It can't be easy." Amelia shrugged. "I've been wanting to ask for a while, but it didn't seem right through the phone."

"Some days, it's harder than others, but I get through it. But Link is always there when I need him, and I just take it as it comes." The blonde woman sat on the couch, leaning into the cushions and cooing at the baby in her arms.

"You sound so mature. And you're staying sober?"

"I think this is the hardest time to stay sober, but yeah," Amelia muttered, flopping down beside her friend. "One day at a time, right?"

"When'd you turn into a walking inspirational poster? This is not the Amelia Shepherd that lived in Los Angeles."

"I mean, it's been so long since I've seen you, and my life is completely different," Amelia sighed contently, "I didn't think I would ever have a kid after Christopher. And, after Owen, I wasn't sure that I wanted a big relationship, but sometimes things just happen, and you end up where you're supposed to be. Whether it's because of a sex website," Charlotte smiled, "or because of an accidental pregnancy." Her face relaxed as she watched Scout curl into his new Aunt's embrace, a soft babble escaping from his mouth, causing both of the women to grin. "And, I'm a mom, now, so it's not just about me."

"You've always been a mom, Amelia. Ever since you found out you were pregnant with Christopher, you have been a mom, and that didn't stop when he died." Amelia wiped her hand under her eye, sniffling softly. "I'm proud of you. You've got an incredible life up here, a great kid, a super hot boyfriend who couldn't stop talking about how much he loves you, and even if I'm sad that I can't be more involved, I'm so glad that I get to be a part of it." Charlotte reached out her hand, holding Amelia's as she blinked away tears from her eyes.

"Thank you for coming up; I didn't realize how much I truly missed you."

"You'll be getting a thousand more visits from everyone once the pandemic is over. I just couldn't wait to meet this little guy," Charlotte kissed the baby's forehead. "This kid has some of the best parents in the world."

"Some of? Aren't you supposed to say the best?"

"Well, I can't lie to everyone. I've said the same thing to every woman and man at that practice, and if I say some of, it's always true." Amelia shook her head in amusement, grinning at her friend.

"I missed you, Charlotte."

"I missed you."

#amelia shepherd #amelink #amelia x link #amelink fanfiction #atticus lincoln #grey's anatomy #amelink fanfic #greys abc #greys fanfic #scout lincoln #scout shepherd lincoln #private practice #charlotte king #my fics

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hopelesshawks · 3 years

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If you're still doing it, and if you feel inspired with the character : Bakugou Katsuki and the song "From Now On" from The Greatest Showman.

You can write with another character if this one doesn't inspire you!

Send me a song and a character (still open)

Ohhhh I love this!! Pro hero!Bakugo who let all the fame of being number 2 get in the way of his relationship me thinks. Thanks for sending this in 🥰

Bakugo used to love the fame and attention that came with being a top hero.

He used to love the way people would scream his name with stars in their eyes when they saw him; the way the idiots in suits over at the HPSC would congratulate him on his incident resolution rate; the way the press would sing his praises; the way his name sounded after the words Number Two Hero even though he’d much rather hear it after number one. He loved it all.

But you?

You fucking hated it.

You always said it was the worst part of hero work. The fans, the paparazzi, all of it grated on you. You hated that since Bakugo had cracked the top 10 you two couldn’t go on date night without getting blinded by cameras. You hated going to HPSC galas in an expensive outfit you’d never wear a second time, sipping overpriced champagne even though you’d be just as happy with something a tenth of the price. You hated that you couldn’t go on social media without seeing speculation about your relationship and your sex life literally everywhere or even worse hundreds of people all stating exactly why you weren’t good enough to be with the Bakugo Katsuki. But what you hated the most was the way Bakugo loved it; the way he preened under the praise, his chest puffing up with pride, ego absolutely blooming under all the superficial attention; the way he’d kiss you in front of paparazzi just so the headlines would be filled with mention of you being his. The rest you could deal with but it made your skin crawl how much he’d change when the public’s watchful eye was on him. At home he was the man you fell in love with, but the minute you left he regressed to the obnoxious asshole you’d first met during your first year at UA.

