#and dream me was like ‘hey you’re that dude that’s been kidnapping women’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

Ties That Bind, Debts That Burden | Curtis Everett x reader

for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817‘s august challenge! my prompt was the gif!

summary: you didn’t expect the man who bought you to be so kind. you didn’t expect to fall for him, either.

warnings: death of a parent character, kidnapping, implied noncon/mentions of noncon, sexism, sexual slavery (mentioned), dub con (but not in the way you’re expecting), implied age gap (everyone is over 18!! as always!!), semi-public sex, breeding kink, loss of virginity, pain kink (slightly)

word count: a bit over 4k (and I wrote it all in one day... hey that rhymes!)

[this is another one of those things where the fic itself is dark due to the subject matter, but the character in question is not ‘dark’ in the traditional sense. so, curtis is a good dude, it’s everyone else that sucks; this is a dark fic tonally, but not sexually per se]

Life in the tail section was ruthless. It was all about survival, and survival was about being stronger than others. You weren’t strong. What you did have was your father, and he had kept you safe all your life, even before the two of you had lived in this terrible place. He was a sort of leader; people looked up to him, and as a result, they obeyed his wishes to stay away from you. Even so, you could sense that a lot of the men in the train were just waiting for their chance to take you. Women who didn’t have significant skills to offer, women like you, were seen as a commodity with only one purpose. Less like wives and more like slaves, they were traded, sold, and bartered for like clothes or rations. It made you feel sick, but most of all it made you terrified for what would happen when your father couldn’t protect you anymore. He was strong, but old, and so tired. You hated to see how hard he had to work so late into his life, just so that you wouldn’t have to suffer.

When he died, it almost didn’t feel real. Even though it was sort of expected with the way his health had been declining for months, it was nothing you ever could’ve imagined. A world without your father meant a world you were truly alone in… and only now did you confront the real cruelty of life in the tail section.

You woke up to being dragged by your hair; you screamed and kicked, but there was little you could do as you were thrown down onto the floor. Your worthless fighting was muted as rags were used to bind your wrists and ankles, and a gag silenced you. You looked up to see you were surrounded by men, with one-- you were pretty sure his name was Jamie, you’d seen him around before-- standing up and hovering over you.

“Her father is finally dead!” he announced to the crowd with a dirty smile that was missing a few teeth. “I got my hands on her first, but I’m willing to sell her to any reasonable bidders.”

“Five rations,” one voice quickly jutted in.

“Five-- what the fuck are you talking about, man? Everyone’s been drooling over this little tart for years and you offer me five rations?! Get a grip,” Jamie spat.

“Twenty,” another called out.

“Getting warmer,” Jamie laughed. “Come on, boys, she’s never known a man before. This is truly a priceless opportunity.”

“Thirty!”

“Thirty-three!”

“Best I can do is thirty-five.”

“This is preposterous,” Jamie scoffed. “She’s a virgin, and look how cute she is when she cries! If nobody’s gonna make me a suitable offer,” he growled, suddenly grabbing you by your neck and putting his face right against yours, “maybe I’ll keep you for myself, hm?”

You sobbed and tried to squirm away but it was beyond useless, your bound limbs overpowered easily as he held you down and licked a stripe up the side of your face, just to hear you scream behind your gag.

“I’ll take her,” a deep voice boomed suddenly. “A hundred rations.”

“A-- what?” Jamie stammered.

You tried to look around at who it was but you couldn’t see very well in the dark.

“It’s more than enough,” the man continued. “Hand her over.”

“Curtis,” Jamie greeted awkwardly, and your eyes went wide with recognition, “I… didn’t take you for the bartering type.”

That was an understatement. You knew Curtis, like some of the more chivalrous men of the back car, was a long-standing boycotter of this sort of activity. He didn’t even seem interested in the women who wanted to sleep with him, let alone those who were being sold against their will. Seemed like his patience had worn out, and he was finally giving in to his biological needs, no matter who would suffer cruelty along the way. Just your luck that it would be you for sale when he gave up on his morals.

“I didn’t take you for the type to stall when he’s offered a great deal,” Curtis replied coldly. “Now give me the girl and take your payment.”

Something must have changed hands, but you were too busy staring at the corrugated steel floor and hoping it was all a dream that would end any moment.

You lurched back as Jamie picked you up again, tossing you to Curtis who caught you awkwardly.

“Have fun with her,” Jamie encouraged, “make sure it’s loud enough so we can all hear; a little consolation prize for the rest of us.”

Curtis said nothing as he turned and dragged you to his bunk, ignoring your muffled pleas. When he set you down, he kneeled beside you and put a hand on each shoulder to brace you.

“I’m going to take off this gag, and your ties,” he offered, “but you need to stop crying, okay? Everything will be alright. I won’t hurt you.”

You weren’t sure you believed that, but you tried to steady your breathing. Maybe if you did what he said, he would be gentle with you…

You nodded slowly, and he untied the gag. Your sore mouth appreciated the reprieve as you wiggled your mouth around to stretch your lips. You had sort of assumed that whoever bought you would leave the restraints on, so that you wouldn’t fight back. But Curtis was so strong and healthy, he didn’t even need to bind you: your body tensed up again at that realization.

“Shh, shh, calm down,” he requested as he worked on the knot around your feet, “you don’t need to be afraid of me.”

Finally your limbs were freed, though that freedom was wasted on exhaustedly falling to the cold steel floor.

“Use this rag to clean off a little,” he instructed, handing you a cloth that had been soaked in water, “and go back to sleep for the night.”

“You… you’re not going to…?” you murmured, confused.

“I don’t believe in enslavement,” he shook his head. “Your father was a good man; he did a lot for me, even when I had nothing to offer him in return. He told me to pay him back by keeping you safe after he was gone.”

You hadn’t realized your father knew Curtis so well. You’d seen him around, sure, but he was more a stranger than anything.

“Thank you…” you whispered, your voice hoarse and ragged.

“You need to rest,” he whispered back. “You can sleep in my bed-- someone’s already claimed yours, I’m sure. I’ll be on the floor beside you if you need me.”

Your cheeks burned with guilt. “Curtis, don’t do that. You spent so much on me... I don’t want to be any more of a burden.”

“Don’t worry about that now,” he soothed, “we can talk in the morning. Get your sleep.”

After washing yourself hastily with the rag (focusing most on wherever Jamie had touched you), you slipped into the sheets on his mattress, finding him different from the ones you were used to, but comfortable in spite of the unfamiliarity.

Curtis settled in on the floor, and in the near-darkness you could just make out the silhouette of his face as he closed his eyes and relaxed against a roll of tattered clothes as an improvised pillow. You’d always thought he was handsome, and the impression you’d gotten was that he was patient, and honorable, but kept to himself. You could remember just a few nights ago when you never could’ve imagined this being your new life. Although you did wonder if Curtis was simply waiting for the morning to claim you, in the meantime you decided to take him at his word and just be thankful that someone seemingly kind had bought you instead of Jamie or his fellow bidders.

Two weeks later...

If anything, it was odd how little Curtis had asked of you. He didn’t even really talk to you. Even your father expected you to help him with anything you could; sometimes it was just keeping him company, listening to him. But Curtis all but avoided you. All that said, his presence was rarely needed to keep you safe. People respected your father, but they feared Curtis. He wasn’t violent-- well, he wasn’t violent typically. Nearly a week ago he had gone to fisticuffs for you after a man had tried to grope you. The weird thing was that you hadn’t even realized Curtis was nearby: one moment you were alone and being pulled into a stranger’s oppressive form as he purred in your ear, the next Curtis had appeared and shoved him off of you. That seemed to get the point across that Curtis’ things were not to be touched.

Feeling guilty, you decided to do whatever chores you could think of while he was away from his ‘room’ (which was, of course, not a room at all but a bed draped with a canopy of tattered fabric in order to create some privacy). You waited for his return with a little smile on your face, sure he would be grateful for your service and maybe would start to warm up to you more.

“Hi, Curtis,” you greeted with a peppy grin when you saw him approaching, jumping up from where you had been sitting.

“You washed my clothes,” he noticed instantly.

Your smile fell when you realized that he wasn’t happy. “Did I do something wrong?” you asked sheepishly.

“You are not my slave; I cannot make that more clear,” he frowned. “Never do a chore on my behalf again.”

“Please, Curtis. You’ve done so much for me, just let me prove my usefulness.”

“You want to be useful? Stay out of harm’s way.”

“Oh, I see,” you sneered, “you don’t want me to do your chores because I am your chore. Is that all you see me as? A debt you are repaying to my father?”

He seemed confused by that question. “What else could I see you as?”

“A partner!” you protested. “A woman!”

He grabbed you suddenly, pulling you into him by your wrists. “Stop talking like that. I won’t hear any more of it. Just stay quiet and take care of yourself.”

He dropped you as you began to cry, crumpling into a ball on the floor.

“Don’t cry,” he frowned. “Why could you be crying, when all I told you was that you don’t have to do anything?”

“I suppose I should be thankful that you’re not sadistic,” you explained with a shaky, weak voice, “but you’re still plenty cruel to me, I hope you know that. You ignore me completely-- and no one else will talk to me, because they’re afraid to upset you. I’ve never been so alone.”

He sighed and sat down beside you on the floor. “I never meant to…” he trailed off. “I bought you to save you from them. Not because I had any purpose for you.”

“I have no purpose,” you stated plainly, moving from sad to stoic. “Don’t you hear how sad that sounds? Can you blame me for being upset when you’re telling me straight to my face that I’m useless?”

He seemed to at least see where you were coming from with that, looking to the side with an oddly guilty look in his eyes.

Suddenly, he reached to pull up his shirt and you gasped when you saw a cut along his side.

“I fell,” he explained, “and scraped against something.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you comforted to the best of your ability, “I hope it’s not giving you too much trouble.”

“It’s not, but I’m worried it’ll get infected.”

You thought for a moment. “I could… help you clean it?”

“Sure,” he nodded, “that would be nice. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” you shrugged as you grabbed a rag to dampen. “I’ll be right back.”

You cleaned his wound in silence, carefully washing away the dried blood, even when he sucked in breaths through his teeth as you touched the sensitive places. The task at hand distracted you from your previous outburst; this was exactly proof of why you needed things to do, you’d go crazy otherwise.

“I don’t think it’ll need stitches,” you informed him as you put the rag away and rolled his shirt back down. “We’ll just clean it again tomorrow and I bet that’ll be enough.”

“Good,” he nodded.

The day was winding down to a close already, and you looked around to see a lot of the people nearby starting to prepare for bed, if they weren’t already on their mattresses with their eyes and ears covered to block out the distractions of those still awake.

“I think you should take the bed tonight, since you’re injured,” you offered. Up until now, you’d been alternating nights on the floor; it was the only compromise you two could come to.

“I couldn’t ask you to sleep on the ground two nights in a row,” he shook his head.

“You’re not asking me to. I’m telling you that I will.”

“I won’t take the bed.”

You crossed your arms and grinned stubbornly. “Then we’ll both be on the floor.”

“Fine,” he sighed with defeat, “I’ll take the bed, but only if you share it with me. I can never sleep well when all I can think about is how cold and uncomfortable you must be.”

You were surprised to hear that, because you had always felt the same way on the nights you were in the bed. Seemed both of you were getting worse sleep than you let on.

“F-fine,” you stammered, realizing how little space the two of you would have to work with on the mattress, “we’ll share it then.”

“Might help with the cold anyway,” he shrugged as he stood up, removing his outermost layer of clothes before slipping behind the curtain that surrounded the bed. You swallowed, as if you hadn’t realized until now that you were going to be in bed with him so soon.

You removed your jacket as well; even though you normally liked to sleep in something less bulky than the dress you were wearing now, you figured he would protest if you were in any state of undress while sharing a bed with him.

As you pulled the curtain aside, you found him already on the farther side of the bed, facing away from you. He was so far off the edge that he surely would’ve fallen if there wasn’t a wall on the other side.

“Curtis, you’re twice my size and you’ve left nearly two-thirds of the bed for me,” you chuckled, slipping into the covers with him and noticing how much space was still left between you. “Relax, won’t you?”

“Alright,” he relented, laying back a little as his shoulder brushed against yours.

“Goodnight, Curtis,” you mumbled as you settled in and got as comfortable as could be reasonably expected, letting your eyes fall shut. Sure, it took awhile, but with a forced relaxation you were able to drift to sleep and stay that way for quite some time.

At some point, you awoke to the softest noise beside you. At first you thought it was just your dream, but then you heard it again-- Curtis was breathing strangely, and you jumped up when you heard a strained noise of pain.

“Curtis!” you hissed into the dark. “Are you hurt? Is everything alright?”

“What?” he stammered, jolting away from you.

“You were--” you started to explain, but then you realized he was palming at his trousers; specifically, he was stuffing his cock back into them. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, “I didn’t-- sometimes you just-- I never meant to--”

“Are you feeling… frustrated?” you asked him softly, moving a little closer to where he was pressing himself back against the wall.

“It’s fine,” he assured you, “I’m fine.”

“Let me help you,” you pleaded. “I wanted to help you so much, but there was nothing I could do. Let me do this, please. I want you to feel good…”

“Your father, I promised him--” he began, but you interrupted.

“Don’t talk about my father,” you requested. “You kept your promise. I’m safe. Let me thank you for all you’ve done.”

Your hand reached out and made contact with his heaving chest through the thin layer of his shirt, beginning to trail down over his stomach and finally to the hard outline inside his trousers.

“W-wait,” he stuttered quietly, even though you felt him quietly sigh with relief as you palmed at his erection.

“I don’t want to wait anymore,” you whispered-- so quiet even you could barely hear it-- as you leaned in and your nose brushed against his cheek. “I wanted you for so long, Curtis, did you not know? Wanted to touch you… wanted to make love with you…”

He let out a long-held breath as you reached into his trousers and wrapped your arm around his length. It was so hot in your palm; it warmed you in the most intoxicating way.

“R-really?” he murmured.

“Of course I did,” you answered, moving your hand and slowly stroking him. God, the poor man must’ve been so pent-up: he was bucking into your touch already, his cock so hard that you wondered if it was hurting him. “Every woman on the train lusts for you. To have you so close and not be able to do anything about it, it was torture.”

“Nothing compared to what it was like,” he groaned softly, “to want to have you for so long and feel horrible for it.”

You began to pump his cock faster, seeking more of those beautiful noises he was making. The way his length flexed against your palm made arousal tingle all throughout your body.

His hand slipped to the back of your neck, his fingertips brushing up against your hairline and making you shiver. He whispered your name and you felt like putty in his hands, so distracted by your own need that the pace of your strokes faltered briefly.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments longer-- foreheads pressed together, shivering and shaking and panting in each other’s arms-- before a rush of adrenaline gave you the confidence to speak.

“I want it inside me,” you whispered against his ear. “Please, Curtis, I want you inside me.”

You swung your leg over to straddle him, pushing yourself up off of his chest. He whispered your name with shock as you lifted your tattered dress and pulled it over your shoulders.

“Touch me,” you begged. “Didn’t you want to? I wondered if you did. I wondered how your hands would feel…” you trailed off as you grabbed his wrists and guided his hands to your waist. They were strong and rough, and so hot against your skin that you thought you might just burn up right there. He moved them on his own then, sliding them up to your breasts which he gently grasped. You sighed a little and melted into his touch.

His thumbs teased your nipples, which were already hard and alert. You tried your best to suppress your moans, aware that many other passengers were sleeping nearby. Secretly, the idea that they would hear Curtis pleasuring you was almost titillating. You hoped it would make them all jealous.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered, “and… smooth…”

“Did you long for me?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“Yes,” he finally admitted, “yes, I wanted you. I want you now.”

You reached down and grasped his cock again, guiding it to your wet, swollen opening. He made a noise that sounded something like a whimper and a groan as the head of his cock moved through your folds.

As you sunk down, you tried to ignore the burn of his cock stretching you open, though a pained whimper escaped your lips.

Curtis’ hands gripped your hips tight enough to bruise as you slowly took more and more of him into you. His head fell back with a groan, lost in the way your walls gripped him tighter than he thought possible. In that moment, he wanted more than anything to hold you close and never let go.

You shivered as your hips met his, feeling full in a way you could’ve never imagined. It still stung as he forged a new path inside you, moulded you to his shape, but you didn’t mind because it was him.

You were so weak that you struggled to lift yourself on top of him, but he gently guided you to lessen your load. Your body adjusted to him rather slowly, and every time you rocked your hips made you hiss with discomfort along with the sparks of pleasure burning through your gut. Even when it hurt, you wanted more; if nothing else, the noises of his restrained ecstasy spurred you on.

Leaning down, you laid yourself on his chest so that you could hear him better, and him you. His arms wrapped around you and you felt small; normally, feeling small meant feeling weak, vulnerable, scared… but in his arms, it was wonderful. You felt vulnerable, yes, but protected.

Your name tumbled from his lips like a whispered chant as you moved on top of him, and you whispered his name back. The way his cock rubbed against your insides felt so good that you couldn’t even remember that it hurt before, but then again, you couldn’t remember anything from before right now and you didn’t want to.

Your moans got louder and louder, though they were still relatively quiet, but either way they were like music to his ears, sweet and soft and all for him-- just like you.

“S-stop,” he groaned, “you have to stop.”

“Why?” you gasped, feeling a little guilty for not instantly obeying, and yet too lost in pleasure to stop moving your hips.

“If you don’t stop, I’ll come,” he explained breathlessly, “and you could get pregnant.”

You bit your lip, feeling your face warm with an emotion you were sure you hadn’t experienced before. “What if that’s what I want?”

“Fuck,” he sighed.

“What if I want you to come inside me? What if I want to have your baby?” you continued.

You managed to suppress your yelp as he grabbed you and flipped you both over until you were on your back and he was hovering over you.

“Is that what you want?” he asked with a low growl.

“Yes,” you gasped, “Curtis, it’s all I ever wanted.”

“Fuck,” he moaned, pulling back and thrusting into you again. He lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders, nearly folding you in half as he fucked into you so deep that you could scream. You didn’t, but you wanted to. “Gonna fill you up so good… you’re gonna be so full,” he promised, “you’re gonna be mine.”

“I already am,” you promised, “I always was.”

He leaned down to dominate your lips with a searing kiss, fucking you deep and slow but with an increasing ferocity. Each thrust was harder than the last until the most prominent sound was the slapping of skin, your arousal so prominent that it was beginning to leak and drip down your thighs and ass.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he growled, right against your ear.

“You,” you moaned, “I belong to you, Curtis.”

“Fuck yeah you do.”

You gripped his arms tight as you felt your walls spasming with your orgasm-- it was unlike anything you’d felt before, even though you’d touched yourself plenty of times up until now. Already you knew you were going to be addicted to this feeling. Poor Curtis; you were going to be begging him to fuck you day and night if this was how good it felt.

The tightening of your body around him, and the way you bit down on your lip to keep from screaming with pleasure… it was all too much for him to hold back any more, and with a stuttered groan he spilled himself into you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into another kiss. He relaxed on top of you as he reciprocated, both of you basking in the glow of the moment.

“Don’t pull out yet,” you pleaded as the kiss ended, “just hold me a little longer, won’t you?”

“Of course,” he smiled softly, placing one small, delicate kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Did you really want me for so long, like you said?” you pressed, remembering what he’d said and fearing it was just a sweet nothing in the heat of the moment.

“You have no idea how long,” he sighed. “I dreamed of this; of you being mine.”

“Was it everything you imagined?”

“And more,” he assured with a soft laugh. “Best hundred rations I ever spent.”

#how did this turn out so fluffy??? lmao #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #ehhh that's enough tags right?#shamelesshoesforchris

763 notes · View notes

kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 4 years

Text

i.changkyun / reader

genre: yandere!changkyun, librarian!reader (sex worker!changkyun)

warning(s)!!!: clubbing, mentions of sex/sex work, obsessive behavior, stalking, ‘love at first sight’ but messed up, masturbation (male), implied violence/murder, manipulation, changkyun plays the nice guy role but isn’t, changkyun is also pretty messed up (oops), y/n is oblivious to an astounding degree, implied drugging, chains/collars, confinement, kidnapping

w.count: 12.3k

Series | One-shot | Two-shot | Drabble [Rated: M]

synopsis: im changkyun is a prime sex worker at a local club. nothing gets his pride swelling more than any poser off the street willing to come into his club and pin bills between the elastic of his fishnets and skin. what he finds more exhilarating than any show, pole climb or heated one-night stand, however; is the one sober woman sitting among her group of wasted friends in a velvet, vip booth. he’ll do anything to know everything about her; putting on a friendly smile was only the first step.

a/n: you can blame DAZED for this mess (hi, just in case you need a reminder, this is purely fiction and not at all who changkyun rly is as a person. nothing about this is okay in irl)

This was nothing new. This was just the way his life always played out. An exhilarating erotic number on a stage with a pole, fishnets and teasing personality followed by the highest bidder to continue his line of work in a more secluded section of the club.

Fantasia Dyed may have been a newer club against its competitors that have been around for years, but the workers and staff inside raised the bar previously set. While clubs can be shady to begin with, what with the use of alcohol at every turn, murmurs of drugs, and agreements to met up for a quick money job- Fantasia Dyed had a reputation of the best line of sex workers you could get your dirty hands on. If you had the money, that was.

Im Changkyun was the front man of that line up. Wanted by men, women and anyone in between- if you had the cash he demanded for his services, he was yours for the night. He had no qualm so long as you paid and used the protection he required to keep your own STIs to your damn self. He really wasn’t picky, and he never stopped to ask himself as to why.

So, this- crawling out of some random woman’s creaky, box spring bed and pulling on the clothes he had lost earlier- was nothing new. He looked over his shoulder as he ran his black painted fingers through his blond hair.

The woman was passed out, a fuzzy, brown blanket covering her body as Changkyun turned away from her. Throwing his shirt back on, flinging his jacket over his shoulders and thrusting his arms through the sleeves, he shimmied on his black skinnies and boots. Grabbing his abandoned black, clutch bag from the stranger's couch he unclasped it to look at the envelope of bills he had received just hours earlier from his ‘client’.

Throwing himself on the couch, he crossed his legs and counted the bills, smirking when he was adamant he was paid in full- with even a small service tip he assumed- to cover over his asking price for the night. Satisfied, he got up and left that small apartment he had stumbled into.

It was only when he entered his own home- the top floor penthouse of some wealthy building- did he wonder just for the briefest of moments if he was truly satisfied.

-x-x-x-

“Y/n, if you don't come with me to Fantasia like you promised you would 2 years ago when it opened now that I finally have the money and the chance for my birthday, you’re being grounded.”

You, who was busy replacing books that you had been wheeling around on your return cart back on the shelf, had the lovely company of your best friend sitting behind you at a library table as you worked. She’d been going on and on about her birthday plans and while you were happy she was excited about them, she was adamant on adding you to the attendee list.

Maybe it was cliche, but the oh-so-thrilling life you lived as a librarian of your local public library painted a rather ‘stay at home’ picture of you; and that is exactly how you wanted it. The whole reason you took this job opportunity was because the head librarian noticed you come in every other Wednesday for a new list of to-reads to rent and offered a position after she got to know you a bit better.

Had you had the choice, you’d stay cooped up in your house with a good book, a nice warm drink, a rainy day and peace and quiet for the rest of your life. But, of course, that was a fantasy. Your social life was barely breathing, with Halie-the insistent best friend behind you- being the center of your social solar system.

You were a prime recluse, you didn’t even keep in touch with your parents as often as you should since they were so utterly upset you were throwing so much ‘potential’ away when you decided to be a librarian instead of going into some out of this world career field.

You had Halie and Halie had connections with just about everyone ever. She was easy to adapt to personalities and was generally kind to anyone she meets unless they’re rude first. She was a prime example of a modern ‘dream girl’ that people had. Though, she was still your friend no matter who she is with anyone else.

Was that naive of you?

“Y/n, I’m telling you, you’ve gotta cooooome,” she whined. Sitting backward in her chair, leaning back and pulling on the back of the chair. You sighed, pushing a spine of a book into its rightful you had just mapped out. “Please,” she begged in a pathetically, high pitched voice.

“If I go, will you stop whining?” You asked with your back still towards her, but you could practically see the smile on her face with the small, over-dramatic gasp she let out. You almost immediately regretted your choice, and wished you could take it back. You knew Halie wouldn’t let it happen though. You’ve spoken and now her selective hearing will kick on and she wouldn’t hear you even if you changed your mind.

“So, you’re going?!” She screeched as you turned around and shushed her. She was in a library. With a few more accepting statements from you solidifying your attendance to her birthday, she left happily as you finished stocking your shelves in dread before sitting behind your check-out counter with the same dread- only 10x stronger.

You watched the time tick by on the computer screen at work, the watch around your wrist on the way home, the hanging clock on your living room wall and the alarm you set on your phone for 9 pm when you were set to get ready. Time passed far too fast for your liking- you couldn’t even squeeze in a nap to help the nerves.

Before you knew it, you were walking out of your home, locking the door behind you with the only acceptable club outfit you could think of as you made your way to Fantasia Dyed, texting Halie that you were dreadfully on the way.

-x-x-x-

“Hey, Kyun! Take ten, dude!” Changkyun, who had just stepped down off of the high perched stage covered in sweat ruffled his blond hair that clung to his forehead in strands. He nodded as he grabbed his bottle of water, slouching in a nearby domed-stool.

One of his ankle high, black platform boots propped up on the stool’s ring with the other on the ground. The white tank top he had personally cut off to end at his rib cage and expose his stomach drenched in spots of sweat. Black skinnies clinging to his toned legs and his fishnets showing loud and proud through the open knees of his jeans and wrapping around the perfection of his waist. Having left his faux fur coat in the employee lounge for the night.

His dark eyes scanned the floor level he was currently occupying the best he could from his seat at the juice bar- for the lameizoids who wanted something non-alcoholic at his club. He glanced at the wristwatch strapped onto the inside of his wrist and checked the time. It was only just past 10 as he smirked.

The night was still young.

From not too far off in a different area than he was, he heard a small commotion starting to murmur. From the looks of what he could see over his sips of water and his bangs hanging in his eyes as he flipped them annoyingly out of his way over and over, it may have been someone’s birthday. Guest after guest going into the same area with the same woman in stockings and a cocktail dress hugging and greeting them.

A VIP birthday reservation; that did ring a small bell somewhere in the overbooked mind of the club worker. Perhaps it would pay off if he did some of his work within their sights. Birthday crowds almost always paid off in terms of after work lip service and bonus pay.

Stepping his foot off the lower ring of the stool he had been comfortably sitting on, he stood as he set his bottle on the juice bar. The tender at the particular unpopular drink selection area took it and tucked it away under the bar where Changkyun always asked him to put it so no one tried to get creative with it.

Walking around the venue area, he strutted by the lower ground VIP booth surrounded by thick, velvet ropes. Whoever this birthday diva was, she sure went all out to keep her and her group uninterrupted. A lower level 10 person booth, a table full of booze and a secure perimeter to keep outsiders rightfully out of her hair. Just from the set up, she must’ve been some spoiled princess.

However, what really caught his gaze was one particular woman. A woman dressed in a tank top, a cheap looking fake leather jacket and dark jeans. Perhaps not ideal for Fantasia’s club etiquette and whatever she was sipping on in her clear glass certainly didn’t seem like any alcoholic beverage to his trained eye. His pierced brow ticked up as he walked fully by and the table of rambunctious party-goers left his sight around the wall.

“Must be a prude,” he murmured but somehow, he almost felt guilty when the words left his mouth. He couldn’t fathom at all why. It stalled him physically as he stopped in his tracks for just a moment before strutting further away from the booth to scope out a good area to work his magic.

The moment midnight hit Changkyun was being flagged over by the absolutely smashed table he had passed earlier that night. The VIP birthday booth had confidently called him over. As he moseyed his way over, with a few of his coworkers already there to entertain the group, he was greeted by some drunken man hanging off his shoulder.

