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cherienymphe · 3 years

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Stranger Beside Me (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, forced pregnancy, mentions of abortion, toxic relationships, domestic abuse, I don’t know if I’ve ever written anything this angsty in my life

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

Here is the long awaited boyfriend!Steve fic.

summary: you and Steve have the perfect relationship, and you want to keep it that way. It’s why he can never discover your secrets, but your secrets wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for his own.

The first time you got pregnant, you had never been more disappointed with yourself in your life. Not even failing a major class during college had made you feel as bad as you did when you were staring at that little plastic stick, trying and desperately failing to convince yourself that you were just seeing double. How could you be so careless? How crazy it was to think that a small insignificant piece of plastic could change your mood and life so drastically.

You had sat down on the toilet and remained there for hours. So many thoughts were swirling in your head, possibilities that you didn’t even want to entertain but you found yourself doing so anyway. Eventually, you came to a conclusion that was easy to say: you weren’t ready for a baby. Admitting and accepting that wasn’t hard at all. The hard part was the question that followed.

What were you going to do about it?

You had struggled with that particular part for days, and you were grateful more than ever that Steve was on a mission. You knew what he would do if he found out, what he would say, and it was an argument you were unprepared to have. You weren’t ready to break his heart like that and face the possibility that this could be the end for you.

Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, was the best boyfriend anyone could ask for. You were Pepper’s stylist, hired for special events, and having been in town for a company party thrown by Tony Stark himself, that was where you met Steve. The attraction was mutual, but you were a woman of the world, constantly jetting off to whatever celebrity needed you at the moment. A stationary girl trying to have a relationship with a superhero would be hard enough, let alone one whose feet never remained on the ground.

And that was what you told the blond avenger after the second time he slept over at your place. The first time, a week after the party, was only meant to be a one time thing. At least, that was your impression, but Steve liked you, and no matter how much you pretended you didn’t, you liked him too. Before you knew it, you were leading him into your apartment for a second time, mouth starved and hands searching.

He was the most attentive lover you’d ever been with, touching you like you were nothing less than fine china, desperate for the taste of you on his lips. He held you like he was afraid to break you, and considering that the man was a super soldier, you understood that, but still. His touch, combined with the way he looked at you, made you feel like you were literally the only woman in the whole world. It was intense.

“I know,” he had sighed, staring up at the ceiling as you looked at him. “You just...make me feel so comfortable.”

You had frowned, never considering that. After all, this was only the second time you’d slept together.

“I do?”

He turned to look at you, a small smile on his pink lips, blue eyes sparkling.

“Of course.”

You rolled over onto your stomach, resting on your forearms as he continued, watching as he reached out to brush a finger over the skin of your back.

“You don’t look at me like a superhero, but instead just some guy who is really great in bed.”

You let out a sheepish chuckle, dropping your head, and he joined you.

“Don’t feel bad. It’s surprisingly refreshing. It makes me feel like I have room to...be less than perfect,” he murmured.

Your eyes met his then, and despite the words never escaping his lips, they were front and center in his eyes, and you sighed.

“We would never work, Steve,” you whispered, surprised at how disappointed you sounded. “You’re always off saving the world, and I’m always off dressing it.”

He didn’t respond right away, mulling over what you said.

“Maybe that’s exactly why it would work,” he said, surprising you.

You frowned a bit before raising an eyebrow at him, curious as to how he came to that conclusion.

“I’ve tried to date. God knows I’ve tried to find a girl who wants Steve Rogers and not just the face of America…”

Steve sounded sad, maybe even a bit bitter.

“...but nevermind the fact that they only see the suit and shield, they’re always left to their cozy lifestyle while I'm off saving the world. They’re always waiting around for me, eating dinners alone, sleeping alone. Having a superhero boyfriend is never what they think it will be, never worth it, and while the breakup is expected, I still feel bad.”

Your heart clenched, and you found yourself scooting closer to him. He wrapped his big arm around you, pulling you into his chest, and his whole face shifted. He smiled at you, eyes hopeful.

“...but you? You’re running around the world almost as much as I am. By the time you even have time to miss me, I’ll already be there, and if not…”

He trailed off, but he didn’t need to say it. Your lifestyle wasn’t exactly compatible with a relationship. At least, not a conventional one anyway. Spending nights alone was normal for you, and having a boyfriend that wasn’t there half the time would hardly impact your lifestyle.

You slowly returned his smile.

“Okay, Rogers. Maybe this could work.”

And work it did. 2 years and 7 months later, and the two of you were happier than ever. Tony was surprised that Steve found a girl who stuck around, and Pepper was surprised that you’d found someone who convinced you to settle down. You simply told her that Steve had made a convincing argument, but the truth was that Steve was genuinely the perfect boyfriend. You two talked whenever you could, and he had been right. By the time you even had time to miss him, he was somehow always there, knocking on the door of your apartment, doing so until he upgraded to waltzing through the door of your shared apartment.

Steve treated you like a queen, constantly making you question how you got so lucky. He always kissed you like it was going to be the last time, and he made love to you like he was personally trying to drive you crazy with pleasure. You loved him, you loved him, you loved him. You had even told him first, and he had been sad because he had wanted to tell you first for a long time, and that made you sad. So you let him tell you, and then you said it back, and he’d made love to you like he never had before, and it was there, coming undone in his arms, that you told him you loved him again and again and again.

That was why he couldn’t find out you were pregnant. It would start an argument that would ruin you, ruin everything. Steve was hardly home, and you were no different, and while it was never a problem before, it was no environment to raise a baby in. This was the truth. This made sense. Your doctor agreed, and while Steve was off saving the world on an early weekday morning, you were doing what you felt was right.

The 2nd time you got pregnant, you weren’t just disappointed at your carelessness again, but you were also angry. It was no secret that Steve wanted a baby, probably since the first moment he saw you. You always noticed the way he looked at families, the way he smiled and waved at awestruck children. The man had probably come out of the womb ready to be a father, and you loved that about him. And it wasn’t like you didn’t want children too, you certainly did, but just not anytime soon.

You still had a thriving career, and so did he, and neither one of you seemed ready to give that up in the near future. A baby required sacrifice, and you weren’t ready for that yet, and if the way Steve readily took on missions was anything to by, neither was he. You knew that if he found out, he would fight to convince you to keep it, and you would fight to convince him that neither one of you were ready. Like before, you thought to yourself that it would start an argument that could very well be the end for you.

That was where the anger came in.

Why did you keep doing this? How did you keep doing this? Both of you had always been safe, never going without a condom, but after the first pregnancy, you had even gone on birth control too, paranoid and determined to be more responsible. Yet, here you were, pregnant again. You knew what this would do to your relationship, so how could you be so negligent again? It was as if you were subconsciously trying to ruin everything and you hated yourself for it.

Steve had not been away on a mission this time, and you immediately took all of the garbage out under the guise of cleaning the house. He seemed far more attentive that night than usual, but it could have just as easily been your own paranoia. His mouth covered yours in a heated kiss as he pressed his hips to yours, pulling a moan from you.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured into your mouth, pulling back before sliding into you again.

Your legs were tight around his waist, and his hands were tight on yours. The only thing that filled the room was the sound of heavy moans and harsh breathing, occasionally interrupted by whatever Steve chose to say. It never not surprised you how much Steve enjoyed talking to you in bed. Praising you, degrading you, teasing you. He enjoyed making you squirm from more than just his cock.

“You know what would make you even more beautiful? Radiant?”

“What?” you breathed, hands running through his hair.

“A baby,” he mumbled, lips ghosting over your chin, making you freeze.

At first you thought that maybe he knew. Although there was no logical explanation for thinking that, you’d been very careful, you couldn’t help it. Your heart picked up the pace, but then you realized that Steve was just being Steve. He had mentioned children in passing, but it was done in the way that you mentioned children. Always in a future tense. It had never been like this, so straightforward and with a sense of urgency.

He wanted a baby now.

“Come on,” you chuckled, trying to brush him off, attempting to press your lips against his.

He moved out of your reach, and you tried not to let it show how much you were bothered by this conversation. His blue eyes searched yours, a faint smile on his face as he hovered over you.

“I’m serious. Think about how beautiful you’d be, round and glowing with my child,” he continued, finally kissing you.

His hips snapped into yours, more force behind his thrusts, like the idea of you swollen with his child was the biggest turn on. You never even got a chance to truly voice your displeasure, a moaning and quivering mess until you finally came around him. Once your heart finally settled, you laid there, thinking about the fact that Steve wanted a baby now despite the fact that neither of your lifestyles could accommodate one.

When he came back to bed after disposing of the condom, he pulled you into his arms, and you settled against him. He pressed his face into your hair, breathing you in, and you closed your eyes, feeling like the worst girlfriend in the world.

“I can’t wait til we never have to buy those again,” he whispered.

Your heart clenched, and you forced yourself to go to sleep by listing every reason you could think of as to why you were doing the right thing. A week later, Steve kissed you goodbye in the early hours of the morning before he had to leave on another mission. 2 hours later, you were in a doctor’s office doing what you felt was best.

The 3rd time you got pregnant, you were no longer disappointed. Not even angry, but just confused. You were leaning against the closed door of your bathroom, once again staring at that little piece of plastic with nothing but confusion. You were as careful as you could possibly be. After the 2nd pregnancy, you always triple checked to make sure that you never forgot your birth control. You made sure that the house was always stocked with condoms.

You didn’t understand it.

You had been startled by a knock on the door, and you hurriedly rushed to get rid of the test. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been in the bathroom, and Steve had started to get worried. At least, that was what he told you through the door.

“Are you okay?”

What a loaded question. Were you okay? Here you were, pregnant for the third time within a year and you couldn’t figure out how. Of course, it was obvious as to how, but it should have been very unlikely. You knew that condoms, even when paired with birth control, weren’t going to be 100% effective. You were an adult with common sense. That you understood. One unplanned pregnancy wasn’t the most ridiculous thing in the world. Shit happens.

Two within the same year still wasn’t absolutely crazy, but it was a little mind bending when you were more than careful.

But three? Three was concerning.

You opened the bathroom door with a soft smile, nodding at Steve as you stepped out.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He looked like he didn’t quite believe you, but being the great boyfriend that he was, he didn’t press you further.

“Okay. Breakfast is on the table. Come eat?” he offered, holding out his hand.

You took it and allowed him to lead you to the dining room. Breakfast was as it always was. Steve told you about the last mission he’d just gotten back from only days ago, and you told him about the latest celebrity going through a meltdown over a dress. You enjoyed these talks with Steve, these moments with just the two of you, and you weren’t ready to alter that in any way. Not yet.

Sometimes you felt like the worst girlfriend in the world, wondering if you were being selfish for wanting it to remain just the two of you for a little while longer. You adored children, but having them wasn’t just some hobby. You would no longer be able to put yourself first, and with so much of your life still ahead of you, you weren’t ready to stop being selfish.

And that was okay.

What wasn’t okay was the lies. No matter how you tried to spin it, no matter how many justifications you made, you were lying to Steve. Perhaps in one of the worst ways possible. Sometimes you felt like you should tell him, but what purpose would it serve? Nothing could be done about the past, and he’d only end up hating you. That was what you were really afraid of. Having Steve stare at you like he didn’t even know who you were.

But you knew how Steve could be. How clouded his mind could get when it came to children and starting a family. The man enjoyed a simple life. He was nostalgic for what he felt he missed out on, and while there was nothing wrong with that, you knew that he wasn’t going to hang up the shield for it. Just like you weren’t going to put your career on pause for it, and you had no intentions of just letting some stranger raise your child.

You knew that neither one of you were willing to sacrifice in order to raise a baby in the proper environment. That was why during breakfast, as you held Steve’s hand while you two talked and ate, you decided to go through with it for a third time.

The first time had been hard. You kept second guessing everything. You knew that it was the right thing to do, but was it the right thing to do without telling Steve? Without getting his input? Without even giving him the chance to love this baby before you snatched it away? Your body, your choice right? But was it really that black and white? Was any of this fair to him?

The second time had been easier. You still hadn’t felt any better about it, but at least you weren’t going through an internal crisis. At least you knew what to expect, because that had been the most nerve wracking part, fear of the unknown. Afterwards, your mood wasn’t as sullen for as long as it was after the first time. You had moved past it fairly quickly, but after all, you had been sure it would be the final time.

The third time wasn’t anything like that. The guilt still ate away at you, but it seemed more like a standard doctor’s visit. A routine checkup. That was what you told Steve it was. He had offered to take you, but you had declined, and he had sent you off with a lingering kiss. You went to get some coffee from Starbucks afterwards.

The months that followed were filled with the usual bliss that surrounded your relationship. You two went to Tony’s parties, occasionally hung out at the compound with the rest of the team, and Steve took you out whenever he was home. Despite your relationship ruining secrets, everything was perfect.

Almost.

“Everytime you come to one of my little soirees, I keep expecting to see you 4 months pregnant,” Tony said, making you bark a laugh.

Steve only chuckled, and you squeezed his hand, sending him a soft smile. The baby talk had increased as of late, but truthfully, it had been gradually increasing for pretty much a year. If it hadn’t been obvious before, it was now. Steve was ready to have children, and while it had been a topic that was only thrown into conversation here and there, you found yourself skimming over the subject at least once a week these days.

Surely you would get to a point where a serious discussion about it would be unavoidable. Steve loved you, and you were sure that you could talk him into waiting. After all, it wasn’t like you would be saying you never wanted kids. Just not now.

“I’m serious. All ‘Capsicle’ here talks about is kids. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the two of you had been trying for months,” the dark-haired man continued, taking a sip of his drink.

He was throwing his annual holiday party tonight, always placed in between Christmas and New Year’s, despite the fact that he threw parties on those days too. You just thought that Tony liked any excuse to party and drink.

“Sadly no,” Steve said, his tone surprising you. “We’re still just enjoying each other as much as we can. Right?”

He looked at you, and your smile faltered a bit, but you nodded. That was what you always told him whenever the topic came up. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Steve sounded bitter, upset even. You turned away from him, taking a sip of your champagne with a frown. You suddenly wondered if he knew, but that was easily dismissed. If Steve knew that you had secretly aborted 3 of his children, you’d be on the receiving end of more than just a strained smile and a passive aggressive tone.

You worried that tonight would be the night where you’d have the big talk, where you’d have to come out and tell Steve to give you more time. It was wild to think that even though there was nothing wrong with waiting to have kids, you felt horrible about asking Steve to do so. Maybe it was because he’s so sweet? Or because he’s literally never asked you for anything else? Or maybe it was because you had deprived him of what he wanted three times over and the guilt was getting to you.

However, you weren’t able to do that. You hadn’t even realized that you had started to sway until the glass in your hand hit the floor, shattering upon impact. Steve had only a second to turn towards you before you were collapsing in his waiting arms. Against your will, you succumbed to darkness.

When you woke up, you were in the compound. You had been in the infirmary a handful of times so it was recognizable almost immediately. Nat was there when you woke up, and she sent you a small nervous smile.

“Well, hello sleepyhead. You gave us all quite the scare,” she murmured.

You hummed, briefly shutting your eyes as you pressed your hand to your head.

“Sorry. What...what happened?”

“You fainted,” she said, handing you the glass of water that was beside the bed.

You gratefully took it, gulping it down, surprised at how thirsty you were. You thanked her when you handed it back to her and was just about to ask her where Steve was when he strode through the door. His lips were pressed together, and you worried that he’d worried about you, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed him, and you frowned.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Nat said before making to leave. “Take care of her, Steve.”

He was at your side just as the door shut behind her, and your frown deepened when a blinding smile spread over his lips. You were confused as he took your hand, keeping his lips there as he kissed it.

“Steve…?”

He shook his head.

“Sorry,” he said, sitting down next to you on the bed, facing you as he held your hand.

The other reached out to brush over your cheek and across your jaw. Despite your confusion, you placed your hand on his, blinking at him, a bit unnerved by the look in his eye.

You hadn’t seen that look since before you two officially became a couple.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Everything is more than okay.”

He leaned in to press his lips against yours, soft and loving, and you kissed him back. When he pulled away, he looked at you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen, like you’d break with one touch.

“You’re pregnant,” he told you.

Your lips parted as his words washed over you, and you struggled to find something to say.

“...what?”

He repeated it with a smile, kissing you again before pulling you into a hug, one you did not return. Everything after that was a blur. Tony came in to make sure everything was fine. Dr. Cho said you were 4 weeks along is what he told you. He’d offered his congratulations, Steve took you home and wasted no time before wrapping his arms around you.

His touch was gentle throughout the night, but it lingered as if he never wanted to stop touching you. You don’t know how many times he made you come around him, but Steve didn’t seem to care about your exhaustion. With his lips constantly attached to your skin, he only cared about getting drunk off the taste of you. You let him have you as much as he wanted. You let him rejoice in this, because it was the least you could do before you broke his heart.

He was awake in the morning before you, and the smell of breakfast cooking made your stomach growl. Gratefully, you didn’t seem to have any morning sickness, but your stomach still twisted from something entirely different as you made your way to the kitchen. Steve looked like anyone’s dream as he stood there in a fitted t-shirt and pajamas, pushing food onto a plate for you.

“Morning,” you mumbled.

He looked up and approached you with a smile, pressing a kiss to your lips as he returned your greeting.

“Go sit down. I’ll bring you your food,” he told you.

Reluctantly, you did so. You were quiet as he joined you, and you started nibbling on your food.

“Sweetheart,” he scolded at the action. “You’re eating for two now. You need to eat all of it.”

He was right, and under different circumstances you would do as he encouraged, but there was no point in putting this off.

“Steve, I don’t want to have this baby.”

You hadn’t mean to say it so bluntly, but there was no easy way to say it. There was no sense in hesitating. Steve froze almost immediately, and you reluctantly met his eyes as he stared at you. He rested his forearms on the table, a small frown on his face. He looked equal parts floored and confused and hurt, and you sighed.

“...what?”

“We’re not ready,” you whispered.

Steve scoffed, shaking his head at you.

“Of course, we are,” he argued.

“So you’re ready to give up being Captain America?” you asked him.

He hesitated, and you nodded.

“...exactly. You’re not, and that’s okay, and I would never ask you to, but that’s what's going to be required if we’re going to start a family now. You like doing what you do, and I like doing what I do. Neither one of us are ready to put a stop to any of it, at least not for the time being.”

“To be fair, I save lives. There will always be some Hollywood starlet who needs a dress or the latest shoes,” he replied.

“Excuse me?” you scoffed, looking at him like he’d slapped you.

He suddenly huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he eventually said. “I’m just saying that putting that on hold for a few years will hardly impact you. You can always pick it up again like you never left.”

“And why am I the one who has to sacrifice, Steve? You aren’t the only superhero-!”

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry,” he cut you off as your voice started to rise, reaching for your hand.

He brushed his thumb along the back in what was meant to be a soothing getsure, but you were still a bit heated at the way he’d diminished your career.

“I’m sorry, okay? I just… I know that it’s going to be difficult-.”

“It’s going to be more than difficult. We’re talking about a baby! Both of us need to be here,” you told him.

He heaved a sigh, staring at you.

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I don’t want to have a baby right now. Maybe in a few years, sure, but neither one of us are willing to sacrifice.”

You watched as his jaw ticked, eyes narrowing just a bit as he considered your words.

“So what does that mean?”

You crossed your arms over your chest as you leaned back, avoiding his eye.

“Y/N?”

“Steve-.”

“What the hell are you saying?”

You flinched, not used to Steve cursing, and you knew that he was angry. This very conversation was what you had tried so hard to prevent, and once again, you were cursing yourself for your negligence. How on earth did you manage to get pregnant again?

You stood from the table, trying to put off this fight for five more minutes, the same fight you’d been trying to prevent for a year. You and Steve hardly ever fought, but when you did, it was for the silliest of things. Things you’d both look back on and laugh at.

Not this.

You heard Steve follow you, and his grip on your wrist was hard as he pulled you to a halt. You spun around to face him like he’d lost his mind. You tried to get out of his hold, but he wasn’t budging. He knew what you were implying, what you planned to do, and he was angrier than you’d ever seen him.

“This is my decision,” you quietly told him, making his eyes darken. “You don’t have to agree with it, you don’t even have to like it, but you can’t make me go through with this pregnancy. Neither one of us are ready.”

“So I get no say?”

He tilted his head at you, and you blinked away tears.

“I don’t want this right now, Steve. I don’t, and I’m not going to change my mind, so what do you suggest we do?”

His face softened a bit, and he stepped closer.

“Let’s give it a try. Don’t put your career on hold, okay? We’ll try to make it work-.”

He cut himself off as you started to shake your head.

“No. I’m not going to take a gamble with our child’s livelihood. There should be no ‘trying to make it work’. When you bring a baby into this world, everyone involved should be 100% on board. Things need to start moving into place to accommodate that child. This is not how it should be.”

Steve swallowed, nostrils flaring as you argued, and you sighed again. The silence that followed was heavy, thick with tension and anger and an impending sense of doom. You loved Steve, but not enough to force yourself into having a baby for him. Your chest ached, and you wanted to cry.

“If...if this means that you don’t want to be with me anymore, then I understand, but… I’m not having this baby.”

He let you go, crossing his arms over his chest, and you stood there, waiting for the verdict. His tongue poked at the inside of his cheek, jaw moving as he grinded his teeth.

“We’re not breaking up.”

He continued before you could feel an ounce of relief.

“...and you’re not getting rid of my child.”

You rolled your eyes, swallowing another sigh as you rubbed your forehead.

“Steve-.”

“Do you hear me? You are not getting rid of my child,” he spat.

He stepped closer, and you found yourself narrowing your eyes at him.

“I went through a great deal of trouble to make sure you got pregnant in the first place, and you think I’m just going to let you get rid of it? Let all of it be in vain?”

His words sucked the air out of you, and your eyes widened as the gravity of them fully hit you. Your mouth parted, but no words came out because what could you say? You couldn’t even describe the shock and horror and disgust that tore through you in that moment, and you slowly took a step back from him.

You raised your hands in front of you as your mind whirled, eyes focused on the floor as you blinked. His confession finally put things into perspective. His words put the pieces together, and your breathing grew shallow as you processed the truth.

“I knew it.”

Your words were barely a whisper, but Steve heard you nonetheless, and you took another step back when he walked towards you.

“I knew it. I knew it. I knew it,” you quietly chanted to yourself.

That was the only thing running through your mind. Had your love for Steve allowed you to ignore what was right in front of you? You were diligent with your contraceptive, so so many pregnancies in such a short time had never made sense. You kept blaming yourself despite what was so obvious. Sure, Steve was family obsessed, but you had never considered the possibility. Or did you simply never want to?

You looked up at him like he was a stranger, vision blurry from your tears, and you shook your head.

“I knew it,” you cried. “I fucking knew it.”

Steve’s eyes were narrowed, and his head was cocked to the side, something in his eyes that scared you.

“I kept wondering and wondering how it kept happening. How did I keep getting pregnant? It made no sense,” you said, more to yourself than him. “...and everytime...I felt bad. I felt like such a horrible girlfriend, and the whole time…”

You yelped when Steve’s hand made its way to your neck, pushing your back into the wall. His blue eyes were dark and venomous, a thunderous look on his beautiful face.

“You killed them?”

You didn’t respond, opting instead for fighting against him, but he wouldn’t move.

“I knew you should’ve been pregnant a long time ago. I made sure of it! And here I was thinking I did something wrong, that I messed up-.”

“Get off of me!”

You didn’t want to hear anything else about his fucked up plan, about how long he’d been doing this. You wanted him off of you and away from you. He pulled you away from the wall before slamming you back against it, making you gasp. You reached up to his chest and neck, desperately trying to get him off, but he only pressed himself more firmly against you.

