#i am sick and twisted in the head for this. but ive seen other people do it in other fandoms so im like : this could be fun! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Vicious

Part VII

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, mention of blackmail, all characters are adults.

Words: 1864.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

________

You wanted to slap yourself. What the hell was wrong with you today? Why did you tell Peter that?!

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...” Completely baffled with you behavior, you were deeply ashamed, unable to look the guy in the eyes and wanting nothing but fall into the earth.

“Ah, I got it. It’s Steve, isn’t it?” All of a sudden, Peter let out an irritated sigh, rolling his eyes skywards and rubbing his neck. “Of course, who else would say such nonsense. Blackmail, really? Funny he didn’t call me a stalker or anything.”

“Listen, I didn’t mean it, I’m really-”

“It’s ok.” He closed the locker, slamming its door loudly and making you jump. “It’s not your fault. If I heard that from somebody, I’d be scared too.”

He spent a couple of seconds staring into the wall until he rubbed his neck again tiredly and huffed. It took him less than a minute to regain his composure, and you heard him murmuring, “What a freak.”

He didn't return to the corridor, heading to the sports hall for his PE class, instead moving to the bench in the locker room and motioning you to sit. Feeling terribly awkward, you hoped he wasn't going to do anything out of anger, even though he had every right to be upset at your stupid behavior.

"About what he said," Peter took a deep breath, "it's nothing like that. I don't dig up some nasty stuff in the web to blackmail people. I've never done it. The reason why Mr. I-am-better-than-you said that is because I've made him take me into his little bodyguard group when I heard him talking to Loki. You're nice, and I wanted to help. Of course, Steve started acting like I was some creep, so he refused, and I had to remind him that, technically, he had to report your issue to the administration, not play a hero. I said that if I go and tell the whole story to the dean, Steve's gonna be in trouble because he knew who thieves were and didn't report them."

It was a loud off your mind. Goodness. Rogers called this a blackmail? Really? Just because Peter pushed Steve into taking him into their group?

You were less and less sure Rogers was sane. You definitely had to be careful around him.

"I can't believe he called it a blackmail." You admitted quietly, and the guy sent you a tired smile. "Peter, I'm so, so sorry. It was so stupid of me."

"Nah, don't worry. I'd freak out too if I didn't know the whole story."

You knew your apologies weren't enough, but you hoped Peter didn't take it to heart - if you can take such an accusation easily, that is. Shit, shit, shit, why did you believe everything these guys were saying? You didn't even know them in the first place! Why on Earth did you go asking them their opinions on others if all of them were biased, and every guy could twist the truth the way he liked? You shouldn't have let their words affect you that much.

"Whatever. At least now you know what Rogers is like." Peter sent you a grim smile and got up, picking his bright yellow sackpack from the floor. "Shit, I gotta go if I don't wanna be late. Let's meet in a library later, alright?"

"O-of course." You hurriedly stood up and left the lockers room after him, turning to the library: your Lit class was cancelled, so you decided to go study right away. At this time, the library was usually full, and you felt safe there.

Your thoughts were all about the guys again even when you were staring at your laptop, trying to focus on Excel numbers. Why did you feel like the atmosphere between them was so dense? If they were at such terms with each other, why did they group together to help you? What, because all of them loved you so much? It was ridiculous. There was something else to it, and you didn't know. You had a feeling no one was going to tell you the truth until you figured it all out by yourself.

Weird. It was all so weird. Steve's plan, their behavior, the relationships between them, and your nagging feeling they all were hiding something. Was it them who were actually following you?

The thought scared you to the point you started shivering. Oh shit.

"Hi there," the guy appeared behind your back so suddenly you almost jumped, looking at him wide-eyed, "sorry, did I startle you?"

"H-hi Jake! No, it's ok, I was just... studying." Both of you were talking in hushed voices, knowing the librarian would kick you out immediately if she heard some noise. "How are you?"

"I'm great, how're you?" You could hear concern in his voice: he was one of Thor's friends you met yesterday, and although you spoke briefly, Thor definitely told him more about you. "You look a bit worried."

"Oh, it's Math, I didn't really understand the topic, and we're having an exam on Monday... guess I'll be studying the whole weekend." You gave him your best smile to reassure you were totally ok, and the guy relaxed a little, smiling at you, too.

"I'm sure you'll pass. Thor said you're very smart."

What, he said that to all of them? Was he simply boasting about his girlfriend to his friends or was there something more to it?

"You're too kind. Thank you."

His smile grew wider, and he landed on the next seat to yours, resting his hands on the table. Apparently, there was something he wanted to talk to you about, and you grew uneasy.

"Listen, about these incidents... Thor told us all about it, so if you see any freaks following you around, you can message any of us, and we'll come right away." Looking at his serious expression, his bushy brows furrowed, you hoped he eas being sincere with you: you had enough with people you could no longer trust. "And also... that kid, if he's giving you troubles or anything, just let me know, and I'll tell him to keep his hands to himself"

Oh, he was talking about Peter, wasn't he? He had probably seen that silly photo. Wow, you though, Peter was totally right about Instagram: it was the best news source in the academy.

Thanking him for his concern, you laughed a little, convincing him there was nothing serious except for the theft and promising to tell him if anything weird would be going on. While it should have made you feel safer, in fact, you only grew more frustrated with this situation. You wanted to forget about these freaks and just spend you day like any normal student would, but everywhere you went people were staring at you as if you had a horn; one boyfriend or the other was always close to protect you from some unknown danger, and although you believed they tried to help, you hated the feeling they were hiding something from you. Why did you have to be going through all this? Wasn't it really better to drop off school, spend a year working and then apply to a better place?

Thinking of the faces your parents would make once you returned home, you realized it wasn't. This school with all those creeps wasn't worse than home that never felt like a safe place you wanted to come back to. Besides, all money you saved up until now were only good for buying food and things like that: you'd never afford to rent a decent place unless you found a well-paid job. It meant staying with your parents, and it wouldn't be much better than here, just different. If you wanted to drop off, you had to find a good place to stay.

Well, you could at least try, right?

When Peter met you in the library, the two of you no longer talked about anything important, simply studying together to prepare for the exams next week. It didn't feel off: from time to time you met his gaze, and the both of you smiled. You were thankful he didn’t talk about Steve or other guys or that weirdo in the lockers room.

Once you returned home, you went straight to bed, completely exhausted. Luckily, you did much more than yesterday, so you could rest now, but then you thought of Thor kissing you and bit down the pillow, angry at yourself. Why did you keep thinking of him right now?

______________

When you woke up the next morning, you felt like something was off: your body ached, your throat hurt, and your headache was only making it worse. Dammit, you caught a cold, probably. And that’s when it was finally the day to meet Steve, the guy you thought was a mastermind behind all these manipulations that were making you sick to the core.

Anyway, it’s not like a mere cold would prevent you from doing everything you had planned. You left your bed and went to the bathroom, moving the dresser before again.

Honestly, it felt terrible. It was definitely because of that flimsy dress you wore to school yesterday when the weather was becoming chilly. Argh. Watching your puffy eyes and swollen nose, you sneezed. Today you had to apply way more makeup to look decently.

Steve showed up earlier than either Thor or Peter: you had to skip your breakfast, hoping to buy something cheap in the cafeteria.

“Good morning.” He said with his everyday polite expression that soon shifted into a concerned one. “Are you alright?”

What, was it that bad? You did your absolute best to apply enough makeup and do your hair. Did you still look so sick?

“Good morning. Yes, I’m ok, just feeling a little sleepy.” You yawned on purpose, covering your mouth with your hand, and Steve’s face softened.

“Did you study all night?”

“Yep, exams are driving me a little crazy.”

“I understand. I also stayed late last night.”

Of course, the student council president studying all days long to be number one student in the academy. If you didn’t know of his twisted nature, you’d think he was the most typical nerd.

You spent most of the time either in silence or talking about studies, the academy, and everything related to it. Steve acted like a gentleman and a scholar, albeit a little too demonstratively. Walking with you as if he were a king of the place, he constantly replied to greetings of others, waved to his acquaintances and smiled. You felt so off you wanted to find Loki and walk with him: unlike Steve, he was considered unpleasant by the prevailing majority of students.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” America golden boy asked you for the last time, and you forced yourself to smile.

“Of course. Thanks for coming, see you later, Steve.”

As he finally left you in peace, you almost fell down into your chair, your fever only getting worse despite the fact you took some painkillers. It was going to be a long day.

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @goodgodimaweirdperson @frontmanash @freya-heya @yandematic @mariatietacapitu @d3monslust @maybesandohnos @ibeatuptwinks @mangobangi @nectav @whatever-happened-to-the-ducks

#bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #thor x reader #dark thor #loki x reader #dark loki #peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #yandere

352 notes · View notes

not-me-simping-for-blasty · 3 years

Text

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts

Part 21:

You were nervous, practically fainting under the pressure as you pulled open the hospital’s front door. The trip to Jaku was fairly easy, only a brief 45 minutes, and in that time you hadn’t managed to calm yourself at all.

You stomach was rolling with nerves- twisting and turning and making you feel so very sick. You tried to reason with yourself, tried to convince yourself to lower your expectations. There was nothing for you to be worried about, here! You hadn’t lied! Or hid anything, or pretended like you were a good person when you maybe weren’t.

Bakugou did that. He did that and he was the reason your eyes were still puffy and why your head still ached. He had things to apologize for- not you.

So why did it feel like all you wanted to do was throw your arms around him and forget everything and just be happy?

The longer you sat with it, the more you thought you understood. Even if he was bad, even if he did bad things, he was still your soulmate. He was still the other half of you and you were selfish- so, so selfish and you couldn’t make yourself give that up. Couldn’t ever possibly make a strong enough argument for abandoning him. You knew that, even if you didn’t want to admit it. It was why you were even at the hospital after all.

You shook your head, trying to focus on the matter at hand.

“Hi,” You greeted, hoping your smile seemed genuine to the receptionist. “Bakugou Katsuki, please, room 427.”

She just looked at you funny, tapping at the device in her ear. “Yeah, I got another girl down here asking for Dynamite? Where’s security?”

You heart began seizing, lungs stuttering with panic as she continued to stare you down. After a long fifteen seconds she spoke again.

“Well, isn’t it your lucky day. Apparently, he wants to see you. What a surprise.” She announced un-enthusiastically, handing you a slip of paper. “Take the stairs to the left, all the way up to level 4, and then follow the instructions on the paper.”

You just nodded in a daze, holding the paper in your shaking fingers and moving towards the stairs. Suddenly, you were even more nervous than before. You pushed open the stair doors, and realized this moment felt bigger than you. Bigger than anything in your entire life. Every singular event and decision had brought you here and the only thing you could do was stare dumbly at the stairs in front of you.

No. You knocked a closed fist gently against your forehead. I’m fine. I’m been waiting forever for this shit. It’s just stupid Bakugou.

You took one step, pulling your shaky legs along with two hands on the guardrail. Another step, only pull. Another step another pull. You were conquering the stairs, and this moment, gaining momentum before you knew it. With feet moving unbidden and sure and careful and climbing, you rise, steps taking you higher and higher until you hit the 4th floor. It’s a maze of hallways from there, a strange puzzle of paintings that all look the same and tiles that are two shades too dark and doctors and people rushing past and shoving, but your feet are steady, one after the other, fast, fast, faster, and you don’t falter. You don’t falter and you walk down another hallway, look at your paper, take a left, walk a little further, look at your paper, take a right, walk further and faster and further and farther, past room 423, past room 424, past room 425, past room 426, turn another corner, rush past a man wheezing in a wheelchair, skid to a stop- room 427.

You heart hammers in your chest- beating against your ribcage and threatening to burst through your too-thin skin. Your breath shudders, fingers shaking as you push the door- push it open, and wider, and widest, and open.

His face is the very first thing you see. It’s all you can see. All the machines and the hospital bed, all the bandages and the IV’s stuck into his skin- they all fade away. There’s just him and his blonde hair and the way his shoulder’s slope and the defined musculature of his arms. He is real and breathing and solid, and so, so, beautiful. Bakugou’s every breath seems to arrest you, keep you in place and strung tight like a live-wire, electricity running trails of fire through every vein- and his eyes.

His eyes that are darker, deeper, duller- less like raging volcanoes, and more like delicate rubies. They’re red. Red like nothing you’ve ever seen before, and startling and surprising, but it’s not an angry red. Not a violent red. You decide then that Bakugou is a soft, dignified red- he’s hot wax cooling over a sealed envelope, like a slowly healing cut just beginning to fade.

Something in you slots into place. You feel it in your mind, in your bones, in your chest. You’re not itchy anymore, you’re not searching. There is no puzzle left to solve and your finally have all the pieces to your soul; no longer aching anymore for something you knew you should’ve always had. Your skin is finally yours- no longer loose and ill-fitting and stretched thin saving room for someone you hadn’t met yet. You felt right- finally. Settled for the first time in your entire life, like somehow, you’d always knew you’d end up standing exactly where you were.

You think Bakguou must feel it too. He nods something almost imperceptible, but his face softens. He looks so sure- so confident as he looks at you. Like he always expected you to be exactly who you were. Like some part of him too always somehow knew this was going to happen.

You’re tearing up before you can help it, rushing into the room and to his bedside.

“What are ya fuckin’ cryin’ for, idiot?” Bakugou huffs, but his voice comes out strained; buried under thick, barely-restrained emotion. “Nothin’ new left to cry about now, stop it.”

“I can’t,” You’re wiping at tears with your sleeve. “After all this time- my whole life- It’s just- you’re- you’re you. ”

“Course I fuckin’ am.” He says. Bakugou then clears his throat, voice becoming much softer. “Always was to you.”

“I-I know. But it’s just- you’re real.”

He can’t say it back, you can see it in his pinched face and blushing cheeks, but Bakugou nods. You know he feels the same.

“It’s- I- I just didn’t think I’d ever be here,” You start, sinking easily into the chair next to his bed. “And after everything I jus-”

“I’m sorry!” His voice interrupts the relative quiet, cutting through like a knife. He nearly screamed his words, and when you look over at him Bakugou won’t meet your eyes. He’s studying the hospital blankets beneath his fingers, folding and clenching them between fingers gone white from the pressure. “I- I mean that. More than fuckin’ anything.”

“I know.” You say.

The room goes quiet again, and any of the calming completeness you had felt earlier seemed to be fading. Suddenly it’s not just the feeling of finding your soulmate running through you, but the feeling of finding Bakugou. Bakugou who is sitting in front of you, injured and weaker than Dynamite and he doesn’t look like someone who could hurt anything or anyone but then you remember that video- that scream, those eyes.

“Just- fuckin’ say it already. I can see your face, idiot.” Bakugou’s voice is authoritative but not pushy. Inquisitive but not demanding. “It’s- I know your holding back, so just fuckin’ quit it already, alright?.”

“It’s- I just need to know. You said, on the phone, that it wasn’t you, in the video.” You close your eyes. If you look at him any longer you think you’ll lose your nerve. “If it wasn’t you, who was it?”

“I-” You watch as his face falls, eyebrows pulling together. Then he’s turning red, wringing his fingers together and casting his eyes toward your shoes instead of your face. “Can ya- can I- I just have to think. Give me a second. I have to make sure I get the fuckin’ words right.”

You nod. Bakugou seems to leave you for a moment, eyes un-focusing and fingers twitching minutely. He suddenly looks up, meeting your eyes.

“It’s- I shouldn’ta said that shit. It was- I did that. Me.” He admits, words tight and strained like they’re hard for him to speak. He’s got a hand pressed to his mouth, head turned sharply to face the window. He refuses to meet your eyes once more. “But- I’m not- I’m tryin’ not to fuckin’ be like that anymore! I’m workin’ on it or whatever. Since then! E-ever since then.”

“Okay.” You nod. “What happened to the person? In the video?”

Your question seems to upset him, and he throws his hand harshly against the bed. Bakugou breathes- eyebrows pinched together tightly until his shoulders aren’t held together so tensely anymore.

“I told you. I didn’t- everybody always talks about that fuckin’ stupid-ass video but it was only the camera!” He grits his teeth suddenly, sharply inhaling and exhaling until his jaw relaxes once more. His eyes still remain screwed shut. “I meant that. What I said on the phone. The fuckin’ person was fine! Wasn’t fuckin’ hurt. J-just scared.”

You want to believe him. More than anything you want to believe him, but those eyes you saw were hard to forget. They almost seemed like they belonged to someone else- like they couldn’t possibly have belonged to the same guy who’d called you sunshine and helped you with your anxiety and cleared his schedule every night at exactly 7:00 PM. The Bakugou you had come to know was so far removed from the man in the video- the scary, feral, thoughtless man who seemed to attack someone without just cause.

You closed your eyes for a moment, bringing your hands together in your lap. He said he was trying- he made it very clear that was true with his careful breathing and the way he asked for time to think about his words first. The Bakugou sitting in front of you was not the same man in the video. His eyes weren’t violent erupting volcanoes anymore- they were slowly crystallizing gemstones. Precious, valuable things still slowly changing into something new.

“Okay.” You nod. “I believe you.”

Bakugou cracks open his eyes slowly, looking intensely at you. Something anxious in his eyes melts away, relief filling his features and settling in the barely-there curve of his smile. His shoulders relax and he takes a deep breath and a crackle, a pop and-

“Did you? Was that-” You point at his palms. “Was that your quirk?”

“No! Fuck no, why would you even fuckin’ say that- obviously not, because my quirk is fuckin’ cool not some shitty, embarrassing, tiny-”

“Bakugou.” You interrupt sternly, staring him down. “Honesty, remember?”

He groans, and flushes. His hand crackles again, something small and dancing just across his palm and Bakugou races to cover it. He then wipes his hands on his hospital gown harshly, turning his entire body toward the window to cover the way he’s still blushing. It doesn’t work though. You see him all the same.

“Yes.” He admits, and he just sounds so defeated, it makes you crack a smile. “But don’t fuckin’ say anything, okay? It’s all your fuckin’ fault, damn woman! Started the first time you called me and I can’t get it to fuckin’ stop no matter what I do it’s-”

“Can I see your hand?”

“H-huh?”

“Your hand,” You reach toward him gently. “I wanna see. Give it.”

Bakugou doesn’t look at you, just raises his arm and jabs it out toward you. The movement is stunted and awkward, like he can’t control his limbs right, and when you look at him his entire neck has started going red too. He waves his extended hand impatiently, urging you to get on with it.

Slowly, so very slowly, you poke a single finger into the smooth skin of his wrist. Just a feather-light touch. A near-weightless pressure against soft skin.

Pop.

You poke him again.

Pop.

Suddenly embarrassed, you pull both your hands to cover your eyes and blushing cheeks, and begin giggling uncontrollably.

Pop. Pop. Crackle.

Bakugou moves so brashly that it startles you, and he’s pulling his hand back to him, and curling it into his chest. He’s using his other hand to press into the crackling one, finally smothering the sound of a last few pops sounding off. When you finally peek between your fingers, he’s somehow redder than before.

He’s adorable and you’re laughing and you can’t stop laughing because he’s shy and embarrassed and so defenseless against you. Every part of you is warm from the top of your head to the burning tips of your toes, your smile spreading so wide that it over takes your entire face.

“It’s-it’s not fuckin’ funny!” Bakugou shouts. “Stop goddamn laughing, you shitty fuckin’ woman! It’s a good quirk! It’s not fuckin’ funny!”

“It is.” You agree, gasping to catch your breath. “It’s a very good quirk Bakug-.”

“K-Katsuki!” He shouts suddenly, interrupting you entirely. He seems surprised at his own outburst, blushing again and smacking his hand against his forehead. He groans. Loudly. “It’s- I- Katsuki. That’s my name.”

“O-oh. Okay.” You say shakily, heart beginning to race once more. “K-Katsuki, huh?”

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Bakugou screams. Just howls something deep and defeated and animalistic from the bottom of his chest. It fills the room, seemingly taking up all the space, and you could’ve sworn the windows were rattling. You start laughing.

“Fuck! Oh my god! You fucking did this to me, shitty woman! You- you’re- stop fucking laughing!” Bakugou is screaming, arms gesturing wildly. “This isn’t fucking funny! Something is seriously fucking wrong with me! A-and and you don’t even fucking care! You just think it’s funny! I’m fuckin’ broken, fuckin’ suffering, and you’re laughing!”

“It’s- I’m not!” You shakily defend, barely able to complete the words.

“See now you’re just fuckin’ lyin to me! Goddamn fuckin’ liar for a soulmate!” He’s yelling, hot air and fire and irritation seeping from his lips. “You know, it’s just my fuckin’ luck too, you know! To end up with such a fuckin’ idiot for a soulmate! Who just fuckin’ keeps laughin’ and lookin’ cute an-”

Bakugou screeches. He throws his hands down on the bed, palm up, full-on miniature explosions beginning to spout from his fingertips.

“What the fuck did you do to me? What the fuck- I-I didn’t say that! You didn’t hear anything! Would you quit fuckin’ laughing at me?”

You just hold your palm up, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. Bakugou stares at it, burning holes so intensely and brazenly, so utterly focused and enraged that it sends you into further hysterics. It takes you a good five minutes to sober up.

“It’s- I’m not. I’m not laughing at you.” You lean forward in your seat, just a little bit closer to the guardrail of the hospital bed. “You just- you make me happy ‘sall.”

Bakugou gags. Audibly. The sound rips from his chest and up his throat and contorts his face.

“Don’t just fuckin’ say that!”

“What the hell?” You ask incredulously, hands flying wildly. “You literally told me you like me over the phone! Literally yesterday! But now you’ve got a whole ass problem with me saying that you make me happy? What the fuck, angry man?!”

“It’s- I didn’t- fuck!” He shouts, voice raising to cover yours. “Stop makin’ me remember all this embarrassing shit! You’re doing this on fuckin’ purpose! I know you are, shitty woman!”

“I wouldn’t make you remember it so much it you just fuckin’ owned up to it in the first place, you coward!” You screeched. “If you already said it, and I said I like you, then what’s the big fuckin’ deal, huh?”

Bakugou suddenly goes quiet, his hands fidgeting with the sheets. He chuckles. “You said you like me. Again. Fuckin’ dork.”

“Oh my god! You’re fucking infuriating! No-no don’t just sit there and fucking grin at me! That’s- stop!”

And truly, you meant it. You wanted him to stop looking at you like that, stop crinkling up his eyes, and most of all stop smiling because you didn’t think your heart could handle it. Everything about him made your blood boil, and every nerve stand straight on end- but it was good too. So warm and comforting and just funny.

He was Bakugou and Dynamite and your Soulmate. All in one, awkward, crackling, loud fucking package.

-//--

ee hav sum fluff ,, as a ~reward~

#bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x self insert #bakugou fic #bakugou series #bakugou soulmate au #bakugou soulmate textfic #bnha fic #mha fic #bnha soulmate au #soulmate au #bakugou imagine

455 notes · View notes

amuelia · 3 years

Note

How do you think Roose will meet his demise? Or will he survive? What's your best Roose end game predictions?

Thank you for the question! This will be a long post under the readmore, going into my thoughts on the show ending and exploring what the books may have set up in regards to themes and characterization, as well as a bit of general analysis of Roose' story arc in a Dance with Dragons (and some speculation about Ramsay as well).

If you click on the readmore i will have divided the post into sections with bolded Headers, if you want to only read my specific endgame ideas you can skip ahead to the "His Endgame?" section.

In The Show

The show had him get killed by Ramsay in s6, which informs a lot of the fandom speculation about this storyline.

I am not a fan of the show's scenario as it was both similar to tywin and tyrion as well as a mirror of robb's death; it would also be offscreen in the books since neither of the characters are PoVs and Ramsay would need to do the act in secret. This would ultimately undercut Roose' role and impact, being a death scene that is not very unique and also isn't shown to the reader directly. Since no PoV is even in Winterfell currently, we would just hear of it from afar and not witness the consequences.

The show also has a different dynamic in the Bolton storyline, emphasizing Ramsay as the "main character" of this arc, and elevating him to the main villain for s5-6 to fill Joffrey's shoes as an evil character played by a very charismatic actor. Ramsay's show writing is informed by the needs of a TV setting that wants shocking moments and capitalizes on "fan favourite" actors; his rising importance in the show thus is not necessarily an indicator of his book importance. The show was also missing many central characters like the northern lords and the Frey men in Winterfell.