Among the group of drunk or passed out party goers, there was the same woman from earlier who still seemed completely sober. Changkyun raised his eyebrow as he shook the man on his shoulder off as he stumbled around and clung to the next nearest bod. He walked over to your side and sat himself down beside you on the velvet booth.

Crossing his legs, he watched you flinch when he plopped himself down, his elbows rising to rest on the back of the booth, his hand hovering close to your face. He sure made himself comfortable. He had to admit though, as you sipped on yet another refill of something nonalcoholic, you were pretty easy going on the eyes.

“You sure don’t seem like you’re having any fun, lady,” he chided as he lifted one arm off the back of the booth to push his hair back out of his eyes for only the millionth time that evening. He heard you nervously chuckle beside him and something about the sound of it stirred pleasantly in his chest.

“Well, this isn’t exactly my scene,” you told him. Your voice was soft like Christmas bells, but it erupted in his ears, making the background of sounds and voices and bass all drown out. He was solely focused on your lips and the sound they produced when you spoke he couldn’t hear anything else.

“Not your scene, but here you sit in mine,” he teased as he smirked at you. You tapped the side of your glass that had become a slipping hazard from it’s condensation. Changkyun looked at the friends around you who seemed to be having the time of their young lives. “You’re friends seem to be enjoying themselves.”

“Well, they go out a lot. I really don’t like these kinds of places,” you told him before you looked at him with a slightly apologetic smile. “No offense.”

“Club scenes aren’t for everyone, I understand that. If you hate it so much, why did you come here?” He asked as you sighed, dipping your chin. He felt a small spark of panic rise in his throat as he saw you suddenly even more forlorn than you have been. Did he put that look on your face by asking your dumb questions?

He mentally halted himself, once again wondering why it affected him so much what you did and did not like or how you acted.

“It’s my best friend’s birthday so she pretty much begged me to come with her tonight,” you lifted your head and looked over to where she was, downing yet another shot. You’d have to remember to book a cab for her to go home- if she doesn’t go home with the staff member she keeps clinging to. “I probably won’t stay much longer since she pretty much forgot I’m even here,” you pouted.

Changkyun’s eyes swelled at the precious pout to your lips as you whined about being forgotten because you were sober and weren’t partying like an animal. What was wrong with him?

“Do you like coffee?” He suddenly blurted out. He couldn’t stop the words from forcing their way out of his mouth before his brain could functionally filter them or even stop them. He gulped when you turned to look at him in the eyes for the first time that night. Maybe it was the neon lights in the club or maybe it was the dim atmosphere that made them so enticing to gaze into, but he was locked in your gaze- unable to break away from you. His jaw nearly dropped open as he explored the color of them surrounded by the club's aura.

“Coffee?” You asked in clarification. He just clamped his teeth together before nodding once. “Well, I’m not the biggest coffee fan in the world, but I like teas’ and I can handle a frappe if I’m in the mood for it.”

“I get off at three,” he told you as he desperately tried to keep eye contact. “If you find the stomach to hang around another three hours, we can get some?” He pitched as his voice that was normally always confident- as it should be for his line of grade-a work- shook just slightly with the booming club bass.

Your eyes shifted when he put the offer out there, and he started to internally panic. Would you say no? Would you politely decline him and try and carry on like he never said a word? Or would you turn him down and leave? Then, it hit him. You were in a club; a club popular for sex work and Changkyun happened to lead that gaggle of workers. It’s pretty damn obvious you were assuming he had some ulterior motive. For once, he didn’t.

He dropped his elbow from the back of the booth as he turned towards you slightly, scooting forward to the edge of the booth seat.

“I don’t mean to hook up or anything,” he clarified, “I just want to get to you know, so I wanted to get coffee at an ungodly hour.” The hands he waved around to try and help convince you quickly settled onto his jean torn, and fishnet covered lap. “If you want to.”

You sat and considered his offer. It was Saturday, and the library was closed on Sundays so you could technically afford to be out later than you typically would. And a late night chat with someone other than your wasted party of friends did sound tempting. He seemed kind enough, even with his get up and the flashes of a performance you had glimpsed earlier with him on the lifted stage and poles. You should never judge a book by it’s cover, just because he seemed like someone who slept around all the time, didn’t mean he was a bad guy, right?

You smiled at him and his breath left him in one fell swoop. It was like your smile materialized into a pro-boxer and just gut punched him. And he loved it.

“A three am frappe sounds great,” you told him. He smiled back wider than he knew he could. He thanked you before he excused himself to go back to work. However, before he went back to the floor, he practically sprinted into the single employee bathroom and locked himself inside.

He slammed his back against the door as his knees wobbled and he grew weaker. His breath was staggered as his chest heaved in unsteady shudders. His fingertips shook and he had shivers running up his back from the memory of your eyes and that smile. He started chuckling to himself in the empty bathroom as he felt his cheeks flush.

God he felt so euphoric in the moment, it was practically erotic. Whatever was wrong with him, he started questioning if it was really wrong if it made him feel so good.

-x-x-x-

It was ten till three in the morning when Changkyun did one last check to make sure you hadn’t left yet. Almost your whole party was passed out, had gone home by cab or with someone else at this point. The club was nearly ready to shut down for the night as they started to chase people out. You saw him peek around into the VIP booth area as you smiled and waved to him reassuringly. That same tightness coiled in his chest as he rushed to the employee locker room.

A fellow pole dancer who was peeling off his skintight, laced finger-less gloves perked an eyebrow up at the rushing blond. He hadn’t seen the worker so eager to get out of there before.

“Some kind of big surprise waiting for you outside those doors or something, hot stuff?” He asked. Changkyun shook his head, too busy searching for his clutch behind his fur coat so he could meet up with you. Yanking on the furry sleeves that felt almost too warm all of a sudden, he snatched the no longer hidden clutch from his locker shelf and slammed it shut.

“Something better,” he breathed in promise to himself more than his coworker as he jogged out, his long coat bouncing off the back of his knees. He came out of the room, seeing you standing and in the company of a different worker who was still relatively new to Fantasia Dyed. A rookie at best and his eyes hardened as the man spoke to you.

Leaning far too close to you, breathing too close to you and smiling far too seductively at you. He was clearly looking for a bed to crash in, but Changkyun hated it. Loathed it even as he felt his lips pull back in a grimace mimicking a defensive mutt. He stomped towards you and inserted himself between the nuisance and yourself.

Pushing his palms against the worker’s chest, he harshly shoved him backwards and took a few steps back himself towards you. He felt like he was on fire, feeling you standing directly behind him. He thought he could feel your warmth radiating onto his back like sun rays and it almost made him sweat. He felt torn between feeling ecstatic that you were so close to him or completely pissed off at the man who stood shell shocked after being pushed away.

“She’s taken already,” Changkyun growled. He shocked even himself with his tone, something coiling further and beating in his chest so violently he swore he felt his chest jerk forward with each beat of his heart.

The coworker raised his hands. “Chill out, man. ‘Didn’t know she was yours.” Something ignited the coil in Changkyun’s chest and sent sparks in his mind at the man's words. His? Yes… that sounds exactly right.

It sounded blissfully perfect as the man walked off and the blond turned around to see you and properly escort you out of Fantasia Dyed. He watched your back as you left in front of him- ladies first- and he let a grin crawl across his face. Unaware of how his eyes looked as they burned into the silhouette of your body.

His.

Changkyun led you out of the club, but neither of you expected it to be raining at three o’clock in the morning. You gasped as you instinctively brought your hands up above your head. You were wearing makeup and if it got wet, it was all over. Changkyun was quick to rip the coat from his shoulders and sling it around you. It had no hood, but he placed the collar of it above your head as you grabbed the edges of it to pull it around your body.

He nearly gasped when his finger brushed your hand, handing off his coat before he was pulling his keys from his clutch and pushing buttons to unlock his car that was parked just around the corner on the side of the building. He reached around your shoulder and started directing you in the rain.

It was only when he sat you in his car, nice and dry, when he ran to get into the drivers sid, slam the door shut, start the car and crank the heat to get rid of the wet shivers you had due to the rain, did he realize he had just touched you again. Although his coat was under his arm, so were you as you ran through the rain. He had to contain yet another delightful shiver.

You shimmied the coat off your head to around your shoulders before you pulled it out from behind you and placed it on your lap as you pulled the seatbelt across your chest. You looked at Changkyun who was already looking at you, but flinched and started fidgeting with his wheel and knobs for the radio in his car to distract himself.

“I didn’t realize there was rain in the forecast this morning. I wouldn’ve have brought an umbrella.” You briefly blessed the idea that Changkyun asked you out because you had taken the bus and walked the rest of the trip to Fantasia, so getting home would have been a long walk considering the buses don’t run at three freakin’ am.

Changkyun cleared his throat, whipping his blond, wet bangs out of his face and onto the top of his head, clearing his forehead as he shifted out of park.

“So,” he started, “where do you want to go?” You tossed ideas around in your head and it was so early, hardly any place would be open except the occasional fast food place or gas station. Offering him the choice between an open, probably dead lobby for some fast food or grabbing a drink and hanging in the car in the rain, he was driving off to the closest food location.

As nice as it sounded being secluded in a car with coffee and the sound of rain, he wouldn't be able to look you in the eyes as you spoke as well.

Changkyun took you to the place he would often stop for some after work food before going home or meeting up with someone. Because he knew the manager so well (and because the manager was always in store by three to start preparing for the staff to come in at six) Changkyun was allowed an early entrance.

Even though you offered to get your own drink, Changkyun wasn’t allowing you to pay for anything since it was him who asked you out. Besides, it wasn’t exactly expensive to buy some caffeinated drinks- especially since he got a special discount too. The manager who always got him his food or drinks ready at this hour was shocked to see him with company this time around.

Time seemed to become truly nonexistent to Changkyun as soon as the both of you sat down at a back corner table- away from anyone's eyes from outside as to not cause the manager grief if someone should come demanding entrance because Changkyun was inside. You both talked about anything and everything he could think to ask you to get to know you better.

He learned that you were a librarian and that you didn’t go to school- forgetting about any further education after high school because you weren’t sure what you really wanted to do with your life. He found out bits and pieces about your family situations- gathering that you weren’t close and that you had no siblings to speak of. Your friends were small in number and that you weren’t really close to anyone aside from Halie- the proffered birthday girl at the club.

He mentally thanked Halie for begging you to come to the club, considering if you hadn’t Changkyun would have never laid eyes on you.

In turn, he shared what he could in return for your stories. He had been working in the sex world for a few years now, quickly and unfortunately getting roped into it after a nasty breakup when he had just turned 21. When he realized just how desirable he could be, he started working out and eating better to keep his physique so business kept rolling in for him. He was actually scouted by the assistant manager of Fantasia Dyed to work there- but it was the pay and benefits that really dragged him in. He didn’t dislike his career, so he had no reason to say no anyways.

At least with Fantasia Dyed, he had benefits to get himself into the doctor if one of his clients ever lied and gave him some gross sex disease- then of course he’d sue them into the ground for not following his work guidelines. He told you about why he pierced his eyebrow and even the stories behind the tattoos on his back.

Oddly enough, despite your absolute opposite backgrounds, you both spoke and got alone brilliantly. It was a balance of lifestyles and Changkyun basked in everything you had to say. You didn’t shun him or sneer at his life as a sex worker and maybe it was the lack of disgust and prejudiced that really flipped something in his head.

You did not judge him. You did not hate him. You laughed at whatever joke he pitched. You blushed at whatever lame pick up line he slid into conversation. You groaned playfully at his equally playful flirting. You were making him fall and he did- hook, line and heavy sinker.

He was absolutely, unbelievably head over heels for you and he felt like he was on fire.

You both talked and talked until you had noticed that the sky started to change color and the rain had stopped. The sun was rising and you were suddenly overly aware of how exhausted you really were. Changkyun saw you stifle a yawn and although it felt like his heartstrings were going to tear in his chest, he was quick to get up and offer you a ride home as the manager started to truly open the lobby for business as nearly all morning staff were present.

As you sat in the car with him, directing him on what roads to take to get to your home, he found himself memorizing every turn. When you told him to keep it slow and then pointed out your small little apartment duplex, he looked at every crevice his eyes could see from the car window. The neighborhood was somewhere small, but there was a small park just across the block so he expected it to be fairly busy during the day.

As he bid you farewell, and watched you get safely inside before driving away, he struggled to contain his breath. When he rolled into the apartment parking lot and up to his penthouse, he was quick to lock his door and lift his coat to his face.

It smelt different than usual. It had your shampoo’s scent embedded into its fake fur. It had the smell of your perfume and the smell of you inside of it. He fell asleep that morning until afternoon with his coat curled around him instead of a blanket. That feeling of euphoria chasing him until he finally fell asleep- only to have a set of specific dreams involving you in one of his reserved back rooms at Fantasia Dyed.

-x-x-x-

Over the course of the next week, Changkyun did his damnedest to keep his eyes on you at all times he possibly could. He’d wake up in the afternoon and find a way to enter the library you worked at and slip into a corner behind a bookshelf with a book to disguise his obvious staring of you. When you’d leave the desk to replace books, he’d move to avoid your eyes, when you’d help a guest with their books to check out, he’d growl when it was a man that you smiled at. When you got off work, he’d trial behind you just enough to stay unnoticed. He’d watch you get home every afternoon and one night he even put a small camera on one of the fake branches of your fake bush you hand sitting in a pot on your porch.

He’d sit in his car or in his penthouse and watch the feed on his phone if it buzzed with a notification of movement. If you were leaving, he’d jump into action to try and find out where you were going if it was an unusual time. He’d watch you go to the store to shop or into some food place for something to eat.

He’s even seen you meet up with Halie a few times and each time he did, he hated that wench more and more. That obviously spoiled princess wasn’t good enough to be around you, acting like a typical romance villain and obvious snake. You were smart, so he was curious as to why you trusted her so much. She was clearly brainwashing you and keeping you around as a tool.

Changkyun had a mental list of enemies and people he hated, and she was ranked number one among that list- along with all the men he saw speak or flirt with you. He wanted to get them away from you, throw them out of the picture and clean your mind of their filth.

During his work hours, and after even, he’d still get randoms to get into bed with him- but his mind would be filled with everything about you. The person underneath him would disappear and your face and body and voice would take hold in his brain like some sort of spell. He’d fuck into man or woman with such fervor he’d be getting calls from his manager that he was requested for service back to back.

He hit euphoria and erotic highs with you just in his mind, he nearly came undone when he thought how it would feel actually fucking you. He’d go home from work, from another sex session and he’d lay on his bed, on his couch, sit at his table or collapse in his doorway and wear himself thin with his hand at the thought of your touch instead of his or someone else.

He sat on the cold floor of his front door entrance, his leather, skintight pants unzipped and cock slipped through the hole in his boxers. His hand squeezed his length as his fingers rubbed and pinched and squeezed around the head and slit. It was so dry as his hand slid up and down painfully on his shaft. His hips bucked to meet his hands motions and his legs twitched in their perched, spread position. His stomach was tight as his opposite hand came to pinch and twist his nipples- his shirt discarded as he slid down the door upon his entry earlier.

It was so dry- it was hardly enjoyable- but it was painfully erotic. He couldn’t stop and the precum leaking from his cockhead wasn’t nearly enough for his hand to not pull on the delicate skin making him hiss. Taking his lip between his teeth and breathing so heavily he stuttered, he watched his hand abuse his cock.

The hand that played with his nipples shot down to hold his wrist as he finished himself off, cumming with the sound of your name spilling from his lips in lewd, breathless moans. He lay on the floor, slouched and exhausted as cum stuck, drying to his chest and pants.

He was so utterly, disgustingly, blissfully obsessed with you and he felt like he was losing his mind. His mind was filled to the brim with you, you, you. He spent every waking hour he could preparing. Yes, he had to make sure that everything would be perfect for when you’d finally come to him.

You deserved nothing short of perfection- and Changkyun would fuck anyone, get paid anything and obtain whatever it was you desired to make sure you got exactly that. However, it would take time- much to his dismay.

He knew he had to get ready before he could possibly have you. He started cleaning out a room he used as storage in his penthouse and got to work.

It was ten days after your three am date that Changkyun decided to play innocent and ‘bump’ into you at work one day. He was impatient and couldn’t wait any longer to speak to you again, to hear your voice directed at him again and not at someone else.

He entered the library confidently that day, dressed in blue jeans, low heeled boots and a tee that was stretched just a bit at the collar. His hair unstyled and glasses on his nose with his clutch under his arm. He didn’t want to go over the top in style, so he tried to match your neutral style of dress.

He took a moment to look at you before he took a breath and walked up to the desk, placing a fake smile of shock on his face when you looked up to see him. He nearly fell to his knees when he saw your eyes shine and your mouth split into a smile and wave at him. If he could, he would’ve ran the rest of the way to the desk instead of walked.

When he walked at the desk, he leaned and laid his arms in front of one another on the desktop, bending and crossing his ankles together and grinned at you.

“Well, fancy meeting you here, madam librarian,” he greeted, acting as if he hadn’t been here daily for the past week just to see you work.

“It’s been a little bit, it’s good to see you Changkyun,” you said and he felt himself shift sinfully. “I’d ask you why you’re here, but it’s a library, so,” you chuckled at yourself. Oh, how he missed the sound of that laugh. “Did you come looking for something specific?” You asked as he jut his lip out in thought.

“Not necessarily. I just felt like cracking open a book, and what better place to start looking? It's a pleasant surprise you work at this library. It’s close to where I live.” That was true, there were two other libraries in town and this one was the closest to him. You hummed at him. “Could you recommend something to me?” He grew giddy when you smiled widely and stood from your desk chair and started to walk around the desk, motioning for him to follow you.

As you asked him what he liked and disliked, leading him down the isles and scanning book after book, keeping small conversation he wished he could push you against a bookshelf and have his wicked way with you. He knew better, however; you needed to be taken care of in a specific set of ways and against a bookshelf wasn’t it- tempting as it may be.

“Here,” you told him as you spun around and placed a book in his hands. As he took it, he quirked a small, teasing smile as he looked at you as if you were playing a joke on him.

“Twilight? Really, Y/n?” In his hand sat the book that sprung up the cheesy, cliche and overall, not so great movies he watched with one of his old friends for gags one night in his teens- completely drunk he may add.

“Hey, don’t judge a book by it’s cover- or it’s movies. It’s better than you think.” You shoved the book closer to his chest. “Just give it a chance, please?” When you ask so adorably with your lip jutted out just enough for him to fantasize leaning down to bite into it with his teeth, he had no choice but to comply. He’d read this book cover to cover, backwards even had you asked. He’d do whatever you wished.

He spent the afternoon halfway reading at a table near the desk and halfway watching you work until your shift concluded. When you were packing up, he scrambled to get his clutch and mark the page he had to reread over and over again because he couldn’t concentrate and rushed up and over to your side.

“Are you finished for the day?” He asked although he already knew the answer. You nodded as he touched your arm, grabbing gently around your elbow. “Do you want to go on a date with me?” He asked as he saw your cheeks grew in the most vibrant color of rose.

“I, uh,” you cleared your throat and rubbed the back of your neck with your free arm. “I’m not dressed for a date though,” you pouted. Changkyun licked his lips, desperate not to let you get away from him just yet.

“Then, tomorrow,” he pitched, “when you’re free tomorrow we can go out.” Tomorrow was Wednesday, and he knew that you always left work early on Wednesdays. He watched you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you licked your lips before rolling them over your teeth and then opening your mouth.

“I can do tomorrow,” you muttered, face fully flushed with redness flooding into the tips of your ears. He released your arm with a giant smile. He flicked his bangs out of his face as he felt his glasses slip just a bit further down his nose. He reached into his clutch as he dug out his phone and handed it to you with the new contact screen up.

“Let’s swap numbers then, and we can work out everything through the phone.” You didn’t hesitate to place your number into his phone before sending yourself a text with ‘it’s changkyun’ attached to the message. You promptly added him in your contacts as well. Offering you a ride home, which you took, he dropped you off and when he walked into his penthouse that afternoon he pumped his fist into the air. As well as stared at the palm in which held your arm earlier, gazing at it as if he had just touched the blessed body of a holy messiah.

As he sat in his living room on the couch, he felt himself harden in his sweats he wore before changing into his work attire. He had actually called in to take the night off since he had to be well rested for his date tomorrow. This hand had touched you, touched your skin. He was sure it would feel magnificent on his cock too.

-x-x-x-

Tomorrow didn’t come fast enough and Changkyun was bounding out of bed at the ass crack of dawn to figure out what he was going to wear. How would he style his hair? Would he fill all his ear piercings or change the stud in his eyebrow to a spike? Which shoes would he wear: sneakers, heeled boots, sandals? He couldn’t waste another second in bed, he had far too much to plan for the day to worry about sleeping any more.

He dove for his phone the moment he heard the specific notification he set for you. He talked to you a bit and you both decided on a time to meet up. Meeting up at noon for lunch and then he’d take you to a movie and then he’d walk around with you window shopping, talking about the movie you both saw and then he’d take you for dinner. That’s what he wanted to happen.

He showed up at the meeting place half an hour early. Wearing a black, white spotted button up tucked into a pair of black jeans with a thin, white belt around his waist, he adjusted the buttons at the cuffs of his sleeves. A simple, thin silver chain to show off his neck as his shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show off his collar bones. The heels of his shoes clacked just enough on pavement or tile to let people know he was coming.

“Changkyun!” He heard from behind him. He raised himself off the bench had had been sitting cross-legged on, staring at his phone and debating on texting you. He quickly spotted you waving to him from among the crowd of people on the hunt for lunch before their work break ends.

His mouth nearly dropped when he saw you. Running up to him with the cutest, apparel on.

A summer dress of pale pink with small white dots that wrapped around your chest and fell loosely at the skirt to hit your thighs. The sleeves off shoulder and sheer all the way down your arm until it wrapped around your wrist in sheere frills. Black, thin straps to keep it all up. A pair of white sandals that wrapped around your foot and ankle with the smallest heel to keep you from twisting your ankle. Hair done in two little buns on either side of your head, but still kept some down with a black, stretchy choker around your neck.

The pink, circular satchel at your waist that hooked over your shoulder probably contained your phone, wallet and the pink gloss that covered your lips as you came to stop in front of him. You were like a flower as he gazed at you. You quickly lifted your wrist to check the thin watch you wore, making sure you weren’t late. You weren’t.

“I hope you weren’t waiting here too long for me,” you giggled and he felt his heart try to burst from his chest. He shook off his stupor the best he could in front of you before he smiled and quickly denied it.

“I haven’t been here long,” he assured. You made a small jest about the both of you wearing something with small polka dots on it and he felt like he was going to fall to his knees at your noticing his attire and complimenting it. You were far too precious.

Throughout the day, he found out that you weren’t only exceptionally kind, but you were probably the biggest pushover he’s ever met. You’d follow after him like a little lost duckling and whatever he recommended doing, wherever he wanted to go, you were quick to agree and comply. With your ease of compliance, he was able to mentally go through the check list of plans he had set with little to no difficulty.

It was miraculous how easily you obeyed him.

Changkyun made note of everything your eyes lingered on, everything your fingers brushed, everything you expressed just the slightest interest in- he would remember. Changkyun wanted to spoil you, wanted to give you everything you desired- everything you deserved. You were an angel walking, cursed upon the earth and nothing anyone could say would change his mind about it.

The entire time you were out with Changkyun that day, you were smiling at him as he hung onto every one of your words. Every interest, every detail, every idea or opinion you had- he grabbed it and held it deep inside his chest.

It was coming close to around ten that night when he was finally getting around to dropping you back home, as he could see the exhaustion in your eyes and the slowness in your steps. He had half a mind to just drive you back to his home, but he couldn’t- not yet.

He walked you to your door as he bid you a final goodnight and as you unlocked your door and pushed it open just a crack, you turned back to him and smiled. He froze when he felt your fingers on his cheek before you stood to your toes and kissed his cheek. You rushed inside before he could say anything and before you could regret it.

The blond sat dazed and only managed to drive a block away before he pulled into a parking lot of a closed, daytime store. His cheeks were flushed, his skin burned and his breath was staggered. He could still feel the feeling of your lips on his cheek and that shiver of delight attacked his spine and spread until he was finishing himself off in the front seat of his car- the sound of your name on his lips over and over again as his fingers brushed his cheek trying to feel the essence of you in his skin.

-x-x-x-

Changkyun had the privilege of taking you out on two more dates over the course of the last two weeks (along with his library trips to visit you) and it was today, when he once again frequented the library- where he noticed you weren’t in your usual high spirits. He pulled you aside on your break and into a back corner library table as he made you spill your guts on what could be plaguing your mind.

It took all of his will power to not scream when you told him you had been being harassed by some library guest who always comes in. He always wants the same book renewed over and over and he always tried to pry your number out of you. Even after clearly telling him no and explaining to you that you were traveling among the silver lining of a relationship with Changkyun- he was persistent. It came to the point you were looking over your shoulder and even jogging to and from work.

“So, he’s stalking you?” Changkyun clarified, as you nodded weakly. He grit his teeth, his jaw tightening. Didn’t other people know that his woman was off limits, especially when it came to following you around? He kept you under his watchful eye, but these men were after something far worse and in his sick, demented mind- they were the offender and they were a disease.

Changkyun reached across the table and gently held your hand, trying to convey that he knew that you were scared and that he’d do anything to keep you safe. He could see the tears glisten around your eyes and a taboo sense of arousal shot in his stomach at seeing your so utterly weak and vulnerable.

He spent the remainder of the time with you on your break as he consoled and shushed you as he promised that he’d stay until you got off and when you did, he’d take you home. You were quick to agree.

That afternoon you rushed to Changkyun’s side and were discreet to point out the man who was hanging outside the library entrance with his nose in his phone. According to you, that was the perpetrator and source of your fear. You clung to Changkyun as he gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders and held you to his chest, walking out with you.

When he dropped you off and kissed the top of your head as he sent you inside, the gentle eyes he had been gazing at you with disappeared as you shut the door and he heard it harshly lock.

Turning around and stuffing his hands inside the pockets of his jeans, he waltzed back towards his car, but never got into it. His dark shirt allowed him to dip below the hood of his car as he started walking around in the shadows the street lights created. He stood behind a post as he watched the figure move from the side of the building to the front porch where he crouched below the windows.

You had pulled the curtains and shut the blinds just as he had reminded you to as he was quick to walk up behind the stalker and hook his arm under the man’s chin. The gasp that was pulled from the man was cut off as Changkyun’s arm tightened around his neck and he started to quickly drag the man backward and away from your doorstep.

The blond shoved the man into the backseat of his car, slamming the door as he quickly rushed to get into the driver's seat. Not bothering with his seatbelt, he started the car with tangible rage and started off.

“What the fuck, man!” The man from his backseat scowled as Changkyun only reached into his center console and pulled out a small, black handheld device, pressing the button on the side of it as it zapped. A stungun. The man in the back hissed as he instinctively shut up.

Changkyun’s aggressive driving made the man in the backseat fall back and forth along the seats before he finally gripped the passenger chair to steady himself. Changkyun drove and drove until he was well outside of city limits before he stopped and parked his car. He peered up into the rear-view mirror, seeing the man behind him look around anxiously.

“Get out,” the blond ordered as he stepped out of his car. The man didn’t move, too shocked to process his words and was then yanked out by his shirt clad shoulder when he didn’t listen quick enough for Changkyun’s liking. The club worker threw the man on the ground as he rolled to his back just quick enough for Changkyun to stand over him. His feet on either side of his hips, a glimmer in his eyes that was menacing to witness- even in the darkness of night.

The man on the ground shuddered as he weakly tried to crawl backward on his elbows. His heels kicked and dug into the ground, threatening to pull his shoe off, as he tried to get away from the look in the blond’s eyes.