“Steve,” you begged.

“You don’t know how badly I want to hurt you right now for what you did,” he sneered.

Your heart sank, and you thought to yourself that his lack of self awareness was astounding. How long had Steve been this way? Had he always been like this? How was it possible that you didn’t know your boyfriend at all?

“...but I’m sure that I can look past your betrayal when you are swollen and glowing with my child. That will make it all worth it.”

He kissed you, hard, and you screamed into his mouth. His hands pushed at the t-shirt you were wearing, his shirt, and your hands pushed at him. He lifted you until your thighs were on either side of his hips, and the sound of your hands hitting his skin filled the room. The food was barely thought about as he pressed your back to the table, pinning you down.

You were more terrified than you were five minutes ago, knowing what was about to happen no matter how much you wished you were wrong. Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, your boyfriend, was about to rape you and force you to keep his baby. It was a sentence you had the hardest time accepting, and all of your overwhelming emotions spilled over, turning you into a sobbing mess.

Did you really miss this, or was he just so good at hiding who he truly was?

Your hits were doing nothing as he reached between you, struggling to release himself with all of your movement. His free hand grabbed both of yours, holding them to your stomach just as he pushed into you. You threw your head back and cried, wondering how you got here. To think, you had thought that you were so lucky. You had thought that you were a terrible girlfriend for what you had been doing. Life was funny that way.

Your body had grown to crave Steve’s. He’d learned how to condition you so well that your core immediately started to clench around him with every thrust. You hated it, and you turned your head away, not wanting to witness him taint something that had never been anything but loving for you. His lips were on your jaw, searching for yours, and you tried to push against his hand.

With his other hand now free, he used them both to pin yours down beside you, lips finally finding yours despite your evident protest. You kept turning your head away, and he kept following. He tasted the inside of your mouth, hips pressing into yours over and over. The table beneath you shook from the force, and your stomach clenched with the pleasure that he was forcing onto you.

How did he do it? Clearly he’d poked a hole in every condom, but you knew it required more than that. Had he replaced your birth control with placebos? Had he acted alone? Tony had just about everything known to man at his disposal. Had he been in on it too?

“You’re going to look so beautiful,” he whispered into your mouth.

Another sob hit you, and you shook.

“You’re going to be absolutely radiant, and you’ll be just as beautiful when you walk down the aisle.”

You gasped at this, increasing your struggle, but he simply pulled your wrists away from the table before slamming them down. You winced in pain, and he hummed.

“...and I’ll fill you up again and again and again.”

You kicked your legs around him, body trembling as hysterical sobs left you, shuddering with every thrust into your dripping core. A particularly hard thrust pushed you over the edge, and the way you fluttered around him triggered his own climax. He came inside of you with a groan, wrapping his arms around you, preventing you from fighting back at all as he pinned your arms to your side.

His cock was still hard and still inside of you, his lips pressing kisses to your face. You felt like you were in a bad dream, and you wanted to wake up so badly. His lips traveled to your ear, brushing along the skin, and a shudder passed through you.

“Everyone will know that I tamed you, that I broke you until you were mine in every way.”

tags: @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @harryspet @readermia @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @trinittyy @hyoyeoniie @kellyn1604 @sherrybaby14 @cocoamoonmalfoy @mandiiblanche @gotnofucks @oneoftheprettynerds @doozywoozy @sapphirescrolls @threeminutesoflife @searchforanotherway @mcudarklibrary @ksjksjkv

#dark steve rogers #dark steve x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #Dark Fic

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oliviajdjarin · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1: a tug

Warnings: PTSD, sadness, depression, panic attack, mentions of violence

Author’s note: this is part one of my series called “Burning Red.” This is kind of boring because it is a set up for the main storyline, but I hope you enjoy it! Any constructive criticism and support is greatly appreciated. And if I missed a warning, please let me know!!

After everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve done, everyone you’ve hurt, it felt good to just lay low.

A mechanic on tatooine was not what you imagined, but it did the trick.

No one saw you for who you truly were, and that made you happy.

Well, except for Peli.

You came to her sick and angry and alone, and she nursed you back to health. You would be rotting in the desert if it wasn’t for her, and you felt you owed her a little something.

So, you used your “uncommon” set of abilities to help her with her mechanics in any way she needed.

This included: cooking, cleaning, repairing, negotiating, and most importantly, defending.

Peli was no dummy. She knew you had more experience in that field than she did. So she recruited you, and paid you back with whatever she had laying around. A new outfit once and a while, a warm bed, a hot dinner, and a couple of credits so you could go shopping and get out of her hair.

You couldn’t blame her. You were a hell of a lot of trouble to be around.

Constant nightmares, paranoia, and regret surrounded your aura like a fog. Any normal person wouldn’t notice, but someone like Peli could. And it pissed her off a good majority of the time.

“Stop moping and help me clean this oil off my droid,” and sentences like this one, were said pretty frequently around your place.

Was it even your place? All you did was survive. Is that enough to say you lived there instead of just survived there?

You really liked Peli. She gave you a base. A “home” of sorts, and for that you were forever indebted.

But something in you always called you back to your real home, and that scared you more than Peli’s tough love. More than you could even describe.

~~*~~

It was a pretty normal day on Tatooine. The wind howled, the sand covered everything in its wake, and the heat. You would never get used to it.

You were eating your breakfast when a ship landed on the landing pad, and you could already tell it was a doosey just by the way the left engine was sputtering.

If this ship explodes, we better get a damn good pay, you think to yourself.

The ramp starts to open and you take that as your queue to start the walk to your makeshift room. It was really a storage room, but you didn’t mind.

When you get there, you squat down to the ground behind your door and grab your apron and set of tools. You knew Peli would need some help with this ship.

You hear the ship’s ramp hit he ground and you feel it.

A tug.

Not even a tug, a lurch. It felt like a rope had been tied to your soul and pulled you back into your old self.

This was a tug you hadn’t felt in so long. So long, it almost knocks you off your feet.

I closed myself off from this, you think. I shouldn’t feel this. I don’t want to feel this.

You already feel a headache coming on from the shock and ache in your bones, so you start walking back to the landing pad to tell Peli you aren’t feeling too well.

If I get recognized, we are both dead.

You’d rather get a scolding from Peli than a scolding hot gun wound in your chest.

“Hey,” you hear Peli shout at the client, and you pick up your pace. Your heart is hammering in your chest and you feel the panic ooz through your body.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt this, but you hate how it makes you feel alive.

You finally make it to Peli and you see her speaking very loudly (she doesn’t like to use the word “yelling”) at what seems to be your client.

But this is no ordinary client. This is a Mandalorian.

A very broad Mandalorian who, no offense to Peli, could knock her out in his sleep.

You had heard legends of their kind. But worst of all, you had fought them. And damn were they good.

You hadn’t seen any since the purge. You had heard rumors of them hiding under ground, but they had always been peaceful people. You hated how they got dragged into a war.

“You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it,” Peli says, and you really wish she would use a more peaceful tone.

The last thing you want to do right now is fight a very impressive looking Mandalorian covered entirely in beskar while your entire body is tingling.

Is he the one who is force sensitive?

“Just keep them away from my ship” he says, and you are surprised at how well he is taking Peli’s annoyance.

“Yeah? You think that’s a good idea?” Peli responds in a tone dripping with sarcasm and you take this as your moment to try to sneak away.

This however, was unsuccessful.

“Come on y/n. Let’s take a look at his ship,” she says and the Mandalorian turns his helmet towards you.

You probably look like an absolute mess. Your chest is heaving, you are sweating, and you are not at all prepared to do any sort of repairs. You are basically in your pajamas. The Mandalorian’s gaze has you nervous enough, but this familiar feeling in your stomach has you dizzy and nauseous.

Just hold on......

You start to follow Peli to the ship while still looking at the Mandalorian. You learned very early on in your life to never take your eyes off a predator. He follows your form and you try your best to mask his incredibly strong force connection gripping your chest.

This man isn’t even trying to hide it? It’s almost as if he is reaching for me?

You make it to Peli where you finally take your eyes off of him. You can see why Peli was so mad now.

“Oof! Look at that,” she says as she scans the ship with her eyes. “You’ve got a lot of cabron scoring up top. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in a shoot out.”

Oh my God, he was in a shoot out.

This is really not good. This man could have been followed and you could be surrounded at this very moment. You were a skilled fighter, but those kinds of odds were almost unbeatable. Especially when you were still trying to hide your identity.

You are so tense you feel like you could snap. You still feel his eyes on you, and you are praying to whatever is out there that you can just stay alive. That’s the only thing you’re good at.

“Name’s Peli Motto. That’s y/n,” she says as she points to you with her wrench.

She did not just tell him your NAME.

“This is my operation. You’re not gonna find a better mechanic on the planet,” she says as she leaned in closer to the engine.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to rotate that. You’ve got a fuel leak. Look at this, this is a mess. How did you even land?”

All you wanted to do was scream.

He is a MANDALORIAN who was just in a SHOOT OUT. He is probably being FOLLOWED and we could be dead because of ME.

“That’s gonna set you back,” she says.

She is concerned about MONEY right now?

Peli is a smart woman, but she was walking you into a trap. You didn’t want her blood on your hands. You didn’t need any more of that.

All of this is happening while you are still on the verge of a panic attack.

This Mandalorian is strong with the force. It is squeezing your lungs and your feet and your hands and your brain. All rational thinking is out the window. You had to get out of here before he manages to suffocate you.

God you hate this feeling. A few years ago you lived with this constantly. It became a part of you. Something you enjoyed. But now...

“I’ve got five hundred imperial credits,” the Mandalorian says.

Imperial credits. Great. How did he get his hands on those?

“That’s all you got? Well..” she says and looks back at you.

“What do you think,” she asks in a teasing tone.

You try to plead to her with your eyes. You are sweating beyond belief and your brain is about to explode.

She tightens her brows in confusion at your state, but continues to bargain.

“That should at least cover the hanger,” she says and you feel your jaw almost drop to the floor.

How can she not see it?

“I’ll get you your money,” the Mandalorian mumbles and you try to take a deep breath. Passing out in front of one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy who may be here to kill you would rip off the last bit of pride you had left. If you are going down, you are going down with a fight.

“I’ve heard that before,” Peli responds and looks at you in a joking way. Like she was trying to coax you into laughing with her.

You try to chuckle back, but it just comes out in a low breath.

You sound insane.

“Just remember—,” the Mandalorian starts

“No droids. I heard ya,” Peli finishes.

“Why do you think I keep this girl around,” she says chuckling with a pat on your back.

You muster up the strength to smile and feel holes burning in your head from the Mandalorian’s gaze.

He really knows how to stare.

The Mandalorian leaves the hanger, and it takes everything in you not to pass out right there.

You thought with him leaving it would die down, but it’s only getting worse.

“Are you ok,” Peli asks and helps you lower yourself to the ground.

You are breathing frantically now and your hands are clutched to your chest.

“He has it,” you say and you know Peli knows what you mean.

She looks at you with wide eyes and you see the realization on her face.

“Oh my god.... he was in a shootout,” she says.

“Uh huh,” you breathe out. The desperate force connection is starting to fade and you feel your lungs fill up with air once more.

“He could have been followed! Or he could be here to—“

“Kill us,” you say. Peli hates when you finish her sentences, but there was no point in caring right now.

“Ok. Get inside. If I need you I will call for you,” she says and you nod, slowly getting to your feet.

You start to walk back to your room, with Peli’s arms guiding you, while taking deep breaths, but you freeze when you sense something else coming out of the ship and you snap your head to the ramp.

“What,” Peli says as she follows your gaze.

Your heart flutters. The force is slowly starting to ease its nasty grip on you.

If you didn’t sense the creature, you would miss it.

A little green baby, wrapped in what looked like a potato sack, was strolling down the ramp, looking directly at you.

“It’s him,” you say.

“He has it.”

#din djarin #mando #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #star wars #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

thinning thread — jjk

Plot: In the heat of a tumultuous rough path in their marriage, Jungkook is handed their last resort.

Pairing(s): Jungkook x Writer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 2k+

Genre: Marriage!AU

Tags & Warnings: angst, rough marriage, divorce, explicit smut

Authors Note: sorry the reposting has been a little slow, everyone! the end of feb was a little rough but I’ll try to get the fics out as soon as I can.

ALSO requests are currently open and they’ll close on Sunday! So be sure to fill the request form HERE

Days turned to, weeks turned to months the blanket of home they knitted together now stripped to nothing but a pathetic string. Both of them dangling and swinging on it pretending that the world around them didn’t just crumble beneath their feet. It started with regular fights over the lack of time they spent together; the usual reason most couple would go through a lovers’ spat. Then fights were followed with silent treatments lasting days on end to point where one of them would be out of the house completely.

Paranoia kicked in soon afterwards as Jungkook saw Belle chatting with one of her clients leading to yet another exhausting argument about her supposedly cheating. Jungkook left home that night for three days until he came back without saying a word. Belle spent more nights in her office using a glass of wine to loosen herself up and get some sleep while writing herself to near madness.

Her publishing company even asked her if she was okay after her latest manuscript submission stating it had a lot more disturbing themes than her usual works. Belle simply stated that things changed. Happiness wasn’t a fucking commonality anymore and the themes she wrote now seemed more realistic.

Jungkook spent hours in the gym, punching bags until the skin on his knuckles ripped apart breaking himself down enough to get some damn shut eye. He was getting a lot more complaints from his producers these days saying he had too much of a short fuse nowadays. Which, to prove their point, he ended up snapping and earned himself a break away from sending in anymore songs until he got himself sorted.

Swinging and swinging on this thinning thread, it all dwindled down into one night.

Instead of going back to her office for the night, Belle paid a visit to her lawyer about a set of paperwork that she needed organized. Thankfully the name she made for herself allowed the time to finish all these documents were significantly lessened. The next day after making her request she was able to have the papers in her hand.

As she walked into the apartment the woman realized how long it had been since she walked into their home at this hour. The twilight sky looked like a painting through the large panned windows, creating a beautiful silhouette of the city buildings. For a moment Belle could have smiled until she heard chain clanging and something thudding.

Jungkook began his attack on what could have been his fifteenth punching bag this fortnight, not caring about the world around him.

She sighed, placing her bag on the kitchen counter before stomping over to the man with her brown envelope in hand. “I need to talk to you.” Belle announced trying to sound louder than the punching bag thudding and clanging.

The man gave the bag one harsh punch before letting out a deep sigh, a droplet of sweat . “I’m not in the mood.” He mumbled immediately causing a rush of fury in her belly.

Belle tightened her jaw her whole body urging to just throw the papers on the floor until he sees it. But she took a long, drawling breath as she walked closer to the male who proceeded to assault his punching bag. “This is important.” She spoke firmly. “Just listen to me for one second.” She pursed her lips when Jungkook finally held onto the punching bag to pause for a moment.

Though the male still glared at her a little making her heart drop.

She remembered when he used to look at her with eyes soft and sparkling. Now all she felt was hate radiating from him. Belle handed the envelope over which he accepted, ripping off the top carelessly before pulling out the papers.

Jungkooks’ brows furrowed when he skimmed through the contents of the document. “What the hell is this?” He fumed.

“Divorce papers.” Belle replied simply.

He tightened his jaw still staring at the words on the pages instead of looking up at her. “I need a pen.” Jungkook muttered quietly before walking past her towards the living room.

Chest clenched tightly but she let out a quick breath before following him along watching him walk towards the sitting area.

Belle’s brows furrowed when she noticed they were walking away from the staircase to the study to get a pen. Instead she saw Jungkook pad towards the couches, to the fireplace sitting in front of them still running to keep the place warm and cozy. Even though the atmosphere was anything but that.

It didn’t take long until finally she saw Jungkook tossing the papers and empty envelope right into the fire. Stammering she watched the flames rise higher before dissipating the documents, their names burned away achingly slow. “Jungkook.” She tried to move past him to grab the remnants of the papers but both her arms were grabbed to keep her in place.

“Are you trying to hurt me now? Huh?” Jungkooks’ eyes burned into hers, hair matted to his glistening forehead.

Belle yanked out of his grasp which made his move his arms but he still stood dangerously close. “Don’t try to make me look like the bad guy here.” She seethed. “We’ve tried to fix this but it’s not working. You didn’t even want to talk to me when I walked into the room.”

“Because I thought you were going to start up another fight which clearly you were.” He gestured harshly towards the fireplace.

“Do you have a better idea?” Her vision grew blurry. “Because I don’t want to wake up another morning feeling like you hate me.” Belle hadn’t spoken about her feelings to the man in a long time. So long that expressing it now made her feel utterly exposed.

“You really think I hate you?” Jungkook spoke through gritted teeth. “You really think I’d still be in this apartment because I fucking hated you?”

“When was the last time you told me you loved me then? Hm?” Tears streamed down her face, mascara smudging at the corners of her eyes a little. “When was the last time we actually spoke to each other without yelling or crying?” Belle sobbed out.

“That doesn’t mean I stopped loving you.” He protested, his eyes glistening even in the dimmed warm light. “How did you even think I would sign those papers, huh?”

Belle shrugged weakly, smiling a little sadly. “Maybe you’d be happier without me.”

His eyes twitched as he pursed his lips together tightly. “Would you be happier without me?”

Her heart felt tired at this point tightening around itself as if trying to push out all the hurt or keep it all in. Happiness wasn’t a commonality for sure. But would it be any better if she couldn’t see him altogether? Spending years thinking of what could have happened if they just—kept holding onto that thread?

Without uttering a single word, Belle merely shook her head. In a second she was reminded at how well Jungkook still was at knowing what she needed right at that moment.

A small tear escaping down his cheek, Jungkook grabbed her by her cheeks and pressed a warm kiss against her lips. He could taste a saltiness on her dampened lips before his hands trailed down, wrapping them around her waist to cancel out any distance between them. He was fucking done being so far away from his baby, unable to touch her because they were too stubborn to say sorry. With a swift motion he picked her up and impatiently pressed her down against the fluffy rug.

Belle pulled at her scarf which was quickly pushed away and her cardigan lay as a blanket underneath. Fingers hooked on the hem of his cold T-shirt before pulling it over his head and discarding no one cared where. She felt his nails firmly graze up her thigh, hooking onto her panties and pulling it down only one of her thighs roughly. The thin piece of clothing dangling on her left ankle as Jungkook devoured her lips not wanting to unlock their tongues dancing.

His bulging shorts rubbed against her bare core making her moan against his lips. Jungkooks’ still wrapped hand pulled at her hair to press her further down on the floor. He watched her mouth part, small gasp passing through as his hips rubbed against her pooling core. “Look at me.” He spoke in a raspy voice, lust blown and glossy eyes piercing into her. “I want you to look at me.” He whispered, forehead pressing together as he carelessly pushed down his shorts to let his desperate cock free.

Belle felt his thick, wet tip rub up and down her sleek heat, walls already clenching to a get an aching taste of him inside her again. “Please—” A choked scream broke out of her when the man slammed into her. Her pussy swallowed up every inch of his cock, aching a little after being long-deprived from the stretch. She kept her gaze did not waiver however watching him contort his face in pleasure.

Jungkook could barely hear himself think after feeling his whole member hugged by that familiar heat. So deliciously tight and warm, he could stay like this forever if he could. “Fuck I missed you.” He whispered, hot breath hitting her face before he kissed her again, sighing in relief as he began thrusting into her. Every snap of his hips hit hard and deep wanting to make his movements embedded in their minds so they forget just how fucking good they felt together.

She grabbed onto his shoulders for dear life, legs spread out welcomingly for him to destroy her desperate heat. All her long hibernated nerves now jolted awake by the beautiful friction between them, electrifying her body.

He pulled apart the front of her dress, a few buttons flying off but Belle couldn’t care less. Neither of them could. This was the closest they had been in months. Nothing was going to stop them from spewing out all their bottled frustrations.

Belle felt his hot mouth press wet kisses on the curve of her breast, teeth grazing against the tender skin making her smile in bliss. Fingers gripped at the roots of his slightly damp hair reaching down to kiss his head. A gasp caught in her throat when he thrusted into her faster pushing to the limits of her release but she pushed him away.

“What’s wrong?” He breathed out staring at her confused but he quickly saw what she wanted.

Belle pushed on his chest to make him lie on his back before straddling him, the panties on her ankle slid away. She raised herself over his erect cock and slowly let her core devour him again causing a small groan under Jungkooks’ throat. His hands instinctively moved under the skirt of her dress, squeezing her bottom. Still her eyes fixated on him as her hips swayed, feeling his tip rub against her sweet spot making her legs melt.

She moved her hands to where his were and Jungkook immediately intertwined their fingers together. Belle carefully unwrapped the black cloth around his knuckles as the male sat up now, wanting to feel her closer.

Pressing a small kisses on his healing wounds, she quickened her pace.

Jungkook grabbed the back of her neck and intoxicated her with another kiss while his other hand guided her hips.

Belle held onto his shoulders now and bounced on his cock, the sheer pressure against her sweet spot could throw her over the edge in minutes. Arms wrapped around him as her teeth sunk into his skin, muffling her moans. Fingers ran through the hair on the back of his head, lips pressing messy kisses on his neck and cheek. “I love you.” She whispered in his ear.

The male grabbed the side of her neck again forcing her to meet his gaze. Thumb brushed the corner of her teary eyes, mascara smudging across her temple on his finger pad. Lips were barely hovering one another as Belle slowed her thrusts. “I love you too.” He sighed out the words, grabbing bits of her hair before pressing on her warm lips. “I love you so much.” His latter words were mumbled but Belle still heard them.

A small sob shook through her seeing that warmth again. One she hadn’t seen it in so long that it almost felt like dream but Jungkooks’ hands on her skin reminded her it wasn’t. This was all real.

Jungkook turned her around to lay on her stomach, legs straightened out and spread so he could sneak in between. His cock slid in on its own at this point with how fucked out her heat was and he didn’t waste a single second longer to continue the pace. He leaned into her, kisses lain on her shoulder and sweet words whispered in her ear.

He intertwined his fingers with a hand and Belle hugged it closer, his sweaty torso pressed firmly against her back as the onslaught of thrusts began. It was slow but it dug deep into her core and steadily patterned. Her belly pressed against the floor made it all the more easier to rub against her sweet spot and create some friction against her clit.

“Don’t stop.” She whispered giving Jungkook even more determination to torture her core with incessant pounding. Warmth gathered around her leaking heat and pleasure tickled under the skin of her thighs causing her moans to shake.

Jungkook drilled into her, his own moans melting with her as his climax now flooded his entire form, his hand gripping onto hers like it was a part of him.

Belle cried out, trying to muffle the pitch by pressing her lips against the back of his hand. The heated release making her legs shake under him uncontrollably. Cheek pressed against the rug now, she bit down her bottom lip, tears still flowing out of her from the force of her orgasm mixed with everything else.

He filled her up with his release uttering the most delicious whimpers and moan before kissing her cheek softly. “You okay, baby?” Jungkook whispered, caressing her tear stain cheek.

Belle smiled quickly, nodding even though fresh tears still fell turning to face him properly. “I’m glad you didn’t sign it.” She giggled through her light sobs.

Jungkook chuckled leaning in and lay a soft kiss on her salty lips. “I’d never leave you, baby.”

“Promise?” She asked in a whisper.

“Promise.”

Another thread now knitted with the one they had been dangling on, making them that tiny bit stronger than they were yesterday.

#jungkook #thebtswritersclub #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #husband jungkook #marriage au #bts marriage au

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elfwoodfae · 3 years

Text

Writing’s On the Wall Harrison Eo Wells x reader.