It was a recipe for disaster and in retrospect Katsuki really should’ve seen the break up coming. He can barely remember what had set off the argument in the first place, probably another gaudy headline or crude Twitter trend about the two of you. You’d been upset about it, raving about invasions of privacy and feeling violated and he’d been dismissive, the way he always was when it came to these things.

“It comes with the territory, just fuckin’ get used ta it already,” he had scoffed.

“The issue is you encourage it Katsuki! You care more about the fame and how good it makes you feel than you do how that added scrutiny makes me feel!” you fired back.

“Why can’t you just fucking deal with it??”

“I shouldn’t have to!”

“Well maybe if you did your fuckin ranking would be better!”

It was a low blow. Bakugo knew it then and he still knows it now. You try so hard to be the best hero you can be, but at the end of the day popularity plays a nontrivial role in the ranking system and being the “““just average””” significant other to one of Japan’s biggest rising stars isn’t a recipe for popularity.

“Get out….”

Your voice had been dangerously low. He’ll never forget the way it managed to sound both terrifyingly lethal and devastatingly heartbroken.

“Shit, wait (y/n) I didn’t mean that I-”

“I said get out!” you had yelled, voice quaking with pent up emotion as you started shoving him out the door. If he really didn’t want to move he could’ve easily resisted but at the time he’d been too shocked to even try, reeling backwards and letting you force him back into the hallway of your apartment building.

“Talk to me when Bakugo Katsuki comes back, I’m fucking sick of Pro Hero Dynamight,” you had said before promptly slamming the door in his face.

In the month that followed Katsuki threw everything into his work, taking longer shifts and pushing himself harder so that by the time he got home he was too beat up to feel the aching pain in his heart and too exhausted to notice his apartment didn’t feel like home the way yours did. He ignored the pitying looks from his friends, brushed off their concerned words and sympathetic gazes with grumbled “I’m fine”s and eye rolls. He filled the hole you left in him with the praise and admiration of the adoring public.

And then came the day you’d been warning him about since he first became a household name.

“The Cost of Victory: Pro Hero Dynamight destroys city during villain chase”

The story matched the headline, tallying up all of the damage he’d caused to buildings and other public property while trying to apprehend someone’s half ass attempt at recreating nomu. As shoddy as the thing was it could take a fucking hit and there was no denying the collateral damage was decently expansive. What the article failed to mention, however, was the amount of damage done before Bakugo had arrived on scene. It made sure to comment on the number of casualties in the incident but conveniently left out how much larger that number would be had Katsuki spent more time worrying about some stupid hunks of metal over catching the damn monstrosity and saving civilian lives. He guesses “Pro Hero Dynamight does his best despite being out gunned and having zero back up at his disposal” isn’t as catchy or clickworthy of a headline.

The very same websites showering him in praise just a day or two before now viciously rip into him. He can’t take a step outside his apartment without seeing article after article shredding him to pieces or getting a camera shoved into his face asking for comment on the criticism. His Twitter feed is full of former fans deriding him for falling short of perfection, calling him a narcissist, a showboat, a fucking menace to society as if he’s the sixteen year old kid chained up at the sports festival all over again. So he stops leaving his apartment entirely.

Kirishima is the one who finally gets him out again. The bar they go to is small, further away from the downtown area than most people are willing to stray. Between that and the fact it’s still relatively early in the evening, they have the place to themselves. The only other soul is the owner/bartender who seems entirely uninterested in the fact that Red Riot and Dynamight are patronizing his establishment. It’s perfect, giving Bakugo the space he needs to rant to his best friend. And rant he does. He lets it all pour out while he paces: the frustration, the rage, the disappointment, the guilt, until there’s nothing left in him except an aching sadness that has nothing to do with the fake fans and shitty headlines. “Y’know what the worst fuckin’ part is?” he rages, face red from bellowing for the past lord knows how long and tears already welling in his eyes at what he’s about to admit. Kirishima barely has time to ask what the worst part is before Katsuki is choking out around a frustrated sob “I wouldn’t even give a shit if I still had (y/n).”