Changkyun’s foot came to the center of the man’s chest as he stomped, pushing him flat onto the ground. He knelt, coming closer to him as he gripped the collar of his shirt. Changkyun eyed him around- he certainly wasn’t a looker that's for damn sure.

“You really thought you had a chance?” He asked lowly, almost in a growl. “I’ll offer you a bit of last moment advice for perhaps your next life,” he got closer to the man’s ear, before telling him something. “Stay away from things that don’t belong to you,” he seethed.

Over the course of the next few days, Changkyun was delighted to see you smiling again when you told him that the man who had been stalking you seemed to finally leave you alone.

He made sure that a week later when he saw missing person posters out in the streets, your eyes stayed off of them.

-x-x-x-

After a month of dates, library visits, phone calls and good morning and good night texts, Changkyun was finally- finally- able to call you his girlfriend. He was currently out with you at some cafe where you wanted to stop and get something to drink and he decided to walk in and sit down with you for a while.

You were on your phone, tapping away before placing it down and repeating. You were obviously talking with someone on the other end of your text thread, which already ground his gears, but the twisted brow on your face made him more curious than not. Someone was upsetting you and he already knew how to deal with someone who upset you.

“Hey,” he called, gaining your attention. You looked at him, placing your phone back down. “Who’re you talking to, Sweetness?”

“Oh, just to Halie,” you told him. The name of your ‘best friend’ making his skin itch. That fake fraud of a friend couldn’t even leave you alone while you were out with him? The audacity of the woman made him jittery. His knee began to bounce as he pressed further.

“Are you two fighting? You look annoyed.”

You sighed, solidifying that she was indeed bothering you. “She’s mad that I’m out on a date,” you grumbled. Changkyun cocked his head.

“Excuse me?” His resentment slipped out just a small fraction as he wanted to know immediately what this witch was putting into your precious little head. “She’s mad at you for what?”

You groaned again, placing your elbow on the table and your chin in your palm, you huffed. “I think she’s just upset that I have a boyfriend before she does since she knows more people.” The tone in your voice made your annoyance apparent to Changkyun who had spent the last month of his life learning every little quirk in your day to day life- including your vocal tone. “She’s got a whole list of friends and while I have just enough to count on one hand, she's mad about my relationship.”

Changkyun watched you toil the situation around in your head, trying to justify her words and actions, but he couldn’t let you do that. This was a prime opportunity. The perfect time to finally get that wench out of the picture and away from you.

He reached across the table where he sat in front of you, careful not to knock into your drink.

“Darling,” he cooed, gaining your teary, stress filled eyes, “maybe you shouldn’t be talking to her.” He watched your brow quirk and turn inwards at his suggestion. He readjusted his grip on your hand, holding it tightly. “If she’s so angry about something like us, then maybe you should go on a little break at least.”

“But-”

“I know she’s your friend,” he fought back before you could try and save Halie’s snake skin, “but every time you talk about her with me, it’s all things that stress you out or things she’s done that make you uncomfortable.” He vividly remembers the club night of her birthday. “Pressuring you into clubbing, then not paying attention to you at all even though you weren’t enjoying yourself. Never talking to you unless she needs something or someone to bother. Now, she’s angry because you’re happy with me? She’s just using you, Sweetheart.”

“I know she seems bad, but-”

“Y/n,” he breathed in a small, soft scolding tone. “You can’t keep defending her and giving her what she wants. She has to learn, one way or the other.” He watched your lips turn into a pout as he ran his thumb over your knuckles and brought your hand up to kiss the back of it. “I just want the best for you, you know that.”

He bit back a victorious smirk when you told him that you’d take his suggestion and advice to heart and think about it. A little more nudging and you’d drop Halie like a hat. He just had to wait until she brought something else up again that put a target on her back.

It didn’t take but three days for that to occur.

You were home, off on a Sunday, just sitting in your home, on the phone with Changkyun while he just woke up from resting since he had work at Fantasia Dyed that evening. He had some private show booked up so he couldn’t afford to flake out either. He needed the cash for his personal project he always teased, and this coming party was sure to deliver.

You both were chatting happily until you were cut shut but someone pounding on your door. You told Changkyun to hold on a moment as you set your phone down on the arm of your couch and went to the door. Changkyun on the other hand went and immediately opened the camera footage of your front door he had from that camera in your bush.

He growled and jumped out of bed when he saw the back of Halie in the frame. Her arms were crossed and her leg was bouncing as she slouched. When you opened the door, her crossed arms flared out and she was clearly shouting at you from the hiking of her shoulders and the fact that he could hear her obnoxious voice through the call line.

He jumped out of bed. Nothing but sweats on as he threw on a jacket, leaving his chest naked before he was out of his penthouse, racing down the stairs and in his car on the way to your home. He kept the call live- as much as he didn’t want to hear her voice- so he could hear the venom she spat at you as he worked her way inside. Stomping around and screaming like the bitch she was.

When he showed up to your home and jumped out of the car, he finally hung the call up as he stormed inside, knowing the door was unlocked from Halie’s tempertatrum. When he came in, he saw you against the wall with your ‘best friend’ not a foot away from you still screaming at you like you were deaf.

He worked his way over before he was grabbing Halie’s shoulder, shoving her away and placing himself in front of you, walking back into your space until he felt your hands push on his shoulders. He glared at the party animal blonde in front of him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He seethed as she seemed taken aback by his language towards her- a lady.

“Excuse me?” She spat.

“I suggest you leave, or else I’ll make you leave.”

“You can’t make me do anything. This isn’t your home either. I’m just talking to, Y/n.” Changkyun stepped away from you, turning the woman around by her shoulders and started pushing her.

“Yeah? And you’re done now. Get out.” He told her, shoving her out the doorway once he worked her through the front room. Before she could fight back, he got close to her ear and told her one more thing before shutting the door in her face and locking. “Stay away, or I’ll make you.” The look in his eyes, the crazed dangerous gleam, made his threat very, very real.

When he turned back around, he saw you on the ground, curled up as you cried. He rushed to your side, rubbing your back and trying to get you to lift your head to look at him. He cooed when he saw your swollen eyes and fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here,” he shushed as you just wordlessly nodded with choked hiccups and sputters. You were seriously an ugly crier, but what could you do? Your best friend broke your heart.

Changkyun shifted to hold you to his bare, jacket clad chest as you cried and he shushed you.

“Don’t worry. You don’t need anyone else. I’ll always be here.” He promised.

-x-x-x-

All it took was one more month, and everything was finally falling into place for Changkyun. Halie had officially left your side, with one or two more scraps between him and her before she finally called it quits. And with the queen bee of your circle gone, the rest quickly fell apart and you were left with no one but Changkyun- as you should be.

He was in his extra bedroom, setting up his project more when his phone rang. He jumped to it, knowing it was you calling after you got done with your shift at the library. He had told you to call him when you had the chance, since he wanted you to come somewhere tonight.

“Hello, darling,” he purred into the phone, hearing you slightly chuckle on the other line. “Did work go well? No annoyances?” He asked and he knew that you’d tell him about the computers or the receipt machine or the squeaky wheel on the return cart; but you never knew that he really meant to know if you were being bothered by any other man again. “Well, if your evening is cleared up, why not swing on by Fantasia tonight?”

He heard you pause on the other side of the phone call as he was walking out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him. It was almost perfect.

“I’m not sure,” you drawled.

“I’m working the floor tonight, bar-tending for staff out sick. You can sit at the bar with me.” Your hesitation was loud and clear for him as he continued. “I’d really appreciate the company, but if you’d rather not-” he quickly heard you try and reconcile and save the conversation but agreeing to his proposal. You were a sucker for guilt trips. “Really?” He asked in faux concern as he grinned, throwing himself back across the length of his couch.

“Yeah. I’ll come, just promise that you’ll stay at the bar.”

“I’ll do my best. If I have to leave, just hide in the bathroom until I’m back,” ‘so that you won’t be in contact with anyone other than me’, he added silently in his head. You agreed and he said a quick goodbye before he hung up the call. He sat up and peered down his hall, picturing the door of his extra room. Soon, you’d be with him always.

It was an hour after his shift started and he had just served yet another waiting patron when he felt his phone buzz in the back pocket of his pants. He wore a mesh shirt at the bar that showed off his torso. His tattoo in the middle of his back was on display when he turned around. His eyebrow piercing was a black ring this evening and he wore silver hoops in his earlobes. His knee high, buckle punk boots lifting him three inches higher into the air.

‘I’m here, where do I go?’ Your text read with a nervous emoji beside it. He told you the location of the mini side stage bar and soon your head popped out from among the mass of alcohol driver party goers. As you got to the bar and slid into a stool in front of him, he leaned on the counter and whistled at you.

“Well, look who dressed up for me tonight?” He asked, a purr in his voice as your cheeks flushed. He recognized this get up, it was a piece he picked out for you one night. It wasn’t something he thought you’d ever wear out, since you were rather reserved, but he thought you deserved it anyway.

It wasn’t anything fancy, but even a simple, black cocktail dress with lace running up the sides of it and looping around your neck and back looked good when placed on someone as breathtaking as yourself to Changkyun’s eyes. He could faintly hear you clicking your heels together underneath you as they were hooked on the metal foot ring of the stool. The bracelet and earrings were a nice touch.

“I thought it was appropriate since you bought it for me,” you muttered, unable to look at him in the eyes. He chuckled since it wasn’t hard to guess why. His entire chest was on display to see with only lines of fabric separating his entire torso from being nude. He halfway wished he had gotten his nipples pierced when he was on the fence about it months ago just to see how you’d react to that.

He stood back up and turned his back and he could feel your eyes scan the tattoo that rested between his shoulders. Large and taking up a good portion of real estate on his skin. He smirked as he felt you stare, a shiver wracking up his spine just as it always did with you. When he turned around, he offered you a glass of water he had so neatly prepared for you.

“I know you don’t drink, sweetheart,” he told you as you graciously thanked him for the drink. Throughout the course of his shift, he was tending to people left and right. His charisma between patrons and ways of addressing person to person just by acknowledging how they seemed to looked amazed you.

You could never hope to be the people person he is. He was bold enough to get on stage, strip and get behind closed doors for his way of life. He was fearless in your eyes and you admired him for it. He had told you that he would stop sleeping around for money since he was in a relationship with you now, but you just told him it was alright.

You trusted him, and although the idea of him sleeping around did grind under your skin like ice and salt, you knew that was his job. He worked in this industry- the sex industry- so that was the end of it. He had started to dwindle down in client numbers though, never wanting to have the sex he was getting paid for last too long.

The clock struck midnight and Changkyun turned back to you the moment he had an opening to. He leaned over the counter and towards you again, just so he could talk to you clearly over the loud bass and whistling from the stage work.

“What do you say I make a drink for you?” He offered. You looked at your half empty glass of water he had refilled at least three times now. “Just one, I promise. It’ll be on me too. I just want my girlfriend to taste some of my work since I don’t get to work the bar often.”

“Well, when you say it like that,” you whined as he just chuckled and stood up, turning his back and started mixing. It was three minutes later when he was sliding a cocktail glass gently towards you. Inside sat a liquid of pink that resembled the color of pink lemonade, but you knew whatever was inside that wasn’t lemonade. “Voilà,” he told you. “That’s something new I’m trying out. You get to be the first to try it.”

His smile looked innocent enough to your eyes and as you started taking sips of it with a smile and a nod; however, you missed a sinister glint in his eyes. You complimented him on it and found yourself sipping on the drink, making it last until well after one since you didn’t want to have him make another. It was half after when Changkyun noticed you starting to sway in your stool seat.

He placed the towel he had in his hands on the bar before he rounded the bar to your side.

“Darling, come with me. You look like you’re about to pass out,” he chuckled. You couldn’t get your mouth to move or your voice to work as your mind was just as fuzzy as your eyesight. Were you really that much of a light weight? He took you back into one of his private rooms before he placed you on the bed. He sat beside you, brushing your hair from your face and running his fingers around your face, skin and shoulders down your arm. “Sleep. I'll come get you later,” he told you softly- the totally opposite tone of the smirk on his face.

You were in and out of it for the duration of Changkyun picking you up from the bed you vaguely remember placing you on. He picked you up and took you out of the room. The bass of the club had stopped and you only heard him speaking briefly with coworkers before he loaded you into his car.

It felt like he was taking you home as he removed you from the car again and heard the jingles of keys before a door was opened. You only remembered being placed in a bed before you felt him kiss your forehead and you were out for good.

You groaned as you were finally waking up. Your head hurt and you felt like your throat had sandpaper in it. You coughed lightly as you reached your hand up to rub your throat, but something was around your neck.

Feeling around, it felt like a collar or something. It was thick and leather, a small loop in the front of it. You also thought you felt tags near the loop that jangled. Groaning and moving among the mattress you realized that it was pitch black in the room. You were sure your eyes were open, but you couldn’t see a thing.

Sitting up, you felt around your body. Your cocktail dress wasn’t on you instead it felt like a nightgown was. Did you own nightgowns? IT feel off your shoulders to wrap around your chest and biceps with frills as it bunched around your thighs on the mattress.

Your head pounded as you rubbed your eyes. You moved to try and crawl from the bed when you felt something tug on your ankle. Feeling around, whatever was on your ankle was thick, cold and hard. At first you thought it was some anklet, but then you felt something protrude from the cold metal.

Pulling and tracing your fingers around it, you started to panic. It felt like a chain.

You got off the bed you were convinced wasn’t yours as you walked around like some cheap, budget-movie zombie in the dark room. You found a dresser first. Feeling around, you felt the knobs of the four drawers and on top it had what felt like boxes. Reaching further, you found the dresser had a mirror attached to the back of it.

Moving around in the opposite direction, you reached a closet door. Pull it open, you feel all sorts of soft fabric. Silks, satin, fur, cotton, linen- you felt all sorts of clothing.

You looked around the dark room in panic before you trusted your voice.

“Changkyun,” you called softly. You were going to call him again, but stopped short as you stepped on the cold chain that was around your foot. You screamed as you fell backward and before long, you heard someone padding up to the room and the door swung open.

You scrambled back, covering your face with your arms as you soon felt the foot of the bed push against your back, keeping you from going back any further.

“Sweetness, are you awake already?” Your arms that were up slowly lowered as you looked to the open doorway. It was so bright outside of the dark room, you had to squint from the stark contrast. Whoever was in the doorway sounded just like Changkyun, but- it couldn’t be. He walked closer to you. “Darling, can you talk?” His hand came to your throat, touching it with the pad of his fingers above the collar around your neck. “Are you thirsty? It has been half a day.”

You were speechless as Changkyun stood up from in front of you before he walked out of the room. You moved to your knees and looked around. The dresser and closet you found were indeed what you thought.

The bed was a canopy bed. A white frame with pink fabric hanging from it. The covers were red and white with a plethora of pillows at the head of the mattress. There was a rack of four wood dowels by the bedroom door, and three of them a different kind of leash, and the fourth had a pair of handcuffs.

The one window in the room was covered with black out curtains- you couldn’t tell if it was daytime or not outside right now.

Looking down now that you had the light from outside the room, you indeed did have a shackled ankle. You began to pull at it, the cold metal yanking around your skin- pinching and shafting it painfully. You hissed as your yanking was stopped by Changkyun shouting.

“Don’t pull on that!” He cried, dropping to your side to pull your hands from your shackle. “I need to put felt and fur on it before you can move around in it safely. It’ll ruin your skin, but bear with it for now.”

“Changkyun, what?” You squeaked. He smiled, but it was twisted in some sort of menacing light. Maybe it was the light from behind him into the dark room that made him look sinister. You felt yourself begin to tremble.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he told you, patting your head and tucking your hair behind your ear. “Changkyun will take care of everything. I told you to remember?” He caressed your hair, tracing his finger down your face and under your chin. He then moved to hook his finger through the hoop in your collar. “I told you, you don’t need anyone else. I’m all that you need. You are the princess, and this is your tower.” He flicked at the tags on your collar, one labeled ‘Princess’ and the other engraved with his initials.

He then reached to his side to the discarded glass of water he went to get for you earlier for your throat. He gently gripped around your neck and used the back of his hand to tilt your chin up.

The mixing of emotions in your eyes made him shiver and when you blinked out a small tear he gently moved to place his lips over it. The salty taste made him groan as he leaned back and kissed your nose to see your eyes glossy. He smiled at you as he brought the glass to your lips.

“Drink up, Princess.”

a/n: i’ve never ever written a yandere fic before in my life, and as my first try- i rly dont think i did all that bad LOL. Let me know what you think bc it’s very rare I post Monsta X fic content and I need to know if you guys are still into it ;n; (especially with Wonho’s debut days away and a fic for him in progress LOL)

#im changkyun #changkyun #monsta x #mx #changkyun x reader #i.m.#i.m. x reader #yandere!changkyun #yandere #yandere!changkyun x reader #changkyun x reader au #yandere au #changkyun fic #changkyun fanfic #changkyun fanfiction #tw

175 notes · View notes

yellowocaballero · 3 years

Text

Hunt!Tim: Five Times He Murdered Someone And One Time He Loved them <3

Just kidding. This is a fic set in my Roleswap AU, acting as a character study over the course of the series into...whatever the fuck was going on with that guy. I spent so much time and energy actually figuring out his arc and character that when I finished Solitaire I hadn’t said everything I wanted to say, so that’s why this exists. It’s...not funny at all. Tim takes himself far too seriously. I’m very sorry, there are almost no jokes in this. It just doesn’t work.

Content warning for story typical issues; but more explicit depiction of suicidal ideation, kidnapping and physical assault, just in general a very fucked up little dude, and gendered violence that is more explicitly discussed as a possible precursor to further violence. Rest under the cut.

“I’m going to fucking kill them!”

“Well,” Sasha said, tapping away relentlessly on her phone as she sat primly on his couch. During work hours she was always doing something mysterious on her laptop, and after work it was on her phone. She had once alluded to being the moderator of an improbable number of forums. She liked the power. “We could probably make that happen. It’s the Magnus Institute, it’s suspicious if nobody's dying. But four people at once may not be prudent.”

“I don’t care!” Tim yelled. He paced his living room in tight lines, turning sharply on his heel at the end of the room. It felt like he was bursting with pent-up energy and rage, sending his heartbeat thumping in his ears like a war drum. “They’re obstructing justice, withholding evidence from an investigation, probably acting as an accomplice -”

“I’m going to fucking kill them!”

Sasha’s head snapped up, eyes glinting at him behind the big glasses that she always hid behind. “So you do think they were involved in Gertrude’s death?”

“Who cares. They did something, they’re obviously guilty of whatever. Every one of them have rap sheets.” Everyone but that blonde woman, which seemed a little counter-intuitive. “We just have to find something.”

Sasha hesitated, just momentarily, and she carefully put her phone down. “You’re angry, Tim. It’s affecting your judgement. Remember when we talked about that? Deep breaths. Come on, in one and out two. ”

Tim grimaced, but Sasha was right. He stopped pacing, and at Sasha’s encouraging look he resentfully took a few deep breaths. It did make him feel better. His heart wasn’t thumping in his ears anymore. She was so good at calming him down. She was just so wonderful in every way.

Thinking about how great Sasha was effective in clearing his head, but it just highlighted how terrible those women were in comparison. No respect. It was disgusting.

“Thanks,” Tim said gruffly, eliciting a beautiful smile. He collapsed on the couch next to her, disgusted and frustrated. “We’re never going to solve this Robinson case so long as those women are in the way. I won’t tolerate any obstacles in getting justice.”

“I know, and that’s what’s brave about you,” Sasha soothed, clasping his shoulder gently. Her thumb worked into his shoulder, gentle and soothing. “But we have to do it quietly. We don’t just need them out of the way, we need information. I’ll work on the technological side. You can dig up an entire life online, trust me. But if they know any of the secrets about the Institute and the Archives, we have to press them. That’s your strength, Tim. You can get anything out of anyone, because you never give up.”

Tim turned his head and smiled weakly at her. “And your strength is that you’re always there for me.” Her eyebrow ticked, but Tim hardly noticed. “I’ll keep pressing. They can’t stonewall me forever. I have their boss’ address, I’ll just show up there.”

“He’s going to ask for a warrant -”

“Oh, who gives a shit, nobody cares.” Tim snorted. “He’s a pussy if he’s hiding behind those women, anyway.” At Sasha’s carefully arched eyebrow, Tim quickly added, “Coward, I meant coward.”

“So you do remember our conversation about being PC,” Sasha said, making Tim snort. Please. Those sensitivity training the department was always forcing on them was a joke. Tim laughed with the other guys about it afterwards. He didn’t know why Sasha was complaining; she laughed just as mockingly as the rest of them. But she just readjusted her glasses now, a sign she was a little nervous. “Tim, about what you said just before we left -”

“What about it?” Tim said sharply.

Sasha was silent for a minute, before adjusting her glasses again. “Nothing. Just - be careful, okay? People who get too close to the Magnus Institute end up dead.”

If only they would. But Tim grinned at her, bright and sharp, and Sasha hesitantly smiled back too. Tim’s conviction, his bravery, always seemed to make her feel better. Sasha thought too much. She rarely second guessed herself - that was why Tim liked her - but sometimes she just thought herself into twists. She needed someone like him to cut that Gordian Knot. “Don’t worry, Sash. The good guys always prevail.”

Tim would kill them. All he needed was a reason.

ii.

Tim had nightmares, now.

Not full ones. Strange, fragmented dreams that were quickly forgotten after he woke up. Most of the time. But not always. And they were so strangely vivid - as if he was really living that moment over and over again.

It was of that construction site. And of Danny, watching those murders and the corpses with a sick, fascinated smile. And of Tim, defenseless and powerless and trembling and weak, watching it all happen.

Sometimes there would be a man. Just once or twice. The man, who would always be wearing really stupid pyjamas that contrasted wildly with how attractive he was, would frown at Tim.

‘Hey’, Sims said, ‘aren’t you that prick?’.

And Tim would wake up, heart beating fast, thumping in his ears, afraid in exactly that same poisonous metallic way that he hadn’t felt since he was a child.

Tim was going to kill that monster.

****

On a Monday afternoon, Tim sat in the driver’s seat of his car, checking his gun.

Gun, check. Rope, check. Shovel, check. Lighter and gasoline, check. Axe with belt, check, just in case things went really south. Gag, check. Tim had no idea how many secret powers that thing had, he wasn’t taking any chances.

Monday was the only night that they all went home alone. It took two frustrating weeks of stake-outs to realize that. Since he had cornered that bitch Melanie she even walked home with Daisy, who apparently lived close by. It was worth it, though. She was finally feeding him useful information, even though Tim knew that she thought she was giving irrelevant information about what they really wanted. He gave most of it straight to Sasha, who was salivating over all of the puzzle pieces Melanie was casually dumping on them as if they were meaningless. Whatever. That was Sasha’s job.

She had been worried about him lately. Probably. Tim hadn’t really noticed. He was focused on the case. Tim was a perfectionist like that.

Finally, at 5:20, Tim saw the monster - Jon, whatever, he wasn’t scared of him - round the corner. He was a little hard to distinguish in the darkness, but that was why Tim had left the headlights on.

His heart was thumping, roaring in his ears. Tim was giddy with excitement and anticipation and thirst. Catching them wasn’t the best part, but this would feel so good. He had been vividly imagining the look of fear on the thing’s face for the past month, ever since he assaulted Tim. He just couldn’t decide how he wanted to kill him - he brought his nightstick just in case he wanted to bash his face in, but fire was practical and incredibly painful.

Showtime, Tim thought, as he opened his car door and stepped out. After Tim took care of this, he and Sasha would be safe. That was the important thing. He was protecting Sasha from that thing. That was why he did it, all of it.

Jon startled a little when he saw him, but his face was backlit from the headlights and his features were probably obscured. It wasn’t until Tim stepped forward, easily and casually, that Jon began the slight speedwalk of a pedestrian encountering a persistent panhandler on the street.

“Stop right there.”

Jon froze. Not as stupid as he looks, then. Still pretty stupid.

Tim walked forward until he was standing at Jon’s back, already silently drawing out his handcuffs with one hand.

“Detective Stoker,” Jon said, and Tim almost respected the way his voice didn’t shake. “I wish this was more of a surprise.”

Normally Tim appreciated a good intimidating monologue, but he could be more efficient right now. Besides, there was time for that later. Jon turned his head backwards slightly, trying to see his face - perfect - and Tim waited until he could see his expression before he jammed the barrel of his gun on Jon’s throat.

There it was. The expression that few people besides Tim had ever seen, that secret face of man that each person felt so few times in their lives if they felt it at all. The face of a man who knew he was about to die.

It was Tim’s little secret.

“Why -”

Tim bashed it over the head with the barrel of the gun, and it dropped on the gun like a lanky puppet with its strings cut. No use letting it finish a question.

Handcuffs, rope, trunk. Carefully just under the speed limit, barrelling out of London into the cold and emotionless woods. Turning on the stereo - some mindless Amy Winehouse song. Tim found himself whistling along with it, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

It wasn’t that Tim liked killing people, or even things that looked and begged and cried like people. But it was just something you had to do. Tim shouldered that burden, so innocent people wouldn’t have to. As a police officer, he had sworn to be the wolf that protects the sheep. That was Tim - that loyal and heroic wolf.

The thrill was overwhelming. That was why people had sex in public - that excited thrill over possibly getting caught. Not that he would, and even if he did Tim basically had carte blanche to handle his cases how he wanted, but he could. His skin was prickling, his heartbeat thumping in his ears. Saliva was pooling in his mouth, which he wiped off with one hand. Adrenaline did weird things. When he looked at the rear mirror inside the car to check on Jo - the monster, he saw the light of the headlights glinting strangely against his eyes, but in another second it was gone.

Tim didn’t have a ‘spot’ because that was fucking idiotic, but all of his dumping places had basically the same characteristics. You had to drive a while to get something really private. It took an hour, but they got to Chiltern hills eventually, and Tim was forced to squint at Google Maps to find the GPS coordinates he had planned out. It felt a little ridiculous to use Google Maps to find a burial spot for somebody but - well, life was weird.

When he stopped, he carefully took out the gag, the axe, the shovel, his own hunting knife, and dumped them in the spot he had picked out. He held the gag and holstered the hunting knife before carefully popping open the trunk.

Jo - the monster was awake. Which was fortunate; there was no fight when they were unconscious. He stared up at Tim with big brown eyes, all innocent and pleading, and Tim rolled his eyes before bending down to securely jam the gag in his mouth before grabbing him by his tied hands and dragging him out. The thing made a bunch of sad noises, and from the sounds of it he had wrenched a shoulder, but that wouldn’t be an issue in a few minutes.

The thing’s legs had clearly fallen asleep, and he stumbled onto the ground the minute Tim let go of him. He kept his eyes on Tim almost frantically, as if he could brainwash him by his eyes alone - could he? Could he? His eyes were fucking freaky.

Jesus. What if he could. Fuck, Tim barely knew anything about his freaky powers. But if he could brainwash via eye contact, couldn’t he -

No. Tim shook himself. That was the fear talking. Which shouldn’t exist. The fear should be gone. He had the thing bound and gagged at his feet, terrified out of its life, he couldn’t possibly still be scared of it. Fucking stupid. He was just cautious. That was caution. Tim was a cautious person.

Time for his favorite part, then.

Tim grinned lazily down at the thing, letting his white teeth flash in the lit headlights of the car. He hadn’t been able to sleep last night, writing all of this out in his mind. “Not so great on the other side, huh?”

The monster’s eyes widened.

Tim dragged him away from the car, not bothering to be gentle. He kicked and pushed on the ground, and although he was bony as hell the guy was tall and desperate, and Tim was forced to kick him down on the ground and draw his gun. He hadn’t wanted to draw the gun - they never fought and kicked and snarled and bit with the gun - but he wasn’t taking any chances here.