Chapter 2- Specter.

Author’s note: I am so happy and excited for this new series. I hope sincerely that you all like it and let me know your thoughts, this new series will touch on darker themes up ahead in the future. Also tumblr is being annoying with the paragraphs that’s why they are so far apart.

I made this moodboard. I looked up and searched the photos and edited them. I don’t mind if you use it.

Part 1 (here)

A strange calmness falls over him; he turns around, opening his eyes for the first time in hours. He feels exhausted, having spend the majority of the night observing you. He chastises himself, he shouldn’t have done that, there was no other option, he reminds himself, he is desperate and frustrated. The sudden reminder of your presence this early in the morning angers him, a growl escaping his mouth as he sits up, the white linens of the bed pooling around his hips as he rubs his face with one hand, turning his head and doing a double take at the door, making sure is locked, he knows he locked it last night but the paranoia your presence has brought him makes him second guess himself.

His feet touch the floor first, he stretches his arms over his head, moaning at the relief it offers, his white shirt riding up enough to expose a gleam of milky skin; his hair is a mess of black curls, the expression looking back at him thorough the mirror is annoyed, tired, he splashes water on his face, he needs to wake up. The shadow of a beard is starting to appear on his chin, along his jaw and cheeks, he closes his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck and sighting before gripping the sink in a moment of fury where he wishes he could rip it out of the wall and throw it, shattering it into pieces.

How hard could it be to get rid of you? It wouldn’t be hard at all, it would be done before you could even draw your next breath, it would bring him more pleasure than beating Allen, but the consequences would be devastating, his rational side reminded him, there was not possible way to free himself from the torture of your existence without dooming his. Had Joe not met you things would have been different but he could see as clear as day the picture waiting back for him at the lab. Barry most likely knows about you by now, he knows there will be questions once he gets there, they will be innocent in nature but they will only serve to cement your presence into his mind.

He looks at himself in the mirror, admiring every detail of his clothes before he turns around, spotting his chair exactly where he had left it last night; he walks to it, looking at it so intently as if his gaze alone could burn it, hating the thing he punishes himself with. It’s for a greater good, he remembers. Wheeling into the main area of the house he notices all the lights are still off, he takes solace onto the fact that you are still sleeping, freeing him from your presence even if he knows it will only be for a few hours. He decides to leave, not wanting to take the chance of you deciding to appear and tag along, he doesn’t think of himself capable enough to not pull a Brutus a gut you in the middle of the day. This are also the only quiet moments he will get to think, to work on his suit, he sighs, there is so little time for him to use even when he is always alone.

The room is unfamiliar to your eyes, the bed linens are soft, warm, they smell of fresh cotton and clean clothes, it takes a moment for your memories to return, reminding you where you are. The room is dark, the curtains successfully blocking any sunlight from peaking in, there is no telling the time as you look around trying to get at least a sense of how rested you are. The clock reads sometime after 8, Harrison has more likely left by now and a slight disappointment settles over you, you wanted to see the labs, maybe he will want to take you tomorrow. The bathroom is spacious, glass doors decorating the shower as a black marble vanity rest on the wall, its too big for one person, it feels too luxurious for a guest room. Your mind reminds you of a forgotten fact, Harrison was never a showoff kind of person, he liked his house to feel welcoming and cozy, completely opposite to this place.

Walking out of the room is impossible not to notice the eerie silence that accompanies you, all the lights are off but the sun seems to illuminate the whole place through the skylight. A feeling of anxiety settles in your stomach as your eyes scan the expanse of the room, a corridor shielding doors you haven’t explored yet calls to you, maybe it would be best to wait for him to come back and show you around. You look around once again, scanning the walls and every available surface, your brows furrowing once a detail settles into you that you hadn’t taken into account the previous day; there is not even a single photo of Tess or himself anywhere. Maybe he has them in his room, or perhaps in his office, you think, the anxiety of walking into his space long forgotten, replaced with curiosity.

With fast steps you make it to the first door, its unlocked. The wood doesn’t creak when you open it and you wish it had, any sound would be better than this silence. Peaking your head inside, rows of shelfs of books welcome you, a dark desk sits in the middle, random papers and pieces discarded around it, nothing you would be able to recognize. A leather chair sits behind it and for a moment you wonder what could he need it for? Scanning the surface for any photos, any memories of Tess you could find but is empty, not even a photo of her in any of the walls.

Moving along you walk to the last room, the one on the end of the hall; opening the door, the room is dark, no light peaking into it, the bedsheets are a dark grey, almost black, nothing is out of order, a smell that could only be described as a freshly shaved man and clean clothes hits you, its pleasant, fresh. There is once again no photos to be seen, you should turn around, walk back and continue with your day but curiosity gets the best of you; the walking closet is big, rows of clothes hanging, color coordinated and perfectly ironed. A mirror from floor to ceiling adorning the wall in front of you. Walking closer to his clothes you grab the sleeve of one of his expensive white shirts, wanting to feel the softness of it, you don’t recall ever seeing him wearing one. Out of impulse you bring it to your nose, clothing your eyes as the smell of his cologne hits you, causing a blush to rise up your cheeks; he probable sprays it on himself here, impregnating everything around him.

Abandoning his room you walk into the kitchen, there is so many things about him you wish you knew, things that have probably changed and things that you don’t remember. He seems so distant, so cold, so unavailable to you, it made you wonder why he had allowed you to stay with him, perhaps it was not you, it was your attachment, the last piece of her memory he had, you were like an heirloom, one he refused to throw away, and that realization made you sad.

He didn’t seem happy, he seemed lonely, used to being by himself, making you question if he had any friends, if there was anyone caring for him. The man you remembered was always accompanied, always surrounded by people, always kind, always loving; where had that man disappear? You wondered, remembering how he hadn’t even known who you were once he picked up the phone that night, but what could you expected? You had never reached out, staying like a ghost, gone and hidden from his life.

Sighting you shake your head, forcing these thoughts to abandon you, having had enough of their torment for a day, there are things after all to be do today. Her face attacks your memory, you remember her from the times Tess and Harrison had brought her over, Christina is her name, she was close to Harrison and she had been very close to Tess, urging the obligation of a visit in you the moment you had decided to visit Central City, certain guilt at staying so out of touch to both of them fills you.

Perhaps you should have called her office before hand, you think, she is a busy woman after all, but after a few name drops from her past her assistant informs you that she will see you shortly. The door opens to the conference room she asked you to wait at, her face haven’t changed, a few wrinkles here and there, but the same determine eyes started back at you.

“Y/n” she says your name, surprise lace in her voice, she seems excited to see you. She hugs you, before commenting how much you have changed since she last saw you approximately fifteen years ago.

“I am so glad you could see me, I’m so sorry I never reached out, is just after the death of Tess so many things changed.” You begin, feeling the sting of tears coming to her at the emotion of relieving those memories, at being so close to someone that knew her.

“I’m surprise Harrison didn’t mention that I was visiting, I assumed you both were close friends.” You say nonchalantly, catching in the way her face contract, she seems uncomfortable at the mention of his name.

“Well yes we were.” She says, taking in a breath before continuing.

“You see, after the accident Harrison and I fell out of touch.” She says, seemingly leaving it at that, but curiosity is a powerful feeling, pulling its strings inside of you, forcing you to ask.

“Oh, but don’t you both keep any contact at all?” The question seems innocent, you genuinely want to know. She understands that, concern for you raising in her as she decides to open up more to you.

“I’ll be honest with you y/n, after the accident Harrison changed so much, that loving, caring man disappeared, he became cold, calculating, manipulative. I understand how grieve can change a person, but he, is like he is not even the same person anymore.” She tells you and you get the feeling she is not speaking in a metaphorical way.

You decide to confide her in your worries of him, in your confusion when he didn’t know who you were, when he didn’t even recognize your name. You can see the concern raising in her eyes, at you being alone with a man neither of you know any longer, but you assure her is fine, you will be fine, how bad could he be? He wouldn’t hurt you, this was Harrison you both are talking about, even if neither of you believe it completely.

@twilightlover2007

@austarus

@harrisonwellsisdaddy

@wintersire

@reallystressedhoneybee

@fanfiction-and-fantasies

@saltykidcreation

@dumpeetintofyre

@yetanotherwells

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thisisawonderfulusername · 3 years

Text

let's save the world

season two, episode eight

five hargreeves x reader

summary: you have one final idea to get back to twenty-nineteen: finding yourselves

warnings: cursing

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this took for fucking ever but i'm not even gonna apologize at this point because i'm ninety percent sure it will happen again. sorry in advanced. just be glad i did it, alright? anyways, please enjoy episode eight, i loved writing it, i don't know why i put it off for so long

“we were that close.” you whisper to yourself as you go up the stairs, “so close.”

the door to one of the rooms slams behind you as you quickly look through the cabinets, before finding a bottle of whiskey. the only thing you need right now.

you twist the cap off, tossing it to the side as you sit on the couch with a heavy sigh.

you can hear luther speaking as he presumably follows five up the steps, but you don’t focus too much on what he’s saying. something about making a new plan, which almost makes you laugh. no other plan would ever work, if this one didn’t. his family would never let that happen.

the door opens once again as five enters, slamming it shut and locking it before luther can come in behind him. “five!” the big man shouts outside of the door, knocking on it, “come to what?” a sigh follows shortly after, and you hear his steps recede, apparently giving up.

you look to five, holding the bottle out, “want some?”

when he takes it, you expect him to take a drink, not find the cap and twist it back on, “what are you doing?” he questions.

“what are you doing?” you shoot the question back, reaching for the bottle, “if you didn’t want any, you didn’t have to take it.”

he looks at you incredulously, holding it out of your reach, “we still have an apocalypse to stop! you can’t just be sitting in here drinking!”

at that, you let out a loud laugh, yet nothing about this is funny. “you’re kidding, right?” you raise an eyebrow, sinking into the cushions, “i’m done with that.”

setting the booze on the coffee table, his eyebrows furrow at you, “what do you mean? you can’t be done with it. we don’t have much time!”

“don’t you get it, five?” you lean forward as you look up at him, “we can’t stop this. no matter how hard we try, we’ll never be able to. there’s always something that gets in the way when we get seconds away from actually doing it. let’s face it, the world is against us, and this apocalypse is happening.” you sound defeated, and you hate hearing it. you never wanted to give up, to let the world get the best of you. it tried to before, and you persevered. but none of that matters anymore, because soon enough, you'll be nuked and your existence won't have mattered.

he’s shaking his head in disbelief, “no. no, it isn’t. you’re supposed to be the one helping me, y/n! we can still do it.”

“and what’s your plan this time? do you even have one?” you can feel the tears brimming your eyes, and you hate feeling this weak in front of him, but there was no stopping it now.

“i do.” he states, “but i need you to help me.”

sitting on the couch next to you, turned in your direction, he gently guides your eyes to his, his hand resting on your cheek. "i can't do this without you. i can't save the world if i don't have you to help me."

a tear escapes and you quickly wipe it away, sniffling as you gather yourself before you break down completely. "fine." you breathe.

you were currently in the kitchen, chugging down as much water as you could from a pitcher before passing it along to five. This plan was so, so stupid. he began to drink from it as well, and luther, who had been napping on the couch, entered.

“five, what…” he glances between the two of you, you putting baby powder anywhere on your body you deemed necessary, and to him, taking in a breath as he flipped the top closed on the pitcher. “are you guys okay?” he questions in confusion.

“we need to be hydrated.” he breathes out, and you hand him the baby powder once you were finished.

if it was possible, luther’s confusion grew, “what’s with the baby powder?”

“it’ll help with the itching.” you state, giving no further explanation.

“what itching? there’s itching? what the hell is going on here?” as five puts some of the powder in his pants, realization dawns on his face, “you do have a plan.”

grabbing his blazer, five sighs, “well, it’s a desperation move, but… since our brain-dead siblings are incapable of meeting a simple deadline, well- we have no choice.”

“no choice about what?” you follow him into the living room, flipping the watch you stole from the formerly sleeping man- since he no longer needed it- open.

“we have to find ourselves.”

luther is so stunned, trying to process it, that he doesn’t speak. “we just arrived in dallas fifteen minutes ago.” you state, closing the watch and sticking it back in your pocket.

“should i be worried about you guys?” luther finally asks, his eyebrows furrowing at the two of you.

“luther, if you recall,” five speaks as he begins to stretch, “we were sent to nineteen sixty-three on a job by the commission to make sure the president was assassinated.”

“oh!” luther starts to understand, “so, wait, your old self is out there.”

“precisely.”

“what, just walking around dallas?”

“walking around dallas with a briefcase that can get us home.” you tell him with a smile. now, if this plan didn’t work, you were truly screwed. of course, the older looking versions of yourselves won’t give up the briefcase so easily, but you know for a fact you can do it. and with that briefcase, there wouldn’t be a time limit. you could gather all of the siblings together and finally be rid of the apocalypse. maybe, just maybe, it will be the last that you have to deal with.

“oh, my god.” luther’s hands come together in front of him, “you are geniuses.”

“however, there are two significant problems with this plan.” five tells him, you nodding along, “problem number one: we are two trained assassins, arguably the most dangerous assassins in the space-time continuum. If we know ourselves, we’re not going to react kindly to bumping into us.”

you knew it sounded like you were giving yourselves a pat on the back, but he wouldn’t be saying it if it wasn’t true. and it definitely was.

“problem number two,” he paces, “this is the real fly in the ointment here: you’re not supposed to exist in close proximity to yourself in the same timeline. the side effects can be disastrous.”

luther seems as if he’s trying to process all of this, “side effects? what sort of side effects?”

“well, according to commission handbook chapter twenty-seven, subsection three-b, the seven stages in paradox psychosis are…”

“stage one: denial.” you begin counting off on your fingers,

“two: itching.” five looks to his brother,

“three: extreme thirst and urination,”

“four: excessive gas,”

“five: acute paranoia,”

“six: uncontrolled perspiration,”

“and seven:” you pause for a moment, dropping your hands, “homicidal rage.”

“homicidal rage?” luther questions, to which both of you confirm, “jeez, i don’t know. this maybe isn’t such a good idea.”

five begins to pace again, throwing his arms to the side, “it’s a hail mary. but what choice do we got, luther?”

leaning against the door frame, the large man shrugs, “i don’t know, you already seem a bit squirrely if i’m being honest.”

“listen luther, we’re gonna need you to help us get through this one, alright?” you stand in front of him, “we need… a spotter.”

“a spotter?”

“yeah,” you breathe out.

his eyebrows furrow, “what is that, like a wingman?”

“in case the paradox psychosis gets too severe,” five strides over, “we need you to help us stay on task, alright? so whatever happens, whatever we say, we need to get that briefcase. okay?”

“okay,” luther breathes.

“okay.” your shoulders relax.

both you and five turn and make your way to the steps, and you barely realize that luther is still at the doorway, staring in front of him. “luther, come on!”

“right.”

there’s an irish jig playing as you enter the bar, and chatter fills the air between the people inside, sitting at tables and at the stools along the bar countertop. you look around, skimming over all of the people, until you see them. or- you and five. it’s weird, seeing the older looking woman who sat next to the older looking five. you barely recognized them, since you had been looking at your thirteen year old selves for a while now.

“there we are.” five has spotted them as well. sitting at the bar, the briefcase on the raised wood that acted as a footrest between the two older versions of you.

“why don’t we just grab the briefcase and run?” luther asks.

“luther, we would never let that happen.” you tell him, looking up at him for a second, “we’re trained to guard those briefcases with our lives.”

“right.”

“plus, it’s the inherent paradox where this gets tricky.” five adds in. “we’re endangering our existence just being in the same room with ourselves.”

“huh? what do you mean?”

you roll your eyes, “luther, keep up. if our old selves don’t travel back to twenty-nineteen like we’re supposed to, the whole thing unravels itself. we cease to exist. got it?”

“i… got it.” he doesn’t seem to, but you decide not to try to explain further and confuse him even more.

“so our best chance is to talk with them, to reason with them.” five rolls his shoulders back, “they’ll understand. trust me. i know us better than… better than i know us.” the sentence is confusing, but the point gets across.

as five reaches up to scratch his neck, luther is quick to point it out, “that’s stage two of paradox psychosis.” he whispers urgently.

“no, i didn’t.” five states, “i didn’t itch my neck.”

“denial is stage one.” the large man points out.

“let’s stay on task, shall we?” you wave towards the two of you sitting at the bar, and as you’re about to step forward, luther reaches his hand out to stop you.

“wait!” you look at him in a mix of confusion and annoyance, “maybe i should go first.”

“why?” five asks him, also confused.

“well, you’ll freak them out.” he motions at the two of you, “bumping into your own tiny doppelganger? they’ll lose their shit.” he looks to the older versions of you, “just, let me break the ice.”

five glances around, sighing, “okay.”

“okay.” luther breathes out slowly, and you watch as he approaches the two older yous. you’re not sure if you can trust him one hundred percent.

as he begins to speak, the two of you very quickly get confused and on guard. meanwhile, you unconsciously grab hold of five’s hand to approach. “nope! don’t freak out. no freak-outs. alright.”

as the large man slowly steps to the side, you see yourself- your old self- tense up at the sight of younger looking you. “hey there, stranger.” your five speaks up, and the two older yous are almost shaking in their shoes from the shock and confusion.

you swear you see fear in your own eyes. it’s a look you remember seeing when you first landed back in twenty-nineteen and looked in the mirror at the you that had gotten stuck in the apocalypse. the you that was stuck alone for years until the commission brought you back to five. it was jarring to you as well, at first.

you remember staring into your own eyes. the little girl who had held five’s hand as he discovered the full extent of his powers, until it disappeared from her grasp and she was left in a smoldering, crumbling world.

the five of you had gotten a table, and you sat across from your older self, gaze unwavering. out of the corner of your eye, you could see the two fives glaring at each other.

“well, isn’t this nice?” luther breaks the silent tension, “the five of us, together like this.”

“no.” all four of you speak in unison, and luther is clearly uncomfortable, almost squirming in his seat.

the old five doesn’t look away from himself as he begins to speak, “somebody explain to me how it is i’m having a pint of guinness with my younger self.”

“older, actually.” the five sitting next to you states, “i’m you, just fourteen days older.”

“i have pubic hair smarter than you.” the other you says coldly, her fingers laced together on the table in front of her, “how’s that possible?”

“i can explain,” the younger seeming boy responds, “you see, one hour from now, on the grassy knoll, before the president is killed, you break your contract with the commission.” he leans forward slightly, “i already know you’re thinking about it. all those years in the apocalypse, we never stopped worrying about our family. well today, you’re going to do something about it.” he sits up straighter.

“today, you are going to attempt to time travel back to twenty-nineteen. however, you are going to screw up the jump, and end up in this twip of a body.” he points to himself with his two thumbs. “trapped forever, small, pubescent.”

“okay.” the older one finally breaks his stare, shaking in his seat, “even if i was to believe you, what am i supposed to do, not jump?”

“no, no.” you break away from the eyes of yourself, “we need you to jump. if you don’t jump, we cease to exist.” you motion between yourself and your five, “what we need is for you to jump correctly.”

“i’m listening.”

“the first time through, i got the calculation wrong. that’s how we ended up in these bodies.” five begins to explain, “but now, i know the correct calculation.”

the other is almost on the edge of his seat in anticipation, “what is it?”

“he’ll tell you.” you tell him, causing his gaze to turn to you instead, “in exchange for the briefcase you’re holding under the table.”

“yeah, yeah.” luther speaks up from where he’s sitting, “so now, you go back to twenty-nineteen, as planned, but this time with the right math, so you remain a full grown man. in exchange for that briefcase that you no longer need.” he points to the space between the older yous where it rests, a smile on his face.

“timeline restored, paradox resolved.” five speaks, “everyone goes on, existing happily ever after.”

the older you finally breaks her silence, “that’s quite a bit to take in.”

everyone’s heads turn towards her, “what do you think?” five asks, glancing between the two of them.

“i think,” older five says, “i need to piss.” he promptly states, standing from his seat and grabbing the briefcase, heading in the direction of the bathrooms. older you quickly looks between all of you, before also standing up and heading in that direction as well. you have a feeling that they’ll be discussing the situation at hand.

once they disappear down the hall where the bathrooms are, luther breaks the short silence that fell between the three of you. “well, besides the flop sweat, i think that went pretty well, right?” you had barely noticed, but there was, in fact, beads of sweat on your face, and you grabbed one of the napkins to wipe it away while luther patted one to five’s face.

“no, there’s something…” five fidgets in his seat, “something doesn’t feel right about this.”

luther is confused, which you’ve noticed happens a lot. “what… what do you mean?”

agreeing with five’s sentiment, you shake your head, “i don’t trust them.”

“but… they’re you.” he states in confusion.

“exactly.” the two of you speak in unison.

“well… i’m going to go to the bathroom too… maybe talk to him?” it’s more of a question as he stands up before quickly scurrying away.

“they’re planning something.” you state, leaning back in your seat as you scratch the back of your neck.

nodding, five takes a drink from his glass, “we have to be ready for whatever it is. we’re dangerous.”

“very.”

taglists

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever

tua: @rasberrymay @noodlextrash @atomicpillar @malfovs @andreasworlsboring101 @lunylovelovegood

five taglist: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official @insatiable-ivy @coffee-e-addict @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @colie-babi @flowertoty @avovada @badwolf00593

let’s save the world: @aspiringwriter1 @thetrashypanda423 @lilacs-lavender @wow-lookit-all-the-fandoms @ohmyitsfaith @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @onedollarduck @sleepygal124 @faith-quake @stripedchickens @youcandalekmyballs @pettyjayy @libidinexx @bts-chub @theoriginalkat @flowertoty @whenyouwantdeath @ot7purple @purblerain @megasimpleplan4ever @whenyouregrungeaff @dumdumsun @malfovs @hxney-lemcn @frnks-stuff @imwaytootires @avovada @badwolf00593 @dumdumsun @zero2461

#tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #five #five hargreeves #number five #tua x reader #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x reader #five x reader #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader

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doortotomorrow · 3 years

Text

Mirrors and Cautionary Tales : John Murphy’s Journey to Redemption

When it comes to John Murphy, plenty of people have wondered why he spent a significant portion of his screen time interacting with the seasonal villains, and I think I’ve come up with a reason why this feels like such a steady trend in his overall story arc. It all comes down to how these villains represented Murphy’s internal struggles with himself as he grew and matured into the man we now know him as today.

Let’s take this back to the very first season of The 100 where we first encounter Murphy as he touches down onto Earth and the kind of person he was back then. As beloved a character as he is now, I can’t mince words or sugarcoat things. He was the villain for the delinquents in the first season. So, what kind of villain was he?

He wanted power and authority by any means necessary - ( “Well, I think the princess is dead... but I know the king's about to die, so who's really gonna lead these people, huh? Me, that's who, and, yeah, maybe I'll have to kill your grounder-pounding little sister.” - We are Grounders I )

He was downright wrathful - ( his willingness to kill Jasper, holding someone over a fire, ganging up on Wells to remove his bracelet, almost killing Raven )

He was selfish and all about his own self preservation- ( making everyone else do the work around the delinquent camp while Bellamy is gone, wasting resources to blow a hole in the drop ship to make his getaway )

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With those things out of the way, let’s jot down all the villains Murphy interacted with.

Charles Pike

Ontari kom Azgeda

Paxton McCreary

Josephine Lightbourne

Sheidheda

We’ll start with John Murphy’s origin point and his experience under his abusive Earth skills teacher, Charles Pike. While Murphy was largely absent from witnessing much of what Pike did to become Chancellor of Arkadia, he did see the end result of how that worked out for him. Desperate, in a jail cell, and then later on, stabbed to death in an act of revenge for the horrific things he did while in a position of power he practically stole.