Kirishima is out of his seat and pulling his friend into a hug in an instant. He lets Bakugo shake apart, doesn’t mind the tears soaking into his shirt or how tightly the other man is gripping onto him. He stands solid and firm, the same way he always has and always will for Katsuki until the sobs turn to hiccups. “They’re worried about you, you know,” Eijirou finally tells him. “Yea? How the fuck you figure that Shitty Hair?” Bakugo grumbles miserably into his shoulder. “They’ve called me every day since the article came out to check on you,” the red head admits and it’s enough to make Katsuki stiffen in his hold, scared to hope. “Really?” he asks, voice gruff but quiet. “Really. So are you gonna go to them or what?”

You’ve been staring at your phone for at least an hour, debating whether to call Bakugo or not, when a knock on your door snaps you out of your pained contemplation. You pull the long sleeves of the hoodie Bakugo gave you for your birthday down over your hands as you move to answer the door. Imagine your surprise when the very man who’d been plaguing your thoughts is the one standing outside your door. He looks rough. His hands are shoved into his pockets, back hunched over, face red and puffy, and even though he hasn’t looked you in the eye yet you can tell his are red rimmed. He’s been crying, you realize, and it breaks your heart a little. “Ya just gonna stand there or can I come in?” he asks and it snaps you out of your thoughts again. “Right yea sorry come in I guess,” you say, stepping out of the way to let him in.

He’s almost twitchy, like he wants to make himself comfortable the way he always used to but can’t. You wince a little when you realize it’s the correct assumption to make. Still he doesn’t say anything, he just stands there looking somehow simultaneously out of place and like he never left. “What are you doing here?” you finally sigh. “You said talk to you when Bakugo Katsuki came back and he—or I—or whatever did,” he mutters and a pang of something that feels suspiciously like guilt hits you at the words. “Oh… Is—is that all you wanted to say or?” He glares at a distant point over your left shoulder, presumably collecting his thoughts, before he finally meets your gaze. “Look I-” he breaks eye contact again, growling a little in frustration at himself as he continues to struggle to find words. You don’t say anything though, knowing he needs to work through it himself. “Things have been pretty shit for me lately,” he finally admits. You can’t help but scoff at the comment although one look at him and his pained expression has you regretting it. You clear your throat awkwardly. “Sorry, yea, keep going.”

He huffs before continuing and even though he still won’t meet your eyes you can tell how difficult this all is for him.

“Look things have been pretty fuckin’ shitty lately with everyone and their goddamn cousin in Japan hatin’ me but it’s made me realize some shit. I’ve been so fuckin’ focused on chasin’ the fame and the fans or whatever that I kinda forgot about the important stuff…”

He only trails off for a moment, steeling himself for whatever he’s about to say next. It’s almost funny how much it reminds you of him right before a big fight.

“But from now on,” he starts, finally meeting your gaze, puffing out his chest as if daring you to challenge whatever’s going to come out of his mouth next. “From now on I’m not gonna let all that stupid shit blind me alright? I promise, from now on I’m only focusin’ on the real people in my life, not the goddamn extras. Ok?”

His eyes are blazing as he finishes and it literally takes your breath away.

“Ok.”

“Ok, then….” he trails off, his eyes slide away again as his confidence wanes, “then can I come back home again?”

Your heart shatters and forms anew at the words as you find your feet moving before you’ve even told them to. You throw yourself into his arms, pulling him close, the jagged edges you both left in each other the night you broke up re-aligning and mending themselves. “Of course you can Katsuki, I’ve missed you,” you sigh, each word wrapped in relief and joy. “Fuckin’ missed you too dumbass,” he huffs back, although you don’t miss how wet it sounds. When you pull back it’s only a fraction and only so you can reel him in for a gentle kiss, pouring every missed I love you into it so there’s no room for doubting if you’ve truly forgiven him.

It’s a promise. A promise to do better from now on. And Katsuki means every single second of it.

General Taglist: @ahtsuwu @oikawaandkuroostan @oliviasslut @black-rose-29

#hhrequests #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #bnhacity

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