“I want you to know,” Tim said, friendly and warm, “that I’m doing this because I made a promise. On my badge and on my life, I protect the innocent from predators. I defend society from threats. There’s a corruption in the world, a sick and rotting infection, and it’s my job to tear it out. But I get no joy from this, okay?” He didn’t know why it was important that the monster knew that. It wasn’t like he was going to hold a grudge. The monster tried to sit up, but Tim kicked him again until he hit the ground again. Tim hated how he was shorter than him when they both were standing. He wanted to look down on him for once.

The monster was always looking down on him. With his little girl gang and his bestest buddies. With that - that moral superiority. He thought he was so smart and popular. Just because he could rip someone’s deepest secrets out of someone, he thought he was better. Just because he knew Tim’s worst fear, he thought that he had power over Tim.

Nobody did. Nobody had power over Tim. Not anymore.

“But you,” Tim hissed, “you, out of everyone I’ve ever killed - I’m going to enjoy you. You’ve crept into the lives of all those humans. You even got fucking Sasha telling me you’re not all bad. Is that what you do? Convince everybody around you that you’re a good person, when you’re a piece of shit inside?” His hand was trembling on his gun - that wasn’t in the script. Why was that happening? “Well, guess what. No matter how great you think you are, you will always be a monster.”

The handle of Tim’s gun was coated in sweat, making his trembling hand slide. Why? The gasoline and lighter were standing by his feet, ready to burn the body. His heart was thumping in his chest, not from anticipation and thrill - why? Why? Why?

“Tim, no!”

Tim, so focused on what he was doing, jerked so hard he almost fired the gun. He whipped around to the source of the voice, and found to his shock a familiar car and a familiar woman standing by it, face set in a fierce determination.

It was Sasha. Somehow, the sight of her was deeply wrong to Tim. She shouldn’t be here. Sasha should never see this. She knew, she had helped - always the finger pointing in the direction to unleash Tim - but she shouldn’t see it. He knew it wasn’t real to her, what he did.

“Sash,” Tim said weakly, hand drooping.

Jon screamed from behind his gag. He might have been calling for help.

“Put the gun down,” Sasha said coldly. She was just dressed in jeans and a messy t-shirt, as if she had come here in a great hurry. How had she kno - okay, Sasha knew everything, it was no surprise.

“Why? Sasha, what are you doing here?” Tim cried, in genuine confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that Jon is innocent of everything!” Sasha yelled, and Tim almost flinched back. “He didn’t kill Gertrude, he doesn’t know anything about what’s going on! Trust me, Jon and his team have nothing to do with any of this!”

“He’s a fucking demon, Sash,” Tim said incredulously. How could she take his side? How? “Don’t you remember what he did to me? How can you forgive that?”

“You’re not a saint either!” Sasha screamed - the first time Tim had ever heard her scream at him. He couldn’t believe this was happening. How had he lost control of the situation so badly? “If you kill him you will break his team.”

As if a single coworker nobody dying will upset anybody. “And how long until he attacks or kills his team?” Tim asked furiously. “They’re the biggest bitches I’ve ever met, but they’re human. Monsters hurt humans, Sasha. It’s in their nature. How long until he hurts someone else? How long until he hurts you?”

“If you kill him,” Sasha said, quiet and strangled and hurt, “I will never forgive you.”

Nobody had power over him - nobody, perhaps, save Sasha. She held his heart in his hands, ready at a moment’s cue to crush it or rip it out of him. He couldn’t bear her disapproving face, her quiet disappointment. If she didn’t love him, if she took that away - he wouldn’t have anything. Nothing would be left. He had to protect that love, protect her.

“Sasha,” Tim said weakly, “out of everybody, I thought you would understand.”

“I do. I’m the only one who will ever understand. That’s why you have to trust me.”

Maye that was the problem. Tim did. She was the only person he had ever trusted.

Tim flicked the safety, and dropped the gun.

Just to make himself feel better, he bent his leg back to kick Jon, but - but, for some reason, he didn’t. It just seemed so tiresome. What was the point? What was the point of any of this?

The point had always been to protect humans from the monsters. To protect Sasha. But Sasha didn’t want his help. What did he have now?

“Take him back to his house,” Tim said dully. He glared fiercely at Jon, whose face was falling in relief. “If you tell the police about this, nobody will believe you and nobody will care. If you tell anybody else about this, I’ll find you again and beat you half to death. Got it?”

Jon nodded fervently.

After that, it was all a blur. Sasha helped him up, took him to her car, and he saw her cut through his restraints once he was safely inside. Tim just gathered up his materials and dumped them in the trunk of his car, sliding into the driver’s seat and gunning the engine.

He drove home in a depressed haze, feeling worthless, feeling powerless, feeling exactly like Jon always made him feel.

His hands clenched on the steering wheel. If Jon didn’t know shit about what was going on - and Tim believed that, guy was fucking stupid - then who did? If Jon hadn’t turned into a monster on purpose, then who had turned him into a monster?

Elias Bouchard always gave Tim a bad feeling.

He’d collect some evidence. Give it a few weeks, then confront him. Bouchard would bend and crack. Then Tim would be free. Free of the Magnus Institute, free of how it made him feel.

He roared towards home, unsatisfied and angry, still afraid.

iii.

“Can you pass the rice?”

Tim silently passed Mom the bowl, staring intently at his own plate and silently shovelling potatoes in his mouth. Dad was doing his usual thing and just kind of squinting at his plate and chewing like a cow with cud. Danny was, from the outside, eating food like a normal person. Tim knew that he was vibrating with anticipation.

“So,” Mom continued, faux-brightly, “it’s been a while since you boys came home. Too good for your old folks, huh?”

The passive aggressive route - deal with the criticism, but if you bit back then it was ‘just a joke’. Favored tactic of Ha-eun Stoker.

“Sorry, Mom,” Danny said, one arm thrown over the back of his chair, utterly unrepentant, “work’s been hell lately. Big case came in, and if I want to be promoted to junior partner…”

Sure enough, Mom brightened right up. “Really! Tell us all about your case, Danny!”

Then they were off. Tim zoned out, blankly spooning gamja jorim into his mouth as Danny endlessly rattled off about his accomplishments and Mom cooed and aah’d relentlessly. Dad just chewed, occasionally grunting in satisfaction and approval.

Wow, the coveted paternal approval. Way to make them all jump through hoops for it. Tim rolled his eyes.

Unfortunately, he was caught. Mom turned her piercing gaze on him, smiling pleasantly with perfect teeth. Of course they were perfect; she had work done. All of the other women in the neighborhood do it, Tim, we should fit in. Oh, this necklace is just so in style, I saw Ms. Wallace down the street wearing it. Fucking lemming.

“What about you, Tim?” Mom asked. “How’s work going? Normally you’d be telling us all about your big arrests.”

Ah. The reason why Tim had done everything possible to avoid family dinner. They had this once a month, the only time they could all be assed to talk to each other, and Tim had jumped through hoops to try and escape.

Danny didn’t let him. This was way too entertaining to him.

He knew. Tim didn’t know how, but that was irrelevant. Danny always knew. He couldn’t lie and make up some case. Tim took a careful sip of his dak gomtang, stalling.

Finally, he said, “I took a new job, actually.”

Dad looked up from his plate. Mom’s jaw dropped.

“But you loved your job,” Mom said, for all appearances broken-hearted. “What happened?”

Danny leaned back in his chair, hands folded behind his head, grinning. “Yeah, brother. You loved that job, you’d never quit. What happened?”

“My work partner was caught and forced to sign an employment contract by a middle management stoner, blackmailing me into working with her so I wouldn’t get arrested by the police for my dozen murders.”

Everybody stared at him. Tim sipped some water.

“That isn’t very funny, Timothy,” Mom said.

God, these people were so serious. In the stupidest second of his entire stupid life, he missed the Archive team just a little bit. At least they had a sense of humor. He’d never known those bitches to take anything seriously. But even when they were literally engaging in cult-level shunning of him and Sasha, they were always together. What was with homos and that gay found family shit?

“Kidding. I don’t know, Mom, I was just going stir-crazy. Being a copper just felt like such a dead-end job.”

“But you said you were on track for Lieutenant,” Mom gasped. “How could you throw that away?”

“I don’t know, Mom,” Danny said, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “I don’t think Tim would quit his job voluntarily.”

Mom’s jaw dropped. “You were fired?”

Tim was too dead inside for this. “Sure. I’m a librarian now. It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Mom positively screeched. “What am I supposed to tell Mrs. Walker now? That my son’s not on track to Lieutenant, that he was fired? I’ve never been so ashamed of you. You’re going to make me a laughingstock, Tim. In all my life, you’ve never once cared about how your actions affected me. Let me tell you right now that this is disgraceful. You’re a grown man, and you’re still acting like a child who blah blah blah. Tim’s a disappointment and we hate him blah blah. How could I have raised such a lazy yammer yammer yammer. I only pay attention to you when I’m yelling at you and I’m totally in the right because Rachel Granger said that yada yada -”

“Well, this was fun,” Tim said pleasantly, wiping his mouth with a napkin before balling it and tossing on the table. He put his chopsticks down and stood up, dusting off his hands. “Great to see all of you again, so much fun, but I have a cat to go iron.”

But Dad was staring at him, even when Mom was fuming in rage. In Korean, he said, “You’re disrespecting your mother, Ji-hoon.”

“For god’s sake, Richard, we speak English in this house. His name’s Timothy,” Mom snapped. Danny rolled his eyes.

“Why not?” Tim asked in Korean, just to piss off Mom. Basira would have sneered at her respectability politics. Melanie would have lost her temper an hour - no, thirty years ago. Why were they stronger than Tim? “You don’t respect her.”

Almost silently, Danny whistled.

“Timothy,” Mother started, scandalized, “listen to your -”

“Why? What can she say to me, besides the same shit I’ve been hearing my entire life? She’s not saying anything interesting.” Tim smiled brightly at his family, flashing all of his teeth. “You know what? In comparison with my life lately, you three are pretty fucking boring. Bye.”

That was when his mother burst into tears, and his father started yelling at him at the top of his voice and thumping the table until the dishes rattled, and when Danny started laughing. If they did anything else, if Dad was about to get out of his chair and smack him, if Mom was going to disown him, Tim didn’t wait around to see it. He grabbed his bomber jacket and stalked out the door, letting it fall behind him.

He breathed heavily on the pretty little sidewalk in front of their pretty little house. The pretty little roses in the pretty little garden bloomed perfectly, and their thorns were all cut off. Down the street pretty little houses made of ticky tacky loomed, and they were all within HOA compliance in their gated little community. Nobody in. Nobody out.

When he was fifteen, Tim hated it because his parents were always trying to impose normalacy on him and he had never fucking measured up. When he was a young adult, he had hated it because he had fancied himself a gritty, street-wise cop who grappled with the dregs of society and always came out victorious. The perfect little families here thought that their gates could protect them from the cold and hard outside world - but the monsters in the world lived and breeded in their backyards, and they were too busy trimming their lawns to notice.

He should go home. It was late, and he had his ridiculous, evil, gloriously imperfect job tomorrow. God, Melanie would hate this place. She would sneer at him for ever having lived here, chalking it up with his infinite list of sins. All you pigs are the same, she would nag, privileged and sheltered. Bitch. Why was she always right?

But Tim just couldn’t work up the energy to drive all the way home. His heart felt scooped out with a grapefruit spoon. Instead he stumbled into the little alley next to the house, where the garbage trucks and the alley cats roamed, and he collapsed into a little patch of scrubby grass. This had been his favorite place to sulk as a child. Or hide from Danny. Danny always found him, of course, but it was the principle of the matter -

“Man, I can’t believe I got that show for free. You should have charged, Ji-hoon.”

“Fuck off, Danny,” Tim said, tone dull with how rote the phrase was.

When he glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Danny was dappled in night. The only light was from the streetlights, and the lights of their porch. In the dim lighting, Danny was lit by a bright aura but his features were hidden in the dark. Like an angel, Danny shone, and like a devil, Tim hid in the shadows. Hidden in the corner, like a powerless child.

“It’s a compliment! Normally you’re the most boring, predictable bitch alive. Wind your key and watch you go. But not even I could have predicted the shit you pulled today. Fantastic.” Danny grinned, a slash of the mouth. “You’re dead disowned, buddy. You crossed a line. They’ll never forgive you.”

“Fuck off, Danny.”

“I’m looking forward to being an only child,” Danny mused. “Mom and Dad were always so obsessed with you, it’ll be nice to have them all to myself. When I make junior partner, do you think Dad will clap me on the back? Give me a hug?” He affected a sad look, pulling his face into a mockery of tragedy. “I’m really going to miss you. You always lowered the bar for me.”

“Fuck off, Danny.”

Apparently that was one ‘fuck off’ too many, because Danny kicked Tim in the ribs. He always knew exactly where to hit - right in an old scar in the ribs, a bullet wound that he had never told him about. Tim wheezed, but he didn’t move. No point.

In a brief, strange flash of memory, Tim remembered bending his knee back to kick Jon in the stomach. Jon hadn’t flinched. Had there been no point?

“I know you spent your entire sad little childhood thinking I ruined your life. That’s bullshit and you know it. You didn’t need anyone else to ruin your life, Timbo. You’ve always been good enough at that yourself.” He pulled a faux-surprised face. Every expression Danny ever had was fake. Everything was a mask, plastic and fake. “Even your relationships, right? How’s that Mexican bird you got following you around? She still refusing to fuck you? I should pick her up, I bet she’s real easy -”

Tim saw red.

It was easy, in the end. Maybe too easy. He leapt up, in one easy and smooth motion, and tackled Danny to the ground. Tim had always been bigger but Danny had always been stronger, no matter how long Tim spent at the gym, but that didn’t matter now. Tim was faintly aware he was snarling as Danny hit the ground hard, head bouncing on the grass.

There was no time for him to recover. Tim punched him in the face, keeping him down, before punching him again. He felt bone break under his fist. A nose.

He didn’t remember anything after that. Everything fuzzed out a little, trapped in the swirling of his rage and the thump of his heartbeat. It wasn’t Martin’s anger, it wasn’t Sasha’s cold chase. It was just hatred.

It wasn’t that - that thing inside Tim, the thing he had spent years denying. It was just Tim. Or maybe Tim was that thing, and that thing was Tim.

He was faintly aware that somebody was grabbing him by the elbows, pulling him off. There was screaming. Wailing. He couldn’t really tell. Tim was dizzy, hands wet and sticky. Someone was crying - the nauseatingly familiar sound of his mother sobbing.

Just boys roughhousing, Tim wanted to say. That was a good line, snappy and sarcastic. Just boys being boys, the same line he had heard time after time after time when Danny coated his entire torso in bruises. Monsters, acting like monsters. Men, doing what men always do.

Tim left the scene. He wouldn’t be back. Never return to the scene of the crime, ha ha ha. He wouldn’t be welcome back. It should have felt crushing, isolating, terrifying.

But instead, Tim just felt free. As if a crushing weight had fallen off his shoulders, and he no longer felt suffocated by endless picking and prodding and pushing. It...he didn’t feel scared.

Tim walked down the street, taking the long way home, whistling happily. He hated himself a little bit less than usual tonight. Things were looking up.

iv.

Tim stared at Melanie as she slept.

It wasn’t hard. They kept the lights on, although after a few days Melanie had started to use a sleeping mask. She had recovered from what happened fairly quickly. She still let him keep his arm on her.

It tingled, just a little, where it touched her. She was warm and soft, breathing softly in a gentle rise and fall of her chest. Her face was slack with sleep. No nightmares. Melanie only looked gentle when she was asleep: any other time, her face was screwed up in intent thought or a mean comment or an exaggerated face made behind someone’s back.

It was the first time Tim had slept in the same bed as a woman without sleeping with her. At Sasha’s, he always slept on the couch. It was a little weird. It was really weird. He kept on telling himself to pull away, to rebuild that bridge that had been so effortless with Sasha, to act normal and stop being desperate and needy.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Every time he let go of her, he was alone. No matter how many people surrounded them, no matter how big the room or busy the sprawling London streets, when she was out of the room it felt as if she would never come back.

He hated the way he felt. It was disgusting, crawling in his gut and heart like rot. He hated himself for feeling it, he hated the world for doing it to him, and he hated Melanie for making him feel this way.

He didn’t know love could be this painful.

***

Did he love her?

Tim was fairly sure he couldn’t love anybody. Whatever he felt for Sasha, it couldn’t be love. It could only be a selfish, disgusting poison. Or maybe he really did love her, and love really was poison - if it was the kind of love Tim felt for other people, if it was all he could give.

But Tim knew Sasha, down to her soul. He knew her dark secrets, every skeleton in her closet. He knew what she was running from, why she had landed in England and never left, why she felt just as passionately for Tim’s crusade for justice as he did.

Justice. What a joke.

But Melanie wasn’t like that. She was rough and bitchy and meddling and willfully idiotic, but if you scratched that surface she was perfect. Kind, understanding, forgiving, patient, supportive - the kind of girl Tim had always wanted. Not that Sasha hadn’t been - but Sasha was somebody he should probably stay away from, for her own good.

Melanie had saved him. Melanie was trying to fix him, and she wouldn’t stop until she did. She wouldn’t give up - she never gave up on anything or anyone. Even Tim. Maybe, if it was her, Tim could be fixed.

He squinted at her in the soft lights keeping away the dark lingering in the small windows. Did he want to kiss her? He should, right? Any emotion this strong, anything that made him feel so vulnerable and desperate and insane had to come with wanting to be with her. Not that she could ever like him that way back…

The idea was oddly nice. Men and women couldn’t be friends. But maybe Tim and Melanie could - Melanie, who would never love him in that way, freeing Tim of the obligation to reciprocate.

He settled a little bit more, tucking her a little bit closer under him until he could no longer see her face. The idea was heady - that she was letting him do that, that she could be open and vulnerable in front of him too. That Tim had never really protected anybody, that Melanie was the first person to ever protect him, and that maybe he could pay that back.

Maybe she could fix him. Give him love that was pure instead of corrupted; selfless instead of selfish. Tim needed her.

He tried not to hate it.

***

That night, Tim had a dream that he was fucking Melanie in his old bed in his old flat. Danny was there, somehow, constantly mocking Tim on how badly he was doing, and every time Tim would yell at him to get out he would just laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh -

***

Melanie dragged him to work with her the next morning, as Tim chugged a shitton of coffee and considered braining himself with a hammer so he could forget the dream he had last night. He would literally prefer the construction site nightmares. He could barely meet her eyes, and lived in relentless paranoia that somehow she knew and was going to call him disgusting which would be fair and true and -

“Do you think the old man in Home Alone is a Jesus allegory?”

Tim blinked blearily at her, still chugging his coffee. They had gotten his car keys and car back from Sasha - she still had everything he ever owned, but he didn’t want to deal with that - but Melanie was driving, since Tim’s reaction time wasn’t that good anymore and he tended to zone out. They would take the tube and avoid London traffic except, well…

“I have no opinions on Home Alone,” Tim said blankly. He had been reading Thus Spoke Zarathustra on his phone. So far he had several points of disagreement, his largest was the man’s weird obsession with atheism. Granted, it was hard to be a nihilist and be religious, but Tim had insider information on the nature of the universe and he was working on a thesis - anyway. Anyway. “Why?”

“It’s a good movie, right? We should watch it for movie night tonight.”

“I thought you wanted to watch T2 today.”

“Aw, fuck, right.” Melanie slightly slapped the steering wheel. They didn’t move - traffic was really hell. “I am a slut for fictionalized violence. Isn’t Sarah Connor the most badass action hero ever?”

“She’s awesome,” Tim agreed warmly. “But Schwarzenneger in that movie is just peak. Have you ever seen Predator? It was his best role.”

Melanie snorted. “Predator was so boring. Just a lot of oiled up men flexing at each other.”

Typical. Tim rolled his eyes, propping an elbow below the window, but he found himself smiling anyway. “What do you want me to watch instead, Blue is the Warmest Color?”

“Laugh all you want, idiot. You’re getting the whole rota of required watching for gay people. First on the list is the Birdcage, then right after that Paris is Burning -”

Tim groaned theatrically, drowning her out, but all that did was hit him with the musk of his small, battered car. The smell of Melanie hit him like a truck - her Melon shampoo, her 24 hour deodorant, the dust of the Archives, something unique to her that he just couldn’t place.

To Tim’s horror, the scent pulled at that deep pit in his stomach. Don’t think about it. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t let them know - except for Sasha, who always knew. It made him want to do - stuff that he didn’t want to do. Not really. Tim didn’t want that. Whoever Tim was.

Counterintuitively, the hunger made it easier to keep that fake smile and forced manic energy when they got to the office. He wasn’t really up to it today - some days were easier than others - but that didn’t really matter when he had to aggressively convince everybody that he was fine. The alternative was everybody giving him sad and pitying looks, which was a thousand times worse than any infernal hell torture.

It wasn’t. But he still didn’t want to deal with it.

So he kicked the door open, yelled something meaningless about how the bitch was back, and let Basira ignore him and Martin roll his eyes and Sasha very pointedly ignore him. He noted that Daisy wasn’t in this morning - ever since their planning session, she had been dropping by more frequently to flirt obnoxiously with Basira, but she obviously couldn’t spend all of her time here if she wanted to keep up the pretense with Peter Lukas.

Which was...somewhat of a relief.

Tim collapsed in what used to be Daisy’s chair at her desk, which was for far more important reasons than just because he didn’t want to sit next to Sasha. The upside is that Melanie sat diagonal from him, across from Basira, who didn’t give a shit what he did if she wasn’t using him as a meaningless sounding board for her constant venting. It wasn’t all bad, if he didn’t look too hard at whatever the fuck Martin was doing at any given time.

So he swiveled in his chair as Melanie, Basira, and Sasha disappeared into the library. He stood up to go with her, but Melanie made a gesture that sent him sitting down again. Martin, who was writing something ornate in his journal, snickered.

Six months ago Tim would have snapped at him, but instead he just leaned back in his chair and squeezed his grip trainer. The grind never stopped. “Writing love poetry, buddy? In the Romantic tradition or the...fuck, I don’t know any other poets.”

Martin silently held up his journal. The only thing written was ‘murder kill murder’, repeatedly, up and down two pages.

Well. That was enough teasing Martin for one day. He really had no idea how Melanie was brave enough to get Martin to listen to listen to her - or, worse, why he did.

After an hour or so, spent reading Plato and disagreeing with a great deal, Jon slunk out of his office and blinked owlishly at both Tim and Martin, who had been politely minding their own business.

Tim realized - in the same way that, whenever he saw Jon, he was inescapably reminded that he knew what he looked like when he was about to die - that the room was filled with two guys who had tried repeatedly to kill him. Fuck, he was probably uncomfortable. Good job, Tim. Way to keep terrorizing people. But he really wasn’t capable of doing anything else, so it was hardly a surprise -

“Hullo, Martin. I’m picking up some food from the vending machine, do you want anything?”

Oh. They were going for ‘disturbingly banal’ today. Martin smiled shyly at Jon, who blushed in response. “Surprise me. Thanks, Jon.”

“Want any razor blades in the apples?”

“You know that’s a myth, Jon,” Martin said disapprovingly. Or maybe not.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“You are the sexiest guy I’ve ever met,” Martin whispered.

Then Jon flushed, and leaned casually in what he probably thought was a hot pose and unfortunately totally was against Martin’s desk, and Tim was subjected to their absolutely fucking atrocious flirting for the next ten minutes. At that point, Tim found his breaking point and left the Archives, the terror of being in semi-public outweighed by the terror of Jonmartin. That was what Basira and Melanie kept calling it. He really didn’t know what that meant, but whatever.

But after fifteen minutes of standing in front of the vending machine himself, quietly overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of choices and colors and flavors and sugar, he heard someone else approaching. He snapped his head to the left to see a gawky, hunched scarecrow slouch down the hall, raising a hand apologetically. That man put no effort into his appearance, how as he still that hot -

Maybe Jon and Martin were normal, Tim secretly wondered, and Tim just didn’t understand gay courting rituals. He had to find out, right? How do you flirt with guys? It wasn’t as if he could practice with the two guys in the office. Especially Martin. Tim had never really paid a lot of attention to him before he came back to life, writing him off as a beta male - which ended up being so hilariously incorrect it forced Tim to sit down and reconsider his entire framework of alpha and beta males. Melanie had given him a sticker.

“Uh. Hey.”

Tim stared at him blankly.

Jon rubbed the back of his neck. “How...are you?”

Tim blinked at him.

“Well. I would, er, enjoy using the vending machine.”

Oh. Obviously. Tim stepped aside, cheeks burning, and silently let Jon punch in the code for a Mars Bar (for Martin, probably) and a granola bar (because an alarm went off on his desk if he didn’t eat a snack at 3pm).

It wasn’t their first time being alone together since he came back, but as Tim had been more or less catatonic at that period in time he was inclined not to count that. Jon hadn’t seemed scared, anyway. Probably. Tim hadn’t paid much attention.

He should do this. He had to do it. It was all about making up for the shit he did, right? He had to face this. Then Jon would forgive him, not that he had to, and - and something vaguely good would happen. He would find that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and the hunger would go away, and the intrusive thoughts would be all gone. Melanie would give him another sticker. Or something.

“You can go for it, you know.”

Jon whipped his head around, shocked at Tim addressing him directly for the first time in a very long time. “What?”

Idiot. If this guy had been in a single fight in his life, he’d eat his hat. From what Jon had seen of his childhood friend, Georgie’s girlfriend who he hated for absolutely no reason, she had probably defended him from every bully. It was almost cute.

“You can get a good one in,” Tim repeated slowly. He turned his cheek. “Promise I won’t punch back or anything.”

“I - do you mean punch you?” The Mars Bar rattled down the machine, dropping heavily into the tray. “Why would I do that?”

Jesus, the guy was thick. “Do you remember when I kidnapped and tried to kill you, or is that just me?”

Jon blinked owlishly at him. “Lots of people try to kill me.”

“Don’t you want to?” Tim cried, a little bit higher and a little bit louder than he intended. “Come on, as if you’ve never wanted to do it? Wouldn’t it help? You got in a week of being a passive aggressive asshole, that isn’t enough. It doesn’t make up for anything. This would.”

“How would that fix anything?”

Tim’s breath hitched. But Jon was just staring, as if he could see right through him. Maybe he could. “What?”

“How would hurting you make me feel better?” Jon repeated slowly. “It won’t change what happened. Punching you wouldn’t change what you did to me. All it would do is make you feel better, as if that fixes it. It doesn’t. Is that how you solve all of your problems? That explains a lot.”

His breath was coming faster, hitching again. He couldn’t control it. “I’m trying to do you a favor, asshole.”

“No, you’re trying to make yourself feel better.” Jon smiled politely and, before Tim could jerk away, clapped him on the shoulder. “I forgave you a long time ago. Not because of you. But I just didn’t want it hanging over me. I gave myself closure and moved on. Sometimes bad things happen to us, and we have to get up the next day and go to work anyway. My friends helped. My family did too. I’m sorry you don’t have that, Tim. You’ll get closure one day.” Jon looked thoughtful for a second. “I mean, getting closure about being almost killed one time must be a lot easier than dealing with the fact that you killed fifteen people in your life? Twice that supernatural people, I think. You know you’re technically a serial killer? I won’t judge, this is a safe space, but I thought you ought to know.”

Somehow, inanely, all Tim could think of to say was, “It’s not serial killing if it’s part of your job.”

“Which is why I’m sure you took that job,” Jon said brightly. “Let’s get back to the office before Martin decides to amuse himself.”

For a second, just for a second - or two, or ten, or a minute - Tim vividly imagined himself ripping Jon’s throat out. Killing him properly this time, putting that look on his face again. It had felt so good, and - and it had made him feel so bad, but that felt good too, and he still didn’t know why, and he wanted to eat Jon so bad. Jon, who was innocent in everything, gentle and kind. Nothing like Tim. That was why everybody liked Jon and hated Tim.