The show had a tendency to kill off characters early when they wanted to cull storylines or had no plans to adapt more of the character's story (like Stannis, Barristan, possibly the Tyrells...); In Mance Rayder we have the most obvious example, where they killed him off for real in a scene that in the book was a misdirection. We also have characters like Jorah where it appears the showrunners had their own choice of how they want his storyline to end, even if Grrm has his own ending in mind.

"For a long time we wanted Ser Jorah to be there at The Wall in the end," writer Dave Hill says. "The three coming out of the tunnel would be Jon and Jorah and Tormund. But [...] Jorah should have the noble death he craves defending the woman he loves." - Dave Hill for Entertainment Weekly

So a death in the show does not need to be an indicator that the books will feature an equivalent scene, even if it gives a hint as to what may happen. By s5 the show has become its own beast, and the butterfly effects from radical changes they made as well as the different characterizations results in the show having to cater to its own needs in many cases when it gets to resolving a plotline.

"We reconceived the role to make it worthy of the actor's talents." - Benioff and Weiss for the s5 DVD commentary, on Indira Varma's casting as Ellaria

In The Books

(Since this post was getting out of hand in length a lot of these arguments are a little shortened/not as in-depth as i'd like! Feel free to inquire more via ask if something is unclear or you disagree)

In the books i find it hard to make a concrete guess as to how it will end. Occam's razor would be to assume the show sort of got it right and that it will vaguely end the same, which could very well happen and i will not discount the possibility; Ramsay is cruel, desires the Dreadfort rule, and is a suspected kinslayer and has no qualms to commit immoral violence.

"Ramsay killed [his brother]. A sickness of the bowels, Maester Uthor says, but I say poison." - Reek III, aDwD

Reek saw the way Ramsay's mouth twisted, the spittle glistening between his lips. He feared he might leap the table with his dagger in his hand [to attack his father]. - Reek III, aDwD

Arguments against this or for a different endgame come down to interpretations of the themes in the story arc and opinions on dramatic structure/grrm's writing, and are thus very subjective.

The way the story currently is going, Ramsay killing Roose treats Roose almost as a plot device; his death brings no change or development to Ramsay's character as we already know his motivations and cruelty align with such an act, and we can assume that he would feel no remorse about it either. The results of such a scene would be firmly on a story level, as it brings political changes and moves the plot along into a specific direction. Roose himself cannot have any relevant character development about it as he does not have a PoV and we would not be able to witness his reaction from the outside.

“The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself.” - William Faulkner, often quoted by Grrm

Further, killing his father is very difficult to pull off in secret (Roose is frequently described as very cautious, and employs many guardsmen). And even if Ramsay pulls it off (people often interpret Ramsay as Roose' blind spot, assuming he might be caught by surprise, not expecting Ramsay would bite the hand that feeds him), Roose is the one that holds his entire alliance together; The Freys would be alienated by Ramsay who would antagonize Walda and her son as his rivals, The Ryswell bloc appears to dislike Ramsay (especially Barbrey), and the other northmen are implied to not even like Roose himself. Killing Roose would quickly combust the entire northern faction, and hinder Ramsay's further plans (another reason why I am not convinced of a book version of the "Battle of Bastards"). Though this might of course, if we look at it from the other side, be grrm's plan to quickly dissolve this plot and move the northern story forwards.

"Ramsay will kill [Walda's children], of course. [...] [She] will grieve to see them die, though." - Reek III, aDwD

"How many of our grudging friends do you imagine we'd retain if the truth were known? Only Lady Barbrey, whom you would turn into a pair of boots … inferior boots." - Reek III, aDwD

"Fear is what keeps a man alive in this world of treachery and deceit. Even here in Barrowton the crows are circling, waiting to feast upon our flesh. The Cerwyns and the Tallharts are not to be relied on, my fat friend Lord Wyman plots betrayal, and Whoresbane … the Umbers may seem simple, but they are not without a certain low cunning. Ramsay should fear them all, as I do." - Reek III, aDwD

Roose' death at Ramsay's hand also removes him thematically from the Red Wedding, as we can assume such a death might have happened regardless of his participation in the event (seeing as Ramsay is getting provoked by Roose constantly in normal dialogue, and has a general violent disposition). Roose already took Ramsay in before aGoT started, and married Walda very early in the war, which is already most of the buildup that the show's scenario had. It also has little to do with the The North Remembers plot except set dressing, since the northmen are presumably neither collaborating with/egging on Ramsay nor would they appreciate the development.

Themes: Ned Stark and the rule over the North

Roose is treated as a foil to Eddard; They are often contrasted in morals and ruling styles, while also having many superficial similarities that further connect them (they are seen as cold by people, grey eyed, patriarchs of rivalling northern houses, etc...).

Pale as morning mist, his eyes concealed more than they told. Jaime misliked those eyes. They reminded him of the day at King's Landing when Ned Stark had found him seated on the Iron Throne. - Jaime IV, aSoS

They both have a "bastard son" that they handle very differently; Roose treating Ramsay in the way that is seen as common in their society. Ramsay and Jon as a comparison are meant to show that Catelyn had a reason to see a bastard as a threat (since Domeric was antagonized by his bastard brother), but also shows that her suggested plan for Jon would not have stopped any danger either (as Ramsay being raised away from the castle didn't help).

And if his seed quickened, she expected he would see to the child's needs. He did more than that. The Starks were not like other men. Ned brought his bastard home with him, and called him "son" for all the north to see. - Catelyn II, aGoT

"Each year I sent the woman some piglets and chickens and a bag of stars, on the understanding that she was never to tell the boy who had fathered him. A peaceful land, a quiet people, that has always been my rule." - Reek III, aDwD

It appears to me that Roose' story functions in some ways as an inversion to Ned. He makes an attempt to grab a power he was not destined to (becoming warden of the north), where Ned did not want the responsiblity thrust upon him ("It was all meant for Brandon. [...] I never asked for this cup to pass to me." - Cat II, aGoT). Where Ned rules successfully and his northmen honor his legacy ("What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl." - The Turncloak, aDwD), the Boltons are largely hated and there are several plots conspiring against them ("Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die." - The King's Prize, aDwD).

It seems possible to me that in terms of their family and legacy, Roose might also live through an inverted version of Ned's story; where Ned died first, leaving his family behind, Roose already lived to see the death of his wives and trueborn heir, and might thus also live to see Ramsay's death. Ned leaves behind well raised children and a North who still respects his name, and even though he dies it will presumably all be "in good hands" in the end (in broad strokes, obviously this is all much more morally complex). Roose however built up a bad and toxic legacy, and also built his way of life around evading consequences; it makes sense to me that he would be forced by the story to finally endure all the consequences of his actions and witness the fall of his house firsthand. After all we already have Tywin who fulfils the purpose of dying before his children while his legacy falls to ruins, and a Feast for Crows explores this aspect thoroughly.

Roose' arc in A Dance With Dragons

The story repeatedly builds up the situation unravelling around Roose, and him slowly losing a grip on it and becoming more stressed and anxious.

Reek wondered if Roose Bolton ever cried. If so, do the tears feel cold upon his cheeks? - Reek II, aDwD

Roose Bolton said nothing at all. But Theon Greyjoy saw a look in his pale eyes that he had never seen before—an uneasiness, even a hint of fear. [...] That night the new stable collapsed beneath the weight of the snow that had buried it. - a Ghost in Winterfell, aDwD

Lady Walda gave a shriek and clutched at her lord husband's arm. "Stop," Roose Bolton shouted. "Stop this madness." His own men rushed forward as the Manderlys vaulted over the benches to get at the Freys. - Theon I, aDwD

It also directly presents him as a parallel to Theon's rule in aCoK, who similarly experienced a very unpopular rule and his subjects slowly turning against him. Presumably, the point of this comparison will not just be "Ramsay comes in at the end and unexpectedly whacks them on the head". Both Theon and Roose invited Ramsay into their lives, giving him more power than he deserves, and causing Ramsay to make choices that increasingly alienate others from them (the death of the miller's boys for example has repercussions for both Theon and Roose). Grrm is likely steering this towards a difference in how they will deal with this situation.

It all seemed so familiar, like a mummer show that he had seen before. Only the mummers had changed. Roose Bolton was playing the part that Theon had played the last time round, and the dead men were playing the parts of Aggar, Gynir Rednose, and Gelmarr the Grim. Reek was there too, he remembered, but he was a different Reek, a Reek with bloody hands and lies dripping from his lips, sweet as honey. - a Ghost in Winterfell, aDwD

"Stark's little wolflings are dead," said Ramsay, sloshing some more ale into his cup, "and they'll stay dead. Let them show their ugly faces, and my girls will rip those wolves of theirs to pieces. The sooner they turn up, the sooner I kill them again." - The elder Bolton sighed. "Again? Surely you misspeak. You never slew Lord Eddard's sons, those two sweet boys we loved so well. That was Theon Turncloak's work, remember? How many of our grudging friends do you imagine we'd retain if the truth were known?" - Reek III, aDwD

Roose' arc is deeply connected to the relations he shares to the other northern lords, which has been heavily impacted by the Red Wedding. It stands to reason that they are going to be an important part of his downfall, and we see many hints of them plotting to betray him.

The north remembers, Lord Davos. The north remembers, and the mummer's farce is almost done. My son is home." - Davos IV, aDwD

Themes: Stannis and kinslaying

The books set up Roose and Stannis as foils as well; Both lack charisma and have trouble winnning the people's support, Stannis and Roose both parallel and contrast Ned, Stannis appears as a "lesser Robert" where Roose is a "lesser Ned", Stannis represents the fire where Roose represents the ice, both struggle over dominion in a land that doesnt particularly want either of them, etc... What i find interesting is how they are contrasted over kinslaying:

"Only Renly could vex me so with a piece of fruit. He brought his doom on himself with his treason, but I did love him, Davos. I know that now. I swear, I will go to my grave thinking of my brother's peach." - Davos II, aCoK

"I should've had the mother whipped and thrown her child down a well … but the babe did have my eyes." [...] "Now [Domeric's] bones lie beneath the Dreadfort with the bones of his brothers, who died still in the cradle, and I am left with Ramsay. Tell me, my lord … if the kinslayer is accursed, what is a father to do when one son slays another?" - Reek III, aCoK

Stannis is set up as someone who is very thorough and strict in following his own code and his "duty", even if he does not like what it forces him to do.

Stannis ground his teeth again. "I never asked for this crown. Gold is cold and heavy on the head, but so long as I am the king, I have a duty . . . If I must sacrifice one child to the flames to save a million from the dark . . . Sacrifice . . . is never easy, Davos. Or it is no true sacrifice. Tell him, my lady." - Davos IV, aSoS

The armorer considered that a moment. "Robert was the true steel. Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, yes, but brittle, the way iron gets. He'll break before he bends." - Jon I, aCoK

Roose however is frequently characterized as someone who tries to get as much as he can while avoiding negative consequences, and who does not have a consistent moral code and instead bends rules to his benefit to be the most comfortable to him.

It is often theorized that Stannis will end up burning his daughter Shireen; the Ramsay issue might then serve to contrast the two men. If Grrm intends it to be compared by the reader, I can see it going two ways: Either Roose will be forced to finally act in a drastic way after avoiding his responsibility in regards to Ramsay and he will be forced to get rid of his son, making him break the only moral hurdle he has presented adhering to during the story (though analyzing his character, the kinslaying taboo is probably less a sign of moral fortitude and more him using the guise of morals to explain a selfish motivation). Or he might not act against Ramsay and suffer the consequences, presenting an interesting moral situation where some readers might consider his action "better" or more relatable than Stannis', breaking up the otherwise very black and white moral comparison between the two men. It serves as an interesting conflict of the morality of kinslaying compared to what readers might see as a moral obligation of getting rid of a monster such as Ramsay; contrasting Shireen whose death would not be seen as worth it by most. Ramsay as a bastard (who was almost killed at birth if he hadnt been able to prove his paternity) also makes for an interesting verbal parallel with the bastard Edric Storm, and might be used for a look at the utilitarian principle of killing a child (baby ramsay/edric) to save countless people from suffering that underpinned Edric's story.

"As Faulkner says, all of us have the capacity in us for great good and for great evil, for love but also for hate. I wanted to write those kinds of complex character in a fantasy, and not just have all the good people get together to fight the bad guy." - Grrm

"Robert, I ask you, what did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children?" - Eddard VIII, aGoT

"If Joffrey should die . . . what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?" - "Everything," said Davos, softly. - Davos V, aSoS

However Grrm decides to present these conflicts or which actions the characters will take in the end, it will result in interesting discussion and analysis for the readers.

His Endgame?

Looking at the trends of the past books, it is probably going to be hard to predict any specific outcome; every book introduces new characters and plot elements that were impossible to predict from the last book even if their thematic importance or setup was aptly foreshadowed.

Roose has a lot of plot importance and characterization that has, in my opinion, not yet been properly resolved in a way that would be unique and poignant to the specific purpose his character appears to fulfil. However I also have a bias in that i did not like the show's writing of that scene which makes me averse to see a version of it in the books, and i really like Roose as a character and want to see him have more scenes in the next book(s). This leads me to discount plot speculation that cuts his character arc short offscreen early. Roose is only a side character; however, i have trust in grrm's writing abilities and that he would give him a proper sendoff that feels satisfying to a fan of the character.

"…even the [characters] who are complete bastards, nasty, twisted, deeply flawed human beings with serious psychological problems… When I get inside their skin and look out through their eyes, I have to feel a certain — if not sympathy, certainly empathy for them. I have to try to perceive the world as they do, and that creates a certain amount of affection." — George Martin

Considering my earlier analyis, there is a case to be made for Roose killing Ramsay; however it appears grrm might have a different endgame in mind for Ramsay, foreshadowed in Chett's prologue:

There'd be no lord's life for the leechman's son, no keep to call his own, no wives nor crowns. Only a wildling's sword in his belly, and then an unmarked grave. The snow's taken it all from me . . . the bloody snow . . . - Chett, aSoS

I tend to think something might happen to Roose/the Bolton bloc later in the book that would cause Ramsay to attempt to flee the scene again like he did back in aCoK fleeing Rodrik's justice; perhaps Ramsay is sent out to battle but then flees it like a coward, or he sees his cause as lost. This time, the fleeing and potentially disguised Ramsay would not make it out to safety though, and get killed without being recognized as Ramsay, dying forgotten. This would serve as dramatic irony since Ramsay so strongly desired to be recognized and respected as a Lord of Bolton, without being too on the nose.

As for Roose, i could see him getting captured and somehow brought to justice (either when someone takes Winterfell or in some sort of battle). I see it unlikely that he will be backstabbed like Robb was, because it seems very "eye for an eye" and ultimately doesn't teach much of a lesson except "he had it coming"; But the various people conspiring against him could lead to his capture by betraying him (giving a payoff to the northern conspiracies and the red wedding). I would find a scene of him standing trial interesting since i believe we didn't have one of these for a true non-pov villain yet, and it would be an interesting confrontation that he cannot escape from (he also loves to talk so it would be a good read to see him make a case for himself).

I assume Roose will be out of the picture when the Other plot finally properly kicks into gear (whether dead or "in prison"). With Stannis as a false Azor Ahai and Roose as a false Other (with his pale, cold features), their struggle in the north seems to be a representation of the false "Game of Thrones" that distracts people from the "real threat" of the Others.

As always this is just my opinion, and it could all go very differently in the books! There could always be something that completely uproots my analysis and goes into a direction i did not expect from the material we had; But i have fate that Grrm as a writer will deliver and give me something i can be satisfied with.

#asks #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #roose bolton #valyrianscrolls #a song of ice and fire #not art #anonymous

119 notes · View notes

godofplumsandthunder · 3 years

Text

Twisted Fate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Cancer, both Bucky and reader have cancer, Major Character death, brief hospital terms mainly reffering to cancer treatment. References to amputation.

A/N: This was written for the lovely @eurynome827 2k celebration. I got a lovely quote of lyrics from Hadestown, which I wanted to do something that was based off of the musical, but I couldn’t figure anything out. Then I had a big anniversary come up and this was came out instead. It’s very angsty, I cried a lot, and well I hope you like it.

The low, steady hum of the fan fills the awkward silence. The psychiatrist, newly assigned to the case, still doesn’t feel comfortable. “Case number 32557038” was widely known in the health care center. The whispers and rumors floated their way down the hall, past the copy machine, filling the office with this chilling tale. Some regarded it as a terrible series of bad luck, others thought it was an act of some benevolent God, pouring his rage on this poor couple. Dr. Breynord, after reading the notes on the file, Breynord knew that this case was perhaps the worst case of bad luck she ever saw in her career, and, maybe it was her stubbornness or naive belief in medicine, but Dr. Breynord was going to help this poor man get the peace he so desperately needs.

“James,” Dr. Breynord’s voice breaks the silence of the office, “I’ve read what my colleagues had to say about your case, but, I’d like you to tell me what has happened if you feel comfortable.”

Shifting in his seat, James sighs, with a small nod of the head, he starts at the beginning.

Bucky Barnes was used to change. Granted, it was other people’s change, but it was still change nonetheless. The poor folks that sat next to him each clinic visit changed, his caretakers changed, it seemed as if the whole world changed around him, while he was stuck in some perpetual hell. Every day dragged out in the same dull, and nauseating feeling, and at times, Bucky felt he was in an endless loop, forsaken by some deity he didn’t believe in. But, for however long Bucky has left in this fallen and cruel world, he’ll remember when you walked in, shattering the miserable purgatory he was banished to, he’ll always remember the day you changed his life.

It happened during his first transfusion session after his surgery. His arm, still wrapped in bandage, IV tubing leading straight to his heart, pumped his body full of liquids, as he waited for the toxic poison to enter his body. He always found it ironic, the “medicine” that was supposed to save his life, that was too dangerous for the nurses to touch with their bare hands, was willingly flushed into his body. Hair loss, mouth sores, and muscle aches were the better side effects. He can’t help but think about what is coming, especially as he sees his nurse, Thor, come over with the freshly made batch of poison [STRIKE THROUGH], chemotherapy as his doctor would want him to call it. Hanging the bag on his IV pole, Thor looks over at Bucky, giving him the “I’m going to go on a rant about something you should care about” look.

“Now James, we’re getting a new patient today. It’s their first transfusion. They’re going to be sitting in the pod next to you. I swear to the gods, I best not hear another complaint about your attitude.”

“Me? An attitude? No, I think you got me confused with someone else. I’m the brightest little ball of sunshine here!” Bucky can’t help but chuckle. It’s not his fault he wasn’t a “warrior”, blasting “Fight Song” 24/7, as he sips on a kale smoothie with coffee suppositories shoved up his ass. T

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Barnes,” Thor shakes his head as he cleans up his station, “don’t think I won’t throw your bald ass out of here. That cancer sob story, won’t work on me.”

Bucky goes back to his phone, already feeling the effects of the chemo. No matter how many anti-nausea meds they fed him, Cisplatin always makes him sick. So, he had the right to act like a grumpy old grandpa. While he scrolls through his social media feed, seeing all the accomplishments, brags, and just shit of his friends, Bucky hears your sniffles, as you make your way down to the end of the Oncology clinic, taking a seat next to Bucky. Even if Thor hadn’t given him the heads up, he would have known you were fresh meat. One infusion, his mom asked him how he could tell. It was easy for Bucky, it all had to do with the eyes. A cancer diagnosis shatters you. It kills all hope, light, and goodness that’s in you. You turn completely numb to the world, to the point where your own wailing and sobs feel muted. Bucky saw all of that in your eyes. Behind the puffy, redness, saw the shards of hope, the fear of the unknown. Before you could reach your seat, you stumble, spilling your possessions that you carried all over the floor. Bucky watches quietly as you quickly pick up your items, collapsing into the chair next to him.

“Sorry I couldn’t give you a hand, only have the one,” he wiggles his stump, and he's met with silence. Talk about a rough crowd, he thinks, his nephews love his stumpy jokes. “So,” Bucky continues, “what are you in for? I’m a sarcoma, in the arm.” You sniffle as you turn your body to look at this new man.

“Leukemia,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper. It takes a real effort to say it out loud because then it makes all of this real.

“That’s good then,” the “sarcoma” man says to you, and Bucky can see the confusion, and pain on your face.

“How is that good? How is cancer good?”

Using his arm, Bucky points around the room, giving you a tour of the room.

“See him, that’s Riley, he has an inoperable brain tumor. That young kid, with the Switch? His name is Peter, his body is chemo resistant. So yeah, leukemia is good. If you haven’t learned it yet, not all cancers are made equal.”

“Oh,” you barely make out. What were you supposed to say to that?

=====

Much to Bucky’s surprise, he actually enjoyed having your company. Your treatments lined up and so you both got to know each other well. Bucky enjoyed having someone close to his age that understood his problems. And it also didn’t hurt that you had such a great personality, you got Bucky’s dark humor (and it went without saying that you understood it was his way of coping), and you looked great. Not many people can rock a bald head. And Bucky has seen his fair share, and he can say with confidence, you rocked it. Not covering it up with caps, scarves, or wigs. Because why should you hide away? For the first time since his diagnosis, Bucky had a purpose. So, while his immune system allowed him to leave the house, he picked up a bouquet of fake flowers (neutropenia life, am I right?) and a box of chocolates to take with him to the next transfusion. When he got to the clinic, Bucky was a bit worried to see that you weren’t next to him. Instead, there sat Barb, 75 years old with breast cancer.

“Oh sweetie, are those for me?” Barb looks at the flowers in Bucky’s hand.

“No!” He snaps, as closes the curtain that surrounds his chair. He hears some huffs and complaints from Barb, but frankly, he doesn’t give a damn. Bucky only has one thing on his mind: you.

“Are you alright? You’re not here at Club Med” Bucky texts as quickly as his one hand would let him. Dropping his phone, Bucky stares at it all while the nurses prep him. And because of damn, HIPAA, none of the nurses can tell him where you’re at. Minutes turn into hours, and by the time Bucky’s infusion ends, you still haven’t responded to him or shown up at the clinic.

“Hope you’re okay. Call or text me. I'm worried” Bucky sighs, realizing how much you made his chemo treatments more bearable. How your laugh could make him forget of the poison he had to take, or how the light in your eyes could make him forget, even just for a bit, how much his arm stump was hurting. You were a drug, more potent than any he’s had before, and Bucky was becoming addicted. He’s picking at the hamburger he got for dinner, not having much of an appetite when his phone goes off. Seeing it’s from you, he rushes to answer.

“Y/N! I… Where were you? I missed you today. I had to sit by Barb and…” The sounds of your cries cut Bucky off.

“Are you okay?”

“No, Buck. I… Got some bad news today.”

“Where are you?” He asks. He knows you’re alone, and speaking from experience, you never want to be alone when you get bad news. He knows from experience.

“Buck…” you sigh, “It’s fine. Really.”

“Please, Y/N, I know what it’s like to be alone after getting this kind of news. Please, let me be there for you.” Breaking further down into tears, you cry at Bucky’s actions, actions of love.

“I’ll send you my address,” Bucky gathers the flowers and chocolates as he rushes to your apartment, breaking a few traffic laws to get there faster. When he gets there, the image of you, opening the door, eyes swollen from crying breaks his heart.

“Oh, Y/N,” Bucky sweeps you into his arm, as he closes the door behind, “tell me what’s going on hun.”

You both sit on the couch, the bag with the flowers and chocolate lay at your feet, as you stay in Bucky’s embrace.

“I’m… I’m dying Buck!” You manage to say in-between odds. “Dr. Fair... gave me three months to live. There’s nothing else they can do.” You break down in his arms, that last straw finally breaking, as you tell your newfound best friend, the person you were supposed to beat cancer with. Bucky tries his best to remain strong, to be the rock, the foundation you need, but you’re not the only one that is losing a friend. You sit in each other's embrace, as you mourn. You cry for all the missed opportunities, laughs, and memories that won’t be made.

“What am I going to do,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from crying.

Kissing your head, Bucky pulls you in closer, “we, are going to make these three months, the best three months you’ve ever had.”