On the Grounder side, he had the unfortunate luck of being trapped in Polis with Ontari kom Azgeda. Initially, he went along with the whole false Commander thing, masquerading as her Fleimkepa and even gave her advice on how to maintain her power...but then he started becoming unnerved by her violent paranoia, ultimately getting traumatized by her when she viciously abused him.

Murphy’s front row seat to watching two people’s quests for power and authority left him with this valuable lesson : being power hungry will turn you in a paranoid, unhinged person with a list of enemies a mile long. You will never, ever have a moment’s peace. You will always be looking over your shoulder wondering if this is the day you get a knife in the back.

After the third season, Murphy’s desire for power and authority completely disappears. It’s not something he’s interested in anymore because he’s been shown that it’s simply not worth it.

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Enter season five and its main villain : Paxton McCreary. What does McCreary like to do for fun? Start riots, blow things up, fire off big guns, and getting high off of combat. Oh, and he’s always, always emotionally detached and angry. His default setting is rage. It’s sounding kind of familiar, isn’t it?

The fifth season is where Murphy’s at his most chaotic and destructive(both internally and externally). He’s blowing things up, playing with huge guns, causing riots, jumping into any battle he can for the adrenaline rush, pushing everyone away, breaking up with Emori until finally, it all comes crashing down on him. All of this chaotic behavior leads to him getting shot in the Rover, nearly losing his life in the process.

On the other side of the war, McCreary’s wrath caused untold levels of destruction. It was McCreary’s need for destruction that lead to Earth being completely fried, it was McCreary’s wrath that resulted in the loss of Monty and Harper, taking away two members of Murphy’s family from him.

All of this unquantifiable destruction and death was a giant wake up call for Murphy. McCreary leaves him with this lesson: if you let rage and chaos possess you, you will end up losing everything.

That’s why, when the sixth season rolls around, Murphy’s lust for battle was greatly diminished.

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Speaking of the sixth season, it’s time to revisit Sanctum and get ourselves reacquainted with Josephine Lightbourne.

When Murphy arrived in Sanctum, his heart was heavy, clearly in a state of mourning over those he lost when he woke up and realized Monty and Harper were gone. Not only that, but yet again, he had suffered another traumatic near death experience during Sanctum’s Red Sun event. His first day out of his long hibernation was hardly fun at all, experiencing nightmares about going to hell when he fell into a coma and waking up screaming over what he saw.

So, in a moment of vulnerability and wanting to avoid going to hell, Murphy became more and more tempted with the concept of the Prime’s method of immortality. The ultimate survivor’s move : not dying at all. It’s at this point where he met Josie and saw first hand what living forever does to a person. At first, he made a deal with her to get his hands on some empty mind drives(getting Emori in on the deal as well), but the longer he lingered in her company, the more immortality started losing its luster. When it was revealed Clarke was still alive, Murphy joined the others in helping to get Josie out of her head.

Immortality had turned Josie into a sociopathic monster, utterly incapable of respecting other people’s feelings and wishes, only focusing on her own wants and needs for the sake of preserving herself. This wasn’t who Murphy wanted/needed to be anymore, having fallen in love with Emori, and creating a family alongside her which Murphy valued too much to lose. After all, what was the point of living forever if he lost his family?

That’s why, when the mind drives come up again in the seventh season, they’re now a symbol of finite time in Murphy’s story. Just a few more hours with the woman he loved as humanity itself faced its final hours.

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With all of these cautionary tales Murphy’s seen play out throughout the seasons, avoiding all of those pitfalls the previous villains fell in, we’re introduced to his perfect foil : Sheidheda, the dark commander.

Sheidheda was everything Murphy could have become if he never went on his journey of redemption, falling in love, and finding a family to fight for. Sheidheda craved power and desired nothing more than to see everyone kneeling at his feet. Through the Flame, he had lived forever, waiting for his moment of opportunity to arrive where he could rise again. If something got in his way, he’d burn it all down, creating chaos and bloodshed in his wake. He’s all of the previous villains combined into one package.

We were in desperate need of a hero...and we got one.

When Murphy and Sheidheda had their first confrontation, Murphy was deep into hero mode. He helped Emori calm down a rioting crowd, saved Sanctum from a nuclear meltdown, and rescued a group of frightened children. He kept on saying he was tired of playing the hero, but let’s be honest here, he wore the title well. Sheidheda was flawlessly utilized to showcase how far Murphy had come as a character, becoming a man we know his father would be proud of.

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There you have it! My long, long winded way of breaking down why Murphy spent so much time interacting with the villains. It was their way of marking down each stage of Murphy’s overall arc. It was very much intentional.

#The 100 #John Murphy #Richard Harmon #this wasn't meant to be this long #but I ran with it

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crimeculturepodcast · 3 years

Text

Hispanic/Latino horror movies

In honor of Hispanic Heritage month, this week we talked about horror movies out of Latin American and Spanish speaking countries. There were some we couldn’t get to so here is the full list:

Spain

The Devil’s Backbone (2001)

Rotten Tomatoes: 92%

Audience Score: 89%

Google Score: 85%

IMDb: 7.4/10

Critics Consensus: Creepily atmospheric and haunting, The Devil's Backbone is both a potent ghost story and an intelligent political allegory.

Description: “Set during the last years of the Spanish Civil War, The Devil's Backbone is a Spanish gothic horror movie that follows Carlos, a young orphan boy who is deposited at Santa Lucia School among several other children who have been displaced by the conflict. Though he finds friends in the professor and the head mistress, he is plagued by a wandering spirit with a link to the violent caretaker's secret past.”

Trivia: The movie, which he wrote in college and was in development for 16 years, is strongly inspired by Del Toro’s personal memories, especially his relationship with his uncle, who supposedly came back as a ghost. It is also included among the "1,001 Movies You Must See Before You Die" edited by Steven Schneider. Although filmmaker Guillermo del Toro is Mexican, this film is set in the Spanish countryside (largely filmed in Madrid) that’s why it’s on the Spanish list. The Devil’s Backbone has all of the impactful elements of spirituality, horror, and the supernatural that come up again and again in Del Toro’s work. This film has been referred to as the “brother film” of one of Del Toro’s best known works, Pan’s Labyrinth.

[REC] (2007)

Rotten Tomatoes: 89%

Audience Score: 82%

Google Score: 85%

IMDb: 7.4/10

Critics Consensus: Plunging viewers into the nightmarish hellscape of an apartment complex under siege, [Rec] proves that found footage can still be used as an effective delivery mechanism for sparse, economic horror.

Description: “Late-night TV host Angela and her cinematographer are following the fire service on a call to an apartment building, but the Spanish police seal off the building after an old woman is infected by a virus which gives her inhuman strength.”

Trivia: The movie was filmed chronologically in real locations (no sets were built for the movie). The actor’s were never given the script in its entirety and didn’t know what was going to happen to their characters until the day of filming. The movie is also a big inspiration for the horror survival game Outlast.

Considered The Blair Witch Project of zombie movies, REC had a lot of competition in the found footage style (it came out the same year as George Romero’s Diary of the Dead and the first Paranormal Activity movie). It more than holds its own among them, so much so that an American remake called Quarantine came out the next year. Director Jaume Balagueró keeps the movie disturbingly real and doesn’t fall prey to jump scare after jump scare.

Veronica (2017)

Rotten Tomatoes: 88%

Audience Score: 49%

Google Score: 80%

IMDb: 6.2/10

Critics Consensus: A scarily effective horror outing, Veronica proves it doesn't take fancy or exotic ingredients to craft skin-crawling genre thrills.

Description: “During a solar eclipse, a teenage girl and her friends want to summon the spirit of the girl's father using an Ouija board. However, during the session she loses consciousness and soon it becomes clear that evil demons have arrived.”

Trivia: Based on the true story of 18-year-old Estefanía Gutiérrez Lázaro. I won’t go too far into it because we may do an episode on it in the future but if you want spoilers, watch the movie (if you dare).

Directed by Paco Plaza (same as REC), the possession theme is done over and over again in horror but this movie is a terrifying and fresh take.

The Bar (2017)

Rotten Tomatoes: 88%

Audience Score: 55%

Google Score: 75%

IMDb: 6.3/10

Description: “In bustling downtown Madrid, a loud gunshot and two mysterious deaths trap a motley assortment of common urbanites in a decrepit central bar, while paranoia and suspicion force the terrified regulars to turn on each other.”

Directed by Álex de la Iglesia, it’s labeled as a horror-comedy. You can watch it on Netflix.

Who Can Kill A Child? (1976) - Tells the story of a happy couple, two English tourists who decide to vacation on a secluded island in the Mediterranean. There they discover – almost too late- that the island has been taken over by a group of murderous children.

The Baby’s Room (2006) - Featured on Six Films to Keep You Awake at Night. A new family renovates and moves into a grand old house. Nervous first-time mom installs a baby monitor but hears mysterious sounds on the other side. Once they install a high-tech video baby monitor, what they see chills them to the bone.

Sleep Tight (2011) - Apartment concierge Cesar is a miserable person who believes he was born without the ability to be happy. His self-appointed task is to make life hell for everyone around him, a mission in which he has great success. It has big home invasion/stalker vibes.

Timecrimes (2007) - A man accidentally gets into a time machine and travels back in time nearly an hour. Finding himself will be the first of a series of disasters of unforeseeable consequences. It sounds like a “Happy Death Day” type of plot (but proceeding it by a decade).

Thesis (1996) - Angela is doing her thesis on the effect of violence in the media when she discovers a snuff film. This discovery leads her down a dark path where she must confront her greatest fears and question everybody around her.

Witching and Bitching (2013) - One article I read said it perfectly, “What Shaun of the Dead did for zombies and What We Do in the Shadows did for vampires, Witching & Bitching essentially did for the cinematic depiction of witches, albeit on a less visible scale.” Great pick if you’re looking for something a bit more lighthearted.

Mexico

Pan’s Labyrinth (2006)

Rotten Tomatoes: 95%

Audience Score: 91%

Google Score: 90%

IMDb: 8.2/10

Critics Consensus: Pan's Labyrinth is Alice in Wonderland for grown-ups, with the horrors of both reality and fantasy blended together into an extraordinary, spellbinding fable.

Description: After the Allies invade Nazi-occupied Europe, a sadistic captain sends a troop of Spanish soldiers to flush out rebels,bringing his new wife and her daughter along on his exploits. While his family resides in the countryside, he leads his men on a murderous rampage, much of which is witnessed by his step daughter. In an effort to escape her reality she plunges into Pan's Labyrinth, a mystical world at the border of her own.

Trivia: Guillermo del Toro is famous for compiling books full of notes and drawings about his ideas before turning them into films, something he regards as essential to the process. He left years worth of notes for this film in the back of a cab, and when he discovered them missing, he thought it was the end of the project. However, the cab driver found them and, realizing their importance, tracked him down and returned them at great personal difficulty and expense. Del Toro was convinced that this was a blessing and it made him ever more determined to complete the film. Del Toro also repeatedly refused offers from Hollywood producers, in spite of being offered double the budget, provided the film was made in English. He didn't want any compromise in the storyline to suit the "market needs" (he even did the English subtitles himself). The film received 22 minutes of applause at the Cannes Film Festival and in 2007, it became one of the few fantasy films ever nominated in the Best Foreign Language Film category at the Oscars. It’s another on the list "1,001 Movies You Must See Before You Die" edited by Steven Schneider with The Devil’s Backbone. It was on more than 130 top 10 lists in 2006. It is also the 5th highest grossing foreign language film in the US.

The Similars (2016)

Rotten Tomatoes: 95%

Audience Score: 49%

Google Score: 75%

IMDb: 5.9/10

Critics Consensus: A smart homage to genre filmmaking, The Similars is a fun and frightening film that balances socio-political issues with aplomb.

Description: A monstrous, once-in-a-lifetime thunderstorm strands passengers in a remote bus station outside Mexico City in 1968. As they listen to the radio, they realized that the storm has spread all over the world. As they look at each other, they also realize that everyone’s faces are slowly changing, and not for the better.

Trivia: The film used make-up and special effects techniques never before done in Mexico. Director Isaac Ezban was influenced by B-movies of the 50s and 60s as well as TV shows and movies like “The Twilight Zone”, “The Thing”, and “Invasion of the Body Snatchers”.

We Are What We Are (2010)

Rotten Tomatoes: 72%

Audience Score: 48%

Google Score: 77%

IMDb: 5.7/10

Critics Consensus: We Are What We Are is elevated horror that combines family drama and social politics, with plenty of gore on top.

Description: After a family patriarch dies, his survivors are tasked with continuing the rigid family rituals that involve hunting meat, preparing it for consumption, and eating it. The “meat” in question is human flesh, since they’re a family of cannibals. With two detectives hot on their tail, the family of cannibals strains to maintain their family traditions in a modern urban environment.

There was an English language remake in 2013 (86% on Rotten Tomatoes) with Wyatt Russell and Odeya Rush (Lady Bird, Dumplin’, and Goosebumps)

We Are The Flesh (2016) - A joint French-Mexican production released in Spanish as Somos la carne, this post-apocalyptic nightmare involves a brother and sister who roam the land desperately seeking food until a kindly old man takes them in under the condition that they help him renovate an abandoned building. Oh, and they also have to have sex with one another while he watches. And after he breaks their will by getting them to do that, he makes them do all sorts of other things. This film was one of only four in Mexico to receive a “D” rating—which is reserved for subject matter that is considered extremely disturbing and/or pornographic.

The Witch’s Mirror (1962) - An abusive and cheating husband kills his wife so that he can be with his mistress. The woman’s godmother was a witch who originally tried casting a spell on a mirror to protect her from domestic violence, but the spell failed. Still, she is able to bring the woman back from the grave, and the two witches set out to destroy the evil woman-beater.

Here Comes The Devil (2012) - A married couple lose their children while on a family trip near some caves in Tijuana. The kids eventually reappear without explanation, but it becomes clear that they are not who they used to be, that something terrifying has changed them.

Chile

Downhill (2016)

Rotten Tomatoes: 60%

Audience Score: 22%

Google Score: 43%

IMDb: 3.5/10

Description: Deeply upset by the passing of his best friend, a professional BMX rider accepts to partake in a race in Chile. Everything goes as planned until he stumbles upon a man who is infected by a mysterious virus and becomes the target of local assassins.

Trivia: Filmed in 13 days

Post Mortem (2010)

Rotten Tomatoes: 88%

Audience Score: 61%

Google Score: 70%

IMDb: 6.5/10

Description: In Chile, 1973, during the last days of Salvador Allende’s presidency, an employee at a Morgue’s recording office falls for a burlesque dancer who mysteriously disappears.

Aftershock (2012)

Rotten Tomatoes: 39%

Audience Score: 24%

Google Score: 61%

IMDb: 4.8/10

Critics Consensus: Aftershock hints at an inventive twist on horror tropes, but ultimately settles for another round of mind-numbing depravity that may alternately bore and revolt all but the most ardent gore enthusiasts.

Description: In Chile, a group of travelers who are in an underground nightclub when a massive earthquake hits quickly learn that reaching the surface is just the beginning of their nightmare.

Trivia: Horror icon Eli Roth wrote and stars in this film.

To Kill A Man (2014) - An attack on his daughter leads a mild-mannered family man to take revenge on the vicious street thugs who have tormented him and his family for a long time.

Columbia

Out Of The Dark (2014) This is in English

Rotten Tomatoes: 24%

Audience Score: 22%

Google Score: 77%

IMDb: 4.8/10

Description: A family moves to Colombia to take over the operation of a manufacturing plant, soon they learn their new home is haunted.

Trivia: Starring Julia Stiles (10 Things I Hate About You, Dexter) and Scott Speedman (The Strangers, You)

The Squad (2011)

Audience Score: 53%

Google Score: 82%

IMDb: 5.3/10

Description: After a secret military base ceases all communications, an anti-guerrilla commando unit is sent to the mountainous location to discover what exactly happened. The squad expects to discover that the base was attacked and taken over by guerrilla units, but instead find only a lone woman wrapped in chains.

Trivia: In one scene where the actors are shooting guns, one actor accidentally picked up a real gun instead of the prop and fired a real shot (no one was hurt).

Cord (2015) - On a post-apocalyptic world of never-ending winter, a sparse cast of outsiders live underground. Due to their unsanitary conditions, sexual contact has become dangerous. Masturbation has become the paradigm of sexual experience and an array of low-tech devices with this purpose has come into existence. In this bleak reality, a dealer of such machines a sex addict make a deal: she will allow him to experiment new devices on her body in exchange of pleasure. Soon however, their relationship goes out of control.

The Hidden Face (2011)

Rotten Tomatoes: 80%

Audience Score: 72%

Google Score: 86%

IMDb: 7.4/10

Description: Shattered by the unexpected news of their irreversible break-up, an aspiring orchestra conductor is puzzled by his girlfriend's mysterious and seemingly inexplicable case of disappearance. But, can he look beyond the facts?

Trivia: There is a Turkish version of this movie and a 2013 remake out of India called “Murder 3”

At The End Of The Spectra (2006)

Google Score: 83%

IMDb: 6/10

Description: A young woman who has become agoraphobic due to a traumatic incident is holed up in her apartment, she begins to suffer from hallucinations, paranoia and an obsessive neighbour.

Trivia: There is a Mexican remake called “Devil Inside” and there were once rumors of an American remake starring Nicole Kidman but that’s the end of that.

Uruguay

The Silent House (La Casa Muda) (2010)

Rotten Tomatoes: 68%

Audience Score: 37%

Google Score: 63%

IMDb: 5.4/10

Critics Consensus: Shot in a single take, The Silent House may be a gimmick movie, but it's one that's enough to sustain dread and tension throughout.

Description: A girl becomes trapped inside a house and becomes unable to contact the outside world as supernatural forces haunt it.

Trivia: The plot is supposedly based on a true story that occurred in the 1940s in a small village in Uruguay. With a budget of just six thousand dollars, it was filmed using a handheld high-definition digital single-lens reflex camera (the Canon EOS 5D Mark II), 2 handheld lamps, and a couple of lightbulbs over a time period of just four days. The claim that the movie was filmed in one continuous take are suspect. The Mark II camera can only record up to 15 minutes of continuous video at a time. Uruguay's official submission to the Best Foreign Language Film category of the 84th Academy Awards 2012.

Monos (2019)

Rotten Tomatoes: 92%

Audience Score: 85%

Google Score: 69%

IMDb: 6.9/10

Critics Consensus: As visually splendid as it is thought-provoking, Monos takes an unsettling look at human nature whose grim insights leave a lingering impact.

Description: On a faraway mountaintop, eight teenaged guerillas with guns watch over a hostage and a conscripted milk cow. Playing games and initiating cult-like rituals, the children run amok in the jungle and disaster strikes when the hostage tries to escape.

Trivia: Moises Arias (Hannah Montana) and Julianne Nicholson (I, Tonya, August: Osage County) most of the other actors had never acted before. The movie draws inspiration from Lord of the Flies. Included among the "1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die", edited by Steven Schneider. It was selected as the official Colombian entry for the Best International Feature Film at the 92nd Academy Awards.

Peru

The Entity (2015)

Google Score: 66%

IMDb: 4.3/10

Description: A group of students decide to study 'reaction videos' and are led toward an old film, hidden in the archive room of a cemetery. It appears that everybody who has witnessed the film has met an untimely demise under suspicious circumstances. When the students view the footage, they discover first hand, what the demonic spirit is capable of. Fulfilling the ancient curse of a woman cruelly killed during the Spanish Inquisition.

Trivia: The Entity has been billed as Peru's first 3D horror film and to have been loosely based on true stories. Review websites Flickering Myth and Nerdly commented that the movie suffered from being too overly familiar to pre-existing works (Blair Witch, The Ring).

The Vanished Elephant (2014)

Rotten Tomatoes: 89%

Audience Score: 72%

Google Score: 88%

IMDb: 6.5/10

Description: Crime novelist Edo remains obsessed with what happened to his fiancee Celia after she disappeared during an earthquake. When an enigmatic woman brings him photos that may help him solve the mystery, he senses he is being drawn into a dangerous game.

The Secret Of Evil (2014)

Google Score: 65%

IMDb: 5/10

Description: Video footage depicting a supernatural encounter is all that remains of a filmmaker and his crew who disappeared while exploring a haunted house.

When Two Worlds Collide (2016)

Rotten Tomatoes: 91%

Audience Score: 69%

Google Score: 93%

IMDb: 7.6/10

Description: An indigenous environmental activist takes on the large businesses that are destroying the Amazon.

El Vientre (2014)

Google Score: 81%

IMDb: 6.1/10

Description: Silvia, a beautiful 45-year-old widow, is obsessed with having a child and finds in attractive but naive Mercedes the perfect candidate to bear it. Silvia kindly offers her a job and a room in her house, and then manipulates her into seducing a young man named Jaime. They soon fall in love and Mercedes becomes pregnant. Silvia will do anything in her power to keep the baby, even if it means leaving a couple of bodies behind.

Argentina

Terrified (2018)

Rotten Tomatoes: 77%

Audience Score: 65%

Google Score: 82%

IMDb: 6.5/10

Description: Paranormal researchers investigate strange events in a neighbourhood in Buenos Aires.

Luciferina (2018)

Rotten Tomatoes: 83%

Audience Score: 25%

Google Score: 69%

IMDb: 4.6/10

Description: Natalia is a nineteen-year-old novice who reluctantly returns home to say goodbye to her dying father. However, when she meets up with her sister and her friends, she decides instead to travel the jungle in search of mystical plant.

Francesca (2015)

Audience Score: 67%

Google Score: 73%

IMDb: 5.3/10

Description: Two detectives track a serial killer who has been targeting the impure. To catch him, they'll have to solve the case of a girl who went missing 15 years ago.

Cold Sweat (2010)

Rotten Tomatoes: 75%

Audience Score:

Google Score: 58%

IMDb: 4.8/10

Description: The movie follows Román, who stumbles upon his ex-girlfriend Jackie, who has somehow gotten caught up in a torture cult run by two sadistic, old men. The aging political radicals have managed to put Jackie’s life in incredible danger. But when Román and his friend try to help Jackie out of her confines, the elderly psychos prove to be more than meets the eye.

Penumbra (2011)

Rotten Tomatoes: 50%

Audience Score: 26%

Google Score: 75%

IMDb: 5.5/10

Description: A woman desperate to find a tenant for her decrepit apartment apparently finds the perfect candidate, unaware of a sinister plot involving an imminent eclipse.

Venezuela

The House At The End of Time (2013)

Rotten Tomatoes: None

Audience Score: 72%

Google Score: 91%

IMDb: 6.8/10

Description: Dulce encounters apparitions in her house and unleashes a terrible prophecy. Thirty years later, Dulce, now an old woman, returns to unravel the mystery that has terrorized her for years.

Trivia: Winner of the Audience Award at Gävle Horror Film Festival 2016 (Sweden). Not only is it Venezuela’s highest-grossing horror film, it’s also the most distributed film from the country. By August 2016 it was announced that the American studio New Line Cinema acquired the rights of the film to make a remake for the American public. Hidalgo is still at the wheel so its chances of success are high.

Ecuador

Cronicas (2004)

Rotten Tomatoes: 71%

Audience Score: 77%

Google Score: 80%

IMDb: 6.9/10

Critics Consensus: An unsettling and absorbing cautionary tale with John Leguizamo playing an unscrupulous TV reporter who uses the medium to further his own goals.