From what he had heard, while Tim was going insane hyperfixating on the chase a few years ago, the girls had spent ages talking Jon down from a breakdown and steering him away from the same path that Tim had barrelled down. Who had done that for him? Sasha made a big show of keeping his head level, but she had used him just as ruthlessly as he had used her. She never had an investment in keeping him sane; just functional.

If somebody had done that for him, would he still be cruel?

They went back to the office, and Tim pretending that the hunger swirling in his gut was just self-hatred. But, then again, they really were the same thing.

When Melanie came out of the library with Basira and Sasha on her heels, talking quietly about some new scheme they were cooking up, Tim found himself reaching out to her. Melanie smiled and squeezed his hand, before gently heckling his choice in literature.

Some stupid part of him - maybe even a large part - thought that once he was clasping Melanie’s hand again, the hunger would quiet down. It had protected him underground, it felt as if it should protect him in the world above.

But it didn’t, and it didn’t solve anything, and Tim tried not to think about the fact that he was slowly unwinding, and that he didn’t want to see what was inside him when everything that was Tim Stoker fell away.

***

A short yet tumultuous time later, Tim was called into Jon’s office.

He hadn’t wanted to come to work. But the alternative of stewing at home - Melanie’s flat - was much worse, and Basira had reported that too many skip days made them all way too sick. Might as well come in. Melanie had spent the night at Georgie’s - like she had the past two days, what a fucking coincidence - so he didn’t have to worry about that awkwardness.

After too long memorizing the face after too many sleepless nights, Tim could imagine it vividly. Soft, uncreased, innocent of how hard the world could be. Tim couldn’t bear it. He had to ruin it. He just couldn’t bear it.

He was the first one in the office, so it was easy to see the poisonous death glare Basira shot him when she walked in. So Melanie had told them - of course she fucking told them, she hadn’t done anything wrong, she wasn’t obliged to lie. Daisy was hot on her heels, and she actually properly snarled at him before Basira pulled her back while somehow giving the full impression that she wanted to do the same thing.

He should probably go hide in the library before Martin came in. He couldn’t decide whether or not this was worse than the shunning. The shunning had driven him absolutely crazy, but at least he hadn’t been legitimately afraid that Martin would stab him and that nobody would stop him.

There was the faint sound of raised voices in the cowpen. Tim knew that they were arguing about him. He already knew what they would decide - wait for Melanie’s verdict. But are you sure she isn’t too close to this? No, she knows the fucker better than anybody else, she would judge if they needed to do anything. What are we going to tell Sasha? The truth, fucking obviously.

Sasha. Tim wanted her to be surprised. He knew she wouldn’t be. That hurt more.

After what felt like an infinite amount of time but he knew was only a few hours, pouring over Sasha’s collection of Vast and Spiral Statements, he heard the library door open. It was Jon, standing at the threshold, and all Tim could think was - oh, man, here we go.

It was a regular walk of shame into Jon’s office, and he couldn’t miss the way everybody’s heads snapped to look at him. Sasha, just as he thought, looked resigned. Melanie was frowning.

Jon’s office was the same as ever, not that Jon went in too frequently. The only strange thing about it was that Jon locked the door behind him. Tim didn’t know what that boded, but it wasn’t good.

Well, might as well take control of the situation. He collapsed on the chair in front of his desk and propped his boots on Jon’s desk, wishing he had a drink to obnoxiously sip. “Is this the part where you threaten me?” He affected a fake baritone, somehow still not even hitting Jon’s register. “ ‘Touch her again and you’ll answer to me’. ‘Stay away from her or you’ll face the consequences’. Come on, I’ve read a thousand creeps the same riot act. Get it over with.”

Jon sat down heavily in his office chair. The office had chipped in to buy him a new one as a birthday gift, much more comfortable than the old one. But he was leaning forward now, arms folded on the desk.

“Would that make you feel better?”

Great, this again. “Yeah, it evokes the emotionally absent father I was raised with,” Tim snarked. “If you aren’t going to say it, what am I in here for?”

He was afraid to know what he was in here for. Melanie had told him that if he did it again, she’d sic Jon on him. And Tim knew what it looked like when Jon was sicced on someone. This wasn’t it.

“Tim,” Jon said seriously, and he was somehow kind about it. “You know what this looks like, right?”

Something ugly and ashamed twisted in Tim’s gut. He fought the urge to sink in his seat. “Yeah.”

“You know why we’re worried now.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tim looked fixedly at the wall, unwilling to meet Jon’s eyes. “I - I’m not going to do it again. I swear. And - and it wasn’t like that. I promise. I’m not - I’m not a creep, okay? Ask Sasha. I’ve never - I’ve killed people, but that’s not nearly as bad as - I’m not going to do it again. It was a mistake.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Tim’s head snapped back to Jon, and before he could think about it he found himself half-rising from the chair. Jon’s cold stare had him sitting back down again, but his heart was thumping a drum in his chest. “Then what do you want?” Tim just barely restrained himself from yelling, knowing that the girls were probably listening at the door anyway. “What can I do to convince you that’d rather chop off my own hand than hurt her?”

“You can give your permission to let me ask you some questions.”

Tim faltered. “What? Just questions?”

“Uh.” Jon waved his hand in a circle in the air, as if that meant anything. “You know. Questions. I haven’t really done it since - since I think I did it to you? But I think I can do it on command now. I don’t like to.” His eyes sharpened, and for a second Tim could have sworn that they glimmered. “But I can’t take a chance. Not on this.”

It was like he was falling again, through that infinite void that was the last taste of freedom he had thought he would ever have. It was like he was suffocating again, a mile of dirt piled on his chest, banging incessantly at the lid of the coffin. Nobody saved him, until she did. He was distantly aware that he was barely holding back hyperventilating, but all Tim could feel was dissociated horror.

“You - you can’t. Jon, I - I won’t do it again, you can’t.”

Jon’s mouth twisted into a frown. “I won’t if you give me a flat no. I don’t like doing it.” That was a lie and they both fucking knew it. “But if you don’t, we can’t trust you again. We’d convince Melanie to let you stay with Martin. We wouldn’t leave you in the same room together. You’re not stable, Tim. It’s obvious. We thought it was harmless - or, at least, the only person you were hurting was yourself - but it’s not anymore. We’re all scared. I don’t want to hurt you just because we’re scared, but Melanie is the only one here who couldn’t really defend herself if you decided to do anything else to her.” He grimaced slightly. “Not that she admits it. She always puts herself between us and any enemy. But we have to pay that back. I know you understand.”

He did.

Hate burned in his stomach. What a hypocrite. Giving all of that big talk about choice and options. He knew that there was no option, not if they were going to rip him apart from the one person who he felt safe with.

The one person who wasn’t safe with him.

Tim deserved this. Even if it had been his worst fear a year ago - well, Tim had experienced much worse than that since then.

When you did shit to other people, you make up for it. You make sure that you can’t hurt anybody else again. Jon was right - gestures didn’t mean anything. He had to commit. He had to improve, be better. Otherwise he’d be sent straight back down to that place when he died, and there would be no saving him.

“Yeah,” Tim said, mouth dry, “you can do it. But - but no personal questions this time, okay? Just stick to the subject.”

“They seem to always end up a bit personal,” Jon said apologetically, “but I’ll try.”

Deep within Jon, inside of the unassuming and kind and gentle man, the subject of Tim’s nightmares rose. His eyes flashed green, then shined with a bright and sickly radioactive green. His hair strained against its bun and fuzzed at the end, but it didn’t break free.

“What’s your name, Tim?”

The worst part about the compelling, Tim had decided long ago, was that you didn’t feel brainwashed.

You felt exactly as if you were talking normally, that there was nothing strange about Jon or you. His words didn’t ring with a mysterious power. If you had entered it thinking you were talking of your own volition, you probably wouldn’t notice. But if you knew what was happening, the curtain was lifted, and you were deathly aware of the way the words were ripped out of you with fishhooks. It left Tim gasping, straining for air.

“Timothy Ji-hoon Stoker,” Tim said, and it was almost as if he wanted to. “My dad just calls me Ji-hoon though. So do my grandparents. My last name’s made up as fuck - I think Mom just saw a book at the airport and picked it out from the cover. Kind of ironic, considering everything.”

“Oh, really? Daisy says that she got Tonner because her English wasn’t great and she misheard someone at the airport asking her for a tenner - right, right.” Jon coughed. Wait, was the reason why Daisy barely talked when he first met her was because her English was bad? “On topic. Tim, do you want to attack Melanie again?”

“Of course not,” Tim burst out, and these words, at least, came easy. “I love her. I hate hurting her, I hate how I’m constantly fucking up and doing it anyway. I’m just violent and I don’t know how not to be violent. It’s the only way I deal with things, being violent, and I know it’s eating me up inside but I just can’t stop it. But if there’s one person who can help me stop, it’s Melanie. She’s going to fix me, I know it.”

The words were unbelievably humiliating, the kind of thing that Tim had never wanted to admit, but Jon’s expression didn’t change. Tim wanted to look away, to pretend that this was just an internal narration and that he wasn’t telling this his fucking coworker, but he found himself incapable. Their gazes locked, and Tim couldn’t pull away.

“Why did you do it?”

“Because I was scared, and I hate being scared so much. It’s what I always do, ever since I was a kid - I would get scared, and I would try to hurt something or someone about it. I did it to you, I was so scared of you that I obsessed about killing you and covered it up with some bullshit about justice or Sasha. It was just about me, it’s always been selfish. But - but- but -” The words were sticking in his throat, coagulating on the wound ripped open by Jon and his fishhooks. “But I hate her. I hate that I care, and I hate that I need her, and - and I don’t think I did it just because I was scared. I think I did it because I was scared, and I love her, and I hate her, and I’m beginning to think I have some kind of weird complex about women because of my mother’s overly dependent narcissistic personality and my father’s emotional detachment -”

“You just now figured that out?” Jon asked incredulously. “Sorry, you just now started realizing that your toxic masculinity controls your entire justification for your actions?”

“I’ve known for a while but I’ve been repressing it,” Tim said hurriedly, forced to answer that one despite Jon probably intending it as a rhetorical question.

Jon stared at him for a second silently, giving Tim time to catch his breath and try to control his breathing. He was one bad step away from a panic attack, and his hold was still clenched on this throat like a fist. Danny had done that to him one time, the son of a bitch, and he had never forgotten. Should he tell Jon that? Does he have to?

“Tim,” Jon said finally. He looked very uncomfortable, but also resolute. As if he didn’t want to ask, or maybe he just didn’t want to know, but he felt as if he had to. “Are you in love with Melanie?”

Tim opened his mouth to answer him, and found that he couldn’t.

The strange and evil magic didn’t like that. Whatever Tim wanted to say, if there was anything to say, it caught in his throat and made him gag. It choked him. He was well acquainted with the feeling, but it sent him into a panic anyway. His breath started shuddering and heaving, his vision swimming, and he kept on answering his mouth to answer because you have to answer but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t, he didn’t know how -

“Forget it! Forget it, Tim, don’t worry about it! Tim, what’s your favorite color? Tim, your favorite color! Answer me!”

“Grey!” Tim cried out. “Grey, it’s grey!”

He didn’t so much stand up from his chair as fall out of it. He didn’t so much let himself sit on the ground as found himself incapable of moving. He just breathed, waiting and waiting to spit up dirt and grime and rocks, but nothing happened. It was just a panic attack, because his hell was within him, and there was no escape.

No escape. There was no escape. Not from what he’d done in his past, not from how badly he’d hurt Melanie and Sasha, not from how he would inevitably hurt them in the future.

You had to cut out the evil things in this world. One bad apple spoils the bunch. When criminals are left to run wild, they corrupt and destroy society. Evil had to be eliminated. Evil people shouldn’t exist.

Evil people shouldn’t exist. It wasn’t a new thought for him. Neither was the thought after that. It was a thought he’d had for a very long time - before he even met Melanie, before he even admitted it.

“Tim, are you alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

After a few heart-wrenching seconds, Tim found himself calming down enough to answer. “You meant to. You just didn’t want to. I made you do this.” One bad apple spoils the bunch. “Is - is that enough? I can answer more -”

“No, that’s enough,” Jon said quickly. “It’s - it’s not my place to pass judgement on you, Tim. And your, uh, disturbed thinking. Melanie - anyway, we’ll work on it.” He smiled weakly, placatingly. “I’ve been there. The others helped. If it wasn’t for them, I’d be - I don’t know where I’d be, but I’d be a lot worse off. We can help you too. If you let us. I know it’s scary, but it’s worth it. I promise.”

“Right,” Tim said. “Can I go now?”

When he left Jon’s office, everybody was at their desks. He knew what the guilty expressions when they all pretended they hadn’t been eavesdropping, but they weren’t wearing them now. Maybe everybody had grown up a bit recently.

Tim slunk into the library, and for good measure locked it behind him. He pulled out a thick stack of books, a teetering pile of Statements. He needed to research. There was a decision he had to make, and he needed as much proof as possible and a well-laid plan. It wasn’t quite a hunt, but it was close. It wasn’t quite the apocalypse, but it was his own.

But, of course, it was a lie. Tim had made his decision a few minutes ago. He had made it a long time ago. He kept making it, every time. Everything else was just justification.

It wouldn’t fix anything - but it’d make him feel better.

#my writing #the magnus archives #tma #tma fanfic #hunt!tim #timothy stoker #melanie king #sasha james #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #this one's a roughie try not to read it if you're in a bad place right now #danny stoker #also keep in mind that tim absolutely one of the most unreliable narrators ive ever written if not the most #it was incredibly fun #anyway enjoy

48 notes · View notes

darkwritingsnshit · 5 years

Text

Living the Dream

Chapter 2

Warnings: This is a dark fic, please don’t read if you are uncomfortable with noncon, kidnapping, and dark characters

If someone isn’t looking, it’s hard to see a dark car following them home. If someone isn’t looking, it’s easy to miss a single stranger in New York, especially in the dark. It really wasn’t safe to live in these old NYC apartments, the old locks were easy to pick, easier to break with a strong wrist. The single paned windows offered very little insulation or noise control, and again, their locks were easy to pick or break. Steve knew that their house would be an enormous step up for you, a leap even. The two of you wouldn’t live downtown NYC, it would be somewhere more beautiful, may even have that picket fence he knew you secretly dreamed about. He’d also make sure you were much more careful in the future. Be able to spot someone tailing you, check for hidden cameras you seemed to not notice, keep your kids safe from strangers. Yeah, things would be a lot different.

You woke up the next morning with half a dozen apology texts from your brother, and by noon he had called your office phone.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about last night.” He seemed sincere, you knew that he didn’t like to leave you hanging, as often as he did.

“It’s chill, I went over anyway. Tinkered around in the lab, watched a movie. Next time give me a heads up though, you’re ridiculously bad at responding or communicating in any way.” You scolded him over the phone.

“I know, I’m really sorry. It was super last minute, we got the call and I was out in 5 minutes. Will you come down tonight?” You gave out a lengthy sigh as your only response.

“I’m leaving for a while.” Your brother said in a monotone through the phone.

“Leaving? Where are you going?” You hated to see your brother go again, but you knew it was part of the job.

“You know I can’t tell you that.” You had learned not to ask questions a long, long time ago, when he first signed up for the Army. That was always his response “I can’t tell you.” It used to drive you up the wall, but now it was pretty routine. Still it left you miffed.

“I’m your goddamn sister, I’m not going to tell anyone, why do you still have to be like this?” You still knew that he wouldn’t give you a straight answer.

“Look, I’m going to be gone a few months and I have to leave tomorrow. Will you please come over so I can see you and say goodbye? I’m going to miss you.” It was hard to admit but you had come to rely on your brother’s presence in your life. You tried not to, you knew that he would have to leave like this for his job, that nobody was going to take care of you but you. It made you feel defeated, and mad at yourself. Gone were the days of cold indifference to your absent brother, you were close now, you cared now. This was one of the reasons why you tried so damn hard not to care about anyone.

“Fine. I’ll be over after work. But I swear to god if you flake on me again, I’ll kill you before you have a chance to leave, you hoe.” Your brother laughed, mumbled his agreement before you ended the call.

You wound up arriving late at the tower. Your coworker had been kind enough to jump your car, it clicked when you tried to turn the key, but from the sound of it, it was probably just a shorted fuse that ran down the battery. After a go with the jumper cables everything had turned out okay, and you promised yourself to take it to the shop in the morning, as you didn’t have the time to fix it up yourself.

Walking into the tower, it was again Mr. America himself that showed up on the first floor.

“Come here often?” He joked as the two of you made your way to the elevators.

“Are you the official greeting party now?” you wanted to see your brother, not some blonde super soldier.

“Hey, I think I’d make a great greeting party, who doesn’t love seeing Captain America when they walk in the door?” You just rolled your eyes at his comment, happy when the doors slid open to where you could find your brother.

“See you!” Steve called after you. You waved behind your shoulder, missing the scowl he had at your indifference. Everyone loved Captain America, he didn’t get why you seemed impervious to his charm, especially when he was nothing but polite. Plenty of women were falling at his feet for this superhero gig, what was with your sour attitude?

“What up asshole?” You banged the door open to your brother’s room and flopped down on his bed.

“I’m organizing, you messed up all my packing!! Move!” He waved his hands at you as you realized you had indeed flopped on his folded black shirts and a pile of socks.

“Whatever dude, where are you going, when will you be back? What’s for dinner?” You rolled off most of his clothes, but he made a point of yanking the shirt back that was still under your knee.

“You know I can’t tell you. But I’ll probably be back in a few months, like three or four. Six max.” He was focused on rolling all his gear and clothing into his tac bags.

“Six months?” Your brother hadn’t been gone for six months since before your parents had died. He would do a few weeks here and there, but you were grateful Stark kept him pretty close to home. “What am I supposed to do for six months?” you hated the thought of not seeing him for that long, not texting or calling him, just not knowing. He never checked in, he said it wasn’t safe. It was going to be six months of nothing.

“I don’t know, what did you do before? You have a life and stuff, just stay busy.” He was still more preoccupied with packing than realizing what he was saying.

“You know what I did before.” Your voice was icy.

Before, when your brother had been away, you had looked after your parents. You would take care of their lawn and garden; walk the dogs and every Sunday you would make dinner. It was usually three times a week you would read the papers to your father in the evenings, play cards with them until it was time for bed.

“Shit- I’m sorry I didn’t… I mean everyone here loves you! You need to hang out more, come watch movies, work on tech with Stark. They’re good people here, they care about you, you’re family to them.” His speaking was rushed, he was trying to cover his misstep.

“They’re your family. They’re more like coworkers to me.” You flopped back on the bed again, studying the ceiling.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. If you do that, you’re just going to wallow. You know that there’s enough tech here to keep you busy for years, not just six months. Come down here when you’re bored. Also, I think Steve may have a crush, he’s been asking about you a lot.”

You rolled your eyes at your brother but knew that he was right about the wallowing. Depression came quick if you let it, it was always best to head it off.

“Fine, I’ll come by more often to stay busy. Tell that golden retriever to stop sniffing around where he isn’t wanted though.” Your brother laughed out loud at that one, more used to your snarky attitude and flippant jokes than anyone else.

“You pick dinner, we can do anything. Small possibility I snatched the company card this morning…” He held a small piece of plastic between his fingers with a smile. You threw a pillow at his head.

“You’re the worst person ever.” You said.

“Hey, whatever. I figure Stark should buy me dinner before fucking me with this six-month assignment he’s got me on, right?”

Dinner came in the form of Chinese take out containers, as reruns of The Office played behind you and your brother’s conversation.

“Did I miss anything exciting? More importantly did you get anything good with my credit card?” Tony swiped the plastic card your brother had left on the table next to the takeout.

“Yeah, I bought a few Lamborghinis, a couple private islands, you know, nothing too fancy. Thought we could take a vacation once I get back.” Your brother replied around his eggroll.

“Well, as long as they’re my colors, it shouldn’t be a problem.” Tony replied, snatching a wanton and sitting down in a lounge chair. “Let me tell you, it’s gonna be pretty weird here without my house full of the team. I’m actually going to miss your horrible attitude and constant backtalk while you’re gone.”

“Wait, you mean it’s not just you leaving?” You turned to your brother.

“Nope, almost everyone is outta here tomorrow. Nat, Sam and Wanda are coming along. Bucky is somewhere in the steppes of Russia doing recon, and Bruce is doing what exactly? Helping out with Ebola, or is it clean water? Something about doctors, right Tony?” Your brother mused.

“Bruce headed to Yemen, he’s implementing our new filtration system for water, while providing free medical care to refugees.” Tony corrected.

“So, who’s left?” You asked.

“Well let’s see, it’ll be our golden boy Rodgers, he’s helping me with a huge PR nightmare, Pepper is always around, Thor likes to stop in occasionally, and the kid swings by when he’s not helping old ladies cross the street or playing video games after school. You know what?” Tony remarked, “Why don’t you stay here until everyone is back? Pepper would love it if there was a more talkative lady around, and no offence, but the guys here really trash the place. You could also pop into the lab whenever you want, get some late-night tinkering in when you can’t sleep. That’d be a lot of fun.” Tony looked like a five-year-old with a new bright idea. You laughed, sitting back against the couch.

“Believe it or not, I actually like the peace and quiet, that’s why I live alone. Besides, I am never, ever staying in his room. I saw what it looked like when he lived at home, I’ve found some weird shit he’s left in the corners.” You pushed on your brother’s shoulder.

“Hey! I never asked you to help me clean my room, and I was like, fourteen. Stay out of my room, Jesus.” You just laughed some more.

“See, exactly what I’m talking about. I really appreciate the offer though.”

“Okay, I won’t push it. On the condition that you come by at least once a week. No scratch that, two or three times. I’m going to keep calling you down to the lab, I don’t have Banner to balance me out.”

“You’re going to have to start paying me Tony.” You replied.

“No problem, I’ll have Pepper put you on payroll. Actually, you’ve got a ton of back hours logged, I’ll get that set up.” Tony stood and was already on his tablet.

“No! Stop, Tony it was a joke, of course I’ll come by. I’m usually free after five, just give me a call or text and I’ll come over.” Tony mumbled something that sounded like ‘yeah, yeah’ and continued out of the room.

“I hate to leave but it’s getting late.” You didn’t want to leave. You really didn’t want to leave your brother, not knowing if or when you would see him again. “Don’t fucking die, you hear me? Come home.” You looked him directly in the eye, you needed him to know that you were serious. He wrapped you in a hug and squeezed tight. You didn’t want him to let go.

“Hey. Hey, look at me,” he held your shoulders, “I’m going to be great. I promise. It’s not dangerous, and if it is, you know I can take care of myself. With my backup, the only person you should be worried about is the guy in my crosshairs. Okay? I promise that I’m coming home to you.” You nodded and he squeezed you tight again. “Now go home and get a good night’s sleep. I’ll be home before you miss me.”

Regretfully, you parted ways with your brother, and headed towards the elevators. Down, down, down until it stopped on the 5th floor with a ding. It was golden boy Rodgers himself, who greeted you with a smile.

“Going down?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s late, I’m heading home.” You were sad now you missed your pain in the ass of a brother already.

“Let me walk you to your car.” Steve offered, and you were too tired to turn him down.

#dark!steve rogers #dark!captain america #my writing #steve rodgers x reader #captain america x reader #this is dark

108 notes · View notes

tolkeinbitch1138 · 5 years

Text

Brendan Fraser’s Baby

I’ve forgotten a good half of this now but here’s my best shot. (It was a longass dream. Honestly, if it had been a movie, I’d watch it.)

So, I’m just watching this all go down. I’m not like an actual character in this dream.

There’s this kid who starts hanging out with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (the cool puppet-looking ones from the 90s, not the overly-muscled cgi ones.)

They help him find his dad or some shit, something really significant like that.

Part 2 of the dream is what I remember the most. There’s a group of people sitting around talking and they’re like, “Hey, remember like 20 years ago when that kid--” “Yeah, that was weird--” and then this dude walks in, and it’s Brendan Fraser a la Journey to the Center of the Earth. But it’s obvious that he’s meant to be The Kid. And everyone’s like, “OH MY GOD YOU’RE ALIVE?!?!”

Well, he’d gone underground or some shit, gotten out of the spotlight. During that time, he’d made good with his family and gotten married.

At this point in time, I’ve become an actual character. And he and I have history, like I knew him when he was a kid, because he greets me by name. The people talking about him are like, “What’s up, how’s life, didn’t you get married?”

He gets super uncomfortable and nods. “I did. She uh... She’s leaving me.”

Gasps around the room. I’m like, “But why?”

He shakes his head and sits down with a sigh. “I don’t know. She doesn’t think I’ll be a good father.”

I’m like, “Fuck that. You’d be a great dad.”

*flash forward like a year.*

I’ve just had his baby. We’re together, we’re happy.

The ex wife comes along and straight up kidnaps the baby. There’s an epic chase scene like on the ocean with boats and shit and it’s So Cool.

We get the baby back but we crash land on this island that’s like an old run down amusement park that is Definitely Haunted.

While we’re there, Brendan and I get separated and he has the baby, so I’m like doubly freaking out. I find this group of Niqab-wearing women who are super nice but obviously terrified of what’s going on around the island. They try to tell me to just give it up, that Brendan and my baby are definitely dead and if they’re not they will be soon, but there’s this girl who’s my age and she decides to help me. I find out they’d been here on this island for centuries and she wants to escape, so I’m like, “Oh fuck yeah let’s go.”

We go to find my boys. This girl and I are bonding HELLA HARD along the way. We find Brendan but he doesn’t have the baby and he’s like super depressed and defeated and he’s like, “He won.”

“Who won?”

“Him. I don’t... I don’t know his name.”

The girl just gasps. “Not the phantom?”

He nods sullenly.

I’m like “The Phantom of the Opera is here?”

She’s like, “No, dude, the Phantom. He runs the island. He steals every second baby and eats it.”

I’m freaking the fuck out, “NOT MY FUCKIN BABY OH HELL NO WHERE’S THIS PANSY BITCH LET’S FUCKIN GO” and I’m just like running through halls screaming for him to come at me. Brendan and the girl are following me trying to talk me down but I’m like, “MY FUCKING BABY”

We get separated and I find myself in this like cruise-ship-cabin-style house. The Phantom lives here, I know it instinctively. I’m like, “Fucking come out bitch. Give me my baby back.”

And he comes out and frankly, he’s p cute. I know. I know. But he is. And he has my baby. He’s like, “I’ve been watching you. You’ve got spunk. Would you like to make a deal?”

“Give me my fucking baby back.”

“Give me your hand”

And I’m like, hold the fuck up. Is this goddamn ghost asking to marry me? “Fuck off. Give me my baby.”

This goes on for a few minutes before he just sighs and walks away, but I can’t move. I have to watch as a wall opens up into a window and he gives the baby to Brendan who looks super weird. Whatever the Phantom is doing to him, he’s going to hurt/kill the baby. I’m screaming, I’m thrashing, I can’t get free, not until the girl barrels into me and throws me from the spot, so I’m free now and I go and I run and I snatch the baby from Brendan and just start fuckin running.

The girl is running with me, and we end up hiding. I realize then that her face veil had fallen off when she pushed me, and though I look away quickly, I can’t help but realize she’s fucking GORGEOUS. Like, stupid pretty, like just fucking stunning I can’t breathe. I clear my throat and take my scarf and offer it to her and I know I’m blushing super hard. “Your uh, your veil came off,” I explain.

She takes my scarf and says thank you and wraps it so that I can’t see her face anymore. We catch our breath for a few minutes before we set off again, and we manage to find a boat and leave.

I don’t know what happens to Brendan, but we time skip again, like a year. I got off the island and I’m living in this little cottage. The baby is sleeping in a bassinet near the window. I’m filled with just super deep peace and comfort, but there’s a scuttling in the kitchen. Immediately, I’m on alert, and I take a candlestick to go investigate.