Bucky lives up to his promise, spending every hour he isn’t in the hospital with you. The time you spent together changed your relationship. Neither had to officially say the words to make your relationship official. It was just you, and Bucky. Holding each other close, as the tempest waged on, trying to beat you into submission. You go on walks in the park, picnics, and one night when you both had the energy, went skinny dipping. Your logic being, what are the cops going to do? Arrest two cancer patients, with one of them being terminal? You threw caution to the wind and simply lived. Lived, breathed, and loved. Things seemed to be perfect until reality hit.

Your body wasn’t keeping up. Your cancer was spreading faster than they predicted. The doctors couldn’t give you an explanation as to why the cancer was spreading so fast. It shouldn’t have been. Soon, home hospice came, to try to make you more comfortable. And like the good partner he was, Bucky spent every minute by your side. That’s why, when you felt the inevitable coming, you felt your body give in to the tiredness of fighting, you grab Bucky’s hand.

“I love you, James Bucky Barnes,” you weakly say, giving him one last affirmation, as you went to sleep, for one last time.

As Bucky wakes up from his nap, feeling your cold body, he tries to ruse you back awake. Once he realizes what has happened, the last bit of humanity inside of Bucky snapped. He lets out a blood-curdling scream, as tears stream down his face. He strikes your face, pleas escape his mouth. Pleas to you, to a God he has long stopped believing in. His body shakes, his tears wetting your hair, as he holds you for one last time.

=====

“Oh James,” Dr. Breynord grabs herself a tissue before handing Bucky the box of tissues. “I truly am so sorry to hear that. I want you to know that I am here to help you get happy again, and to heal.”

Bucky sighs and turns away from the doctor as he wipes his eyes. “You’re just like the rest of them. You didn’t listen to me.”

Breynord was surprised that this was Bucky’s complaint. The other doctors had warned her that Bucky could be sarcastic, standoff-ish, and even flat-out rude to them. Breynord thought she did a good job listening to his story, what did she miss.

“I… I don’t think I understand what you mean, James.”

Bucky lets out a heartless, empty laugh, “you want me to be happy again. I’m never going to be. Not only do I have to live with the guilt of surviving, when she died, in my arms, but I’ll also never find another soul like hers. We had a connection, you know. It felt like we met before. When I held her in my arm, and her arms would wrap around me, it felt like I had the whole world in my arms. I didn’t need anything else when I had Y/N.”

“So tell me doc, what’s the point of carrying on?”

#eury2kchallenge #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky angst #cancer #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #oneshot

70 notes · View notes

owl-with-a-pen · 3 years

Note

What if Nia had gotten so angry at lex after what happened with brainy, she went to go try and kill him? 😳 and brainy had to stop her. We’ve seen the dark side of brainy before but never in Nia really, discluding “reality bytes”

- Oooh, I like this idea a lot! I brought a few more characters into play for this as well, hope you don’t mind!

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Nia stormed past Kara for the third consecutive time, swivelling on her foot just shy of hitting the far wall so that she could continue pacing across Lena’s lab. Her hands were clenched so tightly together that her fingers were beginning to burn, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was ending Lex’s sorry existence once and for all.

“Nia,” Kara cut in, taking a placating step forward, “just think for a second-”

“You can’t stop me, Kara,” Nia snarled. She knew she’d gained something of an audience since Lena and Alex had returned from the recovery room, could feel their eyes tracking her every movement, but just thinking about who they’d been tending to, the state he’d been in when they’d found him in Leviathan’s ship, made the anger inside her chest that much more vitriolic. There was a pressure growing inside her skull, throbbing along to the beat of her heart. She stopped short, jerking her arm in the direction Lena and Alex had come from. “Look what he did to Brainy. Months of hurting him, putting him through god knows what!”

“And you have every reason to be angry,” Kara said gently.

Nia snorted, rolling her eyes. “Great, ‘cuz I was totally asking for your permission.”

“Nia-”

“No.” Nia turned to Kara then, jaw clenched tight. “Y’know what? No. You don’t have a right to tell me I’m wrong here. Lex kills people, Kara, did you think of that, huh? Did you think of who Brainy might have helped Lex kill? What Lex might have made him do?” Nia could feel tears burning in her eyes, could taste a thickness in her throat, but she forced every bit of strength into her voice regardless. “None of us stopped that.”

“None of us knew,” Alex muttered.

“And who’s fault is that?” Nia shot back, whirling on Alex accusingly. “Brainy’s? Or maybe, maybe the truth is, it was ours. I ignored my dreams and we all, we all ignored him!” Nia sucked air through her teeth. She knew she was trembling, but seeing those concerned looks on her friends’ faces did nothing to cool the fire welling inside of her. She swallowed hard, ignoring the iron tang in the back of her mouth, and drew out a slow breath. “But, most importantly,” she said carefully, “it’s Lex’s fault. This is all Lex’s fault.”

“I don’t disagree with you,” Lena said. Her expression had been especially still throughout Nia’s tirade, although something about it now looked distinctly uneasy. “But, Brainy was careful. I saw him-” Lena cringed suddenly, looking away.

Nia knew why, just as well as anyone else in the room did. Lena had known Brainy had been working for Lex – for months - and she hadn’t said a word. She’d kept his secret. No, no, she hadn’t kept his secret, she hadn’t cared about it.

“It was only brief,” Lena said quickly, glancing back to her, “but during that time, he promised me that no one would be harmed whilst he aided with Lex’s schemes. He wouldn’t have broken his code, Nia. Not even for Lex; I’m certain.”

“You killed him.”

“What?”

Nia stared at Lena coldly. “You shot him, right? You shot your brother in the heart and you didn’t think about it. Because it was justice.”

“It wasn’t justice-” Kara tried desperately.

“I’m not talking to you!” Nia gritted. She didn’t even spare Kara a passing glance. All of her attention was devoted to Lena. “Let her talk.”

Lena’s eyes were bright, shimmering things. Still, she didn’t look away this time. Instead, her lips twitched into sharp smile. “What do you want me to say?” she asked coldly. “That killing my brother was cathartic, that it closed old wounds that I thought might never heal?” She raised her chin. “No, you want the whole truth. That my actions stopped a threat that would have continued relentlessly unless someone had the nerve to take that shot. To leave his lifeless body to rot with the worms like he deserved.”

Kara made a pained sound in the back of her throat.

Lena glanced at her. “Don’t get me wrong,” she said plainly. “I don’t condone this. But, not because I don’t agree with her.” Lena turned back to Nia, her brow furrowed. “Nia, taking a person’s life is something you can never take back.”

Nia bared her teeth. “And yet, that’s exactly what the Anti Monitor did.” She gestured at Lena frankly, feeling wayward strands of dream energy snap and spark between her fingers. “Absolve you, or whatever.”

“I’d kill my brother again without a moment’s hesitation,” Lena said stiffly, lifting herself to her full height. “But, we can still stop him without resorting to that.” Her expression softened. “Even if we couldn’t, my actions, they aren’t yours. Nia, you don’t have the stomach for this. You shouldn’t.”

Nia clenched her hands again, feeling her energy pool into every digit. Vibrant blue light simmered against her palms. “No offence, Lena, but you don’t know anything about what I’m capable of right now.”

“Nia?”

Nia faltered, the shock of her power dimming as she half turned to meet the new voice behind her back.

Brainy was stood in the lab’s entryway, his shoulder pressed heavily against the wall. If the frailness of his expression was anything to go by, Nia was certain it was the only thing keeping him from keeling over.

His green skin was still far too pale to be healthy, and his blond hair clung to the side of his jaw with cold sweat, but he was awake. He was…

Why was he awake?

Between the two of them, Lena and Alex had been able to help along Brainy’s natural healing process using a cocktail of experimental drugs, the names of which Nia wasn’t even going to try to pronounce. But Brainy’s IV wasn’t present, instead she could see an angry looking bruise already beginning to blossom over the delicate skin on his left hand.

The dream energy dissolved from Nia’s hands in an instant, rocketing back towards her chest so quickly that she nearly choked. She rushed over to him, reaching tentatively for his arm.

This close, she could see the shadows that had sunk into his cheek bones, the red veins that still branched along the whites of his eyes. He held one arm protectively around his chest, clenched between the steady glow of his three life projectors.

“Brainy,” Nia said breathlessly, running her hand carefully along his arm, desperate to offer any kind of support she could. “You shouldn’t be up.”

Brainy clenched his teeth, lowering his head. “I-I overheard…” he managed.

It took her a second, but although his eyes were heavy lidded, Nia realised that Brainy was looking down at her hands, at the vibrant energy she’d summoned only moments ago. Something heavy settled inside her stomach at that look.

“Nia,” Brainy continued softly. “You- you don’t need to do this.”

A pained laugh caught in Nia’s throat. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

Brainy smiled tiredly, lifting his head with clearly more energy than he had to expend. Nia ached to do something for him, to take that hurt away, but the anger inside of her no longer burned like fire. Instead, it twisted deep in her gut, churning together with every bit of fear she’d been trying to hold down since the moment they’d gotten Brainy out of Leviathan’s clutches.

“Killing Lex…” Brainy said, meeting Nia’s eyes. “It will not take back what I did. I worked for him of my own volition, he didn’t force me into anything.”

Nia swallowed hard, closing her eyes.

“You have every right to be angry with me,” Brainy said earnestly. “But, please, don’t channel that anger into something this destructive. Lena is right. Taking a life is never worth it. There is always a better way.”

Nia’s eyes shot open at that. She blinked quickly, shaking her head. “I’m not,” she said. “I’m not mad at you.”

When Brainy only stared at her, Nia felt the twist in her stomach sour even further. She gritted her teeth, blinking back against the sudden burn in her eyes. “I- I don’t want to be,” she said weakly.

“It’s okay.”

Nia startled at the feel of Brainy’s fingers brush against her free hand. She clenched the one around his arm in response. “It’s not okay,” she gritted. “It wasn’t your fault. I-”

“From what I understand,” Brainy said, “emotions do not always make sense. But that does not make them any less real.”

For a long moment, Nia couldn’t say a word against him. Because, as much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She was angry, so angry, but she was also terrified and sick and hollow. There was a bitter hole in her heart, one that had only continued to grow in the months since Brainy had broken up with her. He’d barely spoken to her since, had hardly stood to be in the same room as her at all. The closest they’d gotten was work-related interactions and even then, he’d been so distant, like a part of him hadn’t even been there.

And when she’d seen Brainy in Leviathan’s ship, every single piece of bitterness had surged to life in a united front to keep her grounded, to keep her away from every other emotion threatening to tear her apart. It had warped into a violent rage, an acrid burn inside her lungs, fuelling her on this fruitless pursuit to, what? Kill Lex? As though that’d make her feel better, as though any of this would make her feel better?

Nia couldn’t find it in her to say that all out loud. Instead, she sniffed hard, biting her lip. “You left me alone,” she said lowly. “And that killed me.”

“I know,” Brainy said, his voice pained. “It… it killed me too, and I know this isn’t enough, that it won’t take away the hurt, but I am so, so sorry, Nia Nal.” His eyes fluttered suddenly, and he closed them quickly, lowering his head. “I will always be sorry.”

Nia knew this wasn’t the right time to have this conversation. Brainy’s complexion was already losing the little colour he’d gained; his jaw was tight with discomfort, and as a harsh shudder ran up his spine, she watched as he lost the last of his composure, leaning his head against the wall with a weak grimace.

Nia wasn’t sure what she was feeling in that moment, but when Brainy’s legs nearly gave out, she didn’t hesitate. Her arms were wrapped around his back before she even knew that she was moving forward, burying her face securely into the side of his neck. His skin was sticky with cold sweat, but she didn’t care, she only hugged him fiercer, unable to keep a sob from heaving its way out of her throat.

“It will be enough,” she whispered, feeling as Brainy slowly began to relax into her embrace. “It’ll just take some time.”

There was more she wanted to say now. The words practically thundered inside her ears, clawing to be let out. Words like, how much she loved him, how she’d never stopped loving him, but how even that couldn’t take away the resentment she’d stored against herself, against him, for leaving her without a proper explanation, for making her feel like her feelings were unwarranted, unreciprocated.

But her throat was tight, and the only sounds she was able to make were the harsh gasps as her chest hitched and fell outside of her control. She could hear Brainy’s pulse beating away against her cheek, the moisture of his own tears wetting strands of her hair.

All she wanted to do was hold on and never, ever let go.

Brainy didn’t say a word, either. Although, for him, it was for a far more pressing reason. His breathing was already beginning to strain against her shoulder, and when he suddenly dipped dangerously in her arms, Nia strengthened her hold around him, leaning them both against the wall to support their combined weights.

“So, does this mean no one’s murdering anyone anymore?” Alex asked from across the room.

Nia’s chest clenched. She’d totally forgotten that her reunion with Brainy had been met with an audience. She lifted her head from his shoulder, blinking against the brightness of the room before turning towards her friends.

Alex was already on her way over to them, her eyes reviewing every inch of Brainy in both parts medical and familial concern. Kara and Lena hovered awkwardly together, seemingly aware that crowding Brainy right now might not be the best plan.

Nia met Kara’s gaze warily, offering her an apologetic wince. “I…” she began.

“It’s okay,” Kara said softly, her eyes creasing with a smile.

Nia sighed, shaking her head. “Okay,” she said levelly. “Maybe, maybe we don’t have to kill him. But the next cell we put that asshole in, he’s never getting out of.”

Kara’s smile widened into a grin. “Now, that’s a plan I can get behind.”

“First thing’s first,” Alex cut in, rousing Brainy enough that he was able to glance blearily up from Nia’s shoulder. She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead, narrowing her eyes at the result. “You’re telling me what the hell you did with your IV. Then, you’re going back to bed.”

Brainy nodded weakly, mumbling a quiet apology, although Nia knew Alex wasn’t looking for one. In fact, she was pretty certain she’d heard Alex forgive Brainy at least a dozen times over while he’d still been delirious from the radiation.

Nia chuckled, helping Alex manoeuvre Brainy’s weight back down the hall.

“C’mon Wildcat,” she murmured into his ear. “We’ve got you.”

Maybe they hadn’t had a chance to get everything out in the open just yet, but they would.

Once Brainy was healthy and rested, they’d have all the time in the world.

#supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #brainia #supergirl season 6 #nia nal #brainiac 5 #dreamdox #kara danvers #alex danvers #lena luthor #kara zor el #lol is anyone keeping count of how many different ways i've written brainy getting saved from leviathan yet?#it's .. many #but all the season 6 hype is finally giving me a bit of that hurt/comfort writer's fuel #also. don't ever yank your IV out kids. it's a bad time. dont do it.

37 notes · View notes

liliesoftherain · 4 years

Text

Ground Zero reads Thirst Tweets

A/N: Hey guys, this is a collab with @pinky-the-elephant-room !! This is the first part, and the second part can be found here! Her part is NSFW so since i’m a SFW blog we thought it would be best to split the parts! So here’s my contribution!

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

You walked inside the studio, thanking the heavens that it was cooler than it was outside. Greeting the producers of the setup, you gladly made your way by the set to see two stools placed side-by-side in front of a blue backdrop.

“Hello, Seize-san! Thank you so much for coming in today, I am Hana and I’m here to help you through this!” You grinned at the young woman who walked up to you. She was short stature and plump figure and gave off the impression of a warm and welcoming personality. Instantly putting you at ease.

“Thank you so much for having me! It’s an honor to be showcased here, along with another hero! You guys are truly kind to grant the opportunity to work alongside you, and please, call me (l/n).”

She nodded enthusiastically, grinning at the praise from such a top hero as yourself.

“Thank you again, (l/n)-san, come let’s get you ready for the camera! Are you in need of anything to drink, anything to snack on?”

“No ma’am, I am fine! I’m just ready for the shoot!”

“As is your partner!”

You both shared a laugh, both knowing the person you were recording with today was the opposite of ready for this.

“Oh, I’m sure that is the case, ma’am, where is he by the way?”

“He’s right behind you, stupid.”

You turned to see the annoyed blonde behind you, being escorted to the seating area close to where you were being led.

“Ah Ground Zero, good to see you haven’t blown anything up yet.”

“Shove off, hurry up so we can get this over with.”

You laughed, waving him off as the members looked on with concern.

“Don’t be rude, Bakugou! I’ll be there with you soon enough; all you have to do is be good and wait for me.” You winked, eyeing him up and down before turning back around, allowing Hana to guide you off towards your station to get ready.

The makeup artists just refreshed your makeup and made you ready for the video. You came out of the dressing room, dressed in your usual hero costume but looking less like you’ve been running through the streets of Tokyo. Bakugou was in usual costume but without his hand gauntlet.

“Okay you two, we’d like to thank you for taking the time to come on set and do this showing. These tweets are real, and we just want your genuine reaction from them! We’ll try to limit the cuts to be able to ensure that real response, and don’t be afraid to let loose! These are Thirst Tweets for a reason!”

You laughed along with everyone else, except Bakugou who looked a little annoyed by the entire thing. You gave him a slight shove with your shoulders, biting your lip subtly as his gaze locked onto yours.

“Cheer up already, this is supposed to be fun. What, do you not want to be here with me?”

“That’s not--Shut up, shitty woman. Just get ready.” he huffed, glancing away from your stare as he mumbled back.

“Okay, starting in 3, 2…,” The cameraman pointed instead of saying one, signaling the tape was now rolling. You beamed at the camera, working your charm as you gave a little wave.

“Hi, guys! I’m, (l/n) (y/n), or better yet, Seize!”

“And I’m Bakugou Katsuki, Ground Zero.”

“And today we’re reading…,” you trailed off, looking expectantly at your partner.

“Thirst Tweets.”

“You could be a little more enthusiastic you know.”

“Oi, shut it!”

You giggle, looking deviously at the camera before swiping his mug-shaped container.

“Oi, what are you-”

“Let’s see what people are saying about our dear Ground Zero, hm? That’s alright with everyone else, right?”

The crew joyfully agreed at the twist, and with their approval, you shoved your container in Katsuki’s chest.

“All right, let’s see,” You snorted, slapping Bakugou’s shoulder as you read the first tweet, “‘I would love to be able to rip that Hero suit right off of Ground Zero and rub my face along those God-like abs. Can a man be any hotter!? Have you seen his moobs!? *dROOLING*”

“Ha!?” Bakugou looked at the tweet with narrowed eyes before looking back at the camera, “Do you know how expensive this hero suit is!? You ain't ripping shit! Plus, what the hell are moobs?”

“Oh Bakugou, half of the world's population would love to rip that suit off, myself included. Plus, those are your man boobs, and they are absolutely correct, you have the best titties I have ever seen!” You winked at the camera while throwing the paper over your shoulder, “NEXT!”

You gave your bucket a good shake, making eye contact with the confused blonde who was still stuck on your last comment.

“‘Y’all don’t understand what I would do just to have @GroundZero to choke me with a gloved hand. Or do anything to me really. He could hit me with his car, repeated use his quirk on me, give me paper cuts all over my body and throw me into a pool of lemon juice, and I’d beg for some more like yes zaddy **** my ***** up!,’ OH MY GOD.” You used one hand to hold your mouth in amusement, putting the bucket between your thighs so you could show the tweet with your now free hand.

“You have some pretty kinky fans, Bakugou,” you teased, waving the paper in his face as he grabbed your wrist to hold it steady, staring in disbelief.

“You all are disgusting, why in the fuck would anyone do that to you? Let alone me, who the hell do you think I am!?”

“I mean, you can’t judge, can you?”

He snaps his head to look at you, a heated glare on his face.

“The hell, of course, I can judge! These people want me to torture them, sick bastards.”

You laughed as Bakugou sucked in a sharp breath between clenched cheeks, you were thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.

“NEXT!” You shouted, crumbling the paper and tossing it at Bakugou.

“How many of these are there?” He sighed, looking in your bucket in his hands and shaking it around.

“With the way you look there are bound to be a ton.”

“What-”

“‘If I were only able to take just Ground Zero’s jaw out on a date, I’d never be happier’ Oh that one isn’t so bad-”

“My jaw? What the hell-” He looked over your shoulder, reading the tweet.

You looked up and stared at the blessed jawline.

“That’s what it says, but I gotta disagree,” You grabbed his arm and squeezed it while smirking deviously into the camera, “These arms are better, I’d take these bad boys out for coffee over his jaw any day.”

Instead of shaking you off, you swore you felt Bakugou flex slightly under your hold and couldn’t help the shit-eating grin that overtook your face as you stared up at him through your eyelashes.

“Are you flexing, Ground Zero?”

“HAH!? NO WAY, READ THE NEXT DAMN TWEET AND GET OFF OF ME ALREADY.” He snatched his arm from your hold as you waved him off, grabbing the last tweet from the container.

“Aw guess there weren’t as many as I thought, we’re already reaching the end-”

“Good because I’m tired of these wackjobs.”

You scanned over the paper, unable to contain yourself as you busted out laughing. You knew Bakugou was glaring at you, but you couldn’t help it, you almost fell off your chair, having to once again grab his arm for support.

“This, I just- Oh my God, Bakugou you’re-HA!”

“Can you knock it off and read it before I blow your ass up!” He hissed at you, and you knew you shouldn’t have made the situation any worse than it was- but sometimes you can’t help yourself.

“Damn, I mean if you really wanna tap this ass Bakugou, how can I say no~?”

He growled lowly, glaring harshly at your face as you only winked in response.

“Watch it, (l/n)-”

“‘Ive always been straight BUT i wish ground zero would rip me apart like he did to tht one moth villain, n after tht I have literally never questioned my sexuality so hard, I would let tht man bury his **** so far inside my *** tht i become the Queen of the f**king gays, all hail to me, GZ’s b**tch.Thts it. Thts the tweet.’ HAA.”

You felt Bakugou tense beside you, and when you looked over you saw him shaking in anger.

“Oh what, it’s charming!” You slowed your laughter down to measly chuckles, catching your breath as you were wiping tears from your eyes.

“How is that god damn charming!?” He seethed.

“You know, I can see it.”

“See what?”

“You being gay-”

“HA!? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING.”

You look back to the camera and give an innocent shrug.

“He could've fooled me, I swear I saw him checking out Deku a few missions back-” A small explosion cut you off, and you rolled your eyes.

“So dramatic, it’s no big deal. I check out Deku all the time too.”

“You fucking what?”

“Oh yea, I mean I check out Shoto too but Deku’s got a cute ass. What can I say-”

“You’re fucking pathetic.” He huffed, snapping his gaze away from where you sat.

“Sorry, was I overstepping? I’ll leave your man alone!” You teased, poking his thigh as you did.

“Goddammit (l/n), I’m not fucking gay for Deku!” He swatted your hand away, scooting as far away as he could from you.

Which wasn’t very far, seeing as he made no effort to move the stools away from each other.

“So you’re gay for-”

“NOBODY!”

“Okay okay!! Just read my tweets already, I know they’re getting antsy watching us just talk about your closeted sexuality!”

“...tch.”

You could practically see a vein popping out of his neck, and even though you were sure he was picturing murdering you in his mind, you couldn’t help but think of how sexy it was.

You watched as he unenthusiastically pulled out a piece of paper, bored eyes scanning till they narrowed.

“You’re fucking fans are worse than mine.”

“What! Read it, I wanna hear!”

“Do I have to-”

You cut him off with a sharp look of your own, wearing him down until he sighed and did as he was supposed to.

“‘I would pay any amount of money, or literally give up any organ-appendix, spleen, gallbladder, lungs, my damn heart, just so Seize can spit on my face and call me a worthless, good-for-nothing loser, then kick my body and walk away. It would be my honor and my greatest life accomplishment.’” He threw the paper in front of him as if it were burning his skin, once again staring at the camera in disgust.

“Wow,” You giggled, “I don’t even know how to respond. I don’t really think that’s worse than yours Bakugou, but thanks I guess?”

“Thanks!? That’s all you’re going to say? How about I kick your ass and call you a worthless shithead myself, would that turn on all you perverts watching this, ha!?”

You smacked his arm playfully as you tried to get him to calm down, but his heavy breathing was an indication he wasn’t having it.

“I’m sure it would-,” His head whipped to face you and you clicked your tongue at his behavior.

“Oh, c’mon don’t be a prude, these are juicy and I for one wanna keep hearing them! So, hurry up and read another one before you blow a gasket.”

“Whatever, this is fucking stupid.”