Description: Reporter Manolo Bonilla (John Leguizamo) goes to a jail in Ecuador to interview Vinicio Cepeda (Damián Alcázar, Narcos, Narnia), a hit-and-run driver whose crime incited a riot. After Cepeda tells him he knows where a murderer called the Monster of Babahoyo buried a young female victim, Bonilla posts bail in the hopes that he'll learn more about the crime. Bonilla finds the girl's body, but, as he nears the scoop of his career, it looks as if Cepeda might be withholding some key details.

Trivia: Inspired by a true story? As well as being both a Cannes and TIFF favourite, Cronicas is the official submission of Ecuador for the 'Best Foreign Language Film' category of the 77th Academy Awards in 2005, it was produced by Guillermo del Toro and Alfonso Cuarón (Children of Men, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban) This is John Leguizamo’s first film in Spanish. He said he felt awkward talking in Spanish while acting, like he didn't know the language.

English Language Horror

The Silent House (2011) This is in English

Rotten Tomatoes: 43%

Audience Score:

Google Score: 72%

IMDb: 5.3/10

Critics Consensus: Silent House is more technically proficient and ambitious than most fright-fests, but it also suffers from a disappointing payoff.

Description: Sarah is working with her father and uncle to renovate an old family home to prepare it for sale. Long vacant, the house has no utilities, forcing the trio to rely on battery-operated lanterns to light their way. Sarah becomes separated from her relatives and soon finds she is trapped inside the cabin, with no contact with the outside world. Panic turns to real terror as the young woman experiences events that become increasingly ominous.

Trivia: Elizabeth Olsen (Wandavision) The plot is based on a true story that occurred in the 1940s in a small village in Uruguay. Contrary to the marketing's claim that the film was shot in one uninterrupted take, the entire movie was actually shot to mimic one continuous real-time take, with no cuts from start to finish, as a result the time span of the film's plot is exactly 86 minutes. It was shot in roughly 10 minute segments then carefully edited to hide the cuts.

Night of the Living Dead (1968) - This along with the rest of the Dead series are the work of George A. Romero, whose father is from Cuba.

Ash vs. Evil Dead - I love the Evil Dead movies and although this series wasn’t perfect (I’m sure die-hard fans will say it's far from it), I still think it kept to the heart of the main story. Bruce Campbell is obviously perfect and the addition of Lucy Lawless is amazing, it’s really Puerto Rican actor Ray Santiago that steals the show.

The Others (2001) - Directed by globally renowned Spanish director Alejandro Amenábar, The Others starring Nicole Kidman is a Spanish gothic horror movie that combines elements of the supernatural, psychological, and mystical. It focuses on the strange events that occur at the estate of a woman and her young children, plagued by spirits in the aftermath of WWII. It has the distinction of being the only English-language Spanish movie to be given the Best Film Award at Spain's national film awards, the Goyas. In total, the movie has seven Goya Awards, including for Best Director. Although it might not read as particularly “Spanish,” it was produced, written and filmed all in Spain, shooting in Cantabria, Northern Spain and Madrid.

#Crime Culture #podcast #crime #true crime #murder #tcc #true crime podcast #pop culture #episode 198 #hispanic horror #latino horror #spanish horror #hispanic heritage month #horror #horror movies #spanish language horror #movies to watch

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animeyanderelover · 3 years

Text

Hi! First of all I want to thank everyone for the support you have given me so far🥰. I really, really appreciate it! Here is my next post. Hopefully you like it.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, delusions, paranoia, manipulation, bipolar behavior, violence, guilt-tripping, manipulation, sabotage, blackmailing, threatening, bribing, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of killing

Yandere Trancy Manor Hc’s

Alois Trancy

👅This one’s really a handful to take in. He’s pretty bipolar and that effects his Yandere behavior as well. Depending on his mood he can have less worse traits or worse ones. Let’s start with the “better” traits which are delusional, clingy, lovestruck, obsessive and desperate. In his mind the both of you were made for each other so it’s only natural that he wants to know everything about you. Extremely clingy, wherever his s/o is he’ll be there as well and he wants, no, he NEEDS your attention and love even more than Claude’s! This boy cherishes you so much. Extremely touchstarved.

👅The worse traits from him are possessive, manipulative, cruel and some tendencies to the sadistic type. He lost his little brother and won’t lose his darling too, no matter what he has to do! Manipulative as fuck, he fooled everyone with his acts when his “father” died and will use his horrific past on the s/o as well. The thing is, I think he would be more than hesitant to hurt his darling. He doesn’t care about hurting other people, but with the s/o he’s more careful. But when he’s angered enough he might loose it and hurt the s/o and insult them without really realizing what he does until he snaps out of it and as soon as he realized what he’s done he’s heartbroken. Also a very cruel type, but mostly only with the people who are in his relationships’s way with the s/o.

👅Possessive and clingy is a frightening mix. Do everyone the favor and don’t look at anybody else except him. He already punishes his servants when they take your attention away from him, but if it’s another person they’re dead. If someone even takes his darling’s attention away from him for one second he’ll throw a tantrum right then and there. After this he’ll act like the brat he is, even towards you, but one simple hug or a gentle kiss on the cheek from you and he’ll melt and goes back to treating you like a queen/king.

👅Alois is ready to kill everyone who comes in his way. Most of the time he orders Claude to do it, but if someone made you cry, harmed you or confessed to you is when the boy shows his true cruelty. First of all he’ll order Claude to take that person to a secure place where only he has access to. Then he’ll tell them in detail what is going to happen to them with a crazed look in his eyes, which is already enough to make someone never go near the s/o again. After that the torture starts and I can guarantee that everyone begs him to just kill them after merely 30 minutes, but days or even weeks might pass before that guy kills the person. Even hell will seem harmless compared to this.

👅Alois will kidnap his darling really quickly given his paranoia. But he makes sure that everything is towards their liking, there’s nothing he doesn’t know about them. If they try to escape him he’ll chain them up to the bed, but will still spoil them.

👅Uff...This is hard to say. If we go by his worse traits and by how he treats the s/o sometimes and the people around his darling he’s one of the really dangerous ones. But if we go with the better traits and how he treats you most of the time he’s in a dark dark green zone. He spoils you to the rotten and if he accidentally hurts you this boy starts crying, going on his knees and begging you for forgiveness. For the next few days he’ll smoother you in even more affection, hugs and kisses than he already does. I think it’s up to you to judge if he’s a better or worse one.

Claude Faustus

🕷He’s a demon so naturally possessive over the s/o, never letting them leave his side for more than a few seconds. Also the aware type, just like Sebastian he might not know human feelings that well, but he is sure that they aren’t supposed to be so passionate. He’s a manipulative one, using lies to slowly trap his darling in his web without them noticing.

🕷Also a clingy one, I already mentioned it in Sebastian’s Hc, it’s rare for demons to find true love and he never knew what joy he could feel from simply being near his darling. Also an obsessive one he loves everything about you what makes him a touchy one as well.

🕷Possessive and clingy ones are always easily jealous, same goes for Claude. He just found his mate, do you seriously expect to just watch when they’re having fun with someone else?! Na-ah, not happening. His reaction would be similar to Sebastian he would most likely let some part of his demon form appear for a few seconds to scare the other person away.

🕷If someone even dares to touch his s/o’s skin he makes sure to make their death as agonizing as possible. He won’t let anyone take his darling away from him and is willing to crush everyone who tries it. But just like Sebastian he is careful with his killing because the last thing he wants to happen is that this little brat called Alois finds out about you.

🕷Claude will kidnap his darling very quickly given his possessiveness. He doesn’t even think about asking them to work as a maid because Alois is already really cruel to the demon servants so thinking about what harm he might cause a human servant...Yeah, no chance that he’ll let his s/o anywhere near that brat. He’ll search for a nice and cozy cottage somewhere isolated and makes sure that his darling can’t escape from there.

🕷Compared to his master he’s a better Yandere. He just wishes to spoil the s/o and he’ll bring you everyday a new gift. Books, sweets, dresses/suits, whatever you wish for. This guy helps you with everything and will insist on dressing you. He wants you to rely on him and if you act up he’ll be more strict with you, but overall such a gentleman.

Hannah Annafellows

🟣She’s a demon so she’s a possessive one. She’s also obsessed with her darling, loving their hair, scent, skin, laughter, everything about them is addicting to her. She’s a manipulative one and will ensure that everyone the s/o is close to will somehow end up leaving them. And who’s during such times your shoulder to cry on? Hannah! She makes sure that her s/o relies on her and only trusts her.

🟣Hannah is also the lovestruck and overprotective Yandere. She always makes sure that her darling is being watched by her or the triplets so nothing bad happens to them. No words can describe how much she adores and loves her darling. And just for you she’s a really soft one. But don’t get too comfy with her because if you anger her enough she’ll punish you.

🟣Hannah has different from the other demons here just a bit more patience with people, mostly because she knows that they’ll leave the s/o very soon for some “unknown” reasons and that her darling will then run crying to her, needing her hugs and comforts. With these thoughts in her mind, you in her arms and clinging onto her for dear life, she can hold out for some time.

🟣She won’t kill unless given a good reason to. If someone for example takes a liking towards her darling and ignores Hannah’s warning that person is dead. Same goes for people who made you cry and hurt you, even if it’s just a small scratch, that person will be dead within the same day.

🟣She won’t kidnap her s/o unless something bad happens. Most likely scenarios are if she confesses to them and they reject her, they find out about her behavior towards others around them, you distance yourself from her or you’re getting seriously harmed. But as soon as she does her s/o has no chance to escape her with not only her, but the triplets watching over her as well.

🟣I believe that Hannah can be a better Yandere, but only if you behave well. She has some kind of reward system which means the better you behave the more she’s willing to let you out and grand you your wishes. If you don’t behave or try to escape she’ll punish you, but I believe that her punishments are more mentally than physically. That doesn’t really make it better since she’s a demon. She’ll probably let you imagine your worst nightmares and then you’ll run like a frightened bunny to her and beg and cry for her help which she’ll gladly give you, making you see her as your hero and savior which is exactly what she wants. But overall a soft and caring woman.

Timber, Thompson & Canterbury

🤫Since they’re really discreet they prove a little challenge, but I really like them and want to give it a try. All demons are possessive, no exception with these guys. Since they’re so quiet I think they are stalkers as well. At least one of them is ALWAYS observing you from the distance.

🤫Obsessed with their darling in every sense possible. They’re the types to steal things from the s/o and since they are 3 of them they steal a looot of things from their darling. Books, toothbrushes, clothes, underwear... Also the lovestruck types, always imagining how wonderful it would be to have their darling near them. When they are near the s/o then they are incredibly touchy with them.

🤫They know who you meet during the day since they’re always watching! The one who watched you that day will report everything to his brothers and they’ll decide together if that person should be killed or not. Nearly 97% of the time they go with the first option since they can’t stand the thought of someone else being near their darling.

🤫As mentioned above, they hate the thought of someone else near the s/o. It’s already bad enough to have one demon wanting to kill you, but 3?! That’s the worst situation someone could ever ask for. They’re the quiet but deadly types, but I can imagine that the triplets will toy with the victim at first, making fun of them before cornering that person and killing them.

🤫The brothers make sure to kidnap you very soon because at one point just watching didn’t satisfy them anymore. They’ll most likely have a fight about who gets to kidnap you before deciding that they’ll all go together. Isn’t just the thought of having 3 lovesick demons hunting you down wonderful? You’re never going to see anything except the small house in which they keep you again. Escaping isn’t an option too because one of them is always with the darling. Now they only need to find out how to share the s/o.

🤫They’re in the middle, meaning they’re not the worst and not the best. They always argue about who gets to take you on a short walk outside, who gets to help you dress up, who gets to help you with a bath, honestly it’s more frustrating. Punishments are only given when you try to escape or resist their affection towards you and consist of locking you in a dark room with only one meal per day. Probably doesn’t sound that bad, but when you’re about to sleep they silently hide somewhere in the dark and use their demonic powers to give you terrible nightmares and at some point you’re going to be too scared to sleep. That’s when they let you out again and the next few weeks or even months, depending on how far they went, you won’t be able to sleep without at least one of them with you in the bed, cuddling you satisfied and happily in his arms. But most of the time they’re your loyal servants, you won’t have to lift a finger just let them do anything. ( The triplets turned out longer than wanted, but as mentioned above I really like them and just the fact that they’re 3 makes the whole situation even more interesting. From the whole Trancy household they’re definitely my favorites.)

#yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere alois #yandere alois trancy #yandere claude #yandere claude faustus #yandere hannah #yandere hannah annafellows #yandere triplets #yandere timber #yandere thompson #yandere canterbury

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narrators-journal · 3 years

Text

Welcome home

I hope this sequelette was enjoyable! It was a lot of fun to write, even if it was kinda difficult.

Previous part: here

first part: here

The rest of the night was a blur. In the chaos of Illumi confronting you, you had been too scatter-brained from fear to inform him that you were having 'practice contractions', and you definitely weren't in any sort of mindset to tell him you might be near labor, however, the stoic assassin always had a plan for things, and had accounted for you potentially going into early labor at any point. So, after your declaration, he picked you up and rushed you over to the van he had waiting. In your distressed state, everything whizzed by after that. You were vaguely aware of what the Zoldyck family doctor told you to do, but aside from when you were moved from the van to a secondary location, you couldn't seem to focus at all under the maelstrom of panic and pain. Time, your situation, all forms of possible consequence, none of it mattered anymore as you clung to your fiance-to-be's hand and followed every order the doctor gave. At some point though, you must've passed out from the pain, because in what felt like the blink of an eye, you were waking up.

Slowly, you blinked the world back into focus, your head slowly beginning to stop swimming from pain and hysteria, allowing you to gradually realize that you were laying in a hospital bed in some random, dark room that you didn't recognize. Was I out so long that I'm already back at the estate? You asked yourself, lifting your head a bit to try and discern exactly where you were through the hazy, groggy feeling clouding your mind. Upon closer inspection of your surroundings, you weren't in Illumi's family home. From what you could see by the dim light of the lamp in the corner, the room was too small and the furniture was too cheap, so you must be in some random, hopefully, abandoned home. "Where...am I." you croaked, though you weren't realy expecting an answer, so it startled you to hear Illumi respond. "You were nearly eight months pregnant, so I made sure there was a safe, private place for you to possibly give birth before I went to collect you. Good thing I did, I'd have hated for you to be forced to have our son in that van." he mused from his seat in the arm chair next to the corner lamp, and when you looked over at him, your brain zeroed in on the little bundle he held instead of focusing on the danger or the dread you could feel creeping across your skin, both of which were dampened by the powerful, and sudden, urge to hold your baby. It was a shockingly powerful burst of feeling, but some part of you desperately wanted to hold your infant child. It was only when you moved your arms to reach out for your child that you registered the soft clatter of the cuff on your wrist, securing you to the metal sides of the bed, and for a moment, that somewhat reminded you that something wasn't quite right here. However, that thought was near-instantly swept away by your spacey, baby-focused thoughts. "Wha...why am I handcuffed??" Both the thought and your words came out as more disappointed than startled, like they probably should've sounded, since you were still rather out of it, but then the memories of your entire predicament set in at long last. It finally began to set in that you'd been caught by the assassin who'd snatched you up, the one who'd been the center of your paranoia for the past few months. Just as you were about to panic though, Illumi grabbed your chin and made you look into his hypnotic eyes, "Can you please just calm down?" he asked, slightly annoyed, but he still had an authoritative edge that washed away the majority of your anxieties for the time being before he released your face and gave over your baby to let you hold the little bundle of blue while he slept with barely a whine at being jostled. You stared at him for a moment as your partner's powers ebbed, just letting it soak in that this was your baby. "You were out for at least a full day, so I had the doctor look him over and fed him from a bottle, but it would be best if you breastfed. He'll be healthier that way." Illumi hummed, the annoyance from before gone from his words, though his voice still snapped you out of your motherly trance as he brought the armchair over to your bed and sat beside you. When he did, you looked over at him to try and glean any possible foreshadowing of your expected punishment, but, instead, for this small moment, with that soft, happy expression on his face and the way he just laid his head on his arm against the metal sides of your bed to watch your son sleep in your arms, you found that you could almost believe that he hadn't likely broken into your home, stalked you, and kidnapped you. Then the moment was broken and things got a bit awkward when you realized he was looking back into your (e/c) eyes with his own dark ones, though this time his gaze lacked that trance-enducing power he'd put behind it before, and you'd been staring at him. "Is something wrong?" He asked quietly, blinking slowly as if you were a cat he was trying to win the trust of. You just shook your head in response, "I just...I don't know how to feel right now," you confessed, looking back at the infant in your arms and tightening your hold on him a bit while his father sighed, "I'd expect you to be happy," he hummed, "and I want to let you be happy and bask in the joy of our child being born and healthy, but..." he pushed himself into a proper sitting position and his voice returned to it's usual cold temperature as he continued, "You very much need to be talked to about your behavior before that." And with that, your stomach dropped. You could almost feel that other shoe finally drop with his words as the anchor, pushing the excitement to the backburner. Instead of remaining in that slightly dopey, tired moment of joy, you switched to a far more protective, guarded mode and gave him a cautious, dirty look as a result while holding your child closer to yourself. "You shouldn't have run away like that. If you had stayed at home, like I'd wanted you to, you wouldn't have had to put our child at risk by working as a maid like you did." he scolded, and your blood ran cold at the mention of your job, "W-wait, how long have you known where I was?? Did...did you hurt anyone I've worked for?" you asked, and amidst your fearful worries over your helpful boss you found a sense of hostility you'd never used against him, "I knew where you were after about a week, and not to worry, I didn't hurt the woman who helped you. You can thank mother for the fact you weren't brought back while I was in such a foul mood." he replied curtly, and while you could tell he was curbing his own hostility, you somehow felt more anger than fear at it, "She talked me out of bringing you back, and father advised against bringing you back until you were almost through with your pregnancy as to lower the distress you'd go through. If it were up to me alone, I wouldn't have needed to plan for any premature labors, you'd be pissed and upset, but safe and healthy at home." he continued, "As if staying somewhere I felt like a fucking prisoner would've made my pregnancy last longer?! Are you forgetting how scary and deranged you became when I told you I was pregnant?? How about when you kidnapped me?" "I didn't kidnap you, I moved you home so you would be in less danger, unless you would've preferred Hisoka return?" he snapped, but you didn't back down just yet, "You're just glazing over the fact that I didn't want any of this! I didn't want to be scooped up and taken to some fancy ass prison, or rushed into marriage just because I was having a baby!" You snapped back, feeling a mix of angry, scared, and generally just upset tears fill your eyes as you glared at Illumi. The only thing that forced you to stop was when the child nestled against you squirmed and began to fuss. For a long moment, you didn't look at the assassin beside your hospital bed, and neither of you spoke while the infant fell back asleep. When Illumi did finally speak, he wasn't cold, or angry, he just sounded upset. "I'm...so confused." he sighed, running a pale hand through his dark hair, "I don't know what else I was supposed to do, leave you there? In a plain house with no guards and not be there for my kid?" he asked, looking to you to explain things. So, with a sniffle and a sigh, you tried your best to help the emotionally stunted man. "Look. I'm not going to hold it against you that you insisted on getting married, but you scared me really badly when you reacted the way you did when I suggested other things. Do you realize how terrifying you are? Because you don't seem to." you pointed out, and he just listened, "That's my biggest issue. You saved me from likely running into that other man again, but you also became a threat of your own. How can I just accept the fact that you moved me to a place that i can't escape from? That, plus how aggressive you became, I fear you're going to hurt me, so I don't want to go back." You explained, returning to not looking at him as you spoke. After a long period of silence, he sighed, finally speaking again, "Well...I can't go back and fix the way I reacted and scared you." he said, and it was likely the best you'd get apology-wise, "and I can't let you off for running away and scaring me like you did. Don't give me that look, I'm an assassin, not a monster." He gave you a dirty look when you gave a tiny laugh at that last part, but you did stop eyeing him in disbelief, so he went on, "What I can do, is adjust the punishment to not be as scary. However, that comes with a condition." when he finished, you once again briefly tightened your grip on your son. "I'm not giving up my baby." you said firmly, and Illumi only snorted, "No, but you will be going through each birth without pain medication." He said darkly, and your eyes widened before you grimaced a bit, knowing exactly who to thank for that 'compromise'. "It was either that, or my punishment, which was to break your legs." he offered, laughing a bit when you swiftly accepted the first option. After that, Illumi seemed to relax again, laying his head back on his arm against your bed's railing and just watching your son sleep. You however, had to wait for your heart to slow down and your panic to subside before you could ask another question, "so...if painful births are my punishment for this...what's the condition?" Illumi's eyes moved to look at you, but he didn't lift his head as he coolly told you, "On the condition that you treat me like you did before the pregnancy," You thought a bit at that proposition, than nodded, "Alright. A-as long as you don't become abusive or scare me like you did, I can do that." at that he hummed again, finally moving to give your cheek a kiss, than he spoke again. "Also, if you ever run away, or do anything to put our children or yourself at risk," his voice suddenly became dark, "I get to break. Every. unnecessary. bone. in. your. body." It was a cruel hiss of a threat that sent a tsunami of dread down your spine, but after a moment of weighing your options, really debating whether you could survive in a world with him hunting you down, you nodded. As long as you didn't do anything to warrant that, you'd be okay. However, you did have one final question eating at you. "Um...what'll-what'll happen to our son?" your voice was quiet, and you quietly plead for Illumi not to confirm your worst fear, but he only gave you a knowing look, "You know what will happen, not even I can stop my family from training him to follow my footsteps, but, I can make you a similar promise to the one father made to mother." he offered, resting his cheek on top of your head affectionately while laying his hand over yours on your son. "If you let the first one become an assassin, the others won't have to be." With that, you swallowed back your regret, and agreed.

#illumi x reader #sequel #x reader #hxh #hunter x hunter #sequelette #outrunning karma #fanfiction #quotev

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thepaperpanda · 3 years

Text

Baby Sister || Sam Drake x Adler!Reader

Summary: You’re the baby sister of Rafe Adler. It’s been a while since he was imprisoned in Panama jail in an attempt to get a clue on his treasure hunting. Missing him dearly as he is the only family member that left you, you make your way into the prison to meet with Rafe. Unfortunately, he isn’t happy seeing you. The entire situation ends in you and Samuel Drake getting a bit too close to one another.

Warnings: Smut! ♥

Words: 4194

Authors: Cass & Rouge

PART 1

It has been half a year since the day your older brother, Rafael Adler, was imprisoned in Panama prison.

Missing him dearly, you begged the director of the facility to let you meet with your brother. It took you several visits to gain man's trust of not being smuggler of any kind, and in the end you've gotten a permit.

That day the gates of Panama prison opened for you widely, and two guards escorted you directly to a meeting room.

Dressed in a black, flared dress that reached half of your thighs, and flat, white sneakers, you stepped inside the outpost.

There was a horrible kind of climate of fear and paranoia there, it made a cold shiver run down your spine.

Some nasty comments addressed to you by prisoners while you were following the guards along a desolated corridor made your involuntary gag reflex harder than ever before.

Soon, the three of you have reached a huge, steel door. One of the guards opened them with a key that was previously attached to his belt. You were allowed inside, and as soon as you stepped in, you saw Rafael standing next to the window, he was peeking outside, at a prison yard.

"Rafael!," Your voice was nothing more but a quiet mumble.

Rafe wasn't happy, not even a little bit.

He knew there were problems coming when he heard from Vargas that there was a young girl begging to let her meet with a brother.

"What are you doing in here, huh? I told you to stay away from it, does your little female brain have problems with processing words?,” He growled, crossing arms over his chest. The last thing he needed now was his little sister dragging him and the whole job down.