I peek around the corner and am immediately taken off guard. The girl is there, standing over the stove, humming quietly. She’s not wearing her Niqab, and I’m taken breathless again but I clear my throat. She looks at me and smiles super big and beautiful. “Did you have a nice nap?” she asks.

I’m like, “Uh... Yeah?”

She gestures towards the table. “Dinner is almost ready.” So I go and sit, and I’m trying to figure out what she’s doing in what is obviously my kitchen, but she comes and puts the food out. She reaches past me for something and I see that she’s wearing a wedding ring, and I look down at my hand and I’m wearing the same style of one, and she leans down and kisses my head before sitting down beside me. “Are you ok?” she asks.

I look at her for a minute and realize with a start that this woman is my wife, and I feel stupid for having forgotten, so I just smile and nod. “Yeah. Yeah I’m fine.”

#becca's dreams #shut up becca

2 notes · View notes

why-this-kolaveri-machi · 5 years

Text

Grand Titans Rewatch: 1.01

so! i only really got into the show around the 6th episode, which means that while i was intrigued by the first five, i didn’t really pay a lot of close attention the first time ‘round. so i’m going to try and rewatch the entire series over the next several weeks and bring you Thoughts, because um. well. I Will Have Them.

SPOILERS for pretty much the entire series, though i will be covering only the pilot episode in this post. let’s see how this goes.

1. i’m just such a sucker for eerie dreamscapes, so i’m definitely biased when i say that this is a promising start. what’s really intriguing, though, is rachel dreaming of dick’s past well before she’d met the guy. after eleven episodes, the extent and even the very nature of rachel’s powers is still nebulous; this ability to dream about people she hasn’t even met only comes up this once, as far as i remember. (again, my initial viewing was superficial, so i might’ve missed it coming up/referenced again.)

1.5. a doylist explanation for this? hint at a special relationship between rachel and dick right off the bat, set the tone for the rest of the series, establish a character-development-by-dreamscape precedent, give us a gander at the origin story of the most iconic character in the ensemble, and set the broader arc of the season—an acceptance of and an ascent out of inner darkness—in motion with these two characters.

an in-universe search for an answer is potentially more interesting, however: why should these two be connected? i like to think that trigon’s influence started here, pushing rachel further and further down the path that would lead her to free him. i mean, handwaving aside the comic-booky implausibility of trigon foreseeing the exact pattern of random events that would lead to the moment rachel pulling him out of the mirror in 1.10 (he’s an interdimensional being! i don’t know! *flails hands*), i like the symbolism of it: both batman and trigon as phantom fathers that rachel and dick run away from, only to be pushed together. this is not to imply any broader equivalency between trigon and bruce wayne, of course; but it goes some way in explaining why this dick is especially traumatised and brutal, and why it would’ve had to be an especially traumatised and brutal bruce wayne that taught him everything he knows.

1.6. HAH at the ‘flying’ in the ‘flying graysons’ sign fizzling out just before the rope snaps, tho! so corny but also so upsetting.

(‘so corny but so upsetting’ – a valid tagline for titans)

1.8. oh but the set-up around rachel is so intriguing, tho! this is both the greatest strength and the greatest pitfall of the show: each of its characters can occupy a genre show of their own; because the first three episodes focus so heavily on rachel, it seems like the tone of the show changes when the titans finally get together, and like a lot of interesting, painstakingly slow set-up for rachel is just dropped and wasted.

2. the first glimpse we get of dick grayson is in the rearview mirror of his car. FUCK. i’m going to start a count.

MIRRORS, MIRRORS EVERYWHERE: 1

Ok. things i love about this little two minute introduction to dick grayson:

a) look at this broody asshole. i love him so much.

b) right away we have this push-pull re: his robin identity. he hates it, resents it, but can’t quite let it go. his officer grayson persona isn’t enough for all the evil in the world, even if it means losing control and falling farther and farther down a spiral of self-loathing.

c) he’s so damn mired in crime and tragedy, tho: officer grayson by day, vigilante robin by night. MAKE A FRIEND, DICK. GET A BEER, DICK.

(so true to character, tho: a suffering dick grayson is usually a determinedly self-isolated dick grayson.)

d) AMY ROHRBACH! i refuse to believe they’d just unceremoniously kill off such an iconic character. i fully expect to see her in s2.

e) “you do your thing. i’ll do mine.” a poorly functioning dick grayson picking up unhealthy coping cues from his mentor.

f) i love how implicit it is that gotham is a carnival of unending horror among the officers in the precinct, and probably every other city in america.

3. the clawmarks on rachel’s mother, tho! fuck, i wish they’d carried over more of this eeriness in the second half of the season. oh, and also:

MIRRORS, MIRRORS EVERYWHERE: 2

i realise why we had to get a move on with the plot, but i can’t help but wonder if we could’ve gotten an even slower build-up to rachel’s powers, because honestly? i know you’re lying, i always know when you’re lying, and the vicious slut! in the school bus window? actually more unsettling than watching rachel liquefy some baddie from the inside.

(tho. um. don’t get me wrong. that’s plenty disturbing, too.)

4. conflicted!brooding!vigilante!dick, here to chase away the images of dead women splayed over living room floors with bullet holes in their heads.

4.5. the fight scene was brutal, sure—but to be fair, most of batman/robin’s fights teeter on the fine line between causing enough damage to keep the bad guys down for a bit and outright brutality. it’s difficult to bring that to life on screen (in a series that touts to inject grittiness/realism into proceedings, no less) and portray a robin who’s definitely crossing some lines without going into some real brutal territory.

4.6. so far i’m loving how economical the storytelling is when it comes to dick—how quickly it’s established, then underscored, how being robin is so important to him and the last thing he wants. his curdling resentment at the thugs immediately looking for batman the moment they see him, and his inability to move on from being the other half of batman-and-robin. he feels compelled to play both parts at once when he’s fighting, and he hates it. all of these things are playing out right underneath stretched-too-thin skin, jagged and awful and ugly.

4.65. and the editing and sound choices keep emphasising how this is not dick in his natural state—how, in a lot of ways, robin is not his natural state anymore.

4.8. dick, brooding in his open-plan apartment, broodily listening to vinyl records and cleaning his armour of blood, while brooding. did i mention that i love this asshole?

(i don’t know where the bruises came from, considering that it seemed like the thugs couldn’t get a single hit in during the fight.)

MIRRORS, MIRRORS EVERYWHERE: 3

4.9. a dick timeline: the zucco thing happened, what, two years ago? robin hasn’t been seen in over a year. and dick moved to detroit a month ago. hmmmm.

5. rachel’s alter-ego-self as a manifestation of her powers continues to be fascinating. as is the fact that that alternate self appears less and less as she grows more accepting of what’s inside her and learns to control her abilities.

5.25. so, what, was sally a part of the cult that wants to kidnap rachel specifically, or just a Bad Person in general?

5.5. “you got that thing for helping kids” – i love that dick has this reputation barely a month into his time in this department. like. this guy is broody and closed-off and clearly traumatised, but hey, he’s good with kids!

MIRRORS, MIRRORS EVERYWHERE: 4

5.8. “you’re the boy from the circus” is super-dramatic and all, but how did rachel recognise adult!dick when she’s only seen kid!dick in her dreams? and also, why did she dream of dick at all?

5.99. side note: officer!dick’s hair is the best. it never gets better than this for the rest of the season at least until he becomes trigon’s demon acolyte.

6. KORY!

6.5. so… did the car accident cause the amnesia? do we ever find out why exactly she couldn’t remember anything about who she is? she doesn’t look injured; just dazed.

6.6. her passport was issued in 2014—so she’s been here a while, searching, researching. or not, because it’s probably a fake-ass document. stop reading so much into this, emmram!

MIRRORS, MIRRORS EVERYWHERE: 5

6.8. her super-convenient amnesia means she’s forgotten her identity but not human language, mores or customs. i like this extra layer of… alien-ness? that this brings to her: so now she’s not only a stranger to the rest of the world, but to herself. again, so many interesting things are set-up here that the show never really follows through with for the rest of the season—imagine re-discovering kory’s identity along with her, piecemeal, rather than an impersonal infodump near the end of the season!

6.9. also given that portrayals of starfire (at least those that i’ve seen/read) make liberal use of the ‘born sexy yesterday’ trope, i rather like this take—she’s already learned everything she needs to know about assimilating into human society, and it’s a question of rediscovering that knowledge instead of having some dude patronisingly mansplain the world to her.

6.95. why did she snap that russian dude’s neck, tho. that’s just brutal. i’d forgotten about this.

7. i like to think here that when dick says i’ll find someone who can help you, he’s not just thinking of law enforcement, but also of people in the super-community—psychics, or telepaths, or somebody who has experience with both. there’s still so much about dick that’s kept in the dark for most of the season, but given the length of time he’s been with batman and the easy familiarity with which he talks about other heroes in the finale’s dreamscape, i’m going to assume that he’s more than well-connected.

7.5. but he’s shuttered himself away for so long, and robin’s return has been far from well-received. i like this little moment where he steps outside and just… lets himself be overwhelmed. just for a bit.

7.7. i like that amy says “sidekick” first instead of “partner”. on-the-nose, but i like it!

7.8. the glibness of he and i had different ideas of how to do the job is making me laugh. oh, dick.

i guess the idea of batman sours quite a lot when you’ve spent most of your life as his partner. i get that he’s projecting losing his own sense of self to a role he just isn’t cut out for onto bruce, but it’s sad anyway.

7.9. gosh i just want these two to bond. i don’t care how you do it Show but bring back amy next season, yeah?

MIRRORS, MIRRORS EVERYWHERE: 6

8. is there any particular significance to the repeated security-cam footage shots we’re getting in this episode?

(gosh, i love the cinematography so much in this scene.)

8.4. so… kory had to use some sort of russian mob and come all the way to vienna to find rachel?? why??? are we ever going to find out?

8.5. on a happier note, i love love this version of starfire’s ‘innocence’. like. she’s baffled, almost apologetic about it, but she isn’t going to take any shit about it, either. also, the music when she uses her powers for the first time, man. FUCK.

9. aaaaand there’s the liquefying-a-guy’s-insides bit. i both love and hate this show’s self-indulgence.

9.5. i gotta say, this episode makes a lot more sense on rewatch than it did the first time ‘round. i remember being so confused by evil!cult!guy, but then again, i was pretty distracted at the time. i only really picked up the show because i was so amused by the over-the-top reactions fans had to the trailer. now look at me, writing 2k+ word reviews dissecting its every moment. *shakes head*

10. *rachel stares at dick’s porsche*

“this is yours?”

“family heirloom.”

“… from the circus?”

“not the one you’re thinking.”

I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS EXCHANGE.

10.5. i love these two Dramatic Kids.

11. beast boy cameo! just to assure us all that yes, he is in this show, and that, yes, he is the Best of them all.

12. you guys, this episode is so much more fun that i remember it being. you’ve got an amnesiac interstellar super-spy in kory, a straight-up supernatural horror story in rachel, and a psychological case study whatever genre batman’s supposed to be in dick. each of them could easily fill their own show, but i love that titans wants to connect them with something more than just a team falling together just because.

#titans #meta #dick grayson #koriand'r #rachel roth #a byronic cupcake #badass strawberry truffle #a gothic cookie #grand titans rewatch 2k19

10 notes · View notes

jiminsasscracck · 7 years

Text

Cold Hearted Blood {BTS AU! Part II}

BTS MAFIA (& STRIPPER) AU

[Masterlist] (Previous chapter) Part 2 (Next chapter)

Genre: Drama/fluff/smut/angst

Words: 4072

Admin: Admin Sky

Summary: It was time for Hell Month, as young women in your city called it. Men from different mafias tries to find the prettiest out of the prettiest, the best out of the best, the perfect woman - to trade to another mafia that doesn't live near your city.

You knew that going out during Hell Month was risky, but staying inside and not going out during nights drove you crazy. That’s why there is a strip club down the street, where the mafia can’t come in. Kinda.

“Man fuck you, you fucked her up. Sinister.”

That was the first voice you heard trough your head, as your mind slowly woke itself up. Your body hurt, it felt like you had been thrown from side to side in a tornado.

A cold hand touched your hanging head, and slowly went down you cheek to you cheek. Your neck hurt - and your bran was still in the dream world, so you didn't raise your head up. From what you could feel you were sitting, probably a chair.

The hand suddenly grabbed your chin and yanked your head up, making your back crack like a domino. You hissed under your breath, and slowly started to open your eyes. First everything was blurry; all you could see was a black shadow in front of you. You blinked your tired eyes, and that’s when you saw a way to familiar face in front of you.

Jungkook titled his head playfully when the two of you made eye contact, and stroked your right cheekbone with his thumb. You felt a slight pain on your right side, and you let a whimper leave your lips.

“See? She’s okay”, Jungkook said, and looked at someone behind you. You tried to turn around, but your legs and arms were tied up to the chair. This time with rope, and not tape. Thank god.

Jungkook had a shirt on - surprisingly. He had a black shirt with some black jeans, with a black beanie. All dressed in black. That’s was probably the reason why you saw him so blurry before.

One of the people you didn’t know the name on walked around the chair to look at you. He was the one with black hair, which you had previously seen back at the club. He also had clothes this time, and didn’t flash any naked chest.

“Oh, you’re right, she is~” he sang out, and tilted his head playfully at you. “(Y/N), was it?”

Your throat was all sore, for some reason. How far do you remember? Strip club, kidnapped, and that’s it. You didn’t know where you were, nor how you got here. But since you still saw the same people you were still not traded to some other mafia.

You looked around you, as far as your stiff neck could look. It looked like an old warehouse, or like the layer in IKEA. It was very big and very dark; the only light came from some candles around you.

“Look Jimin, is not that bad”, Jungkook pointed out, and pressed his thumb harder against your cheekbone. You hissed out in pain, as you felt your body get all hot. Your body was strongly somebody pressing on your skin there.

The smaller guy - Jimin, huffed out when he saw your reaction. Jungkook slightly bit his lip, and then he finally removed his hand from your face. Your body was not calming down; it was telling you over and over again how you had something on your right cheek that was hurting you.

“Okay, maybe it is”, Jungkook finally snorted out. “But it wasn’t my fault. Taehyung just threw her as a bag in the van, and he dropped her twice! I lightly hit her, that’s all I did. Those bruises comes from Taehyung!”

Jimin and Jungkook started to argument about who fault it was that you had so many bruises, while you just started to recap your memory.

Taehyung. Van. Dropped twice. You overheard those words from Jimin and Jungkook, and your brain tried harder than ever to remember something. You remembered something about you waking up in a dark small room, but suddenly a weight laid itself over you... And that’s it.

“Well, look, we can’t leave her over looking like this!” Jimin finally snorted out, and pointed at your right cheek, which made you really want to see yourself in the mirror. You had a bruise, like they said, but was it really that bad?

“Why not? We can just put some foundation on it. You don’t know the power of makeup hyung”, Jungkook answered back. He looked away from Jimin, and looked at you once again. You frowned at him, and since you could speak this time, you did.

“What the fuck”, was the only thing that left your mouth. That what was your mind said too. You had no idea what was going on, and what you were doing in this warehouse. Jungkook blinked a bit because of your words, while Jimin just cracked a smirk.

“Oh, so she can talk”, Jimin said playfully. “Don’t say something you will regret, otherwise that pretty mouth of yours might get taped again.”

‘Fuck this dude’ you thought, as you gave him a sharp look. But like he said, you shouldn't use your voice unnecessarily. You were not going to get taped up again, fuck no, so you didn’t say anything more. You kept your nose high, as you didn’t let the worry and fear show on your face. You never actually imagined what would happen if you were one of those unlucky girls who got kidnapped. You never thought you would, either.

“Look at this!” Jimin huffed out, and grabbed your chin again. This time he tilted your head back, so you exposed your neck to him. You still had that low-cut shirt on, and you started to regret ever taking your leather jacket off. “Taehyung that fucking animal.”

You felt Jimin’s fingertips run along the skin of your neck, and you could almost guess what Taehyung had done. Another memory made itself visible in your brain. The body lying on you put something in your neck, and as you drifted back to sleep it turned you around so you laid on your back. Sloppy and wet sounds had echoed through the van, and that’s all you could remember.

“What are we supposed to do? We can’t just tell EXO that their girl got hickeys by Taehyung, and rolled around the van floor because Hoseok drove like an idiot and is now hurt. They are expecting a girl tomorrow, hyung. Tomorrow! They will kill us!” Jungkook said, and Jimin released your chin so you could relax. But you still couldn’t relax, because the name EXO made your entire body freeze.

You knew EXO. How could somebody not know EXO? One of the worst mafias there is. You were beyond lucky they lived on the other side of the country, and that they didn’t join this Hell Month. But are they going to send you there? To EXO? That’s like rubbing yourself in oil and run into a fire. It’s fucking madness.

“Are you going to send me to EXO?” you finally got out in a small voice, and felt so much smaller than you did some seconds ago. You didn’t know these guys, they must be very big criminals too, but you don’t want to be with EXO. EXO or Big Bang, those two was a no no. And those two were also the only mafias you knew by name.

Jungkook sighed out, and then he struggled. “We were going to. Now, we can’t. EXO likes their women clean, without a single scratch. No offense baby, but...” Jungkook stopped himself. Then he picked up his iPhone and went into camera. “You know what? Take a look yourself.”

Jungkook put the camera on self cam, and held the phone up to your face. And oh god. You almost had a heart-attack when you saw your reflection.

Your right side of your head had a blue bruise, and on your left side your forehead had some small bruises. The one near your eye on the right, however, looked really fucked up. Good thing you didn’t wear any makeup, it would have gotten all over your face. You couldn’t see how your neck looked like from Jungkook’s phone, only until your jaw. Even so, a small blue hickey laid itself on your jaw. They were right; Taehyung that fucking animal.

“I’ll tell Yoongi and Namjoon about this”, Jimin sighed, and turned to Jungkook. “Take her to the basement. Jin can treat her wounds and she should be good to go in maybe three days.”

Jungkook nodded, and Jimin pulled up his phone. He walked away from the two of you, and left you alone with Jungkook.

Jungkook clicked his tongue, and looked down on you a bit. You had expected him to at least say something, and tie you up. But this boy was just filled with surprises.

He walked around you, and grabbed the end of the chair. Then, he dragged you against the metal floor. Since your back was titled it felt like you were going to fall any second, and you yelped.

“Jungkook!” you yelped. He dragged you as if it you were light as a feather, which you were not. “Just release me and I’ll follow you. I promise!”

Jungkook didn’t bother. He kept dragging you around the warehouse, until he got to the big door. He opened the door, and you felt the cold wind blow against you, so your hair moved.

That’s when Jungkook turned you around, so you faced him now. Looking past his shoulder; you saw the dark forest outside. So it must still be night, maybe you fell asleep for an hour or so? As long as it wasn’t a new day, of course. Then you might have slept for 24 hours.

Jungkook tore your ropes away. The second he had removed the last rope he put an arm around your waist, and lifted you over his shoulder.

Jungkook didn’t hold you with a strong grip like Taehyung did, Jungkook held you pretty weak. Which was weird - considering that he was twice as muscular as Taehyung.

In fear of falling down with your head first, you wrapped your arms around Jungkook’s thin waist. He tossed you as if you were a doll, and walked quickly. All you could see was the dark ground underneath you that you would rather not fall down on.

“Hey, muscle pig, calm down”, you huffed. Jungkook started to walk even faster, which made you hit his back with your fist. Jungkook was made of metal, so he didn’t feel a thing.

After about three minutes - for you almost thirty minutes, Jungkook stopped. The two of you were still outside, but you saw that the ground had changed to nice grass instead of a lot of branches.

“Oh, what do we have here?” A way too familiar and husky voice sang, which made your eyes widened. You quickly wrapped your arms tighter around Jungkook’s waist, and you didn’t let go, even when Jungkook tried to remove you.

A hard slap on your bum made you lose your grip around Jungkook, and Jungkook took this second to shake you off. With the help of Jungkook you fell the other way, so your feet hit the grass instead of your head.

A body behind you quickly caught you when your feet hit the grass. It was not Jungkook, you recognized this touch. It was Taehyung.

“Don’t look at me like that” Jungkook muttered at you. “I didn’t slap you, he did.”

Taehyung giggled in your ear, as he laid a kiss on your ear. A hand wrapped itself around your waist, and pulled you closer to his chest. This time you were not tied up, for Taehyung’s knowledge.

You elbowed Taehyung on his chest, which made him huff out some air in pain. But his grip didn’t get any weaker, in fact, it got only stronger. You still had your hands however, and those could remove Taehyung’s arm.

The sound of a ‘click’ stopped you from removing Taehyung’s arm, as you felt something press against your jaw. Your actions stopped, and so did your mind. That was a gun, you could feel it. One wrong move and you could lay dead on this dead grass. They could always try to get a new girl from the club; there was nothing special about you.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, sweetheart”, Taehyung whispered in your ear. “Do you understand me?”

Your tongue got stuck at the end of your throat, so you just nodded. Jungkook clearly enjoyed the show by the cocky grin he had on his lips, as he watched you and Taehyung.

“Take her to the basement Taehyung. I’ll go on my patrol”, Jungkook said. Taehyung removed the gun from your jaw, and you could finally let out some air from your lungs.

“She can’t stay in my room, no?”

“Taehyung.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll take her to the basement, for now~”

Taehyung turned you around, and wrapped an arm around your waist. Jungkook walked away, and you were alone with Taehyung. And now you could see the road for the first time.

The two of you were in front of a small mansion, in the middle of the forest. The mansion was colored in black and brown colors, like it was a part of the forest.

Taehyung started to walk, and you had to walk with him. Taehyung walked some meters to the front door, where he kicked the door open.

The light from the inside made you shut your eyes, and then you blinked them open. The inside did not look like a mansion. It looked like an abounded mansion. Come to think about it, it probably was.

“Come on sweetheart, I’ll show you where to go”, Taehyung happily said. The fear of him pulling up his gun again made you just silently nod, which he chuckled at.

How could this be the same man that pulled you up on stage just a few hours ago? This was the man that made you feel so good - just by looking at him. You stuffed your fucking hand down his pants. It was all just an act, was it?

Taehyung didn’t let you look around the big mansion, as he directly opened a wood door beside some stairs. Dust flew up like a cloud, and revealed some stairs. It was pitch black down there, and you gulped down your spit. Taehyung tapped your back, as a signal that the two of you should go.

“Taehyung”, you quickly said, and turned to look at him. Under his bangs two playful eyes looked at you, matched with a smirk.

“Can’t... Can’t you just let me go? Please. I promise I won’t tell anyone about this and-”

‘Click’. Taehyung had the same expression, but an object rested now in his hand. He was not buying any bullshit; he wanted to get the work done.

“You were saying?” Taehyung sang out, as he stroked your hipbone with his thumb. He knew that you didn’t like the gun, that son of a bitch.

When you didn’t answer Taehyung happily whistled, and once again patted your back as a signal that the two of you should go down the stairs. This time you didn’t protect - you couldn’t protest. Taehyung liked seeing you so weak, and happily went down the stairs with you.

The light from the open door helped you to see, and what you saw was just a small room, with chains on the wall. Taehyung led you there - and suddenly, laid his foot over your feet so you fell down on the cold floor.

“Always be on your guard baby”, Taehyung laughed out, as he saw you rub your arm that protected your fall. He went to the wall and grabbed one of the chains, and in the next second it was attached to your foot.

“See, pretty cozy, right?” Taehyung smiled. He crouched down and patted your hair. You were still sore from literally being dragged around and tossed, so when Taehyung leaned closer to kiss your forehead you couldn’t do anything.

Taehyung walked back up the stairs, and walked out. He shut the door behind him, and you couldn’t see a thing.

The chain was only about a meter, so you couldn’t move around much. You grabbed the cold chain in your hands, as you tried to remove it from your ankle. But it didn’t budge.

So you did the only thing you could - cry your eyes out.

“Ah, I understand”, Namjoon said. Yoongi sat on Namjoon’s couch in his office, and played with his rings while he listened to the conversation.

Jaebum sighed on the other side, and Yoongi could hear him fall down on either his bed or couch. “I would really love to help you, but we already sent our chick to Big Bang. You should have called earlier, we sent her away like five hours ago”, Jaebum said on the other side. Namjoon sighed through his nose, as his mind probably tried to find a good answer.

You see, Jimin had told the two bosses about you. How those bruises would not get covered under foundation. Yoongi knew EXO, he knew what they liked. He also knew what they disliked - and that was bruises that made one look nasty. Not just on girls, on almost everyone. Even on them.

Namjoon tried to call Jaebum - the leader from another mafia, GOT7. GOT7, Monsta X and BTS were the only ones that lived in this city, but Monsta X didn’t work for anyone. They didn’t do the kidnapping.

Namjoon told Jaebum to pretend that this year they would send the girls a bit later, but it was already too late, like Jaebum said. They had already sent their girl away, and were even looking for a second girl to send to Big Bang.

“Why can’t you just find another girl? Doesn't your club only have girls inside?” Jaebum asked.

This time Yoongi answered, who had been quiet the entire phone call so far.

“We could - but this one is different.” Yoongi licked his dry lips, as he coughed a bit. “She looks stunning. EXO will love her.”

Jaebum was quiet on the other side, and Yoongi could hear him move around. Namjoon tapped his fingertips against his desk, waiting for Jaebum’s answer.

“Very well”, Jaebum finally said. “Then tell EXO that this girl will be stunning, but she needs time. I can’t help you more than that.”

Namjoon whistled as an answer while Yoongi just clicked his tongue, and continued to play with his rings. “Remember that Monsta X is trying to track EXO down. Be careful, contacting EXO is always a risk.” Jaebum added in a serious tone.

“Don’t worry Jaebum”, Yoongi answered. “I’m close with Kihyun. He won’t attack.”

With that and a small goodbye Namjoon clicked the phone. He fell down on his desk chair, exhausted after talking to Jaebum. Now they also had to call EXO, and tell them that their girl needs to wait.

“She needs to heal, then”, Namjoon finally said. “I hope those idiots didn’t put her in the basement or something. That would make her condition worse.”

Yoongi nodded, and looked at the clock. The clock was half past five. It had also gone around five hours since Jimin informed them that you had woken up, but Yoongi forgot to ask him where they would put you. Best for those idiots that you were not tied to that chair for all these hours.

Yoongi accidentally fell asleep on Namjoon’s couch, so he didn’t get the chance to check where you were during these five hours, but he was curious. Everyone was probably asleep now, it was half past five. Perhaps... Did you sleep in the same bed as one of them?

Yoongi quickly stood up. Nobody will sleep beside you. Nobody can get close to you. They are not lowed to get attached to women in this house - especially one that they will soon trade away. Yoongi knew these boys. Everyone expect for him, Jin and Namjoon likes women. The differences between them and women were so interesting, and so funny to explore.

“You know what, I’ll check where she is”, Yoongi said. Namjoon nodded at him, before he yawned. “Do that. I’ll call EXO and then I will go to bed.”

And Yoongi was out of Namjoon’s office.

Shivering, you hugged yourself like a ball on the cold floor. You thought that you would eventually get used to the cold, but you were wrong. You were still shaking.

Somebody named Hoseok had happily kept you company for 10 minutes during these five hours you were down here. He came with water, but no food.

What did you do to deserve this? You were a good girl. You never did something mean on purpose, you were always a shoulder your friends could lean on. Why did this happen to just go - out of all the girls in the club? Suddenly the feeling of meeting the owner of the club wasn’t the best thing that had ever happened to you, like you thought before.

You didn’t even know why the mafia wanted women this month. You didn’t know why they were going to send you to EXO, but you were terrified. Would you be like a sex slave? That must me it, what else?

You choked on a sob. You hated this. You wanted to die. Your body had bruises, and they only got worse. It was better to just die than feel all of this pain.

The basement door slammed open, and you jumped. You had been half sleeping and been all alone in the dark, the sudden sound scared you.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit”, you heard a voice say, as small steps echoed in the room. You knew that voice; it was the one and only; Min Yoongi.