“Alright stupid, just keep going.”

He side-eyed you, grinding his teeth together in what you assumed was to hold back even more vulgar insults.

“‘Don’t kink shame me..’” Bakugou paused, a long sigh coming from him as he reluctantly continued, “...’Don’t kink shame me but it’s my goal in life to die by @Seizes thighs. Her thighs are so strong but soft looking and I swear they can crush me in an instant-’”

“Ohh that’s true. These can crush anyone.” You slapped your thighs for emphasis, a cheeky grin playing on your lips.

“Are you seriously proud of that?” He deadpanned at your joyful expression.

“Uh, yeah? What, a woman can’t be proud of her thunder thighs of steel! You're just jealous you’re not being crushed by these babies.”

“Why the fuck would I be jealous!?”

“Cause I have amazing thighs that any man would love to be in between-”

“Next fucking tweet,” Bakugou cut you off, “‘I will eat Seize ass with a spoon, be havin’ that as breakfast, lunch, and dinner n never get tired.’ Okay but seriously what the hell is wrong with you people? With a damn spoon?”

“It’s flattering almost, don’t you think? I would be their favorite meal that they never get tired of,” You look to the camera and wiggle your eyebrows, “I mean I don’t know if I’m down for that, but if you wanna snack sometime, link up with my manager-”

“Absolutely not, don’t give these perverts any more fucking ideas.”

“Okay, dad.”

“Quit being a damn brat and just accept that these are weird and not cute, for fucks sake!”

You look to the crew behind the camera, bowing your head a bit as you spoke.

“Sorry, you’re going to have a lot of bleeps because of this big lug.”

“DON’T IGNORE ME-”

“Read the next tweet,” you extend your words in a whiny voice, “I wanna hear what else people think about me!”

You watched as Bakugou clenched his hand before relaxing, reaching inside to pull out another folded paper.

“‘@Seize is the best ever. Strong and compassionate, honestly my favorite hero by far. She’s giving the other pros a run for their money, good job and keep it up!’. Tch at least we’re done with the weird ass shit. ”

“AWHHH, you guys are so sweet! I don’t know how I match up to other heroes-”

“Tch, she matches up just fine-”

“Well, if we’re talking about boobs, especially if you compare mine to yours, I don’t stand a chance!” You reached a hand over while your body was still facing the front and squeezed one of his pectorals.

“YOU HAD TO TURN THIS INTO SOMETHING FUCKING STUPID, DIDN’T YOU!?” He jerked away from you; eye twitching as he took ragged breaths.

“What, just stating the truth. Now, c’mon if we had the same number of tweets then this should be my last, why do I have to drag these out of you?”

“Shut the hell up,” He picked out the last piece of paper as he tossed the bucket on the ground, ignoring the way you complained about it. “‘Got damn,’ Holy hell I’m going to lose brain cells, ‘Got damn, Id suck a fart’...’suck a fart out of Seize’s ass and woul beg for more as she suffocates me, no cap. Lick her from those ankles to those thighs n back, I bet she tastes like one of those sour n sweet skittles wid the way she sweaty from beating others asses but good from the way she hot, and dat shit be the best shit u can taste. wont even say sorry, jus flip her over and eat that ass’...’#NomNomNom’”

“Wow, some of you guys are pretty creative. I mean, I can’t tell you what I taste like but if you wanna try it out, lemme know.” You giggled, winking at the camera as you made the ‘call me’ sign with your hands.

You were waiting for another blow up from the angry blonde beside you but were surprised to see him silent. He was clenching his jaw harder this time around, eyes narrowed in fuming slits and he shook slightly by how hard his body tensed. You were about to ask if he was okay when you got the signal to end it, so you ignored it for the moment as you gave a bright smile to the camera.

“Well, that seems to be the end of this little segment, boo!,” You gave a pout, before smiling again, jumping back up and tossing an arm around your cast-mate, “Thanks for having us on today, and to end on a serious note make sure you’re staying safe out there. We all care about every single one of you, that’s why we do stuff like this, to stay connected! Have fun, be safe, and remember, be heroes! This has been Seize, along with,”

“Ground Zero.”

“Bye!”

“Cut!”

As soon as it was over, you were thrown off Bakugo’s shoulders as he stood up abruptly. You looked over in worry as he rigidly walked off and you wondered what had went wrong.

During most heavy-duty operations, which are the only type of operations you both worked together, Bakugou was always silent and calculating. He angered easily, and the time to fear him most is becomes quiet. Making a villain piss his pants with his yelling was a skill indeed, but when a villain saw that angered and dark gaze, that’s when they should be terrified.

You tried to follow him, but you were immediately swarmed by your manager who had apologized for arriving late.

“Yes, it is alright! I understand I was able to start perfectly fine, it’s no trouble at all.”

You didn’t listen to his answer, scanning the crowd to realize you had lost the pro.

“Dammit.”

“Ne, (l/n)-sama is there something wrong?”

“No,” You shook your head with a sigh, “Nothing at all.”

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

705 notes · View notes

arcstral · 3 years

Text

𝑫𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. ( i - v )

As of late, there is his fixation with mirrors.

Wise and motherly Elice. Tragic, dead Elice. He peers at himself and some calming likeness of his older sister is reflected back. They’re distinct enough when he presses himself to remember, through the thick wet blanket of the Darksphere’s muddle that has fallen so heavily over his head. The airs of male gallantry and female chastity that even two remarkably similar sibling faces could convey apart from one another.

Merric had fancied his sister. If Elice had been so sure a beauty to her futile suitors, to the maidens Marth must have seemed as their chimeric princes of song come to life. Not that any of it mattered now.

An unbreakable sense of justice and blinding white smile. Chivalrous ideals and warm receptions of love both given and received.

He is not that sort of prince anymore. Not really.

Elice would be disappointed.

He dare not think of the other great loss of his life that would feel the same.

ii.

The widower king, the people have now taken to calling him. The Hero-King who went mad for grief. Where they speak fearfully of Dark Emperor Hardin’s brutality, they whisper instead of Marth’s tragedy. The pity that has become his once shimmering existence. Where Hardin had fashioned the globe into his bloody plaything of conquest and vengeance, Marth wanted little to do with it and simply cared no longer for the things he once did.

Tax reports and revenue projections, restoration projects, bandit plagues, and official government memorandum that had once topped the list of the diligent monarch’s priorities now hung freely at the bottom. As few truly important documents were signed off with a whimsy hand, many more were delegated to the waste-fires.

His is an illusion of productivity and the world suffers for his indolence, even if his Altean vassals in particular do not believe it at first.

‘His Majesty is suffering, he will return to his senses after his grief has abated.’

‘It is the weight of Archanea upon his shoulders that has turned him to this.’

‘Have pity. He is an overworked candle that has melted on both his ends.’

They do not know the full truth of it.

Marth merely does as he pleases, as he has never done before.

???.

His recent decrees have flooded his rooms of authority with a new wave of silence. The tensity in the council room is broken only by the occasional ugly hacks emitted by Arran who tries without success to stifle his sounds. Each one shatters the very air like a crystal glass lopped against the floor.

As this unstoppable effusion of water in sorry old Arran’s lungs, there is a sickness breeding within the young king as well. He trades his brooding for a flurry of many radical new statutes. Criminal offenses of all nature and all possible standing are deemed punishable by death. Manaketes and convicts seen treading within a few miles’ radius of the Pales capital will be shot down. Families who cannot pay the entire extent of their taxations are made to do so with their lives. So on.

Where the prince he was had advocated justice and equality, the king he is was a gravely twisted version of those ideals.

He rolls around the Darksphere in the palm of his hand, feeling for its sweet seductions. Like Hardin, Marth alone indulges the impression that he has never changed.

iii.

Eventually, Marth commands the tombstone silence of his halls as well.

His knights have tasted his sweet light and now they fear the difference of his shadows. Jagen. Cain. Frey. Draug. Gordin. Ryan. Rody. Cecil. Astram. Midia. Defectors attempt to leave his court in droves until they learn he will not allow it done. Former friends become plague rats that he burns out to the loyal, unquestioning torch of Merric’s Bolganone or an Archaean firing squad.

They are traitors in the vein of Gra who have betrayed his kindness and his trust. Their deaths hold as little value to Marth as their lives in that regard, but replenishing his depleted ranks qualifies as both a nuisance and sizable difficulty.

He seeks out the conscription of old faces. Knights are more reliable in proportion to their training, but hired swords will care less for the muck of his deeds and more for the shine of his imperial gold. Radd accepts him on this useful ideal, then Caesar. Of Navarre, he curiously receives no word, and of Ogma there are a few, albeit the kind that leaves the fallen Hero-King with much to be desired.

“It is said that Sir Ogma was not the same after Princess Caeda’s passing, Your Majesty. Upon one night of disorderly drinking, he was tossed out of a Knorda tavern where he landed upon his face in a wet patch of bog beside the cesspits. There, he fell fast asleep, and–”

“I understand,” Marth finishes for the messenger suddenly, disturbed.

iv.

The crown chamber is exceptionally quiet, as it usually is with King Marth and the mysterious weight of his thoughts. The overhanging fear of his retribution that choked his few remaining followers upon their bold and progressive proposals for His Majesty to pray reconsider his seat upon the throne. For once in a long time, it echoes with the soft admission of his pain.

“If it was not the Darksphere that claimed my life, it would be the devil’s drink that bewitched Captain Ogma until his lungs could not tell mud from air. He and I are not truly so filled with differences.”

“Even so, the few differences to be had are not regrettable, my liege. Your Majesty is still alive.”

Marth looks to his shadow after a long moment. A fragile distance to his voice that marked the difference between the Darksphere’s diamond barrier and the glass man who stood behind it.

“Don’t be silly, Kris. He is with her and I am still here.”

Like a kernel of honesty buried within the rotting fruit, his words illuminate the grander scheme to his motives. His longing for the death that has so generously evaded him by God’s will only to take his sister and lover instead.

But with his face as a tortured statue, his most loyal knight offers no response.

No solution. No release.

Not yet.

An unexpected visit from Julian brings news that has already taken the rest of the continent by storm. Princess Minerva is raising an army in response to his crimes. The diplomat she has sent is not so much a proponent of politics or any particular nationality as he is of significant attachment to abbess Lena, a Macedonian. The fact means that he can navigate enemy territory with more delicacy than Minerva’s pegasus knights. She has indeed chosen well.

Marth has already drawn his notions for the visit and so he allows the man to speak for the enemy. Another traitor for another traitor—

“Before she raises the Archanean League’s standard.. She wishes to extend her offer of peaceful surrender to both His Highness and his loyalists. I believe there is still a fond remembrance by the princess of your meaningful friendships.”

Archanean League. Loyalists. His army is Archanea and he is its heart. The choice of semantics is insulting.

“I will think on Minerva’s offer,” Marth says at last to his former friend, an involuntary twitch of his dominant hand. Beside him, Merric stirs as if acutely aware of his moods. Kris stares with solid interest at a painted mosaic across the ground.

“You must be exhausted by your trip from Macedon.”

Just as any flower grateful for the sunlight, Julian blooms before he ever wilts. “I am, Your Majesty—”

“Good,” Marth interjects. “You will not need to make the journey home. I will send clear instruction to sister Lena so that she might collect your body within the fortnight.”

He will give Minerva her answer and he will use Julian to do it, for all the goddess of wisdom in her name and god of war in his. In spite of this hammer of injustice, Julian willfully does not scream as he’s dragged away. Split open by the headsman’s axe and carted off in twos to the castle gates before the morning brume has settled.

Sister Lena does.

Just as Marth expects, the Macedonian declaration of war follows mere days later.

#◜ ╰ ♕ ◦ › kingdom come ‹ WRITING. ◞#hie.......hee......... he...e....#lovelyz destiny vc: YOU ARE MY DESTINYYYY #sad inspo music + swapping brainworms with neffi and THIS is the Result #darksphere au has me by the throat #i fare thee well

10 notes · View notes

the-daily-multi-fandom-post · 4 years

Note

Hi :) Could you write enzo (tvd) x reader please? His girlfriend lost her humanity after someone she loved was killed, and enzo try everything he can for her to get it back (and succeeds)

Yes! Here it is!! ❤️🖤❤️

Request still open.

⚠️⚠️Warnings ⚠️⚠️ torcher, death, loss of humanity, sad, angst. Angsty with a happy ending?

Fandom: The vampire diaries

Pairing: Enzo x reader

Posted: (7-10-20) 1:05 am

Y/n’s world crushed when her brother was killed by Damon Salvatore. Damon was being an asshole and decided he was going to kill some random person, just because Elena didn’t want to be with him. He drained Y/ns brother dry of blood. What was worse was he knew it was Y/ns brother. He knew that Y/n was a friend of Elenas. That maybe if he killed her brother it would make Elena feel upset. But that wasn’t the case.

Y/n walked into her house that she shared with her slightly younger brother. -he was only about a year or two younger than her.

“Jackson!” She called, sitting her bag on the sofa as she walked through the living room to the kitchen to grab a blood bag. - her brother knew she was a vampire.

“Jack?” Y/n asked as she noticed a puddle of blood on the hardwood floor in the kitchen.

“Oh my god.” Y/ns voice broke as she fell down beside her brother. Her arms wrapped around him as tears went down her face.

He was the last member of her family. All her other family either didn’t talk to them or was dead.

“Please, don’t leave me.” She cried as she held onto him.

She already knew was dead so she didn’t even try to give him any of her blood.

“Please!” She sobbed into her brothers chest. She could see the two puncture wounds on his neck. She knew who did this, which made her sick to her stomach.

“Don’t leave me. Your the only thing I have left.” She cried for hours until she couldn’t no more. Her phone rang, but she never answered it. She couldn’t pull herself away from her brothers cold dead body.

A couple hours later she heard knocking at the door, but didn’t answer it. Whoever was knocking on the door let themselves in.

“Y/n, love. You never answered my calls. What’s goin- Oh my god. What happen?” Enzo asked as he bent down to H/n holding her brother.

“He killed him.” She cried holding onto her baby brother as if it would bring him back.

“He knew if he hurt me he would hurt Elena. But he went to far, Enzo.” She cried as she held on her brother tighter. Afraid to let go.

“Damon did this?” Enzo asked as he looked down at his girlfriend of 3 years.

She nodded as she wiped her teary eye.

“I’m going to make him pay.” He whispered looking at Y/n. She shook her head as she looked down at her brother. He noticed her take a deep breath then close her eyes.

“Y/n, Love.” He started slowly as he noticed what she was doing.

Grabbing her shoulders he shook her.

“Don’t, y/n. Cutting it off isn’t going to help not won’t bring him back.”

Y/n smirked as she opened her eyes back open. Her once bright y/e/c eyes were dark no emotion left in them.

“No, but it will make it easier for me to kill Damon.” With that she fled out the house to find Damon.

Enzo cursed as he grabbed his phone ringing Damon as fast as he could.

“Mate, you fucked up.”

“How did I fuck up? I feel good. I just had a fresh bite, and I’m feeling free as hell.” Damon slurred.

“Are you drunk, mate?” Enzo questioned as he started towards his car to go to the Salvatore house before his love.

“Just a little bit. (Knock knock). Hey look someone’s at the door. Probably my next meal. I’ll call you in a few minutes.”

“Damon, don’t.” Too late Damon hung you.

“Y/n, what can I do for you?” Damon asked allowing what he thought was his friend. But right now she wasn’t not a friend. She saw red. She was going to murder the oldest Salvatore is she could.

“You killed him. You killed my brother. So,” she starred at the man with a murderous glare.

“Oh, we’re talking about him. Yeah, didn’t really mean to. I mean, i just snapped and had myself a taste. Didn’t really know he died.” He chuckled looking at Y/n.

She growled as her y/e/c eyes turned red Veins appearing below her eyes.

“Look, we can talk this out can’t we. I mean, you saved him didn’t you.” Damon noticed the lack of humanity in her eyes and started to get nervous.

“I’m gonna kill you. But first a little bit of torcher.” Vamp running over to him she snapped his neck.

He thumped down to the floor “dead”.

Y/n grabbed him and pulled him to her car. Putting his body in the trunk and driving to her parents lake house in a different county.

Damon groaned as he slowly woke up. He tried to move his hands, but couldn’t his hands were chained down to the metal chair. He looked at his arm and noticed a IV going into his arm. He figured the IV was full of Vervain because he was burning from the inside out.

“Awe, look who’s awake. I thought you’d never wake up.” Y/n smirked as she walked over to Damon with a wooden stake in her hand.

“Your not gonna stake me.” Damon spoke confidently.

“Oh really, well..” she stabbed him quite literally in his back. Make him scream out in pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I think I just back stabbed you.” She giggled.

“Bitch.”

“I prefer murdeous psycho bitch. Actually, because that’s what I’m about to do. Become a murderous Psyco bitch.”

She pulled the stake from his back twisting it making it hurt worse than what it needed.

“Look at what I stole from Jeremy. You see I know how to use a gun. Always have, my family. Well, my late family. Which is dead, by the way.” Y/n held the pistol with wooden bullets pointed it at Damon’s knee.

“I don’t think you need to walk for a while.” She said shooting him twice in both knees. He was hissed and yelped in pain.

“Now, the torcher is just beginning.” She whispered as she bent down put her face in his.

“How does vervain feel going through veins?” Y/n asked as she sat in a chair in front of the oldest Salvatore.

“I stings, you asshole.”

“Well, I don’t think stinging is good enough.” She laughed.

Walking over to a bucket with a bunch of vervain in it. She put on gloves she grabbed the vervain and walked back over to Damon.

“Open up.” She smirked. Shoving the vervain in his mouth.

“Ahhh!” Damon screamed in agony.

“This is just the beginning, Damon. Nobody is going to find us. Ever. Nobody knows where we are. And I ditched both of our phones. So they won’t be able to track us. Plus I have sage burning. So not even the most power witch will be able to find us.” She rambled with a smirk on her face.

This went on for days. Y/n would torcher him, drain his blood, replacing the blood with vervain, shoot him with the wooden bullets. Making sure not to puncture his heart. But to keep the torcher going as long as she could. That is until someone came knocking on the door.

“Company I wonder who that could be. Doesn’t matter.” Y/n said grabbing the stake and stabbing Damon in his ribs.

“Get up and walk.” She demanded after she unchained the man.

He was pale and weak. Barely able to walk. But did as he was told.

She dragged him by the chains and pulled him up the stairs to the front door where she seen Stefan, Enzo, Caroline, Bonnie and Elena standing.

“Oh, joy more people.” She sarcastically spoke looking at her friends and boyfriend.

“Oh my god.” Bonnie gasped looking at a bloody and weak Damon.

“What, oh this?” She giggled wickedly.

“This is nothing. You should see my brother. Spoiler alert, he’s dead.” Y/n laughed with no emotion.

Everyone in front of her noticed the lack of emotion.

“You can’t come in. I’m afraid. You see I had a special witch bitch friend of mine do a spell where nobody can come in here until Damon’s dead or until I decide they can. So, Bonnie. Elena, You can’t even come in here if you tried. And the rest of you well. You see your all vampire so I ain’t worried ‘bout. But how bout you enjoy the front stage view of me killing Damon.”

“Y/n, you don’t have to do this.” Stefan started looking at his brother and then to his friend.

“No, I do have to do this. He killed the last of my family. Do you understand how it feels to have all your family killed in front of you?!” Y/n yelled as she looked at the younger Salvatore her eyes starting to become glassy as some emotions started slowly coming back to her.

“Yes, I do.” Elena said breaking into the conversation.

“You have no part in this. It’s your fucking fought that my brothers dead. If you would’ve just said the goddamn truth about loving them both of them. My brother would be alive. I would have my humanity. But you know I like being without my humanity. I mean do you know how good it feels to bite into someone and not worry about draining them?!” Y/n bellowed as she made her way in front of the group.

“Y/n, love. Please let’s talk about this.” Enzo spoke softly looking at his broken girlfriend in tears.

“Please, let me be there for you. You don’t need to do this. It’ll hurt him worse if you let him live. He will have live with the guilt knowing her killed the last of your family.” Enzo tried to get her to not kill Damon.

Yes, everyone there was mad at Damon. But they weren’t going to murder him.

“No!” She bellowed holding her head as more feelings started breaking through the barrier.

“Just stop! Make it stop!!” She sobbed holding her head as all the things she has done in the pass three days come back to her.

“Come in.” She whispered to the four people in front of her.

“If you don’t get him, I swear to any god out there I will kill him.” Y/ns eyes flashed black and red.

“Just think about your family. Know they are in a better place. They wouldn’t want you like this.”

She felt Enzos arms go around her as Stefan and Caroline but their arms around Damon and taking him away.

“I’m so sorry.” Y/n cried as she felt all her humanity come back to her. Hitting her like a title wave.

“It’s okay, love. It’s gonna be okay.” He kissed her forehead as he held her in her arms.

And it was okay. Y/n took her time to try to get back to normal. Luckily she wasn’t alone. Enzo was there the whole time for her. Anything she needed he was there for her. He loved her too much to just let her go.

#the vampire diaries #tvd #Enzo x reader #humanity #the vampire diaries Enzo x reader #tvd enzo x reader #the vampire diaries x reader

69 notes · View notes

crash-cinematic-universe · 4 years

Text

Holographic Sand is a Kickass Band Name

pairing: peter maximoff/OC(graciella decuerpo) (high school AU/not canon)

summary: peter learns that a fuckton can change in the course of a week

warnings: none? bad language and peter is simp but thats it

notes **please read**: Heyyyyy how are you doing? good? that’s great. so ik this fic is a peter/oc fic, but honesty i only use her name a few times and a few defining features but like. thats it. so you can totally just imagine urself in her position. also this fic is 5,550 words exactly. that’s the most ive ever written and I am SUPER fucking proud. I think i might become one of those blogs where i write super huge monster fics that im proud of instead of just writing to fill requests.if u dont want that then just lmk and i will not do that. i dont know. maybe. also this fic is peter centric because uh it is. anyways enjoy <3

taglist: @creator-appreciator, @simonsbluee

--------

Monday

Peter sat across the room, his arms crossed neatly on top of his knees as he rested his chin on his forearm. He wasn’t paying attention to the lesson being taught in front of him, in fact, he wasn’t paying attention to anything at all. No, Peter was lost in his head again. Peter’s mind was a chaotic minefield of music and cheesy one-liners and random facts that he seems to just know. But this time, he wasn’t envisioning himself beating up a police officer or playing with Pink Floyd. This time, he was picturing a perfect world where nothing ever happened yet nothing was ever boring. Peter had built a utopia in his mind-- a kingdom created to his exact preferences. A blissful tower of joy and happiness and energy and satisfaction. A paradise where he stood on top of the world with Graciella DeCuerpo, the pretty girl from algebra class, standing right next to him.

Now, Peter was well aware that the pretty girl from algebra class had no idea who Peter was. The pair had never exchanged more than a few words, but somewhere within those few words, Peter managed to decide that she was his soulmate. He’d created an image of her in his head that would make God weep tears of envy, the perfect personality for the perfect person. Peter willfully ignored the fact that he was setting himself up for heartbreak as he imagined how nice it would feel to have her fingers intertwined with his.

All of Peter’s friends thought he was ridiculous, ‘you can’t love someone you don’t know,’ they’d say. Peter would only scoff and shake away their words. He absolutely can love someone he doesn’t know, it’s getting the other person to reciprocate those feelings that’s nearly impossible. However, that doesn’t stop him from fantasizing at night. That doesn’t stop him from imagining the various ways he’d confess his love to the pretty girl who doesn’t love him. Or maybe she does. Peter doesn’t know, he could never know; unless, of course, he worked up the courage to talk to her.

Scott constantly teased Peter about his one-sided infatuation, but Peter paid no mind to him. He was 100% content with his perpetual pining for someone who probably didn’t know his name. He was totally okay with the unending ache in his chest that would appear any time she walked by or met his gaze. Peter was alright with his ceaseless yearning and the eternal feeling of disappointment that overtook him every time he snapped out of one of his fantasies. He was a-okay with all of that.