Without regard for his rough words, you approached him and simply nuzzled to his chest.

The gap between the two of you wasn't too big, yet he was 5 years older than you.

Since when he was gone from your family home, you had to take care of yourself, and it was rather a thankless task. You didn't know what to do, and cried thousands of years after him.

Even though his attitude towards you was always harsh, you loved him dearly. He was your only family, and he was a role model in your eyes.

You and Rafe exchanged a lot of letters, he assured in them that he missed you equally much as you did miss him.

"It's been so long, brother. I was so scared you might be hurt... You stopped responding to my letters, so I did everything to be allowed in here... I just had to check whether you're in good health or not..."

Rafe rolled his eyes, he was getting annoyed.

"Are you done with yapping? I told you I am busy with Drakes, I am not going to waste my time on silly letters," man added, looking at you. "I left you home with everything you needed. I even hired this stupid butler just to make sure you won't die out there."

Rafe tried his best to get rid of you. Yes, you were his only family member, but most of the time you were a bit too much to handle for him. Following and nagging him. "Do you need anything?"

"I missed you... That's all," you whispered sadly and quickly took a place on a metal chair standing at the tip of a metal table. "The butler won't replace my brother, in any way. The house is so huge, so empty and cold without you being there," you lowered your head.

Anytime he was raising his tone on you, he was guilt-tripping you. You were only a girl, and even your desperate attempts in getting his attention (like trying to study all the stuff he needed in his so called work), you were always pushed aside in the end.

"If that's all you can go back home. I really don't have time for sensitivity, I didn't come here for pleasure. I. Am. Working. Here!," He said loudly, hands clenched in fists.

Rafe honestly had enough of you already. You're always coming to him because you wanted to show pointless stuff, or you needed something. It was driving him crazy sometimes.

Lowering your head, you bit your lower lip hard. You closed eyes for a moment, trying your best to hold the tears back. You never knew what you have done wrong in your lifetime to deserve such a treatment from his side.

When you cooled down a little, you got up, and not looking at him you walked to the door and banged them to let guards know the visit was finished.

"It was nice to see you all well after all," you whispered.

"Sit down," Rafe said suddenly, pointing on the metal chair. "Now," he ordered harshly.

Blinking and being taken aback by his sudden interest, you looked at him above your shoulder.

In the same moment one of the guards peeked inside.

In Spanish you thanked him and assured it won't take you long, because apparently your brother wants to tell you something.

As soon as the door was closed again, you took a seat.

"Now, stay here," he muttered, briefly patting the top of your head. "Don't even move," Rafe instructed before leaving the room, he knew the guard won't be a problem. Rafe paid a lot to get himself and Drake brothers in here after all.

A few minutes later the door opened again, but this time it wasn't Rafe. It was one of Drake brothers, the older one to be exact.

"Hello? Rafe said that there might be a nice lady to talk to?," Sam hummed and looked at you with a cigarette slipped between his lips. "Hey."

You frowned, but remained quiet, and didn't even shift in your spot. You observed the man, and you did recognise him after many of your brother stories. It was probably Samuel Drake, the older from Drake brothers. The one who had to be an expert in pirate stuff that Rafe needed so desperately in his work.

You licked your lips, and tilted your head a little. "Where's Rafe?"

Sam moved the cigarette from one corner of his mouth to another. "Um, I don't know. He said there is a nice lady here, and went on with his stuff. I'd come with my little brother, but sadly he is busy as well. You would love him, he is younger and more your age, but of course not as charming as I am," he winked and sat on the chair right in front of you.

In the first impulse you wanted to get out of the room. You were all alone with a complete stranger. Rafe has left you to the wolves again, you weren't even surprised. Instead, a rage was filling your soul.

But then a realization came to your mind; if this was one of Drake brothers, you could prove your brother your real value by trying to get some information from this man. You decided to play a little game.

You rested your chin on your hand. "So you must be the older from Drake duo," whispering, you tilted your head aside and smiled on h sweetly.

Sam nodded with a smile on his lips. "Yup! Samuel Drake at your service."

Sam heard about you, mostly about how annoying you were, but here he was, right in front of you. You were sitting in front of him in this beautiful dress, you looked cute to him. "So... He left you here? All alone?"

With a little shrug a little sigh came along. "As you can see," you looked down on your hands and rubbed them together. "My brother was never an effusive person, especially not when it came to me," adding, you slowly got up from your place and walked to the window.

Sam nodded slowly. "I can tell, we spent some time together and honestly I am surprised. I am an older brother myself, I would die for Nathan," he summed up.

Listening to his words, you peeked out of the window to see a few guards with guns patrolling the yard.

You turned to the man that was trapped with you in a room, slowly bending your ass against the low windowsill. "Your brother's lucky then."

Sam watched you without saying a word.

You decided to take over control. Knowing the place he was in, you assumed it must have been a great while since he held a woman in his arms. Playing with emotions was something you were thankful to Rafe for teaching you.

You walked to the man and simply took a seat on his lap. Gently playing with his sideburn, you licked your lips. "I've heard you're a specialist from pirates. Is that true? Are you currently looking for a treasure? My brother was telling me you're good at this."

It was happening quickly, but he didn't mind at all, they all were locked down there for a bit too long, and he surely missed the woman's company. "Yes, I am a pirate expert, and yes, we are looking for a treasure. That's why our asses are stuck in here."

"I was always interested in my brother's work, though he didn't want to share anything with me," you whispered in a sad tone. "Do you know where to look for this treasure or whatever it is?," You asked sweetly after a moment of silence. Your fingers trailed up and down his chest.

Sam chuckled, placing a gentle kiss to your cheek. "Listen, little one, I know you tried to find out something so you could tell your brother, but sadly that ship has sailed. Rafe knows about everything we do," Drake shrugged, patting your hip.

You blinked a few times, his words surprised you much. Shifting slightly in your place, you bit your lower lip, and looked him in the eye.

Sam grabbed your chin, his thumb gently stroked it. "What's wrong, Y/N?," He asked simply.

"I...," You mumbled and went quiet. You felt like a complete idiot. First, you tried to seduce the man to get information about him. And he figured your plan out so quickly.

Your eyes glistened as you gazed at him; he was a handsome man.

"Want me to get you out of here? I can walk you to the guard station. Just talk to me," Drake stated, rubbing your back.

You didn't know how to behave. Taking he was an enemy of some kind, you should have kicked him right in the balls. But on the other hand, he was kind to you all the time, even if you tried to mock him. "Yes, please," you asked politely.

Sam helped you get off his lap, then he got up and walked you to the door. Sam even opened them for you. "Honestly, pity you don't want to stay longer, but it was a pleasure to meet you after all."

You stopped him from opening the door fully. You didn't know why you acted this way, but an urge grew within your body. It's been a while since you were with a man as well. You didn't know why, but this guy was turning your head upside down. "No," you whispered and closed them, you leaned your back against the steel.

Sam chuckled. "Are you like one of those typical women that don't know what they want?," He teased you.

Blushing, you turned your head aside.

Thinking about your past, you knew you made a lot of mistakes. You knew it was wrong to blindly follow your brother's will, yet you did.

But now you wanted to decide for yourself. At least once in a lifetime. If he left you alone, like a prey you seemingly were to him, you had a right to use the situation as well, hadn't you?

You wrapped your arms around the man's chest and nuzzled him.

Sam wrapped his arms around you.

You were cute, the whole 'I can't decide' thing was getting into him.

Sam grabbed your hips and picked you up to take a good look at you. "Is there something you want to tell me, sweetheart?"

"I have never met a man as handsome and mysterious as you," you mumbled openly, giggling as he picked you up.

"And I have never met a girl as sweet and small as you," Sam said, surprised at how light you were. "So, what shall I do with you now, huh?," He hummed nuzzling to you. Sam was aware of your intention but he wanted to hear it from you.

"Put me down, that's first," you asked calmly, and as soon as he did, you looked up into his eyes. He was twice your height, towering over you like skyscrapers over a block. "Second," you pretended to be thinking hardly, "if I'm Adler, and if you're Drake, then we can think about some nice way to bury the hatchet."

"Well, that would be nice if we would have any 'hatchet' to bury, love, and we have none," Sam said, looking down on you. "I have never seen you before and if you will try to play around some more I will simply leave."

"What am I supposed to say?," You whispered.

"Tell me what you want, Y/N. Rafe told me to take care of you and I will gladly do this," Sam muttered with a mischievous grin.

You smiled at him and tilted your head aside. "Take me to my brother."

Sam rolled his eyes and lit the cigarette.

Soon, he led you out of the room and took you to Rafe.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, even Drake had enough of you?," Rafe asked deeppy annoyed as soon as he spotted you entering the yard.

As your brother was sitting with a few men, you excused them and tugged on his sleeve. "What the fuck was that?," You asked him in a lowered voice. "Who the fuck I am for you? A fucking toy you can toss everywhere and to anyone you want?," You asked him as you walked aside for a bit.

"I never asked you to tag along, you always followed me like an annoying little brat you truly are," Rafe growled. "You are an adult, go get a life and stop following me," Adler said, not even trying to be quiet.

Sam frowned at the whole situation. He didn't know you too long, but he was more than sure you didn't deserve such a treatment.

Clenching teeth, you swallowed hard. And shortly after, you aimed your brother a robust slap right in the face. Glaring up at him, you snarled. "You're deluded, brother. Think about this when you'll be fucking rotting here, all alone, with no one to reach a hand toward you. A fucking lone fool. Remember, there are still things you can't buy with your bloody cash."

You were surprised by your own behaviour and the fact you dug in your heels against Rafael.

The next moment, you stormed off the yard.

Rafe didn't take it to himself, he didn't care. "One problem less," Rafe summed up before returning to his mates.

Sam was the one to run after you. "Hey, hey. Wait, you can't just walk alone. Not here," he informed you simply.

"What can happen?," You snarled in a response. "If I'd vanish once and for all, he'd be the one to dance happily on my grave."

"You can get hurt here, and please, don't say that," Sam grabbed your arm to stop you. "You can't act like this only because he's a dick."

"I'm an adult, I can do whatever I want to," you turned to face the man.

"You are an adult, you are free to do what you want, but it doesn't mean you can waste your life just because your brother is a dick. You should show you are better than he thinks you are," Sam explained.

You listen to his words. The man seemed very wise and very down to earth. Definitely your type.

Without thinking too much, you climbed on tiptoes, pulled him by a collar, and crushed your lips on his.

Sam gladly kissed you back, after a moment he pulled away with a smile. "I did not expect that," he admitted.

Your fingers intertwined with his as you grabbed his palm. With a mischievous grin, you pulled him behind you. With a corner of your eye you spotted a guard leaving one of the rooms, and you decided to risk it all, pulling the man in that direction.

Sam wasn't really sure about it, they had things to do and they were treated like normal prisoners, but he followed you anyway. After all, you were sweet. Sweet enough to make him go after you. "You are a crazy, little girl."

You simply pushed him inside the room. You decided that if there would be anyone, you'd lie quickly that the man was leading you to the exit and you two messed the way.

Fortunately, the room was empty. As soon as the door closed right behind the two of you, you pushed the man on the wall. You once again climbed on your tiptoes to kiss him, this time you let your tongue dance with his one a little. And you had to admit that he was an amazing kisser.

Sam kissed you back, grabbing your waist. He gave you the possibility of dominating him in the kiss.

But then he picked you up and soon you were pressed to the wall. "Time to change places, sweetheart."

Humming willingly, you let the man press you to the wall.

As he broke the kiss, you gasped loudly, sadly, as the contact was lost.

Sam smiled at you before dropping to his knees, he wanted to take his time with you, but sadly he couldn't. It wasn't a five star hotel, it was a prison after all. "Let's see what are you hiding there, princess," Sam hummed before moving the skirt of your dress up.

You licked your lips and parted them, observing his actions. He was so sure of what he was doing, it impressed you very much. As the blush hit your face, you let your eyes closed.

Sam teased you through your panties, just a little bit to get you ready. Then he pulled your panties aside and attacked your clit like he was a starving beast.

You gasped and instinctively muffled yourself by putting a curled hand to your lips. He gave you a new sensation. Of course, you did have sex, but only oral one and only with your former boyfriend who was just as inexperienced as you. Sam, on the other hand, was playing with you wisely, discovering a new level of desire to you.

"You like it, huh?," Sam asked, playing with your clit.

He raised to his feet, looking at you with a cocky smile.

"I wish I could eat that sweet pussy properly but looking at our poor position. This needs to wait, you are wet for me anyway," Sam winked and picked you up, pressing you to the wall.

At this moment Sam was thankful that his prison uniform was loose and easy to remove.

A soft moan escaped your lips as he picked you up a little. Your legs wrapped quickly around his hips as your hands rushed to tug his pants down. Oh, how much he was turning you on! "I need you, so much!"

"Oh you will get it, babe. I can promise you that, you will get whatever you need," Sam assured you before pulling his pants down, he wasn't wearing any underwear and his cock was standing proudly. "How much do you want it?"

"So much!," you gasped and reached out to grab his erected cock. You gave it a stroke or two, your palm wrapped tightly around his shaft. You tried to guide him right inside of you.

"But keep your hands up here, babe. I'll do the work," Sam instructed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You simply relax and sing for me."

After those words Sam started to slowly penetrate your sweet pussy, he could feel that even if you had sex in past, a guy did a poor job.

"Hell! Fuck!," You moaned quietly, right into man's ear. A cold shiver ran along your spine. "Fuck, oh God!," You were moaning louder and louder. "You're so big! I can't take it!," You kissed the man's cheek, and moved to suck on his neck. His skin tasted with sweat, but you didn't mind.

"Oh I can bet you can take it, “ he hummed, rubbing your belly lovingly. "And a bit more than just my cock. Just relax," Sam purred, giving you one hard thrust before returning to gently pace. He didn't want to hurt you in any way.

"Ah!," You mumbled and nuzzled to his neck. Instantly, as soon as he made a hard thrust, you felt how wet you became and that your walls got loosened a bit. You tried to cool your breath down.

"You see? I told you that you can take it. Such a good girl," Sam smiled at the nice feeling of your walls loosening a bit around him. Knowing this he started to move faster, Sam knew you can take it. "You are doing a great job, babe,” he hummed, moving his hand into your hair to pull them gently.

You wrapped arms tighter around his neck and gasped right into his ear. He felt so amazing in you. He stretched you oh so well! "Fuck, fuck, so good, so hot, fuck...," You raised your tone a little and rolled head back.

Sam chuckled at your moans and cupped your cheek to make you look at him. "Oh, I know this all, sweetheart and I can say that you feel amazing around my cock,” without more unnecessary words Sam pulled you into a kiss, he was getting close to his climax.

You cupped his face in hands and kissed him. The kiss was messy, rapid. You gasped for air when you broke the kiss. "Oh, God, something is.... Oh, my God!," You mumbled as your walls started clenching.

Sam smiled against your lips.

"Oh, you poor thing, no one ever made you reach your peak? Let me show you how the real man does it, you'll love it,” he hummed, his hand moved between your bodies to play with your clit. "Just don't hold it, babe."

You rolled head back, your eyes shut closed, your lips parted and thighs squeezing man's hips. Your nails dug into his back where you scratched him. "I'm cumming!," You screamed.

"Good girl,” Sam hummed into your ear. His hips didn't stop to move even after your climax. "Now, tell me, do you want to be a good girl or do you want me to fill you up?"

"I want to be a good girl," you whispered. "Please!"

Sam let out a sad sigh, he expected a bit more from you. "As you wish. Pity ‘cuz I am not a fan of good girls,” he slowly pulled his cock out of you, Sam gave himself a few strokes before painting your clothed belly with his warm, thick seed. "That was good."

You licked your lips and gasped, immediately you went down to your knees and wrapped lips around his shaft. You only smirked and bobbed your head back and forth, sucking on him.

He moved his hand into your hair pulling at them. "This feels nice but that's enough, Y/N. You sucked me dry, babe."

You ran the tip of your tongue along his shaft for the very last time.

Sam chuckled and helped you get up. Pulling his pants up he looked at you, of course he pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. "That was something girl," Sam hummed, puffing out some smoke.

You looked at him innocently. "Did you... Enjoy it? Truly?," You looked like you were seeking confirmation in his eyes. It was your very first time with a skilled man and you felt so exposed.

"Oh, I did enjoy it. Truly," he said and kissed your cheek. "I promise you one thing: as soon as we will be out of this hell - I will find you and we'll play some more."

"You somehow know where to look for me," you bit your lower lip.

At this moment the door to the room opened and a guard rushed inside. "What the fuck!"

"I told you she is here just wandering around. I knew she would be a problem," Rafe said to the guards with his back pressed to the wall, Nathan stood next to him completely confused.

You shrugged. "I pressed on him to go there, I thought this is where the exit is," you explained, laying smoothly

Everyone looked at you. The guards frowned and grabbed you, simply dragging you away.

Before you were pushed outside the outpost, you turned your head around. "Thank you for

guiding me

, Samuel!"

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wtfevenismypage · 4 years

Text

Observer, Not Profiler PT4

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: You’re similar to a profiler, but you can tell almost anything about a person just from a single glance. What they had for dinner, if they took a bath or shower, their name, favorite color, if they lie, even if they’re good in bed. You’ve been running from the government ever since you got caught hacking into their systems and since then you have been diagnosed with Extreme anxiety, anxious tics, and paranoia. But now the BAU need you’re help in Identifying killers.

Warnings: maybe a curse word or two, mentions of death, anxious/nervous ticking, tic attacks, mentions of rape, mentions of child rape, sassy Garcia

A/N: this is kinda just a filler chapter, the next one will be better!

Drums pound in your ears as you step into Hotch’s office. He used his serious voice to get you in there, which gave you unwanted anxiety.

Thump thump. Your wrists bruise together as you step into Hotch’s office. His eyes dart up to yours, motioning for you to sit, which you do, sighing as your left palms claps against the arm of the chair.

“Yes sir?”

“You are going to be staying here with Garcia during our next case.”

Confusion poked your ribs, that wasn’t bad at all? Why was he so upset? It didn’t make any sense.

“Alright, is that all? You look upset...”

“An agent from the CIA is coming to observe your performance for this case only. Higher ups are still concerned that you will use the equipment here to get into the government, so they sent an agent to keep you supervised. He’ll try and give you a hard time so that you end up lashing out, but just keep your head down.”

Your eyebrows furrow. A CIA agent? They were sending an agent to keep you in check? You were shocked that they even cared at this point, that was a long time ago, and now you were just an anxiety riddled girl trying to start a new life.

“Oh... Um, I don’t know what to say... Why... They’re sending... Ugh...”

You groan as your neck twitches to the side aggressively. You could already tell that your tics were going to be a bitch until the case was done.

“This isn’t ideal for any of us, I tried to convince them that this wasn’t necessary, but they refused to listen. I understand that this is going to add immense pressure to both you and Garcia, but I ask that you try your hardest to ignore him and his petty comments that he’ll most likely make.”

“Yes sir...”

He sighs, standing up and patting your shoulder.

“Let’s get to the round table.”

Less than two hours later, your sat next to Garcia in the bat cave, a tall and intimidating CIA agent standing at the doorway to watch your every move. It was distracting ad terrifying to say the least.

He was originally standing directly behind you, but Garcia saw how purely uncomfortable you were and yelled at him to move back. She really was a savior.

“Alright my dearies, Mr. Paul Ways was married four times, has seven children that were taken from his custody, and has gone through ten dogs that all died within a year of being owned by him.”

Garcia spoke on the video-chat, everyone else on a jet.

“His laptop is disgusting by the way, purely covered in filmed rape tapes being sold on the black market. Some of it is of children by the way, and the others are of girls that were barely over 18.”

The agent spoke up.

“Is that not illegal what you’re doing? Hacking into his laptop without his consent?”

You grimace, struggling to keep yourself from ticking. Garcia speaks up.

“The laptop actually wasn’t owned by him, it was owned by his husband who gladly gave us consent when he heard that we were trying to catch his husbands killer. Now please stop speaking, it’s taking away time that we don’t have.”

You smile at Garcia, who simply pats your shoulder once and turns back to her computer.

“What about the second victim?”

“That would be a resident arsonist Mr. Rickardson. He set four massive fires to buildings and got the security footage to watch it back. Ten people have died in total because of his fires. The footage of each person’s death was labeled and saved to his computer.”

“I hate to have to ask this, but watch the videos, all of them. Mark anything you can find.”

You groan as they hang up, clicking on the first video of the fire and watching every angle, trying not to turn your head in disgust as the screams of a burning woman fill your ears.

“Oh god... This is horrible...”

You say as you take in the victims information.

“She’s eighteen. Lisa. I can’t... She was... Oh god I’m gonna have a tic attack...”

You stand up and run out of the room immediately, ignoring Garcia’s concerned yells as you plop down on the floor, letting your tics take over. Your wrist slam against each other, your palms smack any wall they can find, and your head just keeps jerking to the side.

The door opens next to you, the condescending agent walking out.

“What are you doing?”

You whimper, knowing this is going to dampen your chances of staying with the team.

“I-I’m having a tic-tic attack... Just... Just le-leave me alone. Ple-please.”

He doesn’t budge, rather than shoo him off though, you opt for the smarter option, letting him witness your break down. And as soon as it’s over, you stands up, looking him in the eye with a furious glare.

“I hope that was as fun for you as it was for me.”

You whisper out before marching back into the computer filled room and plopping back down next to Garcia.

“I’m alright.”

You said it more to yourself than to Garcia, but you clicked on the video again, whimpering, but taking in everything you can.

This week is going to suck.

You click away at the keyboard of your computer, searching for a Mr. Paul Nees and any information you can find on him.

“C’mon my sweet computer you, don’t start slowing down on me now.”

The CIA agent is still stalking over you, making sure you don’t ‘hack into the government’ A.K.A jabbing insults into your brain any chance he gets.

“I mean, a little girl like you? You won’t make it.”

You sigh out at his comments continue.

“Why are you so concerned with it? I mean it isn’t your life so, you shouldn’t be so concerned. I’ll survive.”

“You really think you’re gonna be able to survive with those freaky tics of yours?”

You try to make it seem like his words don’t affect you, but they hurt so bad, they seeped into your brain and stuck with you, making you groan as they swim in your mind.

You were right, it only got worse as the Agent’s constant condescending comments kept sneaking their way into your brain.

“A little girl like you? You won’t make it.” “You really think you’re gonna be able to survive with those freaky tics of yours?”

You had broken down into sobs many times over the week, desperate to avoid the man, but he was everywhere that you went. It was one of the worst two weeks of your life.

“Just give me a few minutes to myself! Just a few minutes!”

You shout at the smirking agent, tears trailing down your face.

“Why would you need time alone? To hack into the government?”

That really set you off. You didn’t understand how someone so dumb was a CIA agent. It made no sense to you.

“Are you fucking joking? I spend six years running and you think I’m just gonna up and do it again!? I’m human! I just want to spend a bit of time alone! How is this an issue!?”

“Because you hacked into the government. Of course we need eyes on you. I don’t understand it however. You seem harmless.”

That’s it. You finally crack.

“Oh I’ll fucking show you harmless.”

You lunge at him, trying to tackle him to the floor, but a body slamming into you stops you. You writhe on the floor under the heavy body, trying to get away.

“Y/N. Calm yourself down. Take a breath Y/N!”

It was Spencer, hearing his voice ring out in your ears made you less squirmy, but you were still breathing pure adrenaline.

“He- I just! He kept!”

You could barely form coherent sentences as the smug smirk of the evil agent poisoned your brain.

“I know Y/N, I know, but you have to calm yourself down okay? I know it’s been rough with him all this time, but just calm down alright?”