When his hands touched your skin you jumped away from him, and got closer to the wall.

“Fuck you”, you let out in a raspy voice. It was his fault you were here, all fingers pointed at him. You would rather die here than get close to him again.

“I wish, but you are going away in two days”, Yoongi said sarcastically, as he grabbed your shirt and yanked you back to him. His body was warm - probably because you were cold like an iceberg.

“Ah, these fucking idiots”, Yoongi mumbled under his breath, and started to fumble with the chain that was attached to your ankle. “’(Y/N) should heal - let’s put her in the basement!’ I wonder if I even work with people sometimes.”

Your foot suddenly felt light, and the sound of metal hitting the floor echoed through the room.

“Come on (Y/N), I will take you to a warmer room.”

Those were the words you had been waiting for. To finally get removed from this room. But you couldn't move - you were in too much of a pain. Yoongi put his foot on your arm, and wiggled you around a bit, but you just groaned out in pain.

Yoongi sighed, and an arm went under your legs and shoulders. Suddenly something warm hugged your left side, and the cold floor underneath you was gone. Were you in heaven? No--you were in too much of a pin to be dead. Fuck.

Yoongi started to walk with somewhere; your vision was all blurry from being half asleep. You did feel how he went up the stairs, and a wave of heat hit you after a while.

You sighed into Yoongi’s warm arms, as Yoongi once again walked up some stairs. You didn’t know where he was taking you, but it was warm. And that was the only thing that mattered.

After some minutes you felt something soft underneath you and something warm thrown on you. You soon realized you lay on a bed, with some covers. You were so tired you thought you would die, but your shirt felt really uncomfortable. No, no you were not going to take it off. You just wanted to borrow another one.

“Yoongi”, you mumbled out, half asleep. You didn’t even know if he was still in the room, that was how tired you were. “Yoongi can I borrow your shirt? I feel uncomfortable.”

“No”, was the cold answer you got the same second. “You are supposed to survive, not be comfortable.You’ll leave for good in two days too.”

The door closed, and even if you wanted to stay awake you couldn't. In a second you were in dreamland, forgetting about the horrible reality you lived in; with cold hearted bloods.

#admin sky #bts #bts scenario #cold hearted blood #bts mafia #bts gang au

325 notes · View notes

victor-criss · 7 years

Text

continued from:

@slinkhard

- the other side had lots of interesting characters too, but i remember getting annoyed with how they were like all king’s heroes, where their committee is mainly the white dudes in charge again with frannie as secretary and mother abigail being allowed some kind of figurehead position.

oh, and the stupid ‘thank you, men!’ speech, and the bit with her mean mom and saintly dad who thinks ‘life is cheap, but abortion makes it cheaper’, yawn.

(iirc, someone on a03 did a long yuletide fic basically rewriting the end to have frannie, nadine, lucy and sue walking west; which was amazing.)

larry is one of my favorite characters and i was shocked that even he was just like “okay, yeah” at that john wayne men only bullshit. lmao the “thank you, men” bs makes me want to hurt someone. (and holy shit, do i need that fic in my life.) i hope whichever screenwriters tackle the stand do more justice to the women (fran and abagail and nadine in particular) but i’m not holding my breath.

-i liked bev/richie’s friendships a lot in the book, i’ve read fic of the pairing and liked it, although i was also happy with it on a platonic level (isn’t richie one of the three like stan and mike who get skipped over in the sewer orgy ~*loving descriptions*~? cause actually, his reaction might have been interesting, considering he and bevvie seemed to know each other the best prior to the beginning of the book) since she’s so sexualised by everyone else.

i think this is why i tend to skew towards bev/richie (and to a lesser extent, bev/stan and bev/mike) when it comes to shipping bev with the other losers, because you’re right, they didn’t sexualize her the way the others did. richie constantly thinks she’s beautiful, but an off-the-cuff “oh shit bev is gorgeous” thought is usually followed by ten other non-appearance things he admires/finds cool about her, so i allowed it, haha. the biggest thing that sold me on them is when he’s only joking about her not participating in the ritual of chud because she’s a girl, but bill (+possibly some of the others) absolutely fucking isn’t. (and screaming at “colt-like legs and burgeoning breasts”. take a pill and chill, uncle steve.)

- i remember reading ‘thinner’ and getting creeped out how often the daughter, who literally has no characteristics apart from being pretty like her mom was, is described constantly as wearing these old clothes that show the edge of her ‘panties’. like, enough! the unaware ‘she was too young to realise what hot jailbait she was’ trope makes it more humbert-y than it already was.

i read thinner in high school and i remember being so actively grossed out by the descriptions of all the women in it. (and not that the protagonist is a stand-up guy, but the fact that he blames everything on his wife just kept creeping me out because i could imagine legions of male readers nodding along and being like “well, he’s not wrong!! evil blowjob-giving temptress!!” rme.)

- the movie took the traditional ‘your dream girl has been saving herself for your kisses!’, like yes, the big concern i had about this 13 year old girl wasn’t harassment or vulnerability to sexual abuse, it was whether or not she’s easy. and the book took the more neo-liberal ‘hey, i’m a modern man, women have this amazing power of creation and shit, dude; i’m sex positive and anyway, it’s *~her choice~*

yeppppppppp. and let’s not be worried that 15-year-old henry and his even older friends and grown-ass men (and god knows who else) have been harassing and also possibly doing non-consensual things to this 13-year-old girl (i also dislike how both the movie/miniseries age up the bowers gang yet still find time to include the henry/bev undertones from the book, because a 12yo boy lusting after an 11yo girl is apparently no different in their minds than a 15/17yo boy actively sexually harassing and touching a 13yo girl, which says A Lot)

- and he has the nerve to pull the ‘we didn’t believe it!’ bit. like, yes, you did, don’t try and whitewash yourselves now. a line about how you don’t need to explain yourself to us bevvie, we like you, would have worked ten times better.

lmfao when he acts as if he wasn’t the one trying to stop richie from mentioning henry to her. (why you always lying.mp3) and not to mention how gross the rest of them were. (and stan winking at bill when they talk about the play, even though he was so fucking rude to bev moments earlier? because she’s not their friend in this movie, got it, she’s damaged goods, but he’ll still be boyishly proud his friend was ~first to score a kiss from her. cool.) one of the earlier scripts had that scene go along the lines of: bill asks if the rumors are true, beverly gets mad and asks so what if they are, bill says, “you’re my friend and i just want to know that you’re okay.” WHY THE FUCK WAS THIS CHANGED. WHY. (i know, because men. because they don’t see the staggering difference between that scene and the one we got in the movie. or maybe they did, and wanted another chance to turn bev into even more of a fantasy for male audience members.)

- meryl streep couldn’t save the bill/bev/ben triangle for me, haha.

preach to the fucking choir lmao. i really liked jeremy ray taylor’s ben, and he had tons of sweet scenes with bev (ignoring the kidnapping/kiss, because i’m still mad), but i dislike the whole “bev belongs to ben and bill” undercurrent in the text and also the movie - i think even richie has a thought along those lines, acknowledging that ben accepts bill as his rival because it’s ~expected~ and ~just how it is~ and ~his right as the leader of the group~ but if richie would actively pursue bev, it would be a very different and unacceptable thing? wish i could remember the passage.

- i like suggesting that it would have been more acceptable as the group whacking off each other, nothing enrages them more. the girl getting fucked to the point of pain (and the weird bit after about how men don’t understand how ~*empty*~ you feel afterwards) by everyone is a wholesome paen to group dynamics, but friendship is strictly no-homo guys, srsly! (one of those essays called it Bev ‘steering the boys from their gender insecurities into…safely normal heterosexuality’ which is so on the nose.)

lol i’m gonna start doing that now, too. and wow at that essay. so true, especially for eddie.

- i read a fic where they’d basically genderswapped leigh for lee and it worked really well with the style, surprisingly.

yet something else i need to read! there’s so little for that fandom and it’s one of my absolute favs (ditto for pet sematary, which seems to yield almost no fan works)

7 notes · View notes

jrubalcaba · 7 years

Photo

author: jrubalcaba

featuring: OFC Guinevere “Gwen” Adams x Bucky Barnes

word count: 1793 words

rating: PG

warnings: Bucky being rude, small bit of physical violence.

A/N: This is my first major fanfic. I'm so excited to put this out there for you to read! A huge, huge, HUGE thank you to @avenger-nerd-mom for being my beta for this whole series and helping me turn a dream I had into a legit story! Enjoy!

“Damn Barnes, what did that punching bag ever do to you?” I called out across the training room. Bucky was beating the hell out of the poor thing and it was hanging by a thread. He gave it one final punch and it flew across the room, sand going everywhere.

“Oh you know, I was just imagining that it was that Travis dude you used to date. I mean, it's hard to tell the difference between them,” he taunted, “ya know, since there’s nothin’ of value on the inside.”

Ouch. He must have really hated him. We're only teammates, but I honestly felt that there might be a little more on his end. It could also be a ‘older brother’ type thing because he didn't like me going on the tough missions that he went on. To him, I'm ‘too young’ and ‘not experienced enough’ to be on the team. I've heard him ask Steve a few times why I was even around and it bothered me at first, but now I just shrug it off. I don't have to prove anything to him. Well, at least that's what I tell myself.

“Thanks Barnes. Confirming what I already thought. His name is Trevor by the way. I know he wasn't the best guy I've dated, but-”

“Wasn't the best guy? Gwen he only wanted one thing from you! I thought you were smart enough to find a decent guy to bring home,” Bucky interjected. “He treated you like dirt and he only stuck around in the hopes of getting into your pants! If you honestly couldn't see that, then maybe you’d be better off with him.” I stood there, too hurt to argue back. That was low, even for Barnes. “Wow. You really know how to compliment a girl don't ya? It's a wonder how you manage to get women to come home with you.” I picked my water bottle up and headed towards the door. “I'll just come back when you and your nasty-ass attitude are done,” I called over my shoulder. God that man irritates me to no end. Doesn't help that I think he's hotter than a tin roof on the 4th of July. He called after me but I was already out the door. I was almost to the elevator when I felt a hand on my shoulder stop me.

“Hey I said to hold on.” Bucky was smirking at me and if I wasn't so mad at him I would have been a little turned on. “You wanna know what my secret is to getting girls to come home with me? They aren't you.” Oh. That. Fucking. Bastard. “I find that if a dame is easy enough to take home, then she's only good for one thing. One thing that you're not good enough for.”

SLAP. I had heard enough. I'm not one for unnecessary violence, but that was the last straw and he asked for it.

“James Buchanan Barnes, go to hell. Don't ever talk to me or even look in my direction ever again. You’re a fucking pig. Take that metal arm of yours and go fuck yourself.” His face had a perfect red handprint on it and he had the decency to look shocked. I turned around and started walking towards the elevator again when FRIDAY’s voice rang out over the intercom.

“ALL TEAM MEMBERS TO THE MEETING ROOM IMMEDIATELY PLEASE. REPEAT ALL TEAM MEMBERS TO THE MEETING ROOM IMMEDIATELY PLEASE.”

Looks like there's going to be another mission. I got to the elevator and hit the Up button. The elevator dinged and opened and I stepped in and pushed the button for the floor I needed. The doors were almost shut when a metal hand stopped them. Barnes stepped in and stood on the opposite side from me, face still bright red where I slapped him. Good. Dam Bastard. The doors shut and we went up but stopped after a few floors and Wanda and Sam stepped in.

“What's wrong with your face Barnes? Did the punching bag hit back finally?” Sam joked. Wanda studied me for a moment before turning to Sam.

“She hit him,” she stated as Wilson lost it, doubling over in laughter and clutching his side. “That handprint is too small to belong to a man, and she's the only one in the elevator with him.”

“Gwen hit you? This little lady here hit you? Daaaaaaaaamn,” Sam says, “you must have deserved it. She doesn't hit just anyone!” He laughed some more and Wanda giggled. I grinned. I'm so proud of myself. Time to brag a bit.

“Yeah I slapped him. Not gonna lie, my hand hurts, but not as much as his ego might.” Man did it feel good to rub it in. Bucky’s jaw clenched as he turned to glare at me. I met his glare with one of my own while I raised my hand and wiggled my fingers. He glanced down at my hand and stepped back. Is he scared of me now, or just more wary of me? Either way I’ll take it.

Wilson was crying he was laughing so much and Wanda patted me on the back in a ‘good job’ way. Bucky growled and glowered at them while balling his hands into fists. The elevator dinged on the meeting room floor and we were met by Steve. He took one look at us and cocked an eyebrow.

“Anyone care to explain why Bucky's face red?” he inquired. Sam and Wanda started laughing all over again, holding onto each other for support. Barnes was fuming as he pushed his way out and stopped next to Steve.

“She slapped me,” he snarled, jabbing his thumb towards me before continuing on to the meeting. Steve’s eyes got big and stared me down. Oh no, I laid hands on his precious Bucky. I'm in so much trouble. Luckily Wanda came to my rescue.

“He deserved it,” she started, trying to catch her breath. “I’m sure that Gwen had a perfectly good reason.” I just smiled and walked past them all into the meeting room. I chose a seat furthest away from the door because Steve and Bucky always sit next to the door and I didn't want to piss Barnes off even more. Everyone else started filing in and Natasha sat to my left and Wanda was on my other side. Tony was about to start when he caught sight of Bucky’s face, which was still red.

“What happened to your face, Barnes?” When he didn't get an answer, Tony started in on him. “Too afraid to answer? Didn't peg you as a scaredy cat, you know, what with your ‘Metal-Arm-Of-Death’ and all.” Bucky was gripping the table hard enough to leave finger marks in it. Sam couldn't resist being the one to tell the story again, so he jumped at the chance.

“He's mad because Gwen bitch-slapped him. Our little Guinevere Adams, resident sweetheart, got fed up with his shit and pimp-slapped him like it was nothing. Girl, I gotta ask, how did it feel?”

Oh boy. Everyone's eyes were on me. Nat leaned back in her seat and gave me a once over. I think I might have finally earned her respect, which is something that's hard-won. Time to own it.

“Yes I slapped him. He has said some things that hurt me and I've had enough. It felt good at the time but now I just feel bad because I don't normally do things like that. I am sorry for slapping you, Sergeant Barnes, but you had it coming.” Everyone seemed to be impressed with me being able to actually hurt the Winter Soldier. Nat smiled and bowed in a ‘I’m not worthy’ way toward me. Tony shot me two thumbs up and turned back to the hologram screen.

“So there's been an attempted kidnapping and we're being asked to step in and, for lack of a better term, babysit. Elliott and Zoey are the children of two biochemical nuclear engineers who have been ‘recruited’ by HYDRA.” Nat scoffed and Tony stopped to look at her. They shared a look for a brief moment, before he continued. “We’re being led to believe that HYDRA might try to use the kids against their parents.”

When kids are involved, people tend to get a little uncomfortable and not one person at the table looked happy. Barnes was too busy staring holes into my head from across the table to care, while Steve looked between us as if trying to keep us civil and Sam was silent while he watched with amusement. Natasha and Wanda were looking through pictures of the children on the tablets and Clint and Scott, the only parents on the team, were staring off in a daze, no doubt wondering about their own kids. Vision was looking around at everyone trying to understand the gravity of the situation, but it looked like he couldn't grasp the humanity necessary to comprehend this.

“I’m sorry, but why would these children be able to make their parents do anything? They're just children,” he inquired. Vision may have access to all the world's data, but regarding human thoughts and emotions, he was a bit daft. I decided to help him out a bit.

“Vis, try to imagine having someone in your life so precious to you, that if their life was threatened in any way, you would do anything to keep them safe. Now multiply that by infinity. That's the love of a parent.” I looked at Clint and Scott and they both nodded their heads. Vision took a moment to absorb my words before nodding for me to continue. “Those biochemical nuclear engineers? They could create biological weapons that could decimate cities in a matter of minutes, if the lives of their children were threatened. That’s why those kids are so important. If they are harmed, people could die. We need to keep those kids safe until we find and rescue their parents.” He nodded his head again, taking in everything I said so he could better understand the mission at hand.

“Geez Gwen, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were a parent yourself,” Clint mused from down the table. I turned towards him and grinned. Tony clapped his hands to call attention back to himself.

“Someone from the team will have to go undercover and watch over these kids until we can rescue their parents. Any takers?” No one moved. These kind of missions had the potential to end horribly, and no one wanted a piece of that. “Not everyone at once. Clint? Scott?” The dads both shook their heads. One by one people shook their heads no, until...

“I’ll do it.”

Chapter 2

TAGS: @avenger-nerd-mom, @sketchbookthingz, @buckyywiththegoodhair

#bucky x ofc #fanfic #jrubalcaba #precious cargo

97 notes · View notes

anonymous-human · 7 years

Note

I saw that soul mate authority ask, how about something similar, but with Starscream and/or Smokescreen? Short scenarios is fine.

(look, I don’t know how to write this {despite doing it anyway [I won’t Not do a request]}. I think you meant TFP, so, on we go!

bruhhh I’ve had this for sooo long!!!)

Starscream

He had always been freaked out by the non-removable and unbreakable red string around his finger that no one else could see, apparently. And upon going to earth really didn’t help him.