So, there he was, spacing out during biology class as Professor Hargreeves struggles to teach the silver teen about photosynthesis. The Professor looked at Peter with desperate eyes, soon deciding that having his usually energetic student be quiet and still was the silver lining of the situation-- no pun intended. Professor Hargreeves droned on as Peter glanced at the clock, counting down the minutes until 7th period. Counting the seconds until he got to see the pretty girl in algebra class once again.

Tuesday

6th period was always the worst part of Peter’s day-- the dreaded english class. There were many contributing factors to Peter’s hatred for this class; the professor was a bore, the material itself was uninteresting, and Peter could never seem to sit still or retain any of the words he read in english class. Worst of all, english class seemed to go on forever, leaving Peter to impatiently wait for the bell to ring and release him to 7th period. At the end of the period every day, he was practically vibrating in his seat.

“Can anyone tell me what Juliet’s suicide is supposed to symbolize?” the Professor asked expectantly. Peter couldn’t care less about the symbolism of some chick’s suicide-- he’d much rather be studying the features of his algebra class infatuation.

She sat next to him yesterday. There were at least 5 other open seats and she sat next to him. Yes, Peter read too much into it and yes, Peter spent the entire class period trying to make himself seem naturally cool, but he didn’t care. Peter would act like the most desperate, pathetic, lovestruck loser in the world if it meant that she would like him. They didn’t talk, they didn’t exchange a single word, nevertheless, Peter was in a state of euphoria for the entire class period.

Sometimes Peter feels like a stalker. He watches her whenever he can-- he doesn’t follow her around or anything, but if she’s around, he’ll stare at her. He has her features memorized, the curve of her nose, the dark brown irises surrounding her pupils, the way that she always seems to have chipped black nail polish on. He sees the small things. He sees the way she bites her nails when he gets bored and he sees the way her leg never seems to stop bouncing. She hums the basslines to songs as opposed to the melody.

English class came to an abrupt end as the bell cut off the Professor’s teachings as well as Peter’s distant daydreaming. Peter was out of his seat within seconds, his notes and books quickly being swept up in his arms as he walked out of the room. The hallways are crowded and chaotic and busy, each individual student attempting to get to their locker then to their class on time. Peter watches as kids swing their lockers open, fatigue and weariness apparent on their faces as they disappear into their classrooms. Peter reaches his locker hastily, the few small posters of classic rocks bands adorning the inside of his locker door. A playful giddiness overcame his body as he made his way to algebra class, a small smile left on his face.

Graciella shows up across the hallway, her bright red hair catching his eye in a sea of brown and blonde and blue. His stomach flutters as they get closer and closer to each other, finally meeting outside of the classroom. Her eyes rise to meet Peter’s, and instead of pulling away, Peter keeps looking. She smiles at him before disappearing inside the classroom, and Peter felt his knees get weak. With a deep breath and a triumphant smile, he walked into the classroom.

Wednesday

Lunchtime; possibly one of the most enjoyable parts of Peter’s school day. Peter is free to kick back and stuff his face full of whatever junk the school board deems nutritious enough for highschoolers. Usually, he ate lunch under the bleachers with his friends, but in some sick twist of fate most of them were absent. So, Peter was left to eat alone in his usual spot.

The quiet was comfortable, refreshing. The gentle summer breeze would blow every few minutes and Peter would listen to the rustle of the leaves. There’s a certain tranquility to being alone; Peter can lay back and relax and just… think. No stress, no panicking, no--

“Hey, uh, Peter, right?” Peter’s eyes snap up so fast he’s afraid they would detach from his head and fall out. His breath faltered and his hands began to shake a bit-- why was he so freaked out? She was just a girl; sure, she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, and yeah, he was madly in love with her, but that’s besides the point.

“Uh-- uh, yeah, P-Peter. That’s, uh, that’s me,” He chuckled awkwardly, desperately trying to stay cool. Peter was an awkward person, but he’d rather die than fuck up his chances with Grace.

“You dropped this on your way out of class yesterday, I, uhm, didn’t get to return it to you until now,” She holds out a small key chain with three small keys hanging off of it-- Peter’s house keys, along with the key to his mother’s car. He quickly takes the key chain from the red-haired girl in front of him.

“Holy shit, uh, thanks! I couldn’t get into my house yesterday so I guess you saved me from another broken window,” Peter held up his hand and showcased the scattered pattern of small cuts on his palm. Grace laughed lightly before gently running her fingers over the cuts on Peter’s palm.

“Oh fuck, dude, these look pretty bad. Maybe keep a spare key hidden under your welcome mat or something,” Peter doesn’t fully process Grace’s words; he’s too preoccupied with trying not to collapse at the feeling of her fingertips on his palm.

“Hey, you okay? You look… pale,” Grace pressed the back of her hand on Peter’s forehead in an attempt to check for illness, but that just made Peter’s skin erupt in goosebumps.

“I, um, I’m fine. I’m just st-stressed about the algebra t-test on Friday, I th-think,” To be fair, Peter was stressed about the algebra test. Peter may or may not have spent the entire class staring at Grace instead of, you know, learning the material.

“Oh! Well, if you want, I can help you study. I’m also kinda worried about it, and I study better with other people,” Peter silently thanked god for what was happening to him.

“That would be fuckin’ fantastic,” Grace smiled a smile that made Peter shiver.

“Cool! Uh, I’ll give you my phone number and we’ll meet up tomorrow. One day isn’t much time to study, but it’s better than nothing.” She pulls a pen out of her backpack and rips a small piece of paper out of one of her notebooks. Peter watches as she scribbles down her phone number and hands the paper to him.

“Thanks. For everything, the keys, the studying-- everything.” Grace smiled.

“It’s no problem, Peter, really. I’ll call you later,” And just like that, she walked away. Peter was left alone under the bleachers, a wide smile plastered on his face as he read the piece of paper in his hands over and over and over again.

Thursday

30 minutes. 30 minutes until Grace Reaper DeCuerpo, the prettiest, nicest, funniest girl Peter had ever met would show up on his doorstep. She would be inside his house for god knows how long. She would sit next to Peter-- either on the coffee table in the basement or on the floor of his bedroom. Needless to say, Peter was freaking the fuck out.

The plan was simple: Grace shows up, they study, they get comfortable, and she goes home. Yet, in those four simple steps, so much could go wrong. Wanda could interrupt, his mother could lose her temper, Lorena could start crying-- worst of all, Peter could embarrass himself and drive her away.

Peter was in the middle of reorganizing his record collection for a third time when he heard a knock at the door. His blood went cold and an electric excitement ran through his veins. Peter checked his hair in the mirror one last time before running to the door. He stood silently, staring at the chrome handle hesitantly. This was his one chance. His only chance to make his perfect kingdom real-- Peter really, really, really didn't want to fuck it up. With a deep breath, he slowly opened the door.

"Hey, Peter!" Her voice was smooth and melodic and it made Peter's heart light up. He’s about to respond with something smooth and witty when a squeaky voice chirps behind him.

“Hi!! Are you the pretty girl Peter talks about?” Peter can physically feel his face turn bright red as he turns to see his six-year-old sister, Lorena, standing behind him. She’s wearing a purple princess dress that has a syrup stain on the sleeve. Grace laughs before stepping through the doorway.

“Lorena!” Peter groans in annoyance, a pleading look on his face. The young girl just giggles before scurrying away, her dress flowing behind her.

“‘The pretty girl Peter talks about’, huh?” Grace grins at Peter cheekily. Peter runs his hand through his hair before motioning to the staircase.

“God, Lorna is quite the kid. Well, uh, we can work in my room,” He sighs. “And Grace? Uh, m-maybe don’t let Lorena change your opinion of me,” She just smirks before walking past Peter.

“Too late,” She called before disappearing down the stairs. Peter could hear the faintest trace of a smile in her voice. His heart skipped a beat as he quickly followed after her.

She was wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt and holding a backpack with various pins on it-- her left ear was pierced in three places and her right in five. The earrings she was wearing were black, or maybe grey; her bright red hair blocked Peter’s view of them. She was wearing rings, some odd words engraved in the metal. Peter couldn’t read them from where he was standing. She was wearing a skirt with fishnets, her hand buried in the pockets that seem to have been sewn in herself. She has callouses on both her hands, but Peter knew that already. Her appearance would put Aphrodite to shame-- suddenly, Peter was much less confident in himself than he was before. He ran his hand through his hair again before reaching the basement.

He held his breath as Grace looked around his room, her gaze lingering on the plethora of stolen signs and band posters covering the walls. She placed her backpack on the floor and walked over to Peter’s record collection, her fingers carefully flitting through the different albums. She seemed… impressed. It was then that Peter realized it had been silent for much too long.

“Y’know I can, uh, p-play some music if you want me to. You can just pick a record and, uh, I’ll... play it,” Peter winced at his words, cursing himself for being so awkward in front of the girl he’d been pining after since the beginning of the year. He felt like everything had spiraled out of control, and he watched idly as it happened. Then, Grace shot him a smile and pulled out a record.

“You have a good taste in music, Silver,” No one had ever called Peter ‘silver’ before. He liked it a bit more than he should. “Although, that’s not really a surprise. I had a feeling you were cool.”

“You think I’m cool?” Peter asked, shocked. He wasn’t sure he heard her correctly.

“Oh, totally. I see you in the hallways sometimes and you always seem so… carefree. Genuine. I don’t know, I guess it’s just… you, ya know? You’re naturally cool.” Every syllable that rolled off her tongue shot euphoria through Peter’s veins. Grace DeCuerpo, the girl Peter Maximoff had dreamed of for almost a full year, was telling him that she thought he was cool. Naturally cool.

“I know a lot of people who would disagree with you on that one,” Peter joked. There was truth behind his humor, but of course, he didn’t want to get into his insecurities now. “They think I’m a total loser, which isn’t totally wrong I guess.”

“Well those people are stupid,” She stated matter-of-factly with a smile. “Speaking of stupid, we should probably get to work.” Peter nodded before sitting beside her on the floor.

For three hours they poured over their algebra books. They quizzed each other and checked each other’s work; Peter’s proficiency in simplifying radicals aiding them both. Every now and then their hands would brush against each other, or the conversation would stray away from school and into their personal lives. Peter learned that Grace had two brothers, one of which passed away when she was younger. Peter talked about Lorena and Wanda and his miraculous abilities in the same way that she talked about her hometown and her own abilities. The conversation was smooth and natural-- Peter didn’t feel like he was being too annoying or too chatty and there was seldom an awkward pause. The pair were content in their time together, not a single moment went by where one wished the other would leave.

Eventually, Grace had to go home. Peter wished that she could stay forever, but of course, that would be considered kidnapping. He walked her to the door, although Peter didn’t feel like he was walking. He felt like he was floating.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Silver,” Grace said softly as she turned to face Peter. She looked him in the eye and he could feel his stomach flutter.

“Yeah, I guess so,” She opened the door, but before she left, she froze. She turned to look at Peter once again.

“Peter?” she said. “You’re not a loser.”

Friday

Peter could tell the second he walked through the front door of his high school that something had changed. The energy that radiated in the halls shifted from a dull buzz of boredom to a rush of anticipation. The students in the hallway looked the same as always; tired and anxious and wishing for the day to go by quickly. However, Peter wasn’t wishing for the end of the day, and he certainly wasn’t tired. He was determined and energized and absolutely terrified, because that morning Peter Maximoff made the most important decision a seventeen-year-old could. He decided that he was going to ask Grace out on a date.

Peter made the choice to keep this from his friends-- it’s not that he didn’t trust them, it’s just that Peter knew he would be teased for his infatuation. It’s happened before and it will happen again. He walked down the hallways with a brave face on, his eyes forward and his heart racing. Truthfully, the silver teenager was terrified of… well, everything. The looming image of a harsh rejection forced itself into his mind; the idea that she would laugh in his face made his heart break a tiny bit, even though it wasn’t real. Peter simply shook those images away and walked on.

The day flew by much faster than Peter was comfortable with, and for the first time ever, he was dreading algebra class. He was terrified that he would walk through the door and have everything be exactly the same-- he feared that Grace would go back to not knowing who he was, just like before. Peter was alright with never being her boyfriend, but he didn’t want to be a stranger. He didn’t think he could take being a stranger anymore.

So, there he stood, staring at the door to his algebra classroom from across the hall. He felt confident and prepared himself for the task at hand. In four long strides, he entered the classroom. Grace was sitting next to an empty desk, her eyes stuck on the small notebook full of doodles on her desk. Peter watched as her eyes raised to meet his, a wide smile forming on her face as she motioned him over.

“Hey, silver! I saved a seat for ya,” she called, and Peter felt his knees get weak. He then decided that he would wait until after class to ask her out.

“You did?”

“Of course,” She grinned. “I like you, dude, you’re my friend,” Peter’s heart fluttered as he sat down beside her. Grace shot an odd look his way before reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. “Hey, you look stressed. Don’t sweat it, silver, you’ll do fine. We studied for, like, 3 hours yesterday. You’re gonna ace it,”

To be frank, Peter had forgotten all about the test. The real reason he looked so stressed was because he happened to be sitting next to the love of his life, and the love of his life happened to be touching his arm.

“O-oh! Uh, yeah, thanks. I was just nervous because of… the test,” The bell rang and class began, the professor strictly laying down the rules that were to be followed while the test was in session. Peter could feel the lingering touch of her hand on his skin. It made his head feel fuzzy.

Peter soon came to learn that sitting next to Grace during a test was a huge mistake. He couldn’t focus on anything other than her-- it didn’t help that she kept shooting him glances from where she sat. The numbers and letters on the paper in front of him seemed to rearrange before his eyes, instead spelling out various taunts. He feels a little pathetic for how easily Grace can unravel him, but hey, he’s a teenager.

The silver-haired boy’s eyes were struggling to decipher the words on his page when a small folded square landed on his desk. It came from Grace’s direction, and a small smirk had formed on her lips as she solved equations. Hesitantly, he unfolded the paper and read the neatly written message.

Hey silver :)

Peter smiled softly. He quickly pulled a pad of post-it notes out of his backpack and scribbled down a quick reply.

I have no idea what I’m doing. I think Professor Stedman decided to write our tests in hieroglyphics this time.

He flicked the note onto her desk and quickly turned his face downward. Class would be over soon, and Peter knew he couldn’t turn in a blank test. He uses his enhanced speed to do his assessment in seconds. Sure, he was almost certain he’d barely reach a passing grade, but hey, he had bigger matters to focus on. By the time he finished, another note landed on his desk.

That bad, huh? Looks like we better study longer next time.

Peter’s heart swelled a bit. He really thought the study sessions were a one-time thing. He’s overjoyed to know he’ll get to see Grace semi-regularly, even if he never manages to ask her out.

I think I’d rather hang out with you without the looming threat of schoolwork.

That’s the closest Peter could get to asking her out. He put deep thought into every word, he examined the phrasing and checked the spelling of every word. His english teacher would be proud.

That can be arranged ;)

Peter had no idea that four words could make him feel so much. He had no idea that 17 letters could make him want to scream in the middle of a silent testing period. His hand was shaking and his careful planning was abandoned as he scribbled back a reply.

Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?

Patiently, he waited. He waited for Grace to finish writing her response and he waited for her to toss the note back over. He didn’t wait for more than a few minutes, but it felt like hours. He was panicking, and he was sure she could tell. She was probably joking, right? She was probably writing an awkward clarification-- she was probably explaining that she would actually rather die than be around him for non-academic reasons. He braced himself as the yellow post-it landed on the center of his desk.

My aunt owns a drive-in a few miles from here and she gave me keys to the projector room and the gate. She managed to snag a copy of The Exorcist-- I thought you’d like to join me during my midnight escapade tomorrow night.

Peter’s heart stopped. For a moment, he thought his eyes were fooling him. Maybe this was all some sick joke. Maybe he was being set up. Maybe he’ll get in her car tomorrow and she’ll drive him into the woods and murder him. To be completely honest, Peter wouldn’t mind if she murdered him. Peter wrote his reply.

Really? You want me there? I might be a drag. You could probably find at least 20 other people who would probably be more interesting than me.

Grace frowned at his response, and suddenly Peter decided he never wanted to see her frown again. She wrote confidently, her words solid and sure.

You? A drag? Impossible. I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t want to be with anyone other than you, Maximoff.

This note was his undoing. He couldn’t help himself, he read it over and over and over again-- he almost forgot to respond. He wanted to hold onto it forever, he wanted it to be framed and hung on his wall. Hell, he wanted it tattooed on his arm. Peter had never been so happy while taking a test, that’s for sure. He wasn’t sure exactly what to say; he went from heartfelt responses to witty retorts. Finally, he decided to be totally and completely honest.

I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Saturday

There was seldom a time in his life where Peter Maximoff felt wholly content. Even in the most peaceful moments, there was always something bothering him, there was always something to pull him back to reality. However, sitting in the back of Grace’s dad’s convertible with the seats down and the roof pulled back, his head resting on her shoulder as they watched a cheesy horror movie, Peter was as close to nirvana as he’d ever been.

Life had always been so hard for Peter. He’s always had to fight for his seat at the table, to claw his way into a state of mind that wasn’t a hellhole. It seemed as if the world was plotted against him; he was ostracized from society and taught that he, along with his closest family and friends, were monsters. He never met his father and his mother spent so long fighting her own battles that she forgot to love her kids. Peter had to steal to stay fed, and he had to do his best to raise his little sisters to be good people. But right there, right then? That wasn’t hard. Peter didn’t have to be anyone or do anything-- he just had to exist next to someone who wanted him. That was the easiest thing Peter had ever done.

Peter wasn’t exactly sure how he got there. Of course, he knew that they had driven to the drive-in, but he wasn’t sure how he was the person next to Grace. They had spoken for one day, maybe two, and somehow he landed himself in the most perfect spot in the entire universe. Less than a week ago, she didn’t even know his name. Or, maybe she did. Maybe she was just like Peter-- maybe she had spent the past year pining for him, and finally she worked up the nerve to just talk to him. Maybe. Peter isn’t complaining either way.

“Can I ask you a kind of cheesy question?” Peter is startled by the sound of his own voice. Grace sits up and glances at him.

“Shoot,”

“Do you-- well, uh, don’t read too much into this, but, do you believe in love at first sight?” God, he sounded awkward.

“Nope,” She said bluntly. Peter wasn’t expecting that answer, but he wasn’t exactly disappointed by it. “I mean, it’s kind of a stupid idea, ya know? Like, isn’t there a million poems and sonnets and books written about how love is this weird complicated monster of a feeling? I don’t think you can really love someone just by looking at them. You can love the idea of a person, sure, or maybe the look of a person, but you can’t love that person. Because a person is so much more than ‘first sight’,” she sighs. “I don’t know, maybe I’m being a killjoy. It just seems dumb to me-- dumb and, I don’t know, exclusive,”

Peter stops to think for a moment. He steps out of his lovesick chaotic hellbrain and looks at his feelings from an outside perspective. He thinks back to the kingdom he created in his brain-- a kingdom built on a foundation of sand. Or, less than sand. Holographic sand, because the sand he built his kingdom on wasn’t real. He made a mental note that ‘Holographic Sand’ is a kickass band name, then resumed his impromptu soul-searching. She was right-- he could see that now. Scott was right, too. You really can’t love someone you don’t know, because if you don’t know them, you fill in the gaps. You fill in the gaps with what you think fits, and then the other person stops being them and starts being parts of you. Peter suddenly felt weird.

“I’m sorry if I said something wrong,” Grace interjects after a while. Peter hadn’t realized he’d been silent for so long.

“You didn’t say anything wrong. On the contrary, you, uh, you made things a little bit more… right, in my brain. You somehow managed to take a little chunk of chaos and tame it, which is scarily impressive,” he joked. “Remind me to ask you your opinion on the meaning of life and the root of true happiness,” They’re joined in a chorus of laughter and Peter realizes that his little brain kingdom didn’t hold a candle to the red convertible he was sitting in. She slings an arm around his shoulders.

“Y’know, I might not know the meaning of life, but I am pretty close to true happiness right now,” She says, softer than before. “Maybe the root of true happiness is you, Maximoff,” She chuckles. Peter smiles. He doesn’t want the ruin the moment-- god, he is desperately trying to keep himself from fucking it up, but he feels obligated to tell her about his year of pining.

“Hey, uh, can I tell you something kinda pathetic?” He cringes at the way his voice trembled on the last word.

“Go ahead, Peter,” She used his name this time. Peter thinks she knows he’s about to say something mildly serious.

“I’ve liked you since, like, the beginning of the year. You seemed so… cool. So nice. I saw you in the hallways and my stomach would get all twisted up and my head would hurt a little bit. It was like I was allergic to you, but I enjoyed it. That sounds weird. I’m sorry,” He stopped for a moment, attempting to take the buzzing mass of words in his brain and string them into a sentence. “I was too afraid to talk to you, so I, uh, asked around. I got other people’s opinions of you and then built a little version of you in my brain. I realize now that, uhm, the little brain version of you is like, way way worse than actual you,”

When you talked to me the first time, you threw me off. I wasn’t really nervous about the test-- I mean, yeah I was nervous but that’s not why I looked so pale. I just wasn’t expecting for you to talk to me, like, willingly. So I lied because I was embarrassed. And I lied again in class yesterday. Because I was embarrassed,�� He stopped talking. Peter felt like he was digging himself into a hole-- he felt like he killed the sweet sugary mood.

“Why are you telling me this?” Grace asked. She didn’t sound angry. She sounded a little confused, and she sounded like she was trying to help Peter decipher his brain.

“I don’t know, I guess I just feel bad. I feel bad for, uh, for not being honest I guess. I feel bad for being a coward,” Yep, definitely killed the mood.

“Peter, you shouldn’t feel bad for being afraid, you know,” She assures. “I would’ve done the exact same thing in your position. Hell, I did do the exact same thing in your position,” That caught Peter’s attention.

“What?”

“You didn’t drop your keys in algebra. You dropped them somewhere in bio and my friend found them. She was gonna take them to the office, but I wanted an excuse to talk to you, so I said I’d return them,” Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was being pranked, he had to be. “Being awkward and weird is like a requirement in high school. Don’t sweat it, Maximoff, really. We’re all the same in that way, I think,”

Peter felt a wave of relief wash over him. He was feeling too much at that moment, he was letting the bad drown out the good. He didn’t want to remember the day in a sad light.

“I like you. A lot. Even if you are awkward and weird,” He smiles softly. Slowly, ever so slowly, he intertwined his fingers with those of the girl beside him. It was a simple display of affection, but it made Peter feel like he was floating.

“I like you too, dork,” Peter smiled widely before placing his head back on Grace’s shoulder. Peter wasn’t paying attention to the movie, in fact, he wasn’t paying attention to anything at all. No, Peter was lost in his head again-- but this time, he wasn’t standing on a false kingdom with a false version of the girl he liked. No, this time, he was thinking about the very real girl beside him. He was thinking about the perfect world they had created in the small car they were in; a perfect world where he felt so much emotion and so, so safe. They had built a utopia in the back seat- a blissful tower of awkwardness and comfort and clumsy confessions. A paradise where he sat in the back seat of a Ford Galaxie with Graciella DeCuerpo, the pretty girl from algebra class, sitting right next to him.

#Evan Peters #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x oc #peter maximoff x reader #sorta a little bit #graciella reaper decuerpo #xmen #xmen fanfiction #xmen imagine #high school AU

39 notes · View notes

clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 9)

A/n: Lol there's like... the most minor gayness between reader and Jeremiah in this part and it means nothing but I'm living for Jeremiah's sexual awakening behind both Wayne brothers just like SEND ME HELP IVE BUSTED A LUNG

Word Count: 4700+

Playlist

Masterlist

"We're going to your uncle's diner?"

"Yes," Jerome confirmed for maybe the hundreth time. He was starting to get irritated.

"Your mother's brother?" Y/n continued, his voice rising into near hysterics.

Jerome groaned, turning to face the other boy. "What is confusing you?"

Y/n hesitated, his eyes roaming the streets. He hadn't been free in Gotham for a long time. The idea that someone he knew - anyone he knew - could pop up at any time gave him anxiety. "I mean, isn't this one of the many people that sat around and beat you up all the time? What could you want from him?"

Rolling his head back and forth, Jerome tried to reel in his patience. "I need information. You stay here and make sure I don't die okay? I don't trust you not to kill the old guy, and he can't die yet."