You couldn’t stop the onslaught of tears and broken sobs that erupted, but goddammit you were going to try. You struggled to keep yourself from screaming out right then and there, but your brain gave you a second option.

Knock the fuck out dude.

So you did. You passed out right then and there, like no ones business.

You woke up with a panicky start. Not quite sure where you are at first, but as you look around you realize it’s an empty office. You’re laid out on a couch, a small blanket thrown on top of you.

“Hey, good morning.”

You look up at the voice, seeing Derek, Emily, and Spencer sitting on the table. Concerned expressions on their faces.

“What happened? Is that evil agent still here?”

Derek chuckles, but shakes his head.

“Nah, he’s gone. You managed to get off with a warning by the way. You can’t just attack agents like that Y/L/N.”

You hang your head low, guilt climbing up your throat, or acid reflux actually.

“I’m sorry. I was just... Just tired of his constant teasing and all of the comments he made... I know it was wrong, but I just couldn’t handle it anymore...”

There was a small silence, but it ended quickly when a second body sat next to you on the couch. It was Spencer. Spencer who, no matter what managed to stay calm around you and calm you down, Spencer who never raised his voice around you, Spencer who was always so patient with you, Spencer who was currently hugging you.

You tensed up when his arms wrapped around you initially, which made Spencer panic and almost pulls away, but when you sink into his warm chest, he relaxes, letting you cry into the crook of his neck.

He knew this week was difficult for you, Garcia kept them all updated on how horrible it was, providing camera footage of the agent taunting you, and Spencer hated seeing you so distraught.

Truth be told, when he saw you again in the interrogation room, his heart stopped at the sight of you. Yes, you looked like you hadn’t slept in years, and yes, you looked absolutely terrified to be there, but he was so entranced by your skill of knowing a person just by looking, he couldn’t notice how much of a mess you looked like.

You were beautiful in his eyes and that was that.

“It’s alright Y/N. You’re alright.”

And for the first time in six years, you believe it.

A/N: I realize that ending makes it seem like the actual end, but oh baby we’ve just begun!

Taglist:

@imsuperawkward @ithinkilovetruecrimetoomuch @l0ve-0f-my-life @hopebaker @thatsonezesty13 @nightlygiggless @aberrant-annie @holybatflapexpert @spencerreidisbootiful @april-14-blog @jackryan-plz @kalebtheo @ajwantsapancake @lightswriting @emilouu @yourmisosoup @lizziebritish @101donuts @rainsong01 @pretty-boy-genius @squirrellover1967 @gublerstyles @delievia @boxofsparklingmuses @annestine @baby-i-am-fireproof @allthedumbassfandoms @irjuejjsaa @zhangyixingxing1 @madcrazy50 @maryhuffxoxo @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @officialbogbody @m3lly-x @dark-night-sky-99 @eu-solidao @thupidalethea @bad-idea-personified @random-thoughts-003 @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal

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coldmorte · 3 years

Note

Hey! I really really like your blog and all the Dutch content, and I read your posts on Molly and Dutch and I just felt like sharing my thoughts :) If you don’t feel like it, just ignore this

I like Molly, even though I agree that she’s very much a snob and very paranoid at times.

It’s always felt very clear to me that Molly really, truly loves Dutch. And love makes you do stupid, desperate things (just look at Arthur).

Molly’s interaction with Abigail is about Dutch’s love for Molly, not the other way around. It’s Abigail saying that Dutch doesn’t love her and Molly lashing out (probably to protect herself from the truth).

This is brought up again in An Honest Mistake, when she talks to Arthur about Dutch, questioning how Dutch seems to him. When Molly says, “I really love him, you know,” Arthur averts his eyes and doesn’t look at her. I’ve always seen this as Arthur knowing Dutch doesn’t love her in the way Molly wants him to, if he loves her at all.

I’ve always seen Dutch as being kind of ahead of his time when it comes to certain progressive ideas (especially as it pertains to race), but when it comes to women, he’s very much a product of his his time. The way he talks about them and to/at them, whether it’s Molly or Abigail or Mary-Beth or Sadie, is often either dismissive or condescending.

While he doesn’t outright say it, the way he acts around the women at camp has always left me feeling like he prefers women (at least the ones he takes an actual interest in) to fit into the roles society has carved out for them; they have to be beautiful and docile and romantic-minded for him to take an interest.

You’ve said yourself, that Dutch deals with a lot of self doubt and that stems from wanting to be seen as a great and powerful man, who the people in camp can look up to, and women (especially young women) were (and to some degree stil is) seen as symbols of status. Molly is a beautiful woman from a wealthy family; she could have anyone she wanted, and she chose Dutch and ran away with him, leaving her old life behind – that’s the ultimate powermove on Dutch’s part.

I’ve always thought of Dutch as a romantic, the way he talks about love and how it’s the one thing worth living for, and I believe that he may have at some point actually loved Molly or at least convinced himself that he did, but the second he grows tired of her and realises that he doesn’t actually love her, he’s moving on to another, younger woman.

His inner romantic and his ego and need to be perceived as powerful are at odds with each other, and as the game progresses we see how his romantic and kind side wilt under the weight and pressure of his responsibilities as a leader and his need to be perceived as powerful and a great leader.

Those are my thoughts at least :)

Hello!

Thank you for the ask and the kind words! That really does mean a lot!! 💜💜💜

I am very grateful for your message, and no!!!! I don’t want to ignore it!! That wouldn’t be very fair of me, as I feel like you bring up some good points to discuss. Also, I appreciate the respect in your message and for taking the time to write so much out! I’d be happy to give you some of my time in return 🥰

(Warning: SPOILERS below)

I’m going to take your points one at a time here. So, starting with liking Molly, it’s totally fine! I don’t want to be too negative on my blog, and I don’t want people to feel like they have to think the same way I do. That wouldn’t be any fun, so it does make me happy that you can enjoy her character. I don’t want to take that away from you!! By all means, love her to your heart's content!!! ❤️

Furthermore, though I don’t personally like Molly, I don’t think she was a truly bad person. Just like every other character in the game, she had flaws and made mistakes. I primarily wish I could have gotten to know her better because she was presented during a very dark time in her life. I feel like this affected my perception of her, and I might have seen her differently, if I had gotten the chance to interact more with her character (especially outside of the RDR2 timeframe). Everybody deserves not only to love somebody, but everybody also deserves to have faith that the person they love can truthfully say the same back to them. I felt bad that Molly died such an unhappy, loveless death.

About the love Molly had for Dutch, I agree that she loved him. My point in bringing up infatuation was to primarily highlight the reason and the degree to which she honestly loved him. Did Molly love Dutch for the man he was, or for the idea of the man he was? Maybe, it was a mix? I am not sure there is enough information to give a conclusive answer to this (as I somewhat mentioned before).

To be fair, the same thing could (and should) be asked of Dutch. Did he truly love her, or did he just love the idea of having her at his side? Again, it would be fascinating to see the early part of their relationship. It would answer a LOT of questions. You mention that Dutch arguably saw Molly as a symbol of status, and I agree that it was very plausible. I think, to some degree, both Molly and Dutch saw each other as being favorable for what they represented, unfortunately.

In regard to the interaction between Molly and Abigail, I realize my response was unclear about this (that’s my bad). I'll try to write it better here, but this is really complicated to put into words! I'll do my best!!

What I said was that Molly got angry at people she “perceived” as challenging her love (this was subjective to her POV and not necessarily reflective of true reality). My original answer was not objective (nor was it meant to be - I was trying to write this part from her POV), and there are a few layers I want to analyze here. First of all, from an objective perspective, you are correct. The conversation between them was ultimately about Dutch not loving Molly the way she wanted to be loved. However, the first thing Molly did was state to Abigail that she loved Dutch. If she didn’t see this point as being in question, why did she feel the need to immediately justify it before saying anything else? To me, it seemed like she needed to actively prove that she loved him to others.

This was also seen with Karen and Arthur. The conversations with Karen were confusing because they didn’t have much context, but perhaps, that was the point - to show the extent of Molly’s paranoia (in other words, that there was no context and that she was imagining Karen to be against her out of insecurity). Molly continually complained that Karen said bad things about her, and she insisted that she not only loved Dutch, but that he loved her as well. Then, as you mention, Molly emphasized to Arthur that SHE loved Dutch (it was not directly about his love for her). Again, by constantly having to profess her feelings, it was as if she thought people were doubting her on some level.

But here is where the contradiction comes in - I believe that Molly was smart enough to know that this doubting wasn't entirely genuine. She knew it was never really her love that she should have been concerned about. Although, by focusing on herself, it was a way to deflect from her insecurity regarding Dutch and the fact that she knew, deep down, he didn’t truly love her (at least, not anymore). That’s why she got so upset when Abigail, for instance, brought this point up. As soon as the conversation shifted from Molly’s love to Dutch’s love, she lashed out and stormed away.

So, to try to summarize this all up, what I am trying to say is that Molly “perceived” challenges to her own state of emotions as a means of shifting away from her concerns about Dutch’s feelings. She knew her "perceptions" were really more like lies to herself. Molly wanted the conversation with Abigail to seem like it was about her because she felt she was more in control of that and could handle it better. From a neutral perspective, the conversation was definitely not about Molly - it was entirely about Dutch, which Molly knew (she just didn’t like Abigail directly pointing it). I hope my response makes more sense? Sorry, if I am still being confusing!

Now, as for Dutch and his progressive ideas, I think a lot of them were formed in his youth. Little information was given about his childhood, but he did seem pretty sensitive about the fact that he grew up fatherless. His dad died in the Civil War (a conflict primarily centered around the issue of slavery and states’ attitudes towards it), while fighting on the side of the Union. One reason Dutch was probably so progressive in regard to race was because of his anger over losing a parent to racially-motivated violence. Racism seemed like a waste of time and life, so he was bitter towards people who still harbored racist sentiments. He knew firsthand how destructive they could be.

Minimal insight was provided into Dutch’s relationship with his mother, other than the fact that it was quite strained and unhappy. He left home at a young age and essentially disowned her. He obviously didn’t keep in touch with her, judging that he didn’t even know she died until years after the fact. Could this have affected his attitude later in life (towards women)?

I suppose it’s possible. Maybe, Dutch would have looked better on women, had he been closer with his mother. I consider his attitude towards women as pretty average for the era. It’s not entirely fair to compare him to Arthur, who was very progressive for the time and definitely above normal standards. As you say, I think Dutch was a product of his time. In RDR2, he didn’t come across as physically abusive, nor did he overtly sexualize women. However, he did seem to expect women to act in a subordinate manner. It's not great (and I certainly do not agree with his attitude), but again, the contemporary standards in regard to gender roles did not exist in 1899.

Lastly, I COMPLETELY agree about Dutch being VERY romantic, sentimental, and idealistic. This wasn’t just limited to interpersonal relationships either - it also fit his entire perspective of America and the values he held dear. Just take a look at some of his quotes:

“The promise of this great nation - men created equal, liberal and justice for all - that might be nonsense, but it’s worth trying for. It’s worth believing in.”

And:

“If we keep on seeking, we will find freedom.”

In the beginning, he had such high hopes and strong faith that he could find a way to live free from social and legislative demands. Compare that to the end, where he started to say things like:

“You can’t fight nature. You can’t fight change.”

And:

“There ain’t no freedom for no one in this country no more.”

Dutch wanted to believe that there was a chance to live free from the threat of control, but as he started to lose people he loved and got closer to losing his own battle, he started to take on a much more cynical tone. He began to realize that his romantic notions and idealistic visions of life were not always obtainable - no matter how hard he tried to reach them - and it broke him. This change in his life outlook was kind of similar to his interpersonal relationships. When he realized they were a lot of work and not always happy/perfect, he seemed to grow frustrated. Love requires a lot of patience and energy. Despite full effort, love still does not always succeed.

Also, I just want to add that I think Dutch knew he had a problem with his pride, but he tried his best to maintain his tough, confident persona because he didn’t want to be perceived as weak. He definitely realized he messed up in putting his pride first in the end, but at that point, it was too late. Whatever was left of his idealistic aspirations in life died with Arthur up on that cliff.

Anyhow, I’ve said more than enough. I’d like to once again thank you for the ask!! I hope my response was worth the time to read and that it makes sense. Feel free to share any more thoughts you may have!!!

~ Faith 💜

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Attached: Hurtful Words Pt.1

Type: (mini)-series, Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 5600

Summary: Stick and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

You knew for a fact that it was a load of BS. The truth is that words can break your heart. And that realization hits you full force the day you have your last exam to earn your bachelor degree.

If you pass, it will be a cause for great celebration. Spoiler alert: it’s not.

A/N: Attached: Hurtful Words is an addition that loosely followes the series. Will be in two (or three) parts. You don’t necessarily need to read the mini-series as a whole, but you will understand much better.

Warnings: I did something in here which I’m usually trying to avoid at any cost; in this story, I used Y/N Y/L/N. Does that count as a warning?

Warnings II: name calling, humiliation, panic attack!, bad poetry, mentions of vomiting and alcohol, the briefest mention of self-harm, angst, swearing, threats of violence

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You released the breath you had been holding, all your willpower put into not sinking into the chair in relief as Professor Phillips announced your grade – one that meant that you hadn’t failed.

In fact, you had just passed your last exam of your bachelor program so you were entirely in the right. In your head, an overexcited monkey started playing cymbals and you didn’t mind the noise despite how sleep-deprived you were from the past few days. A barely contained mad smile fought its way to your lips instead.

Mind you, as you thanked Professor Phillips and rose to your feet – your knees almost giving out, because HOLY SHIT YOU JUST GOT YOUR BACHELOR’S – you would swear you saw a brief smile on the professor’s face too as if he was amused at your antics.

But who cared if he was having fun at your expense?! You PASSED! You had been losing sleep, terrified of this exam, because everyone knew Phillips was a hard-ass – a fair one, but still a hard-ass – and you just passed his examination!

Time to pop the fucking champagne! The one Penny had been saving at the dorm from yesterday when she had finished her own degree; she insisted that she would wait for you, because you were in this together.

You couldn’t leave her waiting any longer and you didn’t have any intention to do so.

Leaving the room and walking into the empty hallway – because of course you came the last as if to prolong your torture – you breathed in and out and deliberately let the grin finally spread on your face fully.

You were free, you were ready to take on the world despite not being ready at all and you had Steve, who you suspected would be proud as hell and would celebrate with you tomorrow, graciously letting you and your roomie do it first-- and gosh, life was beautiful.

Making your way down the corridor, with a grin ever-present, a leaflet that hadn’t been there before caught your attention. It appeared a handwritten note, styled in a regular column – a poem perhaps.

Still smiling, the curiosity took the best of you and you walked to it, peripherally noticing that along the walls, there was even more.

You froze in your step when your gaze fell on the first line; your very own name was staring back at you and it confused you at first, a brief surge of excitement lighting up your body, a naïve belief that perhaps Steve somehow decided to surprise you.

But Steve’s last name came next, which you found strange.

And then came the word ‘whore’ and your heart stopped, your gaze automatically flickering all over the page.

Your stomach made a painful somersault, your mind turning blank.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of that nightmare materializing in front of you, reading and re-reading the poem that almost resembled a twisted nursery rhyme over and over.

Y/N Y/L/N Rogers’ whore Bet she’ll get The highest score For sucking dick Having fucked her ass Let’s hope she’ll soon Be eating grass

Darkness battled to cut off your vision, the world swaying off of its place. Involuntarily, your trembling hand reached out and touched the paper, smooth under your fingertips, your frantically beating heart and the vertigo threating to overpower your sense of balance tying you to the reality, screaming at you that this wasn’t just a really fucked-up dream.

You tore the paper down, lump growing in your throat as you looked around for watchful eyes in sudden paranoia of being followed, only to find the hallway deserted aside from you.

Just you and many papers hanging on the walls.

As if you were just a puppet to a spiteful master, your feet carried you to the next leaflet, tears filling your eyes as you found the very same words written on it; a precise copy.

Your breathing picked up a furious pace, your chest crushed under a weight of an invisible elephant stomping on it. The corridor swam in the dampness of your eyes, your mind too quiet and yet screaming with millions of question marks and exclamation points, panic squeezing your lungs, nausea attacking your stomach.

What the hell was happening? Who would do that? Why? What was the goal? Was it just to ruin your triumph?

Because if that was the goal, it was a roaring success; the thousands of questions swirling in your head and the unexpected sting in your heart turned the fact that you had passed an exam into a faint memory.

All you saw was the words.

Rogers’s whore

Was that what you were? Was that how people who knew about the relationship saw you? Was that how Steve saw you?

The highest score for sucking dick

Was that what you were doing? Using Steve’s position to your advantage? Was that how you got through every exam including the one today, even if unwittingly? Was that what Phillips’ little smile had been about?

Hope she’ll soon be eating grass.

Was that a threat? Was someone wishing that happened to you or were they actually about to hurt you? Why?!

Hearing your own wheezing and feeling your fingertips prickling, your foggy mind did the only reasonable thing it could come up with; it led your steps into the nearest bathroom at lightning speed with no regard for how shaky were your feet.

You stumbled into the open stall, smashing the door shut and leaning onto them with your suddenly damp forehead, feeling the cold beads of sweat gather in your hairline, your cheeks drenching in tears.

When did you start crying so hard?

When did the trembling in your limbs begin?

What the fuck was happening?

What-how--why-but-

Your palms rested on the door as you desperately tried and failed to ground yourself and take control of your breathing. Your temples were pounding irritatingly, your gut painfully clenching--- and exactly in that moment that could have lasted a second or an hour, your fingers brushed over a piece of paper stuck on the door.

Darkness curled around your brain like a treacherous friend, another wave of nausea twisting your stomach.

It took you one blurry glance at the paper and you knew precisely what it was, choking on your sob, ripping the offensive poem off and tearing it to pieces which you blindly threw to the toilet, the flushing sound deafening to your ears.

Your shaky legs finally gave out, knees buckling, your body sliding down the stall wall, fingers pulling at your hair as you felt the dizziness engulfing your head, a bitter taste in your mouth.

You gripped tighter, hoping that the pain on the surface would overpower the pain and gaping hole inside, as another violent sob erupted from your throat.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

An eternity later, you felt your whole being float.

Your breathing was still frantic and interrupted with sobs, but a sensation resembling serenity spread in your very core—or perhaps it was just numbness?

You couldn’t seem to be able to tell the difference anymore.

The creak of a door made you cover your mouth to muffle the noises still escaping your lips for the fear of being caught – either being found in this state in general or found as in found by the person who wrote---that – being stronger than the subdued power of your previous breakdown.

It was probably too late for the newcomer to miss your presence, but over the slowly fading ringing in your ears, you could hear a few steps that came to a halt and then they sounded a bit quicker as the woman left.

Thank FUCK. You couldn’t do human interaction of any kind right now.

You removed your hand and breathed out shakily, blinking away the tears.

Shaking your head wildly, you gritted your teeth in a feeble attempt at bolster yourself. You had to get up off your ass and leave before there would be no longer way of avoiding a confrontation – god forbid a confrontation with Steve, who was probably still in a class, testing his own students.

You climbed to your feet, wiping the remains of your tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand and went to fix your ruined make-up, hopefully enough to look little less suspicious when walking through the campus.

It was probably a vain effort, because you were a walking epitome of a mess.

Rogers’s whore, sounded in your ears and you shook your head again, inhaling sharply through your mouth.

It was time to run and then break down again at the dorms. With Penny preferably--or did she think you were a whore too? You were fucking a professor after all-

Stop that!

Penny wasn’t like that. She understood. She’d be willing to listen all about this outrageous act of terror and would sympathize. Right?

Yeah, you’d talk about it with Penny, your amazing friend, who needed a celebration and a very generous amount of alcohol, which happened to be exactly what you needed too.

Yep, that sounded pretty good.

With one last determined glance on your horrible reflection in the mirror, you headed out.

The door nearly hit you in the face on its way back as you threw it open and froze in the doorway.

You did not expect to see someone so soon after leaving your improvised safe space… let alone him.

“Prof-professor Wilson,” you choked out, clearing your scratchy throat as he stood there, unmistakably waiting for you.

Because that was what you needed at the moment. The university counsellor and professor of psychology in one person.

Fuck.

He said you name in a mild tone, almost as if trying to tame a wild animal, but not quite – all his voice made you feel was shame at getting caught. And a bit of anger at the whole fucking world, because why couldn’t you have a tiny piece of peace after seeing that? Just a little shred of luck, huh?!

Oh, right, you were a whore who were only using Professor Rogers, paying for it in sexual favours.

“Mind if we talk in my office for a bit?”

“Not like I really have a choice…” you mumbled automatically, the realization of how rude it sounded dawning to you oh too slowly, your brain too tangled up in a web of self-pity and self-loathing. “Sorry. Of course. Lead the way.”

“Good. Thank you,” he replied, appearing unoffended. “And for the record, you do have a choice.”

Hadn’t you been a wreck with burning tear-stained cheeks, your face might have felt hotter at the kind remark.

At the slowest pace possible, you followed Professor Wilson to his office, dread and exhaustion filling every fibre of your being.

You noticed however that the walls that had been lined with odes about you, put up for everyone to see, had disappeared; possibly Wilson’s own work.

Somehow, it didn’t make you feel much better, the image of the previous addition to the corridors’ decor stuck in your brain. But hey, it was supposed to be the thought that counted, right?

And Professor Wilson was a nice guy. He offered you a drink – sadly a non-alcoholic one – attempted a joke saying that no, it was no trouble getting you one, which was the reason he offered.

Generally, he treated you as if he wanted to provide you with a safe space.

And then he kindly told you that he knew about the poem, because his cousin who’s in her first year here at the uni, texted him what the heck was the e-mail she received on her uni account about.

In other word, he gently broke to you that whoever had done this possibly sent it to every student in the database too.

You nearly threw up hearing that; the pit you had climbed up from and of which edge you were balancing, deepened. But you didn’t fall back there.

Yet.

It was probably because you were still too shocked at the information.

“I hate asking that question, but do you have any idea who did this?” Wilson asked quietly and you had nothing but a helpless shake of a head for a reply. You felt your vision blurring, dizziness fogging your brain again. “Can you think of anyone who holds a grudge against you for some reason?”

A scoff escaped your lips, cynical as you found the answer obvious from the verses.

“Besides dating Steve, you mean?” you noted sarcastically. Wilson waited for more, his eyebrows twitching in surprise and expectation before he got it under control. “Sorry, I meant Professor Rog-“

“Hey, you can call him Steve,” he assured you, so damn sweet and diligent. “I met him, you know, I’d go as far as calling him a friend. And right here, right now, he is not your professor, but your boyfriend. I’m talking to you as a counsellor so feel free to call me Sam if you’re comfortable. And to answer your question, I assume that it is as good motive as any, but the fact that the two of you are dating is practically a public knowledge at this point, so it doesn’t really narrow our field of suspects.”

Despite his openness and kind approach, you once again could only shrug, growing desperate by the minute. The urge to leave – because suddenly it made even more sense, him taking you here, he was friends with Steve, he was stalling – became unbearable.

You didn’t have the strength to see Steve now. You couldn’t. You would question every gesture, analyse everything and perhaps came to the conclusion that he agreed with the author of the poem and you desperately didn’t want that. You needed to forget about this, preferably with an unhealthy amount of alcohol, you needed to cry some more, you needed ice-cream and a hug and to bitch about everything and you needed a fucking nap that would last at least a week.

“I don’t know who hates me that much, I swear. Can I please go now?”

Sam cocked his head to side, a minute frown creasing his brows. “Is that what you want?”

Do you really want to leave before Steve gets a chance to get here?