One day, after a little one-sided row with megatron, he was left alone with nothing too important to do, so, he went out to fly around the country. Far away from the Nemesis, but not far enough to get lost.

~~~~

You did it! You just ran away from an abusive boyfriend. He wasn’t really your ‘boyfriend’, he just had a gun, and it wasn’t worth dying. Not like that. The guy didn’t even drink, he just hated women for some god forsaken reason.

The red string didn’t even lead to him, and if anything, it seemed to dull in his presence.

Before you met him, you were half way through college and pilot school and were going to join the air force the second you got the chance. That was the plan, and then he showed up and broke you down. Followed you around this a gun in his pocket and pretty much ruined your life.

So you snuck out to the best of your ability, got on your motorcycle (just roll with it, *snaps finger guns* *ba-du-Tisch*) speed off and hoped, HOPED to God in heaven that he would not follow you. You decided to run to your parents, they’ve supported you your entire life and such.

So you’re on the road, just a few miles left and you’ve made it across the country to your hometown in Nevada; Jasper.

Just then, a big jet from above flew straight overhead.

Starscream was heading back, he had gone somewhere unpopulated by humans to blow off some steam. When he noticed a little two wheeler, and then he noticed the string that went from him to you.

(So yeah, he kidnapped you, use your imagination. And you black out)

You woke up, and slowly opened your eyes. You were quick to notice the restraints around your wrists and arms. You in also in a big dark room, and the spotlight was on you. You looked around widely and whimpered, no way getting down, that’s for sure.

“Ah, so your finally awake.” a voice rang out. You heard the click clack of metal-heel-peds on metal and soon came face to face with… a robot?

“… where am I?” you asked. You thought you were dreaming, but you could not be relieved of your restrains as much as you tried.

“All your questions will be answered, as you as you answer a simple question of mine,” he said. He stood tall, hands behind his back. His voice has a growl to it.

“Sure, what do you need.” you said, anything to be let down.

“Explain,” he lifted one of his hands to your face to show the bright red string. “What this means.” he said. You instantly gasped as you noticed where the string led to; your hand. “Oh, my. God,” you spoke of shock. The whole consent of the red string leads to your soul mate has always fascinated you, and now, you had to wonder. Him? Like? The giant robot? How does that work??

“What? What is it?!” he commanded you to answer.

“‘The Red String Of Fate?’ that’s… so weird.” you said, and then went on. “We’re… uhh, soulmates.” you smiled. While Starscream looked rather stunned himself. “Can… you let me down now?” you asked.

He hesitated, nodded, and turned his back to you, waving his servo in the air so a vehicon would untie you.

“What’s your name?” you asked. And he hesitated “… Starscream.” He went quiet for a second before saying.

“I’ll let you out.” he started. “You never seen me.” he gave a threatening look while pointing a metal clawed finger.

“Never saw you in my life.” you were kinda disappointed. This was your soulmate. And he was disgusted by you.

You went to see your parents when you got there the next day. When you rang the doorbell, no one answered. You did it again, no answer.

“Hello?” you called. Suddenly, the door open to show a big black silhouette. And the swing of something hard hit you upside the head.

—-

So you wake up with a jolt. Tied up, again. But this time, you were tied to a chair, surrounded by your parents who were also tied up and unconscious in chairs. You were in an old field, a place that used to have a park but was shut down years later. The sky was blue and clouds floated past from above.

“Wake-y wake-y, cream and bakery.” a familiar voice said from behind you. He followed you. His laugh was heard, and then he moved in front of you. Another man appeared alongside him, probably one of his friends.

“Now let’s get to the point.” he made you look straight at his with his hand.

“Come home with me, and stay, or say good-fucking-bye to your parents.” he held a gun to your mother’s head, while his friend went to your father’s.

You looked between him and your mother. Save your skin? Or save your parents and suffer?

“You have three seconds!” he warned.

“I-“ you were about to say something when a familiar jet decided to land, just a few feet away.

“Untie her,” he warned, before lifting an arm and aiming a missile at at them. “Or perish.” which was dumb because he would’ve killed all 5 of us!

But there was no need, the two assholes were in shock and made a run for it. You looked around at your surrounding quickly to see if they dropped a gun, to nothing… but your mom’s car not so far away.

“Turn into jet mode.” you called to him.

“What?”

“Just wait a second.” You quickly woke up your parents and untied them, and helped them to they car. They made many questions about what was going on, but you asked them to save it for later. Once it was all said and done, you told them to drive home, and if anything happens to call the police. Once hey drove off Starscream transformed. You smiled up at him.

“Thank you,” you said. And he opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated.

“I-…. of course.” and then it got awkward.

“ …Wanna send some airstrikes to the dudes who almost killed me?” you asked. He then transformed, and opened up his cockpit. “Get in, let’s go.”

Smokescreen

He was confused, he’d always asked questioned but the weird looks he’s been gives him the answer. Now, millions of years later when he’s up, and your just a partnerless human on team prime, who’s red string just seems to lead to his. Everyone’s back from the mission, everyone has chilled down.

You’ve been made partners to the newly appointed member of Team Prime, Smokescreen. You had noticed the string going from you to him, but how do you tell someone that they are your soulmate? ‘Hey, you are my soulmate.’ like, no. That’s weird and creepy. You had always wondered until one fateful day.

“Hey, y/n!” smokescreen called to you, as he opened the door to his passenger seat.

“Good morning, Smokey.” you hopped in, just like any normal day. He told you about all the dumb things that you missed after you went home from last night, and you’d laugh at the dumb story.

And then you’d start getting closer to base when he’d pop the question. “Hey, Y/n?” he said, and you hummed in response.

“Do you see the red string?” he asked. Your head shot up quickly. What do you know? He can see it too!

“You can see it too?” you asked, trying to hide the excitement in your voice.

“Yeah,” he stated. “What does it mean?” oh, what do you know… this is gonna be awkward. You explained to him as good as you could about the red string of fate that was strung around each of your ring fingers.

“If it creeps you out, i won’t go through with anything,” you started.

“Are you kidding me? Y/n, I-” he hesitated. Words came out, but they didn’t mean anything until he paused, and said; “Would you like to human date me Y/n?”

“Yes!- I mean, it doesn’t freak you out?”

“Nah, dating a human isn’t weird!” he claimed, “Dating a scraplet is at the top of ‘the list of weird things to date’,” he chuckled. So what do you say? After patrol, uh, later?”

“Yeah! Let’s do it!”

#transformers scenario #starscream #smokescreen #tfp #transformers pime #tf #i'm-anonymous

23 notes · View notes

hoenursey · 7 years

Note

Hi, can I ask the I guess story of Othello real quick even just a summary if you don't want to go in depth because I was excited about hearing about it, but then I was also really thrown off seeing Othello being a slave and all and now I'm just kinda confused?? Because Nursey in silk with a choking kink DOES sound amazing but I guess I'm just confused af now

lmao, okay, so. originally i was writing just an au of nursey and dex playing desdemona and othello, respectively. however, othello’ character background is that he was a former slave and a moorsman, or a person from the moor, and moorsmen are black people.

the beginning of othello starts with roderigo and iago outside of the house of brabantion, desdemona’s father. roderigo is jealous of othello because he’s in love with desdemona and she pretty much turned everyone down and she’s like dainty and pretty and hot as fuck, like the most beautiful fair girl ever and shit, but she’s falling in love with othello. also i’m pretty sure roderigo saw her and othello chilling or w/e. so basically, in the middle of the fuckening night, roderigo and iago start yelling to brabantion to come outside and talk to them. brabantion is generally a pretty cool dad and he’s like “bitch she doesn’t like u stop getting drunk and coming to my house my daughter turned ur ass down already”, rod and iago proceed to say a bunch of racist shit and say “check her bed she’s out being a slut with a black dude lol” to which dadbra says “she would never she’s so sweet and she’s also turned down literally everyone who’s ever wanted to date her” but desi, my girl, is actually gone from her bed, so dadbra is like “you’re right!!! i can’t believe my daughter is fucking around before marriage in the middle of the night!!! i trusted her!!! time to go chase after othello, who i welcomed into my house, with a bunch of pitchforks” which they do. they show up to othello’s crib like “what’s up here’s our accusations time to throw you in jail for fucking my daughter because if she turned down all the hot dudes in the entire city she’s definitely not gonna fuck a black dude out of wedlock unless there was some type of witchcraft involved” to and othello is like “uhh okay cool i’m dealing with the house of senators rn so like. can this wait a second my dudes” and they’re like “perfect! we’re gonna show them what a terrible black dude you are!”

they go in front of the senators and they’re like “what’s the sitch why is this angry mob here my dude” dadbra is like “uh he fucked my daughter, i’m sending him to jail for witchcraft or kidnapping bc there’s literally no other way she’d fuck a black dude when she doesn’t even like these hot white dudes”

othello’s like “uh actually i married her”

everyone: “what”

and he kind of explains like “buddy yeah i’m not super good with words so i’m not gonna bs you. i married your daughter. no kidnapping, drugging, or witchcraft. she fell in love with me and so now we’re married. she’s at the inn down the street also so like i’m def not fucking her since we’re at my house and she’s at a hotel”

everyone except dadbra is like “oh okay that sounds reasonable” but dadbra is like “you’re telling me that my good white upper class daughter fell in love with a black dude who she’d be afraid to look at? i’m calling bullshit it’s clearly witchcraft”

the duke p much is like “uh… but where’s the receipts tho i don’t see any witchcraft” and the senators are like “go get desdemona so we can confirm this also othello bro keep talking”

othello’s like “yeah i was a warrior and i travelled a lot and dadbra used to like me a lot so he invited me over to hear my stories about the wars and how i fought and battles and being on ships. i told him my entire life story from when i was a kid all the way until now, how i was captured and sold as a slave, how i bought my own freedom and just all types of cool shit and then when she did her chores around the house for dadbra she would come around as soon as she finished and ask me more and ask me to tell her more stories” essentially desi thinks he’s hot and a tragic hero and she’s like “everything that happened to you sucks but you’ve also got some sick ass stories so maybe that makes it a little better? idk sorry all this bad shit happened to you but you’re rly interesting to talk to. if any friends had any stories like yours i’d probably fall in love with them”

othello’s like “yeah uh i’m not that smart and i’m more of a military dude than an intellectual but i know a fucking hint when i see one”

he says the sweetest thing too like “she loved me for the horrors i had been through and that i had the strength to come out on top, and i loved her for feeling so strongly about me and having passion. here comes my wife now and she’ll tell you the exact same story”

desi comes in and is like “yeah dad sorry i shouldn’t have like run out in the middle of the night to get married but i really do love him promise no messing around”

and this is part of the reason i think brabantion is kinda cool bc he’s not actually a racist he just said some shit without rly thinking and let the things that he’s used to hearing influence him and he’s like “oh, well, you’re in love. that’s fine then sorry i didn’t realize. i’m super glad you’re my only daughter because after this whole disaster, if you’d had any younger sisters i know i would have overreacted and acted like a prison warden to them and women don’t deserve that. i’m still a little upset abt u sneaking out in the middle of the night but like blessings on your marriage i guess.

so that’s like…. act one

later on some fuckery happens, iago decides to be a dick, because they’re all together for some reason that i don’t feel like saying idk something abt the turks and also because he’s a miserable worm

cassio is one of their friends who’s also there and he’s, like, some type of foreign i think (probably spanish or italian) and has respect for women and his wife (who’s not there) but bc he’s spanish or italian (probably italian as verona is mentioned and shakespeare REALLY has a thing abt italy??? idk he’s a pasta fucker) or whatever he does the thing where he kisses people on the cheek and because it’s the elizabethan era, he kisses women’s hands, and earlier he had like politely greeted desdemona and iago’s wife and called them beautiful and smart and shit and called iago out on being a misogynistic piece of shit. iago like actively hates his wife and also literally anyone else’s happiness so he’s like i’m gonna fuck up cassio’s life and i’m gonna fuck up othello and desi’s and also he’s a jealous racist misogynistic asshole wants to fuck up othello and desdemona’s (healthy, loving, trusting, equal) relationship so he’s like

"hey othello. ur wife’s a slut. she’s fucking cassio behind ur back lol”

and othello, who thinks his wife is the shit, is like *daveed diggs voice* “whaaaaat”

iago: “yeah totes she’s a massive hoe”

and othello is like “nah not my wife. maybe someone else’s wife, but not mine”

and iago is like “no bro im serious. we’re sleeping in the same bed (i don’t know why i mean his fucking wife is there isn’t she) he’s been having like wet dreams about her and saying ‘damn i wish u weren’t with that black dude’ and he’s been rolling over in his sleep and dry humping me whilst moaning ur wife’s name” (honestly iago the reason you don’t like women is because you’re gay and jealous calm down)

(literally that was so extra i can’t believe how overwhelmingly bisexual shakespeare was that he needed to slide that gay ass shit in there)

anyways othello’s like “okay so that’s a little weird but that doesn’t mean she did anything. maybe cassio just wants to bang my wife. that’s understandable, as id also like to bang my wife” (they’re super into PDA they’re so in love)

iago: fair. also iago: i mean there’s no way to prove it but like… maybe your wife gave him something. like, idk, does she have a hand embroidered handkerchief maybe? just a thought just a thought lolothello: ya i gave that to her as like a courtship gift she never goes anywhere without it bc she loves me so muchiago: yeah well uh i cassio wiping his beard with it so they’re definitely fuckingothello, my dumb son: NO!!! THAT DEFINITELY MEANS THEYRE FUCKING IF MY WIFE GAVE AN ITEM OF GREAT SENTIMENTAL AND PERSONAL SIGNIFICANCE TO HIM!!! MY ABSOLUTELY TOTALLY FAITHFUL AND COMPLETELY INNOCENT UP UNTIL THIS POINT WIFE!!!!

so he’s like “uh i have to kill her i guess now :(((((((”

problem is he’s still fucking in love with her like he literally loves her so much and can’t even bear to stab her like a normal person would do if they’re trying to kill their wife, so what does he do? he fucking kisses her awake to explain what he’s doing and why he’s doing it and then gently smothers her to death

so gently, in fact, that she doesn’t actually die, just passes out

a servant walks in and is like “boi what the FUCK”

othello: uh

it’s desi’s handmaiden lmao and he’s like “i had to she’s fucking other men” to which she says “no she’s not you idiot” and then desdemona wakes up to say something dramatic and then properly dies

except no she doesn’t bc othello literally is just really really fucking in love with his wife so he’s an incredibly ineffective murderer despite literally having been in the military for almost all of his life but that’s all i’m explaining bc my hands are tired and i answered this all on mobile plus that’s all you need to know for my story

#othello #aus #anonyomous #fic talk #asks

23 notes · View notes

thebibliomancer · 5 years

Text

50 More Days of Comics! 23/50: New Gods #6 (1989)

The New Gods were Jack Kirby’s pet project. As the legend goes, he proposed to Marvel that he be allowed to kill off the entire Thor cast and setting and have new guys instead. For some reason Marvel didn’t bite.

Honestly its for the best. Killing off Thor et al would have deprived us of the incredible Walter Simonson run, Jane Foster as Thor, and most importantly of Throg, frog of thunder. Not having to steal Darkseid to invent Thanos wouldn’t have been worth missing out on that.

Later Kirby took the idea to DC who not only let him build up his Fourth World mythology in several books but also gave Kirby the Jimmy Olsen book to help build it up.

“Take our Olsen, please!”

Really, Kirby asked for the Jimmy Olsen book because nobody was writing it and Jack “the King” Kirby was a very classy guy who didn’t want to screw another writer out of a job.

Heck of a guy.

For whatever reason, the New Gods and Fourth World stuff never took off quite as much as some other things but elements like Darkseid and also Darkseid and some more Darkseid caught on.

Seriously, does anyone care about anything from New Genesis that isn’t Orion or Mister Miracle?

So New Gods slash the Fourth World have a spotty publishing history. As in, they don’t always get their own dedicated books but the Darkseid Darkseid Darkseid elements bled into other things. Like the time an exile from Apokolips brainwashed Superman into almost starring in a porno…….

Sometimes comics…. bad.

But the point being this is how we get a New Gods issue 6 all the way into 1989. That and Crisis on Infinite Earths blowing up continuity so that the New Gods had to be reestablished.

I’ll be honest, I never much cared for the Fourth World stuff. I don’t dislike it. I just don’t much care for it. I’m fairly neutral.

So can this comic six issues into a series make me care? Well its Orion focused so possibly not?

I dislike how his flying harness thing makes him look like he’s constipated squatting and his default demeanor is roid rage.

See, look how angry he is to be stepped on by zombies. Learn to chill, my dude.

The comic starts with some establishing narration about the death of the old gods and creation of the Fourth World. I don’t know if the comic waited until issue 6 to cover this fairly important detail of the premise or whether it just says this at the beginning of every issue.

But heres the quick and the dirty: the old gods fought the final battle and as it was the final battle they all died when some evil shadow split the world of the old gods (hey maybe it was Asgard, suggests the narration) in twain.

Half became New Genesis, a world of good people and good things like puppies and rainbows. And half became Apokolips, for evil people and evil things like torture and gigantic plumes of fire.

Its not subtle or very complex but that’s not how Jack Kirby or comics rolled.

One wrinkle though is Orion.

The Evil Gods and the Good Gods decided to do a son swap for reasons of peace or something. Highfather took Darkseid’s son Orion and tried to teach him of peace and good although a terrible hair trigger temper burned in Orion’s heart. And Darkseid took Highfather’s son Scott Free and placed him in a ‘terror orphanage’ and ‘tortured him forever.’

Quite a difference in priorities there but don’t forget that the New Gods of Apokolips are super duper evil.

Scott Free got free and became a super escape artist superhero but is generally a pretty morally good guy. It turns out that when you only teach a guy to escape you, he only learns to escape you.

But Orion is thematically the midpoint between New Genesis and Apokolips, caught between them being torn between nature and nurture, between his bloodthirsty Apokolipsan instincts and his ‘don’t be a dick’ training from New Genesis.

He’s hypothetically a really interesting character.

Also, this issue contains zombies of the Old Gods, called Dreggs because misspelling is trademarkable.

They live in the ruins within Apokolips and occasionally poke their head out only to be whack a moled by Kalibak.

They’re why the issue is titled “People Too Stupid to Die!”

Orion is flying around in his dumb harness bemoaning the constant war that rages between his two halves and wishing it could be fought with punching instead of thinking. And wondering why Forager yelled at him for blowing up the land of bugs. Bug women are so confusing.

So he decides to visit his only friend, government agent Dave Lincoln “one of a select few Earth-dwellers linked to the gods by the Anti-Life equation…”

The more I learn about the Anti-Life Equation the less sense it makes.

And also I immediately hate Dave Lincoln. There’s just real kneejerk animosity. For one thing he’s one of those guys that smokes a pipe and also gestures with his pipe. For another thing, he criticizes the Cuomo administration for not building enough prisons and not executing enough people.

What particularly rankles is that this guy is supposed to be the guy that teaches Orion Earth morality (because apparently he didn’t learn dick on New Genesis).

When Dave Lincoln chases down a fleeing murderer who almost gets the drop on him, Orion intervenes and is about to kill the criminal when Lincoln tells him not to.

Because unsurprisingly on Apokolips if you beat an opponent, their life is forfeit. And again, either it’s the same way on New Genesis or they didn’t teach Orion dick.

Speaking of Apokolips, Darkseid had some women named Eve kidnapped who I guess is tied to Orion in some way. But he does not let god of torture Desaad torture her because his plan is to get Orion to kill her somehow.

Not sure how he’ll finagle that but apparently her death will unlock another facet of the Anti-Life Equation for Darkseid and make him even more powerful.

And to illustrate how big his power already is, he shoots some Omega beams into the atmosphere on a whim that also aggros the zombies. There’s basically no reason for him to be blasting off at nothing except to get the zombies to scrumble out of the underground and be present in the plot.

Meanwhile, New Genesis.

I wonder what this perfect paradise planet full of only good people is like?

Well apparently some jerks ‘usurped’ the Highfather’s power by forming a council so that he doesn’t have unilateral power.

And the Highfather responds to this infringement on his ‘natural’ power by first calling them uninspired leeches.

Highfather: “It was I who settled New Genesis, established the dream… always there are others, incapable of their own dreams, to come forth and lay claim to mine! Always, there are those who seek to reap the benefits of today, never having fought the battles which allowed us to have dreams at all!”

The council was, by the way, elected. So its not like they just seized power.

Anyway, that’s when Highfather decides to dissolve their council and be unilateral again.

Highfather: “People of New Genesis… a new order begins today in the form of the old order. I again preside.”

I… have no idea how this is supposed to come off.

I guess both the paradise and hell god worlds agree that an uncontested patriarchal single central leader is the ideal form of government, they just disagree on whether said leader should have a beard or a face made of rock.

And both would agree that Democracy Is Bad.

Eesh.

Lightray, the new New God that apparently fans hated for being a spotlight stealer, worries that a civil war might be brewing on the paradise good planet of only good gods and decides he should find Metron for advice but think of the devil and boop there Metron appears.

Metron redirects Lightray by telling him that Eve got kidnapped and possible society splitting pushed out of mind, Lightray zooms off to Earth to go tell Orion while Metron muses that this really might be the end of New Genesis.

On Earth, Orion is still talking about how you just gotta kill your opponents otherwise you’re weak and you’ll be disrespected and he uses as an example a cockroach he finds in Dave Lincoln’s apartment. It has invaded his territory and he’s not even destroying it!

So Orion squishes it. A GREAT VICTORY FOR ORION!

Then Lightray shows up and tells Orion that Darkseid has kidnapped Eve! Orion decides he’s going to beat up Darkseid!

‘And rescue Eve’ reminds Dave Lincoln.

‘Sure sure,’ says Orion, basically.

Then they boom tube to Apokolips.

Where meanwhile, Darkseid has gotten distracted from his plot to get Orion to murder someone because all these zombies have shown up.

He tells them to gtfo but they don’t listen. He has them shot but they still don’t listen. Because they are zombies.

Meanwhile elsewhere, Desaad uses Darkseid’s distraction to hook Even naked into an upside down torture machine. Annnnnnd then Orion bursts through the wall like an X-Force.

Did you know that the members of X-Force have collectively died more often than they’ve used a door? Plausibly true story.

Anyway, Desaad summons some big toughies and skee daddles. Orion punches all the big guys because that’s what he do. He also works himself into a lather because that is also what he do.

Around when Orion is making a guy shoot himself in the face while cracking a disturbing grin, Lightray reminds Orion of the thing that Dave Lincoln told him. Presumably the thing about la la la la save the girl do not fight the dad.

Meanwhile, Darkseid still telling the zombies to gtfo. And any amount of strikes and they’re out so Darkseid shoots his Omega Beams at them.

And nothing happens.

“There can be no victory for Darkseid: How can you savor the death of that which is already dead?”

Is THAT how the Omega Beams work??

One of the zombies tries to grope at Darkseid so he shoots some Omega Beams again.

To again no obvious, immediate effect.

But hey, here’s the thing which would sound made up if you encountered it in a dry synopsis.

The Omega Beams that Darkseid fired at the zombies?

They go through them to no avail but beams don’t just stop being a thing. They keep traveling to where Orion, Eve, and Lightray are.

Orion assumes, as his lather is still lathered on both sides, that Darkseid is attacking him but the beams go right by him and zap Eve and Lightray out of existence or somewhere nasty or however Omega Beams work today.

Shocked and appalled that Darkseid wasn’t targeting him, Orion shouts that Darkseid’s quarrel is with him and waits for the other shoe to drop. Then the other pair of Omega Beams that Darkseid fired at the zombies hit him and vanish him away.

“Just for the moment, as he is banished to the next conflict, Orion wonders if this is the will of Darkseid or mere chance... just as quickly, he dismisses the notion that, here, there is anything but the will of Darkseid.”

We cut to Darkseid questioning Desaad if Orion’s ‘true nature’ came forth.

Desaad says that Lightray kept Orion good but that doesn’t really match what I saw happen.

The god of torture asks what happened to the invading zombies and Darkseid says that he let them go because they are feeble and unworthy of his attention.

Unbenoticed, the zombie that tried to grab Darkseid grabs Orion’s helmet as it and the other Dregg shuffle away.

“With Darkseid, there is never the accidental, only the deliberate. All, even when it fails, is according to his grand design... He has vanquished the Dreggs well. They departed, he knows, not out of disinterest but because they recognized his might. Now, they wander off not of their own will. Of that, Darkseid is certain. But what brought them here remains a mystery, even to him... Perhaps they came to remind him of a time past... Perhaps, he wonders, they carry some message... but, of course, Darkseid has nothing to learn from the past.”

Womp womp womp

There’s a funny implication that despite what Orion and Darkseid believe, Darkseid has no idea what just happened and the plan went completely off the rails and it was because of something stupid like blind firing into a pack of zombies hitting someone across the planet.

But if the zombies were attracted to distract Darkseid from his plans for Orion and accidentally shoot his plans for Orion, then what is the architect?

The narration says that they were attracted by Darkseid firing lasers into the atmosphere.

It’s all a bit inexplicable.

#New Gods #Orion #50 More Days of Comics!#Darkseid goofuses up

0 notes

fadingfartconnoisseur · 7 years

Text

The Worst Books I’ve Ever Read

Every month, I tell you what I’m reading; every year, I rank my favorite books of the year. Reading is a huge part of my life and I make an effort to read the best books I can find. (See the best of 2016 and best of 2015 here.)

That being said, anyone who reads this much knows that there’s no attraction in, “This is good, this is good, this is also good.” The bad stuff — the drama, the conflict — is what gets readers really interested.

And so I think it’s time to talk about the WORST books I’ve ever read.

I haven’t read Fifty Shades of Grey and don’t plan to, so you won’t find that here. Nor anything by Ann Coulter — in fact, I’ll exclude political books altogether. Nothing by L. Ron Hubbard. The Da Vinci Code won’t be on this list, either (Dan Brown gets a lot of hate, but dude knows how to write suspense and I can’t hate on him for that). And while some people can’t stomach it, I happen to love Lolita.

Here are the worst books I’ve ever read, in my opinion. Some are great works of literature that happened to rub me the wrong way. Some are more embarrassing than that.

And the worst book of all, a book that made me physically angry for having read it and forever changed my opinion of the author, is listed last.

The Worst Book from High School: Walden by Henry David Thoreau

Sophomore year was tough for me, capped by my experiences in Honors American Lit. My teacher and I butted heads from the start and I disliked much of the literature we read. I struggled to keep up, even deciding to drop Honors British Lit the following year in favor of English electives. (This is why I didn’t read Hamlet until 2015.)

And then came Walden near the end of the year. A book lauded by so many people — often including the travel blogging community. A book that took place and was written just a few miles from where I grew up.

Henry David Thoreau moved into a cabin in the woods. He read, he wrote, he observed nature and grew his own food and tried to create art from it.

“Every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal simplicity, and I may say innocence, with Nature herself.” –Henry David Thoreau, Walden

Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity.

Revisiting Walden after years of reading about privilege in America, it becomes more striking that Thoreau was only concerned with what a wealthy independent man could do with his time, ignoring everyone else in society.

Another problem was that much of what Thoreau actually wrote was cloaked in hypocrisy. In between talking about the beauty and fragility and nature, he described how much he loved burning down half the forest. He would go on and on about how the only books people should read are classic Greek literature — as he writes a new book for them to read. Also, his mother would do his laundry.

I wrote a scathing paper decrying Thoreau’s hypocrisy.

My teacher gave me an A-.

I consider that one of my greatest academic victories.

What To Read Instead: The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli. It’s pretty much as much an opposite of Walden as you can get, and I found it far more entertaining.

The Worst Conclusion to a Series: Allegiant by Veronica Roth

I get it — it’s hard to write a good ending to a book, much less wrap up a three-book series. But I haven’t seen anything crash and burn as badly as Allegiant, the conclusion of Veronica Roth’s Divergent series.

The series as a whole intrigued me a bit but ultimately made my eyes roll. In a futuristic society, teenagers take a test and are sorted into one of five groups based on their personality: Abnegation (the selfless), Erudite (the intelligent), Candor (the honest), Amity (dirty hippies), and Dauntless (the brave). But when Tris displays the traits of multiple groups in her test, she finds out she’s Divergent and she could be killed for it.

Now: the first two books were told from Tris’s point of view. In Allegiant, the story is suddenly told from two points of view, Tris and her lover Four — but both voices are exactly the same. They witness the same events. They have the same feelings. Their vocabularies and cadences are identical. I could never tell who was speaking.

Beyond that, the “big revelation” at the end of the book landed with a thump, and so many people died throughout that the deaths became meaningless.

“When her body first hit the net, all I registered was a gray blur. I pulled her across it and her hand was small, but warm, and then she stood before me, short and thin and plain and in all ways unremarkable- except that she had jumped first. The stiff had jumped first. Even I didn’t jump first. Her eyes were so stern, so insistent. Beautiful.” –Vernoica Roth, Allegiant

Another theme throughout the first two books is that characters would occasionally get injected with serums that would create simulations — and sometimes led them to do evil things. The final book was a series of, “Okay, it’s time for another serum!” “Wait, here’s a serum to override that serum!” “No, that’s a bad serum, we’re the good guys, this one’s a GOOD serum!” Again and again, another serum. You’d think Roth owned stock in skincare products.

What to Read Instead: The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. Not only is it a fantastic novel, the story is told through several different narrators and each of the voices are unique and different.

The Worst Book Receiving Bewildering Levels of Praise: The Girls by Emma Cline

One of the buzziest books of 2016, The Girls is a fictionalized retelling of the Manson murders of the 1970s, focusing on the relationships between the women in Not Charles Manson’s cult.

One of the things I can’t stand the most is wasted potential. This book could have been so good in the hands of another author!

Emma Cline focused more on creating elaborate prose than telling a story. And when I say elaborate, that’s not a compliment — she stuffed her paragraphs with enough bewildering metaphors and similes as if they were banana peppers on a Subway sandwich (yes, I know what I did there). It goes to show that no matter how you write, if you don’t know how to tell a story, you’ve got nothing.

“Poor Sasha. Poor girls. The world fattens them on the promise of life. How badly they need it, and how little most of them will ever get. The treacled pop songs, the dresses described in the catalogs with words like ‘sunset’ and ‘Paris.’ Then the dreams are taken away with such violent force; the hand wrenching the buttons of the jeans, nobody looking at the man shouting at his girlfriend on the bus.” –Emma Cline, The Girls

At the same time, the book moved at a glacial pace. By the time the action started, I was psyched to finally have some excitement — only it withered and died instantly. The big showdown I had been expecting didn’t even come to fruition.

What To Read Instead: American Heiress by Jeffrey Toobin, a much better book about 1970s Bay Area counterculture. This one focuses on the kidnapping of Patty Hearst by the Symbionese Liberation Army, and it was so exciting I couldn’t put it down.

The Biggest Disappointment From An Author I Love: A Cook’s Tour by Anthony Bourdain

I love Uncle Tony. I worship the man. But A Cook’s Tour was not his best work.

You think combining Anthony Bourdain and world travel would be amazing, especially after his wild and raw Kitchen Confidential (one of my all-time favorite memoirs). This book is a collection of essays about his first major international trip as a food writer and personality. And he loved every minute of it.

But that was the problem — Kitchen Confidential was full of conflict. Pirate-looking chefs fucking brides in their wedding dresses in the walk-in. Crawling along the bar after work, snorting six-foot lines of cocaine. Going from cooking in world-class restaurants to flipping burgers in a crappy diner, the metallic taste of methadone in your mouth. It was gritty and ugly and utterly compelling.

A Cook’s Tour was just Uncle Tony eating food and having a good time traveling. There was no story, no narrative arc. It was just a lot of, “Hey, this is great.”

“What is love? Love is eating twenty-four ounces of raw fish at four o’clock in the morning.” –Anthony Bourdain, A Cook’s Tour

And while I enjoyed his stories from Russia and San Sebastian, Spain, they weren’t enough to sustain a full book.

Luckily, his writing changed direction in his subsequent collections, and I suspect he had a better editorial team behind him. Uncle Tony is at his best when he’s ripping on people he can’t stand.

What To Read Instead: Kitchen Confidential is great, but Bourdain’s best post-fame work is The Nasty Bits. It still has a lot of food and travel, but with a sharper, more ardent point of view.

The Worst Impulse Kindle Buy: On the Island by Tracey Garvis Graves

On the Island was an Amazon bestseller and I liked the concept: a teenage boy and his thirty-year-old tutor survive a plane crash in the Maldives, end up living on a desert island for years, start a romantic relationship after he turns 18, and are rescued following a tsunami and have to deal with the aftermath at home.

And absolutely nothing that happened was believable. This sixteen-year-old boy acted like a 40-year-old man the whole time. Neither character changed or transformed in any way. And even after being rescued after living on a desert island for THREE YEARS, the only thing they worried about was how people would judge their relationship that they started after the kid turned 18.

“You weren’t supposed to fall in love,” she whispered. “Well, I did,” I said, looking into her eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for months. I’m telling you now because I think you love me too, Anna. You just don’t think you’re supposed to. You’ll tell me when you’re ready. I can wait.” I pulled her mouth down to mine and kissed her and when it ended, I smiled and said, “Happy birthday.” –Tracey Garvis Graves, On the Island

Yes, that’s an actual quote from a bestselling book.

It’s been translated into 27 languages.

I hate people.

What To Read Instead: Euphoria by Lily King. Now, THAT’S a great controversial love story set in a remote location — in this instance, Papua New Guinea in the 1930s.

The Worst Smash Hit: The Twilight Series by Stephenie Meyer

I’ll be honest — I was hooked on the Twilight books during their height of popularity. I didn’t like them, but I couldn’t stop reading them. And my friend Beth and I made a tradition of seeing the movies on opening night amongst the superfans, only somewhat ironically.

Nothing I say here is anything you haven’t heard before. These books are poorly written. The character development is scant at best. The plot holes are the size of football fields.

But the worst part is that these books glorify intimate partner abuse to an impressionable audience of young women. The behavior that Edward exhibits — stalking, controlling, threatening, saying “no one will ever love you like I do,” leaving you with bruises and suggesting you tell people you fell down the stairs, and ultimately leading you to give up your future for him — should be recognized as alarming, not held up as a model for romance.

“The waves of pain that had only lapped at me before now reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under. I did not resurface.” –Stephenie Meyer, New Moon

Also, a werewolf falls in love with a baby.

What To Read Instead: The Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins. It’s a much better, more intellectual book for teens that focuses on issues of justice, bravery, brutality, media culture, and utopianism, just to start.

The Best Book I Happen to Hate: The Road by Cormac McCarthy

The Road is a fantastic, gorgeous book worthy of its Pulitzer Prize and every other honor it’s received.

And I fucking hated every word of it.

It’s an incredibly frightening tale of a post-apocalyptic world after a series of unspecified disasters — a barren planet where survivors hide in the shadows and the world is pillaged by tribes of cannibals and rapists. Through the book, a dying father takes his young son on a journey to the sea, not knowing what lies there but hoping they’ll find something better than what they’ve left behind.

“Then they set out along the blacktop in the gunmetal light, shuffling through the ash, each the other’s world entire.” –Cormac McCarthy, The Road

This book is terrifying. And realistic. And that’s why I hated it with everything I had.

Maybe it shouldn’t be on this list. I appreciated every beautiful word. But it still makes me upset, years after reading it.

What To Read Instead: The Color Purple by Alice Walker. Also a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, it starts with an incredibly bleak beginning but blossoms into joy and forgiveness.

The Worst Book of All Time: Cleaving by Julie Powell

Julie and Julia was a commercial success, and deservedly so — a sweet if not overly literary memoir about how a directionless woman finds joy and meaning in cooking all of Julia Child’s recipes.

A feel-good tale about an everywoman with a sweet husband who supports her, encourages her, and makes her a better person. It got some hate, but it was overall a fun and engaging memoir, and it was commercial as hell, working even better as a film.

Cleaving, the sequel, destroyed all the goodwill Powell earned with her first book.

Following the success of Julie and Julia, Powell began an affair with a former boyfriend. Her husband found out. They decided to open their marriage, though it seemed like they didn’t want to actually work on their marriage, either. And she decided to go apprentice at a butcher upstate because…food is continuity? And this memoir is about, um, all of that. It’s unfocused at best; I suspect her publisher rushed it.

But it mainly focuses on Powell’s affair with the former boyfriend, her enjoyment of the affair and obsession with her lover, and her complete lack of remorse while her husband waits in the background.

The worst part is when Powell is out with her lover and gets recognized by a blog reader. Her lover introduces himself as her husband to save face and they both get off on the scenario. This sums up the book: Powell runs wild with her id, doesn’t care about who she hurts in the process, and learns absolutely nothing.

How did her publisher agree to release this?!

“Like the muscles knew from the beginning that it would end with this, this inevitable falling apart… It’s sad, but a relief as well to know that two things so closely bound together can separate with so little violence, leaving smooth surfaces instead of bloody shreds.” –Julie Powell, Cleaving

I’ve read raw memoirs that overshare the intimate details of a marriage — Glennon Doyle Melton’s Love Warrior comes to mind. But Cleaving is far worse. I find it to be a cruel book. Cruel in its lack of accountability.

The other part I hated was that Powell clearly discovered she was into rough sex — only she never explicitly says so. She implies things and hints at others, conveniently evading details. Dude, you’re not the first person to suddenly realize you’re into a new kind of sex. Stop patronizing your readers and actually say it.

The book ends with what I’m sure she imagined was a heartfelt revelation: her lover, who had been called D up until the final page, was actually named Damian.

Hey Julie — nobody cares. Literally everyone hates that guy.

Many reviewers focused primarily on Powell’s infidelity; I don’t thick that’s fair, and much of that criticism is rooted in sexism. Infidelity itself is not the issue here. What matters is that she went about her infidelity, as well as her apprenticeship and travels, with a complete lack of self-awareness. Powell wrote a sloppy memoir about her darkest, most selfish moments without a shred of insight or transformation by the end of it. The Julie at the end of the book is the same Julie at the beginning of the book.

This book is the reason why I eat grass-fed beef today, and that just makes me hate it more. I hate that something good came out of it.

What To Read Instead: Wild by Cheryl Strayed. She flew into a tailspin after her mother’s death, cheating on her husband and using drugs, but she acknowledged her failures, strenuously worked through her shit, and transformed as a result.

What’s the worst book you’ve ever read?

via Travel Blogs http://ift.tt/2ngjzFl

#IFTTT #Travel Blogs

1 note · View note