Y/n glared at the diner but nodded. As Jerome walked away, Y/n caught his arm and pulled him closer into a kiss. Jerome tensed before relaxing and nearly melting into him. Y/n smiled as he leaned away. "You better haunt me if you die in there."

Jerome grinned. "What else would I spend my ghost time doing?" He winked before leaving Y/n alone, entering the shop. Y/n stayed outside as he'd been told to, keeping his eyes on what was happening inside. He saw police coming and tensed, but Jerome had the gun out and was ducking under the counter in no time, not coming out again until they were gone. Things seemed to be going well as they moved to the back, only to return quickly with bowls of soup. Jerome began eating and they started talking again. It all seemed to be chill and casual... maybe Jerome's uncle wasn't as bad as he had seemed.

Just as Y/n had that thought, he saw the big man approaching the pair in the booth from behind. Y/n was running immediately. He needed a weapon, and by the looks of the man who's muscles were defined even from this distanced, he'd need something durable. He ran to the back door- something he'd noticed as they approached the diner before- and looked for something thick. He saw a pan and hefted it a second before nodding, also reaching over to grab a knife. With his two weapons, he moved toward the main room just in time to hear Jerome scream. He picked up his pace, peeking around. Then he was close enough to hear what the distance voices were saying.

The uncle was standing, a bowl of soup in his hand. "And the hot one is for you!" He slipped it in the microwave, heating the green liquid again. Y/n could smell the fumes of half burned soup- it was being far too overheated. Y/n felt sick. These were the kind of men Jerome grew up with? If his uncle was this bad, how bad was his mom?

Y/n crept carefully, moving quietly as he'd learned to in his time trying to stay away from Jameson in Gotham before the beatings had been stopped. He sprung up, slamming the pot across the big man's head and then brandishing his knife just as the uncle began to move closer, the heated bowl of soup in his hand and a sick excitement in his eyes. "Now this can go two ways," Y/n began. He moved between the big man- who had stumbled away - and Jerome, who was on the ground and gasping in relief only a moment before he was rejuvenated and standing next to the armed boy. "You can stop underestimating us and tell the man what he wants to know, or you can get a few more jabs in before we kill you both and go on our merry way.

Jerome cackled. "That's my boy!" His arm went around Y/n, almost knocking away his concentration. "You see boys, I'm not as easy as I used to be to push around." Jerome kissed Y/n's cheek and his uncle recoiled. The big man rose his eyebrows but seemed otherwise unaffected. Y/n wondered if there really were people that didn't mind two men being romantic with each other. He seemed surprised but otherwise chill. It was interesting.

Before anything else could happen, the door busted open. Y/n almost dropped his knife.

Bruce Wayne was standing in the doorway, his face twisted with emotion as he made an obvious effort to not look at Y/n, his eyes focusing on the big man. He carried a pole that went around the man's neck and the two began to struggle as the big man was obviously much stronger but Bruce seemed more than capable of handling himself as he threw his weight. As the two distracted each other, Jerome snagged a gun that had landed on the ground at some point. Y/n hadn't noticed it in the chaos, but he recognized it now as the gun Jerome had been carrying when the police had been around before. Jerome turned to his uncle, pointing the gun at the man. "Now we have some hot soup here..." Jerome grinned. "But, as I am a good host, we do have better options than microwaved, burned soup." He strutted off, returning with a bottle of bleach. "Open wide, Unc!"

"STOP! STOP STOP!" The man screamed as Jerome brought the bottle close to his mouth. "I'll tell you what you want to know." Jerome grinned, lowering the bottle. Y/n rose an eyebrow. "She picked St. Ignatius! The school is St. Ignatius."

"Got it." Jerome paused and looked over at Y/n who was already handing over a small piece of paper and pen he'd seen on the counter- probably what Jerome's uncle used to take orders. "Lost it," he relented, taking the paper from Y/n and handing it to his uncle. "Write it down." The older man did just that as Bruce and the big man struggled in the background. Y/n tried not to notice them too much, but as each second passed, it got harder for him to stand idly by and do nothing. He didn't care about a lot of people, but he did care about Bruce and after losing Harley... "Thanks," Jerome remarked in an overly cheery way as his uncle handed him the paper. It's been quite a visit, Uncle Zach." Ah so that was the asshole's name. "You really brought back the utter helplessness of childhood." Jerome began walking away and Y/n almost stopped him. "Well, see you around-" He turned back to Zach, hefting the gun. "Well, except the opposite." The gun went off and red splattered against Y/n's clothes and the counter. "Oh red's a good color on you," Jerome complimented.

Y/n grinned. "Maybe I oughtta wear it more often then."

Attention was turned to Bruce and the big man finally as the younger boy was aggressively pinned to the counter. Jerome clapped, getting the both of them to look at the other two. Bruce's eyes fell to the dead man now on the floor, his face flecking with regret. "Billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne, coming to my rescue," Jerome drawled, as if considering the words. "Now, I did not see that one coming." He sighed, half laughing. "You know, with uncle Zach, the beatings never stopped. But nobody ever helped me." It got very quiet as Y/n looked at Jerome, his face twisted with concern. His eyes fell to the still untouched bowl of hot soup. He imagined how scared Jerome must have been. Today. Back then. Helpless and at the mercy of people who hated him for no reason. "Ever," the red head continued. Y/n looked over and reached out, his fingers almost intertwining with Jerome's... but the moment felt too real. Too serious. He felt like if he did something like that in a moment like this, it would mean something more than escaping Arkham or sharing jokes or killing people together. Comforting each other in genuine situations was a boyfriend thing to do. Was a love thing to feel. Was Y/n anything to Jerome but an easy way to pass time? He thought to Oswald, who considered friends useless. Who preferred to have lackies to companions, and who kept his enemies closest because he had to make sure they didn't betray him. Was Y/n just a follower Jerome could depend on to keep him out of bad situations? "It makes me wonder..." Jerome kept going, his voice low and slow. "What's wrong with you?" He began cackling, the mood breaking, causing Y/n to jump in surprise. "You know anything funnier than you saving my life?" Y/n perked up, suddenly panicked but not sure what to do. He couldn't handle seeing his brother die. "Is if I saved yours." He rose the gun, pointing it to the big man.

Y/n was surprised, but before anything could happen, Bruce yelled out a, "No!" Pathetic.

Jerome paused, humming in thought. "No," he agreed. "What would be funnier is if you were choked to death by the guy you saved me from. Yeah, yeah we'll do that instead." The big man hesitated but Jerome motioned him to continue. "Do your thing."

Y/n glared at the ground for a second before suddenly making up his mind, eyes finding the back of the man's head and aimin g before throwing the knife he was still holding. To probably everyone in the room's shock, the knife stuck and the man went down. "NO!" Bruce screamed.

Jerome looked back at Y/n, intrigued. "I didn't know you could do that."

"Neither did I," Y/n replied, shrugging. Oswald had people teach Y/n a few tricks here or there but Y/n hadn't really picked up on any of them. He had to be angry or protecting someone he cared about to kill someone. He wasn't driven enough when he was calm. His training had kicked in easily now, though.

"What did you do?" The boys looked over to Bruce, who looked beside himself. "Why did you do that, Y/n? That doesn't make you any better than Jerome!"

Y/n scoffed, stepping forward as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm NOT any better than Jerome, Bruce."

Bruce shook his head. "I don't believe that. You're a good person Y/n. It wasn't until you started to talk to these creeps that that changed. Penguin and Jerome and-" Bruce scoffed. "What are you doing?"

"Penguin," Y/n mused, rolling the name in his mouth. He thought back to his conversation with Harley about nicknames. Harley. "You know, I'm not Y/n anymore Bruce you're right. Y/n painted pictures and made friends and took all the shit everyone gave him with a smile. I'm stronger now. BETTER now." Y/n scoffed. "You know Bruce, tell everyone you know. Y/n Wayne is dead." He stood maybe a foot away from Bruce, his smile growing. "Harley Quinn is here instead." He winked, moving to the side. Bruce gasped as he looked over to see Jerome pointing a gun at him. "And that's our exit." Jerome looked at Y/n- at Harley - seeming to be looking for the go ahead to kill Bruce. Y/n shook his head. Jerome seemed disappointed but followed after Y/n anyway, moving slowly out of the room.

"Y/N STOP!" Bruce screamed, desperate to save his brother. Sure that he would find some remnant of who he used to be. "Y/N!" Both boys disappeared and the second they were outside, they started running. Bruce tried to take off after them but Jerome shot behind him, just well enough to slow Bruce down so they could get away. They were gone too fast, and Bruce lost them. The boy stood there, running his hands through his hair. "Fuck," he whispered.

They got clothes, picked up Jervis, and then they were on their way. They went to St. Ignatius, wired up the dude in charge after they got their information, and were off again.

Harley tried to be patient. He really did. But even Jervis and Crane seemed to know more than he did. At the brunch Jerome was very vague, and didn't give even a little lee way of information to the others, giving little run arounds to allude to information Jervis and Crane knew. It was very frustrating.

"So," Oswald began at one point when Jerome was talking to Jervis about... something. "Harley?"

He smiled, happy for the distraction. "Harley," he confirmed. "You go by Penguin. Ed has that whole Riddler schtick." Harley shrugged. "Firefly," he continued to list. "Mr. Freeze."

Oswald nodded. "I see what you mean." He gave a small smile. "So you're officially one of us now?"

"I kill people and everything." The men smiled at each other before giggling softly.

Oswald calmed, still smiling but more curious than amused now. "And... you and Jerome?"

Harley was suddenly very interested in his food. "What about it?"

Oswald seemed to sense his reluctance to talk about the subject at hand, but kept pushing. "Are you two together?"

A soft sigh escaped Harley just then as he looked away, setting down his food and silverware quietly. He pursed his lips, frowning. "I don't know." He looked at Jervis and Jonathan. "I don't even know what's going on here. He seems to trust them more than me, and seems totally unhinged. He's distracted and uninterested, which is fine because he seems really focused on something. And I mean he brought me along..." Harley shrugged. "I just feel like, I don't know-" he shrugged hopelessly.

"You're an extra piece to a complete puzzle?" Oswald offered, his expression full of understanding.

Harley's expression became pained. "Yeah."

Oswald reached over, patting Harley on the shoulder. "Love is an irritating, fickle thing Y/n- Harley." Both smiled. "You're one of the few people I trust. If you need anything, I'll be there."

"Likewise," Harley returned. "Of course." Oswald's eyes moved past him, his expression changing to surprise. "What?" Harley asked as he looked back, just in time to see Jerome turn away sharply, as if being caught doing something and trying to hide it. Harley looked back, confusion written all over his face.

Oswald was grinning, but this look was full of mischief instead of sincerity. "My dear Harley, would you like to see just how much your precious little redhead cares about you?"

Harley rose an eyebrow. "Well, you know me Oswald. Have I ever turned down the opportunity for information?" Oswald's smile only grew.

“He was glaring at me,” Oswald announced victoriously.

"He was glaring at you?"

Oswald rolled his eyes. "I see you haven't gotten over your habit to repeat when you're feeling dubious." Harley's mouth snapped shut. He hadn't realized that he asked questions repetitively when he was unsure of the answer, but as he thought back- yeah. That tracks. "Before you ask, it's significant because we were being affectionate and Jerome glared at me. He has no other reason to be mad at from the brunch, and if he'd been mad at me beforehand he would have tried to kill me or not invited me to begin with."

Harley nodded along slowly. "So your solution to him ignoring me is to... make him jealous?" Oswald nodded. "Won't that just get him more mad?" Oswald nodded again, as if that was the point. Harley frowned. "Getting Jerome mad has never been a good idea."

Oswald rolled his eyes. "If he gets possessive, he cares for you some way or another. If he doesn't... then you know." His excitement died down and Harley swallowed.

Well. Here goes nothing.

The worst idea probably ever had by anyone occurred to Harley the second he lay eyes on who he'd been told was a man named Xander Wild. Harley might not have known his real name, but the man's identity was clear. After all, when you look exactly like Jerome Valeska himself, who could you be other than the famous younger brother Harley had heard about only one other time.

Harley had been dragged along when Jervis had been tittering about how Jerome had an errand for them. They had convinced Harley to go when they said that if they didn't work quickly, Jerome might actually be in danger.

So then here they were, strutting around the tunnels of some maze chasing down the not-Xander-Wild in favor of finding Jerome. It was easy once they got the blonde. She tracked down not only one redhead they sought after, but both of them. First Jerome, then-

"Hello brother." Jonathan, Harley, and Jervis stood behind Jeremiah until Jerome sent the other two away to take care of Harvey and Jim. Harley sat here, leaning against the wall and listening to the exchange between the twins. The non-redhead rose his eyebrows, getting more and more shocked as it went on. The revelation that Jeremiah had manipulated their whole family because he was paranoid about Jerome...

"So you're saying you turned your whole family against your brother because you were afraid of what he might become?" Jeremiah looked at Harley and his face relaxed. He stuttered physically, almost as if he was going to step closer to him but then thought better of the action. "You realize that when they thought he was the problem child or whatever, they thought the solution was just beating the shit out of him. And not just with fists- that Uncle Zach of yours has a colorful way with skin and heated assorted soups." Jeremiah looked away. "If you were afraid of Jerome's insanity that didn't yet exist, you doomed yourself. People deserve love when they're struggling. By putting him through more suffering all you did was create who he is now."

"Don't give him all the credit," Jerome whined. "I have added some color to his original recipe."

Harley hummed, moving to Jeremiah's side. His finger brushed against the back of his shoulders, his arm resting across when he reached the end. Harley giggled. "He's kind of cute though. Makes sense why people believe him so much-" he raised his free hand, squishing Jeremiah's face. "Little puppy couldn't do any wrong, eh?" He giggled again, stepping away from him when Jerome donned an odd expression, shifting, obviously uncomfortable at watching Harley... flirt with Jeremiah. It became clear when Harley winked that that's what it was indeed.

The party was crashed when Gordon and Bullock showed up, guns at the ready. Jerome attempted a bluff but didn't pull it off, and soon enough they were all running for their lives, Jeremiah left behind. There was a car they'd gotten here in- they were all in it again. They'd gotten Jerome, but it seemed to have been marked a failure that they didn't manage to grab Jeremiah as well. Jerome seemed far more bothered by something else though. "Why were you doing that?"

"Doing what?" Harley asked lightly, eyes on the outside world.

Jerome made a frustrated half grunting noise. "With Jeremiah."

Harley didn't even look over. "Oh, him?" Harley shrugged. "Just having some fun."

Jerome was quiet for a long time. For far too long a time actually, as he was never one to be quiet for very long if ever. Even for a normal person it was considered quite a stretch of silence; Jervis' knuckles whitened on the wheel as he drove under the weight of the tension. It was when they were finally back to their little hideout that Jerome spoke again- only once the two men were in private. "Am I not enough fun for you?" He was smiling, advancing in an almost sexual way. It was strained though- he was obviously upset.

Harley was unsure how to go about this. "Jerome, dear, what am I to you?"

That seemed to confuse the redhead even more. "What?"

"Am I your boyfriend?" Harley offered, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms.

Jerome scoffed. "Why would you wanna be something like that? So serious and boring. I'd prefer-"

"Friends?" Harley tried again, tilting his head. Tilting his head back and forth, Jerome considered. Harley scoffed, rolling his eyes at the extended hesitation. Jerome seemed to be confused again. He couldn't figure out why Harley was upset. "You can't be all possessive and expect me to only ever be interested in you if you can't even claim friendship with me, J. You want to say I'm yours? That's a two way street." Harley tapped his nose with a finger. "You don't own me, sweetheart. I'm free market. Don't be jealous that I'm acting with the freedom you've forced on me." Harley chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Makes you look pathetic, honestly." Then he turned and left. He'd felt a weight lift off of his chest, but he could feel Jerome's eyes burning holes into his back every step he got further away.

Jerome started acting weird after that. He got overly clingy with everyone except Harley. That was the only way to explain it. Whether it be putting his arm around Oswald's shoulders or leaning too close to Bridget or laughing too loudly at a joke that it was obvious he didn't even find that funny, or speaking way too loudly every time he named Jervis or Jonathan as his 'best friends' - directing a look he thought was subtle but very much wasn't at Harley - he just got overbearing and over the top. He was over compensating.

One day Oswald mumbled, "So he took the breakup hard I assume."

Harley scoffed. "What breakup? He won't even call me his friend, let alone his boyfriend." Harley rolled his eyes. "He's adorable but getting on my nerves." Harley smiled as he pretended to check his nails. He was thriving off the chaos he was creating, relishing how much of a fool Jerome was making of himself. Perhaps he shouldn't have been loving making someone he cared about suffer so much but fuck it. He did. Maybe he was some kind of sadist now. Maybe he just had a lower tolerance and a more eager thirst for revenge. Maybe he was just pettier nowadays. Whatever it was, it didn't bother him as much as it would have in the past.

Definitely not enough to back off or try to apologize and make peace.

People started to try and get the two back together as Jerome got even more on edge. Whether the request was to calm him down or take the reins on the whole affection thing or just to fuck him so he'd chill, Y/n was getting off on how even the other villains seemed to be struggling to handle Jerome acting like a child who's toy had been taken away. Well, Harley wasn't a toy and he wasn't an accessory. He was tired of being treated as such. Children who throw fits when told no don't get rewards. Men who own up to their feelings on even a minute level? They might get what they want if they ask really nicely. Jerome was taking the child route. Harley was too stubborn to give in.

It was better when Jerome was distracted. Whether it was shooting people in Russian Roulette until the gun went off or kidnapping powerful people and spraying them with some gas he was trying to create - obviously for Jeremiah, if his "or one bad spray" comment to his brother back at the end of the maze meant anything - Jerome kept his mind going and his day full. Harley kept his distance. There was no need to set him off too much. He was beginning to understand the thrill of slowly driving someone mad though.

Despite everything, Harley still seemed to be Jerome's go to. Jerome took him on every outing. Bounced ideas off of him. Shared jokes with him. Jerome was beginning to give away little pieces at a time to Harley, just by having him around constantly. He figured out the gas was for Jeremiah pretty early on, and steps were becoming clear as he tried to succeed in that. Harley knew what they were doing when they took out the band in the middle of the public square even before James Gordon had popped up as asked.

Harley had gotten his hands on a metal bat. He had begun to use it like an arm rest, hanging his arms over it limply as it balanced over his shoulders. He was casual as Jerome played his game. Smiling. Laughing. Then Gordon showed up and Jerome made a demand that caught Harley off guard. He had two extra seats in his little line of heads he wanted to blow. Jeremiah- obviously. And...

"Bring me my brother. Bring me Wayne. Bring them to me now."

As the remains of the now dead, headless dude bled out for everyone to see and Gordon ran off to get Jerome what he wanted before he killed more people, Harley moved to Jerome. "Why do you want Bruce?"

Jerome had lowered the microphone so other people couldn't hear him. "What's wrong little Harley?" Jerome tittered. He was grinning, his expression dark.

Harley nearly decked him. "You're going to put my brother in danger, why?"

Jerome tilted his head. "Why do you even care?" He scoffed. "I'm going to kill both of our brothers. People we spent our whole lives sitting in the shadows of. Been chosen second to. Been hated for, because everyone thought they were so much better." He scoffed. "Have you heard what they say about you? How they talk about Bruce and you in comparison?" He shook his head and Harley found he couldn't find words to say to parry this. "Even what they said about you in Arkham." His jaw tightened.

Harley took in a slow breath. "It makes sense that I care about Bruce, Jerome. I was actually close to my brother. We had a god relationship." He shook his head. "That doesn't matter now, but still." He frowned. "But why do you care about what people have to say about me?"

Jerome let out a slow breath through his nose. "Maybe I care about you, Harley." Harley's eyes widened, his lips parting in surprise. Jerome was completely calm and serious, shrugging as if it was the most casual thing. Jerome wasn't ever casual though. He wasn't calm. This was very unlike him. Almost like that first night, on the Ferris Wheel. When Jerome had sat, quiet, just listening to Harley go on and on about shit that shouldn't have mattered to him at all. He rose a hand to brush softly against Harley's cheek." His eyes flickered away. "We'll talk about it later."

Harley stepped back, allowing Jerome to take the stage as Gordon showed up with Bruce and Jeremiah in tow. "Just don't kill him please." Jerome didn't respond, but his smile wavered so Harley knew he heard. Jerome gave Harley Bruce's collar. Harley took it and put it on without hesitation. Bruce caught Harley's wrist as his hands dropped after the collar was on. The brothers made eye contact but Harley didn't hold it long. Bruce held a look of betrayal that shook Harley to his core. If Harley did have a weakness, it had always been that. Bruce used to look up to Harley... no, to Y/n. Now it was all over. Harley had chosen his path. He sighed, shaking his head of the heavy thoughts he'd been thinking and replacing each one instead with images of the real Harley. Harleen Quinzel, bloody and draped and dead. This hardened him again. Games and chaos and romance and familyhood aside: Harley was done being a Wayne. Done being sane and functional. He'd chosen Jerome, and he would continue to choose Jerome because despite everything, for some reason, Jerome was choosing him too. Harley moved to Jerome's side, resting his elbow on Jerome's shoulders. He leaned close, whispering, "Unless you really want to."

Jerome recognize the change in tone immediately. His lips turned up in a grin. His smile was brilliant, and Harley matched it perfectly.

The duo was back, and nothing was going to get between them again.

#jerome valeska #jeroma velaska #joker #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska x reader #gotham #valeska twins #joker x reader #joker imagine #cameron monaghan #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan imagine #valeska twins imagine #valeska twins x reader #gotham imagine #gotham x reader #male reader

77 notes · View notes

anarcho-pogasm · 3 years

Text

why i think christianity is just one big abusive relationship

tw for christianity, abuse, sexism, racism, uh f slur (f4g), some phrases can be read as antisemitic (i speak very negatively about biblical jews) but i am not antisemitic.

so. all this info is based on personal experience with both topics. I have done little to no research. if you disagree or think i worded something wrong, dm me and i'll edit this post if your points are reasonable.

yes i am a christian (i think) i believe that God exists and there's heaven and hell and angels, but that's it. i don't like going to church or praying or reading the bible and i hate being referred to as christian and i used to call myself an agnostic but apparently if you believe that god exists you're a christion so um LOL. (pls dont cancel me in one of the good ones idc if you fuck in ikea or if youre a fag i swear i only belive that god exists and thats it)

i think we all know what an abusive relationship is. It's a relationship where one person(or people) has a hierarchy over another person(or people) usually most abusive relationships are physical, emotional, or sexual. but there's also mental abuse, power dynamics, exploitation, etc

christianity is ticks almost all the boxes of different types of abuse.

Now abuse is a complex thing. i cant talk much about it in a tumblr text post. if not, id have to make multple parts of this (ill make more parts if people like this one enough ig) so im going to start with things that dont seem abusive but actually are

power dynamics: simply put, power dynamics are usually relationships where one person has more power in the relationship, usually outside of a romantic or sexual setting. for example we have an employer and an employee, a government official and a civilian, an MMA fighter and a teenager, etc. the difference in power can be physical, social, monetary etc.

Now i dont really know what kind of power dynamic that is the most prevalent in christianity(because its a delicious soup of so many things that seperating all the elements is close to impossible), but a really nice one is the rift between pastors and their congregation. the pastor(preachers and priests apply to this but im just gonna use pastor) is usually seen as the head of the church, most times hes more financially stable than his congregation(hmmm i wonder why....), hes seen as a person who could do no wrong by god, he is above his congregation in many ways. another example is between christians and God but uh i feel like if i say more about that sky daddy will kill me himself.

'But good golly Light, how would you relate this to other abusive relationships?'