You should probably feel guilty. You wanted to feel guilty, because that was you being a coward and it was downright mean to Steve, who would no doubt learn about this very soon and from someone else, but you didn’t have the capacity to think about anything at all besides feeling like you were going to explode any second.

“Yes. Thanks for being nice and all, but I—I’d rather go.”

“You have a roommate? A friend you live with and who’s in?” he fussed, voice gravely, amiable chocolate eyes observing you with worry. Did he think you were about to hurt yourself? Did you look like the type? Were you? You mentally shook your head. Jesus.

“Yeah,” you creaked, already rising to your feet, endlessly grateful that he was letting you go. “Penny. We— uhm, we were supposed to go celebrating.”

You nearly choked on the last word, feeling like everything but going out tonight. The idea of going out and facing all the stares cause by the widely-spread e-mail made your stomach clench.

You kinda lost the appetite to celebrate anything to begin with; all the relief and joy, which had filled every last bit of your being post-learning your grade, vanished and was replaced by a dark sticky substance filling your lungs, your gut, your veins, muffling the outside world.

Perhaps Penny would agree to a loud night in?

“You can still do that, that’s up to you. But please, get some sleep and don’t be alone. Here,” he stood up as well, handing you a card. “My number, even if you just need to talk to a sort-of outsider and word-vomit all over someone, okay?”

You couldn’t argue with his offer – you had a feeling you’d vomit soon, either verbally or literally. Still, you charmed a shaky smile that probably turned out a grimace.

“K. Thanks… Sam.”

“Any time.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Of course, Wilson’s unspoken question about moving quick to avoid an encounter with certain professor was painfully on point.

You bailed on Steve whom you were supposed to wait for even if just for a hug and congratulations, practically running to the dorm, your unsteady feet and tears still clouding your vision be damned.

You ignored the ringing of your phone, assuming it was Steve himself; bile rose to your throat at the idea of hearing his voice at that moment. He tried twice before you smashed the power button and threw the phone back to your purse, breathing out in relief and wanting to puke at the same time.

You truly couldn’t find the capacity to deal with him momentarily – you needed to be alone and safe from any prying eyes, preferably in the comfort of your shared dorm with Penny. You cried harder when you finally reached it, your feet hurting from attempting to run in heels.

It wasn’t hard to figure out that Penny somehow already knew, probably from the e-mail – it was written all over her face. And hadn’t her expression been enough, instead of a celebratory champagne she handed you a shot of a transparent liquid the moment you opened the door.

You turned it bottoms up without questioning it and asked for another. Penny grabbed the bottle of vodka waiting on the shoe rack and poured one for you and one for herself. You didn’t bother clinking the glasses.

Though the burn in your throat felt pleasant, it did nothing to sooth the burn in your eyes and heart. Penny’s embrace made it a bit better.

So did the third shot of vodka.

You didn’t switch on your phone that day again – and when it was nearing midnight, after a four-hour nap, you convinced Penny to go celebrate to the Freddy’s as you had originally planned to do. You pretended that no one stared at you and instead you danced and drank until your mind was swimming enough for the sorrow and anger to drown.

You were one lucky bitch to have Penny walk you home.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve was sitting at his desk at the faculty office he shared with Bucky and was working hard at what he excelled at for these past days despite his genuine efforts at not doing so; getting absolutely nothing done at all.

His hands had grown somewhat unsteady, a reflection of how he was feeling, how torn and absurdly broken he had become. He was spilling drinks on a regular basis, items kept falling from his flimsy hold. His brain felt foggy these days as well, most likely a consequence of the shitty sleep he was getting.

His bed felt too big despite his rather large frame and too cold despite his body temperature usually running almost too high; the sheets smelled strange and foreign despite being his own and the bed screamed with emptiness on a volume that kept interrupting his already deficient sleep.

Four days.

Four days since one stupid poem knocked his world out of its orbit and everything that mattered crashed down. Well, perhaps not everything, Steve happened to like his job too and he still had it, but such detail seemed insignificant; it certainly did in comparison to the fact that he had been attempting and had failed to reach you.

Calls.

Texts.

Few e-mails when he felt particularly helpless and frustrated.

His messed up sleeping and eating schedule and the irregularity that came with the exam period would make a perfect case of him losing any notion of time – yet Steve knew about every second without you, practically counting them.

He could still see Sam Wilson standing outside the classroom he had been testing students’ knowledge in as if it happened yesterday. He could recall with painfully stark clarity the unreadable expression on his face and the ominous “Steve, man… we need to talk.”

Steve still remembered Tony Stark waltzing in the next day with a baby in some sort of a front backpack, agitated that someone had gotten into the database, let alone to send all the hate-emails, and how he announced he found the culprit and their accomplices in an hour, which apparently happened to be too long to his liking.

Steve would smile at the memory of the technical genius’ antics, but the gaping hole in his chest caused by the deafening silence from you prevented it. Hell, not even the vivid picture of Carol Danvers from the faculty of law, moonlighting like a member of the legal department of the university, made the corners of his lips rise.

And hadn’t it been quite a show, a downright uplifting experience.

Steve was watching the screen with a frown, a stone-solid clench to his jaw and a firm clench to his fists.

It was almost amusing really; Bucky kept going about Fury being a creep and not a spy, but despite the lack of a one-way glass, the space Carol and the girl was in – just like two other rooms, each with one man – resembled an interrogation room. Steve never had been more grateful for audio and video feed in his life, but he sure as hell wasn’t laughing in delight at being proved right.

In fact, it had been taking all of his willpower not to burst into those rooms and give a piece of his mind to every single person guilty of being involved in hurting you. In causing his life to collapse on itself.

Steve couldn’t quite recall the brunet Carol was roasting, but he suspected he had seen her in one of the classes he was teaching. She didn’t stand out from the crowd of students and he didn’t see anything special about her worth remembering; then again, he tended to forget to take notice of other pretty faces ever since he had laid his eyes on yours.

And right now, all he saw was a face of a vicious bitch who forced you into pushing him away and a single look at her had his blood boiling.

Steve truly wanted to punch the living daylights of her and that said something, because he prided himself in having moral objection to hitting women, especially from sheer anger.

However, the desire was growing with each piece of information he learned. Because Yvonne Whatever-Is-Her-Name was a piece of work for fucking certain.

She talked a guy number one, whom she was attending Introduction to Social Studies 101 and who had a very apparent teenage-like crush on her, into reaching out to his friend, guy number two, whom he often played some online video game with, into hacking the database, sending the e-mails and finding out when and where exactly your exam was, just so Yvonne herself could redecorate the corridors and bathroom and make sure you wouldn’t miss her work of art.

Carol was alternating between visiting each of the ‘suspects’ and man, did they sing like birds.

Steve wanted to strangle them all, but fuck, the hatred for Yvonne Burton specifically was already consuming him and gnawing at his very soul; yes, he found out her last name just so he knew his mortal enemy. He was going to burn her to the ground, one way or the other… not that Carol hadn’t been doing a fine job so far.

That damn brunet had tears running down her face, sobbing occasionally, but still rarely sassing back. Somehow, seeing her like that wasn’t half as satisfying as Steve hoped, because his mind kept wandering to you and wondering if you looked about the same and every time such picture formed in his head, he hated Ms.Burton a fraction more.

She had used a guy who liked her, which Carol blatantly pointed out. The lawyer didn’t seem to hold back her own snark if the question about how the culprits met – via some forum for bruised ego, was it? – was anything to go by.

“I might be a lawyer, but I’m begging for every art professor and author I know – stay away from poetry. What you wrote is a child’s rhyme really, but like every writing, it says a lot about who you are. And it gives me a plenty of ammunition. We have two names, one full, one last name pointing out a specific person from the context. If I play my cards right, we have defamation on our hands, libel to be precise. Congratulation,” Carol remarked in a surprisingly calm voice. The other woman visibly paled. Good. “And what about the last line? Is that… is that a threat of violence? I can make it harassment, but if I try hard enough, perhaps we can consider it something more serious…?”

“You don’t get to threaten me! You’re lying! I’ve done nothing wrong and so serious!” the girl – and really, in Steve’s eyes, she was nothing but a stupid girl who somehow managed to kick his life in its balls – exploded, jumping to her feet.

Carol levelled her with a glare and an irritated hiss. “Sit down.” Burton did, clammy hands curled up in trembling fists. “And you’ve done more than enough.”

“You don’t understand!”

“Oh don’t I? Be my guest then. Explain it. Your motivation, the legal side, anything. I’m all ears.”

“I love him!” the girl exclaimed and Steve grinded his teeth as a surge of rage shooting through his veins.

Like fucking hell she did. He didn’t remember even talking to her if he ever had to start with and she loved him?!

Was that really what this was about? This girl somewhat liked him and got obsessed? Decided to wreck his girlfriend? To what end? To drive the two of you apart? To make you hate him so he would run to her? To simply ruin your future? What the fuck was wrong with her?! She was a damn kid with hurt pride and zero efforts put in so far, because he couldn’t even remember her-

“Oh you really don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t have done this,” Carol responded with a cold edge to her voice, apparently agreeing with Steve’s thoughts and being equally unimpressed with Ms.Burton dramatic confession.

“I’m fighting for him! Ain’t nothing wrong-”

Oh Steve would argue with that so hard. He could feel Sam watching him from the corner of his eye, but neither of them said anything as Steve gripped the edge of the table the monitors were on.

He was sure he was going to be sick, the edge of his vision doing something he only read about; as if truly turning red, crimson with hunger for blood. He never ever craved tearing someone in half, not a single one of the guys who bullied him in school, not the girls that laughed at him when he said he liked them; and make no mistake, he had always felt mad enough.

But right now, he tasted undiluted rage and it tasted like acid with a bitter aftertaste of iron and copper, searing hot on his tongue and spreading through his body, turning it heavy and nauseatingly light at the same time.

“No, you’re ruining his life,” Carol emphasized, leaning onto the table and glaring murder at the girl. “If this is your idea of fighting for someone, it’s pretty twisted. You could have done literally anything to make him notice you, hell, pick you, but leave if he still said no, because that’s a sensible thing to do. But instead, you hurt someone he cared about. And that means you hurt him too – not to mention that his name is in there, possibly putting a scrap on his reputation. If you did love him, you’d want him to be happy.”

Steve gulped and looked away, unable to bear the weight of Carol’s words, feeling the jab on his own person. Because he was familiar with being accused of ruining someone’s life and future despite seemingly loving them. God knew that on a rainy day, he wondered about his own ‘love’ and its purity too – and now, it was fucking pouring and Steve had been forced to question everything he knew.

Was this little brunet Satan a godsend in fact? Was she supposed to tell him to stop lying to himself about not being your doom? Just what kind of a mess this stunt would have made had you been working a steady job and this got to your employer?

A gentle hand reached for his shoulder, a silent support, and Steve found himself torn between irritated, grateful and deeply ashamed.

No matter how much he hated it, he should be on the list to get punched for hurting you too.

“So, sorry to break it to you, but you don’t love him,” Carol continued and with Sam’s palm on his shoulder, Steve forced himself to watch the scene, the grand finale. “You’re just a little girl with attitude issues, a crush that got out of hand, and a ton of luck for knowing a guy willing to help you. Guess what – you just ran out of that luck.”

Heavy silence fell on the interrogation room and Steve’s eyes slid shut, hearing Carol and Yvonne’s parting words.

“And just so you know, she didn’t get the highest score. She got a B.”

Steve didn’t even know that and despite all the shit they were in, he felt a surge of pride for his g- hopefully still his girl.

At the same time, the fact that he learned it from Carol and not from you as he still couldn’t reach you, felt like a punch to his solar plexus.

Carol entered the monitoring room with a discontent expression on her face, wordlessly telling Steve and Sam that the conversation, no matter how harsh, wasn’t satisfying enough.

Still, Steve glanced at her and nodded with severity.

“Thank you, Carol,” he rasped, surprised by how hoarse his own voice sounded; for the burn of rage in his stomach and the tension in his muscles, he almost forgot about the lump gradually growing in his throat with each hour of silence from you.

“My damn pleasure,” Carol huffed with slight irritation, one clearly not aimed at Steve. She subtly raised her eyebrows. “I kinda want to punch her, but I guess I’m not the only one, huh?”

Steve sighed and closed his eyes, his hands almost shaking with the said need. Still, it was surprisingly relieving to be called out on that and to learn that he wasn’t the only one. And when he opened his eyes again, the look on Carol’s face told him that she wasn’t blaming him one bit.

“You have no fucking idea, I- Jesus, I never wanted to—to-- so much in my life.“

The rise of one corner of her lips was sympathetic. “We’ll handle this, Steve. I know it’s hard to hear, but you can’t really help us here. Go home. Rest.”

The lump in Steve’s throat grew nearly suffocating at the idea of going to the empty apartment, where his uselessness became even more evident. Steve eyed Sam, searching with hope for any sign of a better advice, but the counsellor only nodded to second Carol’s thought.

“Go home and try to call your girl. She’ll pick up eventually.”

At that time Steve had done exactly that – however, the result had remained identical to those with his previous attempts. You hadn’t picked up and he had left a voicemail and a pathetic text that somehow seemed to be reflecting all of his insecurities and doubts about your relationship and it hadn’t turned out at all as he had planned – and then it had been too late to take it back.

He had sent another and another, almost hour after hour and he was gradually realizing that he was forgoing all hope and his faith in what you two had and what it could become in the future; and god, did he want the future so badly.

But he couldn’t always get what he wanted, could he? He thought that a miracle had happened when he had first met you and later heard your yes to the date. But here you were.

Four days from that terrible incident.

Did Steve even believe that you two were supposed to be together? He didn’t even know anymore. Perhaps it was an intervention from some higher power and you two breaking apart was meant to be, saving you a heartbreak and disillusions which were about to come later.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the thought and the sensation that felt like a punch to his gut, his insides cramping.

That was not true. You two loved each other. You had found something truly amazing in each other and you were about to reach out to him any minute so you could continue to your brighter future together.

…right?

Except a minute passed by and nothing happened, the phone Steve was toying with remaining silent.

No received text or e-mail.

No incoming call.

Another minute and then another ten, the phone still spinning in his hand in almost a reflex at that point and still not lighting up.

The knot in Steve’s gut turned tighter and tighter, the tension in his shoulders and jaw growing, his mantra of you surely contacting him gradually falling silent.

Finally, he came to the decision that only fools kept doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result.

He was supposed to do that a long long time ago, the moment he had convinced himself that coming knocking on your dorm could be considered harassment… and would break his heart in case you’d shut the door to his face telling him you were done with him.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Steve swept through his contacts and dialled your best friend and roommate in one person.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Part 2

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Thank you for reading!

Let me know what you thought! I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ doing something with randomly timed shots to a series, so… you know. I’m a bit nervous. And I guess that this is very different from what this series was so far too, so I hope it’s okay. Thank you :-*

237 notes · View notes

tocrackerboxpalace · 3 years

Text

January, 1972

Summary: In Paul's first interview since the breakup of the Beatles, things go slightly awry when a nosy reporter gets more out of him than she bargained for.

Part 1/3 (2, 3)

Paul flashed a blinding grin at the camera, hoping none of the looming anxiety beneath the surface would read. He quickly seated himself in the plushy chair, running his fingers up and down the smooth red velvet of the arms a few times to soothe his nerves. A tad self-consciously, he scratched his jaw, fingers twitching with unfamiliarity against the now smooth skin. This was his first interview in nearly two years.

He had been in a bad way since the breakup. It did no good to mull over it now, but it was hard to stop the same intrusive thoughts from popping into frame—the fuck-all, nothing-matters-anyway attitudes; the gnawing sensation of his own incompetency at the bitterness of feeling utterly lost; the desire to waste his fucking life away drunk out of his mind so he didn’t have to wake up in the morning and remember. What now?

Paul sighed inadvertently, ignoring the curious way the interviewer’s eyes danced over his form. What now? Now, this interview. One day at a time. A nice, simple discussion about the past year—about the success of RAM topping the charts in the U.K. and the slow but steady promise of Wild Life. Family and new beginnings. Peace.

Getting better all the time, right? His stomach did a violent flip at the thought.

Paul jumped a bit as the interviewer leaned forward, brushing a tentative hand across his knee. “Paul? Are you all right?”

Paul blinked. “What?”

She lowered her voice a bit, eyes flicking in the direction of the cameraman. Paul felt dizzy as the red light blinked back at him. “Should we—should we cut?”

Shit. Already off to a poor start.

Slowly, Paul came to his senses, breathing returning to normal (though he hadn’t realized it had been erratic). His chest felt tight as he gave a curt, polite nod, forcing a smile that, to him, felt borderline grotesque.

“No, love. Everything’s fine. Just a bit distracted, is all.” He shot her a wink, hoping to assuage her. Maybe a bit of flirting would do the trick.

He sighed in relief as the reporter flushed, a pleased grin sneaking onto her otherwise hard features. “Right. Well, if you’re ready, we can begin.”

“In earnest,” he beckoned, waving an inviting hand in her direction.

—

Half an hour later, Paul’s face felt utterly plastic from faking so much interest and expression. The poor girl was trying, for Christ’s sake, but Paul had to actually hold back groans at some of the painfully bland questions. Every goddamn thing reminded him of the Beatles, anyway, even if it had nothing to do with them. He felt surrounded by ghosts: the echo of George’s laugh, a flash of fangs; the dissipating vision of the way Ringo bit his lip real hard and furrowed his brow when asked any remotely difficult question; the trace of John’s fingertips on his arms or lightly thumping the back of his head. Things hadn’t been the same for a while, now, as far as those things went; but it was almost like they’d never changed. Everything was rushing back to him as if he’d just woken up from a long nightmare. Only to find that the nightmare was more pleasant than reality, of course.

Paul swallowed hard, fighting the urge to be sick. He wasn’t ready for this.

He wished Linda was there. Paul nearly kicked himself for agreeing to do this alone—he wasn’t sure why they had requested that, anyway, if they were just going to make him repeat the conception of “Yesterday” all over again. He needed her there, needed to distract himself by caressing her and leaning on her and whispering subtle inside jokes in her ear at inappropriate times. He needed to have her, just like—just like he needed—

“On your newest record with Wings, you have a particularly interesting track I’d like to touch on,” the reporter was saying, bearing down on him with a sudden insatiable gaze that should have been frightening, if Paul had literally cared one bit.

“Hmm?” He replied, noncommittedly.

“’Dear Friend’. It’s about John, no?”

Paul tensed.

The interviewer stared back at him, daring him to speak, the lust for truth plainly evident in her eyes, and Paul swiftly understood. Everything had been mere formalities or trust-building exercises up to this point. Everything to get him here: trapped, with nowhere to go, no one to turn to. His mind worked quickly, frantically, pushing the blossoming anger aside to make room for the desperate bid to save himself. He could only think of one solution, and one he was king at.

Paul began to laugh. Not loudly, not absurdly; just casual enough to where the audience would soon be able to read the feigned perplexity in his tone. “John?” He practically scoffed, cocking an eyebrow at the woman with a look that bordered on condescending. “No, love, it’s not about John.”

“Who’s it about, then?” Came the follow-up.

Paul answered too quickly. “Linda.”

“Ah,” the interviewer affirmed, leaning back in her chair slightly. “I see. So the bit about throwing the wine—”

“Celebration!” Paul interjected, his voice much too shaky for it to ring true. “Throw back the wine. Congratulations, and all that.” He mimicked a drinking glass. “Young and newlywed.”

“Mm.”

Paul’s heart was hammering in his chest, so violently he was sure the cameras could see it. He never should have put out the song. He had knownit was too transparent, but had convinced himself it was his own paranoia. The public was desperately searching for anything to drive the wedge between him and John deeper—even if the song really wasn’t about him, they would have found a way to make it so.

So, that’s what the story was. He felt a sudden angered hopelessness, offended by the audacity of the reporter. To coax him out of practical hiding, persuade him to do this huge press event for the “good of his album”, to pull him from Linda and thrust him into the spotlight he tried so desperately to escape, all so they could catch a hope of getting Paul to contradict and expose himself? Like she was some kind of Pharisee?

He could see her eyes working coldly, calculatedly, and he felt the sudden urge to run. His mouth felt sour, tongue acidic against his teeth that were clenched far too hard to be healthy. He had to get out of here.

“You say friend,” the interviewer started, almost cautiously.

“She’s my best friend,” Paul argued.

“What about the fear? What is Linda afraid of?”

“It’s a general fear,” Paul retorted, almost pouting, feeling more than fed up with the increasingly dangerous questions.

“Is what ‘true’, then?”

“All the things he said, of course,” he snapped.

It wasn’t until she responded that he realized his mistake. “He?”

Shit! Paul’s eyes shot wide as he stumbled for an answer. “I-what?”

The reporter narrowed her eyes. “You said ‘he’. All the things he said.”

Paul’s heart was in his throat. He struggled to breathe, mimicking the feeling of having your head barely above water as the ocean closes around your neck. “I most certainly did not.”

“But you did. You said, ‘all the things “he” said’. I presume you’re referring to Lennon’s more public digs, especially in response to RAM. He's far less subtle than you, you know. ‘Too Many People,’ though, that one’s about him to anyone who has ears to hear it and a brain to really listen. So he comes back with ‘How Do You Sleep’, and though you’ve been sitting on this one for quite some time, it feels right to put it out, a spitball to his face, an olive branch in the face of his fire. It doesn’t matter that it sounds like it’s to a lover. Because, in a way, it is—"

“No!” Paul all but cried out, wanting to press his palms so far into his ears that it would crush his skull. The beginnings of desperate tears well up inside of him. “No, that’s not—I’m not—”

“What happened in India?”

Paul froze.

The reporter simply stared back at him, almost expressionless. Paul’s brain had short-circuited at the question, leaving behind nothing but a dull buzz, his thoughts as comprehensive as television static. The buzzing of the studio lights was the only sound for a long time, save the soft pants escaping Paul’s lips as his chest constricted with the effort of not hyperventilating. When he finally spoke, his voice was dripping with a malice that shocked even himself.

“What the fuck do you know?”

Even the interviewer looked momentarily taken aback. She licked her lips almost hungrily. “Is there something to know?”

“No. It’s—nothing happened, all right?”

“That’s the trouble, isn’t it?”

“What? No!” Paul was astounded, flabbergasted, so far past the point of shock he no longer had control over his ramblings. “Or—no. I don’t know. Nothing happened, it couldn’t—”

“Did you want it to?”

“He wanted—”

“What did Lennon want, Paul?” There was an edge to the reporter’s voice, a twinge of excitement at what may be perhaps the biggest story since their breakup.

Paul said nothing. He couldn’t trust himself to speak. A cloud came over him, blurring all thoughts of past and future. All implications and consequences. He was blissfully, numbly empty.

“Paul McCartney, were you in a… a physical relationship with John Lennon?”

The question went unanswered. He simply stared at the woman opposite him, cool and stony. He could tell by the slight waver in her expression that his intent was evident. It was a dare—turn the fucking interview off, or sit here in silence for the remaining half-hour. Give the viewers quite a special.

Her choice.

Eventually, the woman cleared her throat and shuffled the stack of notecards in her lap that Paul hadn’t noticed until now. He let his gaze trail over her lazily as she made to signal the camera cut. As soon as the little red light went dead, she shot Paul an aggravated glare and shuffled off the set.

He only winked, feeling much more hollow inside than before.

#the beatles #beatles fanfiction #paul mccartney #john lennon (mentioned)#linda mccartney (mentioned)#george harrison (briefly mentioned)#ringo starr (briefly mentioned)#interviews #confessions #songwriting feud of the seventies #beatles breakup #part 1 #part 1 of 3

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