Think about a stereotypical relationship with a power dynamic. (im sorry but the only example i can think of is meredith grey and her italian himbo bf). reread the last few paragraphs. do you understand now?

emotional abuse: good golly this is a big one.

do you know how many times ive heard a christian say shit like 'God only loves you if you do x and stop doing y' (cough cough being gay cough) or 'if you dont become a jesus kinnie youll go to hell and burn forever? well ive heard it a lot of times, and i never bothered to count

think about those examples i just gave, and think about how twisted it is. think about a little child, maybe she's 5. think about her parents telling her everyday that 'God only loves her if she keeps her virginity till shes married or stays straight and cis or doesnt get tatoos or piercings or only wears clothing that will glorify the lord' this little child is being groomed to beleiving that shes only worth God's love when she deprives herself of so many things that would make her happy (and idk i remember the bible saying that God's love is unconditional... curious....) if you dont think thats emotionally manioulative then damn im so sorry for you

sexism/patriarchy: LOL this is a good one

there really isnt that much of an explanation for this one. modern christians see women as objects. literally. women have no worth in the eyes if your average bible thumper.

a woman is not allowed any autonomy. a woman is only useful when she stays away from men, a virgin doesn't drink all to please her future equally bible thumping husband.

there are so many bible verses that go along the lines of 'woman bad man good woman only exist for man pleasure'

and yes i have proof: I Timothy 2:11-14; Exodus 2:18; Deuteronomy 21:11-14; Luke 2:22; Ephesians 5:22-23

finding those verses were not hard at all. it was quite literally a 2 minute google search. imagine what i would find if i spent hours scouring the bible for shit like this? (and i rlly think you should look up these verses theyre really fucked)

racism: LOLE this is an incredible funny one (and not funny in a funny way funny in a this is so sad and sick but if i dont laugh i might go crazy and bitchslap a jesus kinnie)

disclaimer that the concept of race is v different now than it was then. i dont know much about it, i refuse to do any research on it, but ik that the notions of race would be different from the ones over 2000 years ago

okay so i think we already know that christianity is a white people thing (quite literally. the only reason its so widely spread is bc of slavery and colonialism) and we know that a lot of radical christians are v racist (i mean they already think tht they have a moral high ground bc a really old book said so so racism really isnt a stretch)

theres a lot of verses in the bible where Jews (gods chosen people) beat up and kill and steal from and rape etc the gentiles (god hates the gentiles for some reason, then turns around and says he loves all his children... curious...)

theres also a lot of jew/gentile segregation in the bible.

in the old testament almost all the chapters are about gods chosen people murdering everyone they disagree with for and or food or bc they worship other gods or just bc god said so. Jews would take the gentiles and rape them, kill their children, use them as slaves (seems a bit caucasian to me... hmmm), steal from them, all kinds of fucked up shit all bc theyre not Jews.

(okay this is not a jab at present day jewish people. jewish people are very opressed and theyre completely different from their biblical counterparts. dont go up to a jewish person and say that theyre evil bc of what their ancestors did 2k years ago)

4 notes · View notes

themfchase · 4 years

Text

raven unit III (m) jjk

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

‒ raven unit. (m) chapter three: seamore. ✎ [10k words]

genre: political!Au, taskforce!Au, warcrime!Au

warnings: smut, angst, slight bdsm, fluff (?), gore, violence, drug mentions, alcohol mention, graphic description of violence, death With your life at risk and several people around you dead, your loyal head of security makes sure your safety is taken care of when he’s out of the picture. Three ruthless, dangerous and deadly men take on the task to protect and hide you, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok and the one in command, Jeon Jungkook. masterlist. chapter one. chapter two chapter four. chapter five. .raven unit: drabble #01 drabble #02

Your body ached all over, your mouth was dryer than it had ever been before. You tried to open your eyes, but it felt like they were sow shut. Coughing, your body ached, and you groaned. You heard movement beside you, something wet and cold touching your lips right after. It was water. You drank with difficulty, trying to lift your head and dropping it back down. You finally were able to open your eyes. The room was dark. You were in a bed, an IV attached to your arm where you were being given blood and fluids. “How are you feeling?” You heard a familiar voice. Your eyes traveling until it met its owner. Jungkook. You hummed, unable to speak. He looked tired, dark circled under his eyes, as he put the cup back down beside you. “W-where a-are we?” You asked, voice coming out hoarse and low. It was as if you haven’t spoken in weeks. “Seamore.” Was all he answered, coldly. “You lost a lot of blood, Jungkook asked Jin to get you a medical team, they operated you at gunpoint, probably not their best day at work.” A second voice joined, your eyes shifted to him, it was Yoongi. He also looked tired, but better. You tried to sit up, Jungkook helping as you felt your body ache violently. “You were out for a week.” This time it was Hoseok, he was also there. You felt your heart race, you were unconscious for a whole week, Jungkook gave him an angry side look, you noticed. “We’re staying here until you recover, Jins evacuated the place, it’s only us,” Jungkook said. You looked around, noticing there were three more people int the room. You spotted Jimin, then Taehyung, and a new face. A tall man, the most symmetric and beautiful features you had ever seen, dark hair and arms crossed over his chest. You swallowed. “Can I speak to Jungkook alone please?” You asked the men and Jungkook looked at them, slowly, each one left. Last was Hoseok, a guilty look on his face. Jungkook looked back at you. “It wasn’t his fault.” You said and Jungkook looked away, irritated. “I asked him to close the door, I thought I was safe.” You said, and Jungkook looked back at you. “You thought wrong.” He spat at you, and you were quiet, looking down at your hands. “I’m sorry.” You said in a small voice, feeling your throat constrict. Jungkook sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck, I thought you were going to die.” He let out in a breath, voice strained. “I thought you were going to bleed to death in my arms, and... And when we got here, you were already hanging by a thread, I saw your heart stop.” He looked back up at you, desperation in his eyes. It stung deep inside of you. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face in it. “I’m sorry.” You said again on the edge of crying. Slowly, Jungkook’s arms wrapped around you, nose digging into your hair, he inhaled, relaxing in your hold. It was a rush of feelings all of a sudden. Being in his arms, not wanting to let go. You didn’t know if you had projected the turmoil of feeling onto Jungkook since he was the safe figure in your life, but you didn’t care, you just needed to reassure him. Pulling back, you looked up at him. “It’s over, I’m ok now.” You said, and he nodded. “Please don’t be mad at Hoseok.” Jungkook sighed again, hands coming and rubbing up and down your arms. “I’ll try my best,” He said before pulling away and opening a drawer next to your bed. He blinked heavily a few times as he took medical supplies out of it. “Jungkook, when was the last time you slept?” You asked him and he didn’t answer. “You have to rest.” You laid back down. “You sound like Yoongi,” He spoke, voice tired. ” Well, maybe Yoongi has a point." You looked at him. “I’m ok, Jungkook, I’m alive, you can rest now.” You said, and he turned to you. “I have to change your bandages.” He ignored you. “I can do it for you.” You heard an unfamiliar voice, looking past Jungkook, at the door. The man with the dark hair and broad shoulders looked at the two of you. “Jin, it’s ok, I can do it.” Jungkook argued. “No, you can go take a shower and get some sleep, she’s not going anywhere.” Jin approached the two of you. “Beside’s, I want to meet my guest.” He said as he stopped by the edge of the bed. Jungkook looked at you and you nodded. Sighing in defeat, he put the medical supplies down on the bed. “Fine. If you need anything ask Jin, don’t hesitate in asking them to wake me up.” You nodded again, and he hesitated before finally turning and leaving. As he made his way out of the room, your eyes followed him, stopping at the man at the edge of your bed. He took a few steps in your direction, eyeing you curiously. He was silent as he took the supplies and started prepping them. “You’ve caused quite a hurricane of emotions on everyone,” Jin spoke. You eyed him, pursing your lips. “It wasn’t my intention.” You said. He motioned for you to take off your shirt; you hesitated. “Oh, dear, there is nothing there I haven’t seen this week.” He cocked an eyebrow. You sighed. You uncomfortably shifted, lifting your shirt with one hand, and he helped you hook your shirt over your injured arm. You covered your breasts with your free hand as he undid your bandages. “I assume you and Jungkook are involved.” He said. “He wouldn’t worry this much for anyone, and I’ve known him for a long time.” “It’s confusing.” You answered as Jin finally finished taking out your bandages. “How so?” He asked, taking the cotton and soaking it in antiseptic. “I don’t know how I can feel attached to him the way I feel without barely knowing him.” You admitted and Jin hummed, dabbing the cotton lightly on your closed wound. It stung a little, but nothing you couldn’t handle. “How long have you two known each other?” He asked, throwing the used cotton away and taking another one, repeating the process. “I think two weeks now.” You swallowed. Jin was silent as he went on. You had known Jungkook for five days in total, twelve if you count the days you were out. “Are you in love with him?” He asked bluntly, and you looked at him. You couldn’t say no, but you also couldn’t say yes, all you knew is that you felt something, but even that didn’t make sense. “I don’t think I am, but I know I feel something, it just feels too soon to feel anything at all, it feels like I’m cheating because I see Jungkook as this... Protective figure.” You looked down at your fingers. Jin started placing the gauze over your wound. He was gentle, as if he had done this several times before. “But you’re not just seeing him as a protective figure, he is one. It’s his job.” Jin said, and you were left speechless. “And what about love at first sight, you don’t believe in those things?” He asked. You chuckled. “It wasn’t loved at first sight.” You told him shaking your head and remembering the dark eyes that had woken you up two weeks ago. “Ok, fine, maybe love at fifth sight, it doesn’t really matter, what matters is...” He started wrapping the bandage around your shoulder. “You feel something, too soon or not, you do, and there isn’t anything you can do about what you feel, but what are you going to do about the two of you?” He asked, finishing up the process and setting tape over the bandage. “What do you mean?” You questioned. He finally looked at you, sitting down at the edge of the bed and helping you put your shirt back on. “What I mean is... What happens after this is over?” He rested his hand on his thigh. “Do you have any intention of leaving this all behind and not looking back? Or do you think you’ll want something with him?” He seemed calmed. You thought about it. If this all ended, could you go on with your life without Jungkook in it? Or would you find a way to keep him? Just the thought of not having Jungkook around made you feel sick and your face twisted. You looked back at Jin. A soft smile tugged on his lips. “That’s a good enough answer for me.” He said, pulling your covers off of your legs. “They had a pretty bad fight,” Jin told you as he walked around the bed, to the other side, where your leg wound was. You could only imagine what ‘a pretty bad fight’ meant for Hoseok and Jungkook. “It wasn’t his fault.” You said as you turned on your side, you were only in your underwear. Fresh ones. “But it was,” Jin said, and you furrowed your brows. “He had instructions to not leave you alone with anyone but one of them and he did so, right?” “Yeah, but I made him close the door.” You argued. “And you weren’t the one in charge, dear.” Jin raised both eyebrows. He started unwrapping your leg. “As much as I appreciate your concern for Jungkook’s and Hoseok’s relationship, if this were any other situation, you’d be dead, you almost did die.” He put the bandages aside. “In war, you don’t forget orders, dear.” Jin looked back at you. You had no argument for that, you sat silently while he cleaned your wound, it no longer hurt and you looked back at him, he understood your confusion. “After they operated on your shoulder, the doctor noticed your other wound, took care of it, took out the bullet, closed it properly, it’s healing faster.” You nodded in understanding. “You wanna see it?” He quirked an eyebrow with a glint of excitement in his eyes. “The bullet? You kept it?” You asked, and Jin finished wrapping you up before walking beside you again and opening the drawer. He took it out, a silver bullet. He looked at it, amusement filling his eyes. “9-millimeter ammo...” He said. “It’s the most common around the world, the same one I have in my gun.” Gently, he placed it in your palm. It was cold. You looked at it, it felt like a useless object, but it was inside of you once. “That little thing has killed more people than cancer, yet the largest cause of death in the world is heart disease.” He shook his head. “What are the odds?” He looked back at you. You were quiet for a while as you looked at the bullet, sighing. You were mentally and emotionally tired of being hunted down; you needed a break. Looking around the room, you finally realized you were at Seamore, a place you didn’t know other than this room. “Where am I?” You asked. Jin sat down on the edge of the bed again. “Seamore. My home. My work.” He started. “It’s similar to Red Hawk, only we’re underneath a city.” You looked up at the ceiling. Jin chuckled. “We’re right at the border. If things had gone according to plan, you’d already be in Safehouse.” He stated. You nodded, thinking about what Jungkook had said. It was only the seven of you. “You sent your men away.” Jin hummed. “When Jungkook asked Jimin to call, he said he didn’t want anyone but us here, so I sent my men away before sending the helicopter.” He informed. “You all seem very close.” You played with the bullet in your hand. Jin tilted his head, taking a deep breath. “We all served together, yes, but we have history.” He started. “When I met Jungkook, I was his first commander, he had just joined the police force back in Soul.” You looked up at him, intrigued. You wanted to know more about Jungkook. “He was full of life back then, wanted to be a man of law and integrity, then right after, I convinced him, Jimin and Taehyung to join another force task, first it was as a Federal Agent, then, it suddenly wasn’t enough, he wanted more...” Jin looked down at the sheets. “So we joined the military, met Yoongi and Hoseok, we all trained together, two years, the six of us.” He had a nostalgic smile on his face. “Soon after we were joining White Tiger, that’s where we met Namjoon.” He said. You lifted your eyebrows, that was a name you vaguely remembered. “We served four years as White Tiger before we were being sent out to the war, the seven of us, we were inseparable. Soon, Jungkook was our commander, he was... He was fierce. He still is fierce. But this world is fucked up...” Jin looked back at you with melancholy. “Greedy people and money, we were framed, Jungkook tried taking the blame, Hoseok and Yoongi didn’t let him, so they all did time together, two years.” You were shocked, you couldn’t imagine Jungkook in jail, especially for something he hadn’t done. “Eventually Philip came along, made a deal with the devil and they were pardoned.” He finished. “Philip helped them?” You asked. “Not without a price.” He mused. “They trust Philip, though.” You argued. Jin was silent for a few minutes, and the silence was enough to make you think Jin had a different opinion. “You don’t.” You looked back down at the bullet in your hand. “Ah, well, I don’t trust anyone but the seven of us. Besides, a man with that influence can only have one objective in mind.” He slowly got up. “And what is that?” You questioned, laying back down. “Money.” He finished, eyes focused on yours. You took a deep breath, holding the bullet firm in your palm. “Get some rest, tomorrow I’ll give you a tour around the place.” He smiled at you before turning on his heels. And he was out of the room. You sighed, thinking of everything Jin had said. He was a calm man, but smart, you could tell. You had met many men that were like Jin and knew that he was smarter than he seemed. Soon, you closed your eyes, trying to get some more rest. You woke up to someone coming to check on you, eyes blinking as you looked up. “Hobi.” You whispered, he looked down at you, a guilty smile on his cut lips. You would see the bruise around his left eye. “Hey... You should sleep some more, I just came to check on you.” He stated, looking back up at your IV. “I’m sorry.” You said, and he stopped moving, pursing his lips and looking back at you. “What are you even sorry for?” He asked. You gulped. “None of this would have happened if I hadn’t asked for privacy.” Hoseok nodded, sitting back on the bed and looking down at his hand. “Even if I understand why you’re apologizing, you still have nothing to be sorry for, my job is to protect you and assess any possible danger, I made a bad call when I allowed you to be alone with that woman, too hung up on the fact we were at Red Hawk, a place I deemed safe.” He started, and you sighed, silence taking over for a while. “It’s not the first time Jungkook and I throw fists at each other, you know?” He looked at you, a nostalgic smile on his face. You smiled back at him. “He’ll get over it, I’m sure.” He said getting up and taking your hand. “Thank you for having my back... I’m really sorry.” He said with sincerity in his words. You nodded and watched as he walked out of the room. Seamore was like an underground bunker, only it was as large as a mall. White tile covered walls with led white lights and metal bars all over the place. You walked slowly as you dragged your IV with you, looking around the open space. Jin walked beside you in silence. “How did you even build his?” You asked after a while. Jin chuckled, and you looked at him. “I didn’t... It was already here when I bought it, it used to be an underground military base for the Russians back in the ‘70s, I only renovated it.” He said, both hands resting behind his back as he followed your pace. “I want to ask how you all even have the money for this, but I’m afraid to.” You said, chuckling. There was no point in asking, really. You knew that whatever means they went through to get money, probably wasn’t legal. “I’m sure you wouldn’t be pleased with that information.” He quirked a brow, and you smiled at him. “Here, let me show you my favorite place around here.” He leads the way. You followed, curious. When you walked through the metal door there laid a fully equipped industrial kitchen. A cooking island in the middle and even a freezer. “Cooking is my form of therapy, I enjoy learning new recipes.” He said as he leaned both hands against the metal table in the middle. “I can’t even remember the last time I cooked, probably back home, with my mother.” You said as you made your way around, looking at all the cooking utensils and such. “Ah, yes, home.” He leaned back on the sink and looked at you, waiting. You looked back at him, understanding he wanted you to talk about it. You sighed. “It was a normal home, as normal as it could be for the president’s daughter. My mother helped me with my homework, my father and I would go to baseball games occasionally. Sometimes it all rushed back that he was in charge of a whole country. I had to hear republicans talk about him as if he were the worst person ever.” You said, crossing your arms and leaning against the wall. Jin quirked an eyebrow, curious. “But that also brought Thomas into my life, he was with me all day every day, I saw him as this uncle figure, you know?” You smiled and Jin sighed. You didn’t even notice your eyes watering. “He’s dead now... He died on our way to camp.” You wiped the tears that started flowing down. “And how many more people died?” Jin asked. You looked up at him, the question taking you by surprise. “I-I I’m not s-sure. I know that the men at the house died trying to protect me, then the people at camp died, I was, I was in the helicopter when they struck, I never even saw anyone’s face.” You were looking at the cemented floor as you remembered all the people that had died because of you, your hand coming up to your lips to silence your crying. Jin was silent as he took in your reaction. He tilted his head to the side. “You think this is your fault.” It wasn’t a question. You didn’t say anything, just cried in silence. “Y/N, do you understand that those people didn’t die because of you?” He asked, and you looked up at him, shaking your head in denial. “They died trying to protect m-me.” You said. “Yes, they did. But they didn’t die because they were protecting you, that was their everyday job, they died because someone gave the order.” Jin pulled away from the sink and slowly walked your way. He put his hands in his pockets. “People only die when someone wants them killed, and unless you gave the order, you’re not at fault.” He said, and you swallowed, pursing your lips. “Jin, I think that’s enough shrink playing for the day.” Your head shot in the direction of the door where you were met with the familiar white hair. “Ah, Yoongi, glad of you to join us.” Jin smiled, “I was about to make breakfast.” He finished with a small smile on his lips. Yoongi ignored the man and walked to the black coffee machine, taking two mugs from beneath the sink and serving. You dried your face with the back of your hand. Yoongi walked to you and handed you one of the mugs. “Come on, let’s go see the boys.” He said, and you nodded, looking at Jin that was now folding his sleeves up his arm. You walked with Yoongi in silence before he broke it. “I think we should train you when you’re healed.” He said, and you looked at him in a silent question. He eyed you. There was this dark aura about Yoongi that you didn’t notice for the first few days. He was more serious than the other man, almost as serious as Jungkook. “We don’t know when another situation like that can happen so, it’s better to teach you the basics of self-defense, maybe teach you how to shoot.” He brought the mug up to his lips, taking a sip. You watched closely as you saw his jaw move. It wasn’t a secret to you that all men in the unit were undoubtedly attractive, but other than Jungkook, Yoongi had a small effect on you. “How does Jungkook feel about this?” You asked, turning the corner as you made your way to wherever the boys were. “He accepted, we can start basic training the day after tomorrow, wouldn’t want any of your wounds opening.” He turned his face and smirked, probably teasing you about the moments before you were attacked. You rolled your eyes. There was always a boyish way to them, it was refreshing. As you finally reached the room where the boys were gathered, you noticed it looked more like a lounge. Taehyung was the first to see you, a wide smile spreading across his face as he got up and met you halfway. “How are you feeling, birdie?” He ruffled your hair, making you chuckle. “A little sore, but I’m ok.” You smiled back at him, eyes looking at Jimin. “Glad you’re ok, Raven.” He smiled briefly and nodded. Smiling back you made your way to the couches they were seated at, noticing Hobi looking at you quietly. “Hey Hobi...” You smiled at him. “Mind if I sit next to you?” He lifted his eyebrows and shook his head and you took a seat, the rest of them settling down and you noticed Jungkook wasn’t there, looking around. “He said he had some things to take care of because of the delay.” Yoongi noticed your silent question and answered while he sat down on the couch opposite to you. “He left before the sun came up, he’ll be here soon.” You pursed your lips and nodded. “So, you’re going to become part of the Unit I heard.” It was Jimin who started the small talk. You chuckled. “I don’t think Jungkook is going to find it easy to teach me how to be violent.” You laughed. “Who said anything about Jungkook?” Yoongi questioned and you looked at him. “Jungkook sucks at teaching, me on the other hand...” He rested his elbows on his knees, leaning in. “I’m the Master.” He smirked and the boys all started laughing, making fun of him, even Hoseok. “Yeah, if you call slapping the shit out of newbies when they get on your nerves,” Hoseok commented. “Or making them stand naked in the rain for five hours.” A voice came from the door and Jin was coming is with a cart of food. Everyone laughed, and you were curious, wanting to know more. “Shut up, I was just teaching them that life won’t be kind to them when they fuck up.” Jin hummed, sitting down next to Yoongi and setting the plated on the coffee table in front of the couches. “Something life isn’t kind even when you don’t fuck up,” Jin said, and Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, those fuckers wouldn’t last a day in Jail.” He retorted, starting to pile up an empty plate with scrambled eggs, bacon, and bread. You pursed your lips yet again, this time wanting to know more about their time in jail. “How long did you guys do time?” You asked, not making eye contact, and the room went silent. They exchanged knowing glanced before deciding on answering. “Enough to not ever want to go back.” It was Hoseok that answered, you hummed. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Yoongi said with humor in his voice. Hoseok scoffed, leaning in and also filling his plate. “Speak for yourself, I hated that place, wasn’t meant for me.” He shook his head. “You, on the other hand, fit right in.” The surrounding boys all laughed and started eating the food Jin had prepared. “How about Jungkook?” You asked taking a grape and popping it into your mouth. You looked at Yoongi and he quirked an eyebrow. Looking at Jin, he nodded. ‘Well... Although Hoseok here thinks I fit in with criminals, Jungkook on the other hand." He paused. “Let’s just say he can be intimidating.” He looked up at you. “You’re all intimidating in my opinion.” You said. “Wait, even me?” Hobi looked surprised, pointing at his own chest. You nodded, and the boy’s laughed. “But, I have to admit... Jungkook is... He has a darkness inside of him like there is a part no one can reach, like a part of him he shows to no one, not even to you guys.” You only noticed what you had said after you finished, looking up to see all eyes on you. “Guess she really is becoming one of us, she notices it too.” It was Jimin’s turn to talk, chucking bitterly as he did so. You chewed on another grape, feeling a tad bit uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. “Was... Was everyone afraid of him in jail?” You wanted to change the subject. “Afraid is an understatement. Some people wanted him to become some sort of leader in there,” Hoseok said. “Honestly, I think he was a great leader. Too bad he went to isolation for two weeks after he battled.” Yoongi shrugged. “Hm?” You furrowed your brows, not understanding. “Isolation, man, jail sucks, but being isolated from society for two whole weeks? Drives a dude mad, I still remember the look in his eyes when he came out.” Hoseok set his plate back down, shaking his head. “But why did he have to go to isolation in the first place?” You asked. “Well, even if he didn’t want to become a leader, the one in place heard that some inmates wanted to choose a new one and decided to challenge Jungkook, like, a fight of sorts.” Yoongi started. “Son of a bitch said there was going to be a fight in the court after lunch. Even the officers were in on it, can’t say authority liked us, but they didn’t tell us that the dude had a weapon.” Your eyes bulged. “We knew that there was no way of getting out of it, so he decided to fight, pretty confident in his body to body engage, middle of the fight, he gets stabbed in the torso.” Both hands come up to your mouth in shock. “H-how... Did he lose?” You questioned, and Yoongi shook his head. “Then how d-did he win?” Yoongi opened his mouth to answer but was cut off. “I continued fighting with the thing sticking out of me...” All eyes shot to the owner of the voice, standing in the entrance, hands crossed over his chest. He was in all black, like the last time you had seen him at Red Hawk. Taking a step forward, he continued. “Managed to bring him down, straddled him, using my knee on his chest to make sure he stayed down, took the improvised knife out of me and stabbed him in the throat, the officers were only able to immobilize me when I knew he was dead.” He finished, standing now at the end of the couch, eyes roaming through the people in the room. “Way to be explicit at breakfast, Jungkook.” Jimin rolled his eyes, putting his plate down, not feeling his appetite. “Pussy.” He teased, and the tense atmosphere that had settled at his arrival dissipated. “How’d it go?” Yoongi asked, resuming his eating. You avoided looking at Jungkook, unable to hide the heat in your cheeks at all the conversations you had had about him and the very live memory of you both in the shower. “We’re good, spoke to Namjoon and he said we have an opening in two weeks, we can start with her training in the meantime, won’t get us too far, but at least somewhere.” He spoke and Yoongi nodded. “How are you feeling?” He looked at you. “G-good, yeah...” You stuttered. “Jin took me for a walk.” You smiled weakly, and he hummed. Something was off, Jungkook was being all too dry all of a sudden. “Ok, good, you should get some rest, we’re starting training tomorrow despite your wounds, we don’t have much time.” He put his hands in his pockets, the boys suddenly quiet. “Ok.” Was all you answered, a little disappointed. “The rest of you, back to work, procrastinating time is over.” He said a little more stern, and the boys started to move. You watched as even Jin was gathering the things and slowly they all exited the room quietly, you and Jungkook being the last ones there. You looked up at him, his eyes trained on your small figure, the IV still by your side. “Was that necessary?” You asked him and sighed. “What do you mean?” He questioned, no change in his demeanor. You turned your body in his direction. “We were having a conversation and eating breakfast, you could have waited a little longer.” You said, and Jungkook shifted in his spot. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I interrupt your brunch time, Miss President?” He said, sarcastically. ”Whoa, what was that for?" You furrowed your brows. “In case you forgot, we’re in the middle of a manhunt, the ‘man’ being you, unless you want to live we can’t forget what we are here for.” He argued. “Yeah, Jungkook, I get it, but I could use a little normal every once in a while.” You argued back. “Normal? Did you completely forget you were almost killed?” He raised his voice. “No, I didn’t, but I wasn’t killed Jungkook, I’m still alive, I’m right here.” You raised yours. “I saw you die!” He yelled. You went quiet. Yes, Jin had told you that your heart had stopped, he saved the details. “You were dead, gone, flatlined.” He went on. You looked down. “I saw you white, lifeless and drenched in your own blood before they brought you back.” He was short of breath. You swallowed, looking up at him again. “How many times am I going to have to apologize? I told you I was sorry, I made a mistake and I’m sorry I put you through that.” Your voice was softer than you intended and his shoulders relaxed. “I just...” He started but shook his head. “You what Jungkook?” You stood, taking two steps towards him. “Nothing, I need us to focus on this mission and make sure nothing like that happens again, our priority is to keep you alive.” He looked away, and you stretched your arm, resting your hand on top of his, he stilled. “Ok.” You answered him, reassuring him that you were going to do your best, he looked up at you, the space between you both closing with each second. “I need to go check on the... The weapons we have for training.” He cleared his throat and took a step back, turning his back to you and leaving you alone in the silent room. Something had certainly changed between you and Jungkook, and the following week had only proven that. There had been no more intimate interactions if anything, Jungkook had been avoiding you at all costs, not staying alone with you more than necessary, instead assigning Jimin to be the one to watch over you when you weren’t training body to body combat with Yoongi or with anyone else. You had grown closer to the others, waking up early in the morning and always cooking breakfast with Jin, you all made it a habit to eat together in the lounge, Jungkook would join but stay quiet, not partaking in the conversation and although it bothered you, you didn’t want to push him. Your wounds were healing perfectly, and Hoseok was the one helping you with physical therapy every afternoon before and after training. You found yourself very fond of him, noticing just how warm-hearted and kind Hoseok was. The evenings were Taehyung’s shifts, where he always had a bottle of something hidden under his jacket and you two would talk about mundane things while you shared a drink before Jimin came to get you back to your room, where he usually stayed until you fell asleep. You knew Jungkook took over after that; you had woken up one night and noticed him sitting on the chair next to your bed looking into that black little notebook he always had with him, you just shut your eyes and went back to sleep, wanting to say so much but being too tired to do so. Today was the first day you’d be spending alone time with Jungkook. Now that your shoulder wound was practically healed you were going to have your first shooting lesson and Jungkook was the best shooter. Making your way to meet with Yoongi, you stopped at the door and thanked Hoseok for walking with you and you stepped into the small training room where you stopped in your spot, noticing that Yoongi wasn’t alone. Both heads turned your way. God, why did they have to be so attractive and lethal at the same time? “Jungkook... What are you doing here?” You asked, clearing your throat and starting to walk yet again. “Just wanted to watch and see how you improved, if your shoulder is hanging on to, and how we can start with the shooting today.” You eyed Yoongi, that teasing smirk on his lips that you kinda hated but loved was there. “Go ahead.” He walked towards one of the chairs and sat down. “Hey there, princess.” He teased you. Princess had become a pet name you hated, Yoongi only used it when he wanted to get on your nerves. “Don’t start, you ass.” You rolled your eyes and started to tie your hair. “Or what?” He eyed Jungkook from his peripheral vision. “Gonna ask your boyfriend to kick my ass?” He whispered so only you could hear. You clenched your jaw. “Might just do it myself.” You retorted. That was Yoongi’s cue, and he came forward, both hands headed for your throat before he could even reach it you did exactly what you were taught, both hands coming from the side and slamming down onto his arms before you turned and faked him in the throat. “Good!” Yoongi praised. “That was a lot better.” After what seemed like ten minutes of you both going through routines, Jungkook stood up. “Are you two both done warming up?” He asked in a stern voice. You looked at him, brows furrows and chest heaving up and down. “W-What do you mean?” You asked, and Yoongi crossed his arms. “All I saw was you showing her exactly what you were going to do and giving her time to remember her moves.” He sounded irritated. “You went slow and we know that if this were real situations she probably wouldn’t de doing so well.” You opened your mouth to argue, but Yoongi beat you to it. “Jungkook, she’s a civilian, she doesn’t know hand to hand combat, and she had a week of training, I think she’s doing pretty good.” He argued. “I want to see how she’d handle it without you being so gentle.” He crossed his arms, demanding. “Jungkook, I don’t think-“ Yoongi started, but you interrupted. “No, he’s right... People out there won’t be gentle, they’ll be trying to kill me.” You looked at Yoongi and you saw dread on his face, he didn’t want to hurt you. “Jungkook should do it.” You said, looking at the man. Jungkook uncrossed his arm, eyes slightly bulged. “I trust that he’ll know when to stop.” He pursed his lips, jaw clenching, and sighed, rolling up his shirt. “Fine.” He said, getting in front of you, you turned to face him. “Ok, should we at least set a safe-“ He didn’t let you finish, launching his body forward and soon his hand was around your neck, pushing your body to the ground, harshly, your head hitting the floor. You saw Yoongi take a step forward, but he stopped himself. “And you’re dead,” Jungkook said, hand still wrapped around your throat, but loose. “This is what I was talking about, if keep going ea-“ You hit his hand with your elbow, making him lose his balance and fall forward, quickly, you rolled on the floor, straddling him and putting your hand around his throat, but never pressing. Jungkook took a few seconds to react, chest rising and falling as he looked at you. All of a sudden you were too aware of the position and the way his eyes went dark didn’t help. His hand slowly came up and gripped at your writs, pressing as his thumb gently rubbed up and down. You wanted to give in; you wanted to submit and to show just how something as stupid as this was enough to have you keen to him, but you were mad at him. No, you were absolutely pissed at him for avoiding you for a whole week, regardless of his fears, just ignoring the fact that both of you were intimate a week ago and acting as nothing happened. Your features softened when you heard Yoongi shuffle uncomfortably in the room. You got up quickly, patting your clothes and looking at Yoongi and back at Jungkook who remained on the floor. “Maybe Yoongi should try.” You suggested and the white-haired boy’s eyes went wide-eyed, looking at Jungkook on the floor and even if you didn’t see the man’s reaction Yoongi quickly shook his head. “I uh, I think you two should just go on without me, we only have twenty minutes left anyway, so, go on.” He put both hands in his pocket and slowly made his way out of the room. You stood there sighing before you suddenly heard Jungkook behind you. “Listen, Jungkook...” You turned around and stopped talking when you noticed just how close he was. He quirked an eyebrow. “Yes?” He asked. You swallowed, taking a small step back. “Look...” You tried to think of better ways to say what you wanted to say without sounding like an infatuated teenager. “If... If you want to ignore what happened between us that is completely ok by me, but, it would have been nice to have a heads up before I’m being ignored by the guy that fucked me a week ago.” You looked at him, breathing in. Bringing his lower lip into his mouth, Jungkook broke eye contact, chuckling bitterly. “I’m sorry if I’m focused on keeping you alive rather than have sit-downs to talk about us.” You felt a sting in your chest, silence filling the room for a while before you looked down and spoke. “Is that what this is, then? It’s just a mission and you’re conveniently attracted to me?” You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling small. He went quiet, and you swallowed, not needing him to answer, yet... You refused to believe his silence. “You know what, I think you’re full of shit.” You said, and he furrowed his brows in confusion. “Yeah, I think you care about me, more than just a mission and even if I’m not sure why you’re acting the way you are and being indifferent, I think you should be as tough with me as you are with the rest of the world because right now, you look like a fucking coward.” You gave him a weak smile."I think you’re scared. And honestly, so am I... I’m so fucking scared Jungkook, not just for me, but for you, and for the boys. What if something happened to them because of me, what if someone else dies because of me?" You looked up at him and his eyes went soft. “How about after? I have no idea what’s going to happen and I honestly don’t want to think about it... But I have to do this, there isn’t any other choice...” You breathed in, trying to hold in your tears. “I would just like it if instead of making this harder... You’d just make it easier.” You looked back at him again. You shook your head when he didn’t answer and walked out of the room frustrated. You weren’t surprised when instead of Jungkook showing up for your first shooting lesson; it was Jin. The first class went smoothly, you learned the basics and Jin was rather patient with you like he always was. As the night rolled in you all got ready for dinner and once again Jungkook wasn’t there, you sighed when you noticed his absence and Yoongi gave you an empathetic look while you just smiled at him weakly and ate while the boys started to argue about something like they usually did. After dinner, you walked back to your room with Jimin and as you approached; you saw Yoongi by the door. “Hey, Chim, I’ll take over today,” Yoongi said and Jimin furrowed his brows. “You sure, Jungkook said-“ “I know what Jungkook said, you’re dismissed, I’ll take it from here.” He cut the boy short and Jimin shrugged before saying goodnight and walking to his room. You looked at Yoongi in confusion and he smiled down at you before he showed what was hidden under his jacket. A bottle of bourbon. You chuckled, shaking your head. “I thought you might want to talk after today.” He shrugged. “Did you change places with Taehyung? He’s the one that usually tried to get me drunk.” You smiled and opened your door, making your way in while Yoongi followed. “Well, I just didn’t get to spend my designated time with you an as much as I hate to admit it, I kind of missed your ass.” He smiled and sat at the chair next to your bed. You walked towards the small locker where you kept your clothes. “Missed me, huh?” You laughed.“ Are you gonna fight big bad Jungkook for taking me away from you?” You teased, and he rolled his eyes. As you slowly slid off your pants and pulled your shirt up, Yoongi cleared his throat and turned around. You looked back, laughing when you noticed. “Oh, please, like you even care, if I remember correctly you were peaking the first time we met.” You finally put on some comfortable clothes and crawled in bed. Yoongi turned back to you, cheeks slightly red. You laughed at him. “God, who would have known all of you killers would be so soft.” You shook your head and extended your arm, pointing at the bottle. Yoongi gave it to you after taking a swing. He made a face and handed you the bottle. “Yeah, well, who would have known you weren’t such a spoiled rich girl after all.” He teased back. Taking a drink, you felt the alcohol burn down your throat, coughing afterward. “You need to teach Jungkook how to be soft.” You said after you recuperated from your coughing. “Jungkook is just difficult... He has his soft side.” Yoongi said. “I know he does, I guess I’ve seen a bit of it before he stopped liking me.” You shook your head and took another sip. “Y/N, he didn’t stop liking you, come on.” He reasoned with you. “I don’t know, Yoongi... He changed. I don’t know what it is... I wish I could understand, you know? It would be less painful.” You looked down at the bottle. “It’s not even about being rejected, I can accept that, it’s just the lack of communication, not understanding him, not knowing what troubles him and why one moment he looks at me like I’m everything and the next he looks at me like I’m just... A mission.” You looked at Yoongi and he had an understanding look in his eyes. “You should get some sleep, It’s been a long day.” Yoongi takes the bottle from your hand and you nod, getting comfortable. It was quiet for a while before you broke the silence. “Yoongi?” You called, and he hummed. “I really like him.” You said in a sleepy voice, mind drifting off to sleep after a few moments of silence. You don’t how long you were asleep before you heard the door open, it was unusual for you to wake up, but maybe the alcohol had made your sleep lighter than usual. “Why did you trade places with Jimin?” You heard Jungkook’s voice. He was talking low in the dark room. Yoongi sighed. “Just wanted to spend some time with her, she could use a little normal.” The other answered quietly. “You don’t break protocol without talking to me first, do you understand?” Jungkook sounded irritated. “Jungkook, we’re safe, I’d bet my life on it,” Yoongi argued. You tried your best to be quiet and pretend you were asleep. Jungkook was silent for a few seconds. “Are you in love with her, is that it?” Jungkook questioned and even you were surprised by it. “Oh, fuck you, Jungkook, you don’t get to do that,” Yoongi said bitterly. You could hear the slight drunkenness in his voice. “You don’t get to act possessive or jealous when everyone can see you’re the one pushing her away.” He finished and you could hear the bottle moving. “I care about her just like I care about every single person in this unit, excuse me if I refuse to treat her as a mission and instead as a human.” Your heart constricted at his words. Everything went quiet, and you wondered if they had left for a second before you heard Jungkook sigh. “I’m just trying to stay focused, I don’t want to make any mistakes, I can’t afford it.” It was the first time in a while you felt like Jungkook’s words were raw. “There is no point in bubble wrapping her like this if by the end of the mission there are no feelings left to even cultivate, bro.” Yoongi’s voice went lower. You heard him getting up and walking towards the door. “Just make sure you’re balancing things, you’re also human, we all are.” Yoongi finally said before you heard the door and the room fell silent. You heard him moving and finally sitting down on the chair where he usually does when you’re asleep. At least five minutes of silence went by. “I am scared.” He spoke, breaking the silence in the room. His voice was low, vulnerable. “I’m scared that if I blink, I’ll see you in my arms again, fighting to stay alive.” He paused, and you breathed in. “I’m scared that if I blink, you’ll be dead, and I promised I’d keep you safe.” You could hear the same pain in his voice from the day you woke up. “I’m so fucking scared that after this is over I’ll go back to being a shadow, someone you don’t know.” You rolled over to look at him, he tilted his head in your direction, unphased by your opened eyes looking at him “I have no idea why I feel this way, but we don’t choose what we feel, all I know is that I can’t stay away from you or stop thinking about you for one second and it scares the shit out of me.” He shook his head and looked down. “Jungkook...” You started, and he looked at you. “I’m scared that if I don’t focus on your safety, I’ll lose you and I can’t lose you.” He broke eye contact. “But how can I focus? How can I be aware of my surroundings when all I want is to look at you, touch you, kiss you?” You started squirming on the bed at his words. “How can I even focus when I can still remember how you smell? How you look under me?” He sighed. “I’m scared I’m going to fuck this up because there isn’t a second that goes by that I don’t wish we could go back to that bathroom and relive those moments again and again.” He finished. “Jungkook...” You spoke again, and he lifted his eyes. “Please... Please, kiss me.” You begged. Jungkook stood up and quickly leaned over your body, one hand coming up to brush the hair out of your face and gently caress down the side of your cheek before he leaned in, nose brushing yours. You wish you could say you hated how keen you were towards him, sitting up and closing your eyes when his lips gently touched yours. A small gasp left your lips, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue in and deepen the kiss. Your body immediately reacted, a soft whimper escaping you, and Jungkook was pulling back, nose still touching yours and eyes trained on your mouth. “The things I want to do to you.” He whispered, closing his eyes and grazing the tip of his nose up and down yours before he was trailing down your neck, your body erupting in goosebumps as your nipples hardened under your loose shirt. “Tell me I can, tell me I can do everything to you, anything.” He whispered against your skin, lips touching your neck softly and you couldn’t control your body as you leaned into him for more. “A-anything, please...” You whispered back, and that was enough confirmation he needed before he slipped one hand under your shirt, rough fingers tracing up your stomach and not wasting time before he cupped your breasts and started a slow yet sensual massage on them, you arched into his touch soft moans coming out of you. “I love how sensitive you are to me.” He whispered against your neck, teeth biting into it softly as his fingers played with your nipples. “Do you know how much I wanted to fuck you in that training room?” He asked, kissing up and down your neck while his hand moves to the other breast. “You on top of me like that... I couldn’t stop picturing you riding me all day.” He pinched your nipple harder, and you jolted in our place, moaning at the pain. “I had to go hide in my room and jerk off to make sure I could function for the rest of the day.” The thought alone was enough to get you aching if you hadn’t been already the moment he kissed you, you could feel the way your heart was hot and aching already. He took in a deep breath, sliding his hand back down slowly and making you open your legs to give him access to where you wanted him. “That’s one of the things that make me go crazy... Anything you do makes me want to shove you against a wall, a floor, a bed and fuck it out of my system.” He said between clenched teeth, hand reaching the hem of your underwear. “But how can I ever be focused like that? When I’m thinking about you cumming around me like that day again and again?” He pulled his head back, looking at you, and you opened your hazy eyes to look at him. He stopped his hand and went quiet, head tilting slightly before he breached the hem and slid his fingers down your folds. You threw your head back when his fingers reached your entrance, unaware of just how wet you were before his brows furrowed in agony. “Soaking. Fucking soaking.” He quickly brought his hand out from your underwear and slid his drenched fingers into his mouth. The whole sight had you fluttering and biting on your lower lip to keep you from whining. When he brought his fingers out, his eyes were dark, pupils were blown out completely and you shivered in your spot. Suddenly he was leaning back, manhandling you down the bed as he settled between your legs, pushing your thighs apart quickly and without giving you time to process, he pushed your underwear to the side and dived into you, tongue lapping up your folds. You arched your back, a strangled moan leaving you as your thighs began to shake. It had been so long since someone went down on you and fuck was Jungkook doing a good job. He was like a starved man, wanting to have his face between your legs ever since that day in the tent, he worked his tongue up and don your folds before he focused on your clit, tongue licking it softly and alternating to sucking on it. You were already so close to your edge that you started clawing at his hair, breathing harshly as you tried to make him stop. “J-Jungkook, s-stop, I’m gonna cum.” You tried to keep your voice down, but you were far too gone to control your volume. If you wanted him to stop by saying that, it only had the opposite effect because Jungkook was doubling his effort. Mouth closing around our clit to suck and lick and finally bring you over the edge. You shook violently, eyes shutting closed as your mouth opened and strings of whimpers and moans left them, you latched your hand over it and bit down, trying to control them but Jungkook was only making you moan louder as, even after you had cum, he continued to suck on your clit, making you wince at the overstimulation. When you whined and tried to push him away, he pulled back, sitting up. You opened your hazy eyes looking at him, his chin was wet with your release and his lips were swollen deliciously. His eyes were dangerous and only made you want him more and before you could open your mouth to ask him you were shut up by his mouth on yours, tasting your own release on his tongue and whimpering, he pulled back, eyeing you. “Do you taste yourself?” He whispered with a velvet toned voice. “Do you taste just how delicious you are?” Your hands came down and started palming him over his pants, noticing just how strained his erection was in it. You whined, aching for him. “F-fuck me... Please.” You begged and Jungkook smirked, pleased with your desperation. You whined again, pressing your palm down harder into his erection, making him groan. “Fuck...” He cursed, biting on his lower lip to keep in his sounds. He leaned back, pulling his shirt over his head, and the sight had your mouth watering yet again. His toned abs and honey-kissed skin were sinful You could see the slight scars he carried and your fingers twitched with a desire to trace them. Slowly and patiently, he reached down with one hand, undoing his pants and shoving them down enough to free his erection. He looked down at it, pumping it a few times and looking up at you. You brought both your hands up, pulling his face down into yours and kissing him gently. His tongue was soft against yours, tender. And suddenly you felt his tip against your entrance. A gasp escaped you as he pushed in. His length girthy and the slight burn it made you feel was delicious. He panted above you, clearly as affected as you. For a few moments he didn’t move, just allowing you to adjust before he slowly started pulling out and pushing back all the way in, bottoming out. Your back arched once more, feeling him so deep inside of you was overwhelming. Grabbing both your hands and pinning them above your head, he interlocked your fingers, hips grinding slowly into you and starting a torturous sensual pace. He rested his forehead against yours, lust-driven eyes looking back into your hazy ones as he fucked into you slowly. The drag of his erection inside of you was making your walls clench hard around him each time and soon it was getting harder for him to keep his sounds in as low breathy groans started to escape him. Soon, the room started to get hot, your skin feeling damp as you noticed the prickles of sweat on him, his pace starting to pick up as he the pleasure become too strong to control. “You drive me insane.” He pulled back, leaning on one hand and holding your hip with his other. In a bold move, you gripped his hand, pulling it upwards to rest around your throat. His eyes bulged slightly as he moves, but soon, they became dangerous. “Little dove, little dove... Who would have known such a fragile girl could be so dirty.” He smirked before he slammed his hips into you, making you buck and moan loudly. “If you wanted to be fucked like a slut, all you had to do was ask.” He trusted hard once again, hitting deep inside of you and making you unable to control the volume of your moans. His grip tightened around your throat, making your body start to build up your release without you wanting to. You clenched hard around him and he groaned at the tightness. “You’re going to cum again, already?” He started a fast pace into you, pelvis slamming against your ass and filling the room with lewd noises that surely could be heard throughout the hall. You felt the high approach you and Jungkook shook his head, an evil smirk on his lips as he panted above you. “If you want to cum again, you’ll have to beg.” The dominance was sudden but welcomed. You felt at his mercy and you opened your mouth, voice hoars and weak. “P-please, m-may I cum?” You begged. “That was pathetic, little dove, you can do better than that.” He groaned when a rather delicious drag rubbed him just right. “Shit...” He cursed out, biting down on his lower lips. “Please, Jungkook, please, please... let me cum around you, let me clench and make a mess all over you.” You closed your eyes to try to hold back your orgasm, and you felt his grip tighten around your throat. “Fuck... Cum, cum with me.” And you gasped, body shaking violently under him before your vision turned white, high-pitched moans and arched back as your walls spasming and gushes of your release coating him while he fucked in and out of you until he stilled, twitching deep inside of you as he released and coated your walls. His groans were deep, breathy, and he rode out his and your orgasm before he stopped completely, letting his head hang on his shoulder and catch his breath. You looked up at him, eyes barely open and mouth swollen from how hard you bit on it. He shifted, falling beside you on the bed and closing his eyes while he still struggled to breathe. You turned your head in his direction and he turned to you, opening his eyes and looking deeply into yours. You breathed in, nervous. “I don’t know what’s going to happen... But, I really like you Jungkook and I know it’s dangerous, but I trust you with everything in me, as stupid as that sounds.” You chuckled. “I trust that you’ll always put my safety first, but please, don’t push me away.” You swallowed, and he sighed, hand coming up to reach for your cheeks and caress you while he was silent. “I’m sorry.” He said, leaning in to catch your lips and kiss you softly. You shook your head, smiling against him. “It’s ok... Just don’t do it again.” You asked, and it was his turn to chuckle. You bit your lower lip, cheeks flushed as you looked at him. His pupils dilating at the sight. “You’re going to be the death of me.” You reached the end of chapter three! I just wanted to leave this here! It was a cover made by RU`s number one fan @minalovessaruma and I can’t say how thankful I am for her. She has always been RU’s number one hyper and I just love that she went out of her way to make this little piece along with two others! Special thank you to Mina! Much love! - May.

#themfchase #smut #mature #fanfic #fic #imagine #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeon #jk #reader #female #btssmut #jungkook x reader #raven unit #smutcentralnet #btsmutcentral

260 notes · View notes