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singmyaubade · 2 years

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how you get the girl pt 2

warning : use of cursing.

sypnosis : steve broke your heart when you were a sophmore and you had transferred schools but now that you are back at Hawkins, regrets not staying.

idiot!steve x y/n

part 2 / part 1

You were glad to finally be out of your third class out of the five. Every single bitch who didn't recognize you tried to be your friend or even flirt with you but you still remembered that they were the ones who laughed at your humiliation.

You walked toward the cafeteria, looking for the Robin. You saw her sitting alone at a table as you went up to her, "Hey!" You greeted.

"Oh hey, come sit." You accepted, sitting next to her.

"Thanks." You grinned at her.

"Oh by the way, just to initiate you into the friend group of us including my friend, you should totally hang out with us later." Robin said, starting to eat her hot dog.

"Are you guys like murderers?" You asked.

"Only on special occasions." Robin joked with a mouth full as you giggled.

"Didn't you say you had a friend eating with us?" You asked, opening your salad.

"Oh yeah, there he is." Robin pointed.

You looked over to see Steve Harrington approaching the table in total shock at your presence.

You rolled your eyes with a sigh, "That's your friend?"

Robin looked confused, "Yeah why?"

"He just-" You started as he interrupted.

"Oh hey." He said, looking at you.

"Don't hey me Harrington." You fumed.

Robin looked at the both of you, "Am I missing something?"

You stood up, "Actually, I can't hang out, I am afraid I don't hang out with assholes." Your eyes darted to him as you picked up your backpack, walking off.

"What did you do to her?" Robin asked, open-eyed.

He scrunched his face, "Long story." He sighed, rubbing his temples.

You couldn't help but feel pure anger that it was Steve who was best friends with your only new friend that you had made the entire day.

What made you angrier is that he couldn't find the courage to even go to your house and apologize to you.

He never cared to reach out all this time to tell you that he regretted what he did and he should've never tried to hide you. But instead, he just kept going with his life as if you hadn't meant a single thing.

You just wanted to go home, back to your old school where everyone treated you human and as if you weren't a freak who had no emotions.

As you were lost in your thoughts in the hallway, Steve yelled your name which caused you to walk faster. He grabbed your wrist as you snapped it back, "Don't touch me."

"I know that my apology means nothing now-" He started speaking.

"And it never will mean anything, I don't need to hear your excuses for why you chose to act so immature all those years ago but you didn't deserve for me to hear you out then and you certainly don't now." You harshly spoke, "Please just let me live out the rest of the days in this miserable school without Steve "The Hair" Harrington terrorizing me."

You walked away before he could even say the next syllable. You just couldn't believe his audacity to even try talking to you.

I mean how could Steve Harrington change? He is incapable of considering other people's feelings. Something deep in your gut makes you feel guilty but you promised your younger self you would never let any guy treat you like that again.

You decided to just go home at that point, you have had enough of Hawkins for the moment and just needed to get away.

You walked inside your house, closing the door behind you. You decided to just eat what your mom had made and relax on the couch.

As you started to eat, you heard the telephone as you mentally cursed whoever was disrupting you.

"Hello?" You said, still chewing.

"Hey! It's Robin from school." You opened your eyes widely as she spoke.

"Oh hey, what's up?" You attempted to sound cool but you could already tell it was failing.

"I just wanted to know if you wanted to stop by the record store later where Steve and I worked to just hang out." She invited you.

"Oh I don't really think so, I have a lot of homework and-" You started making excuses.

"Come on Y/N, I swear that it won't be as bad as you think, many people don't get the opportunity to hang out with us." She begged.

"But-" You started.

"Steve won't bite and I really want to get to know you." Robin pushed.

"Okay, I'll be there but how did you get my number?" You asked.

"Oh Steve just remembered it." She said as your eyes widened and you heard bickering in the background as they whispered, "Anyways see you soon!" Robin said in a quick motion.

"But what's the-" You heard the dial, "Address." You sighed.

After what felt like hours, you walked around enough to find the record store but you looked like a sweaty mess. You wish you had just got your license like a normal teen but you were lazy. You quickly wiped off all the sweat and fixed your hair before going inside.

You walked in to be greeted by Robin and Steve in which Robin looked like she was ecstatic to see you and Steve looked like he had seen a tiger walk into the store.

"Hey!" Robin cheered, "Welcome to the best place on Earth." She raised her hands up in a cheering position.

You giggled, "Glad to be here."

"We have an hour on the shift so you can just talk with us and then we can grab something to eat." She explained.

"Sounds cool." You said, not exactly wanting to spend more like five minutes with Steve Harrington.

"How long have you guys been working here?" You asked, looking at the different records.

Robin hit Steve to answer, "About four months." He said with a slight stutter.

"Nice." You replied, touching the records with your finger tips.

"What do you listen to lately?" He asked, trying to spark up a conversation with you.

"Not assholes." You murmured as Robin mentally cursed Steve for what he had done.

Robin fake laughed, "So Y/N, do you wanna help sort the records until we can go?" She asked.

"Yeah sure." You said with a smile.

Steve watched you sort the records, you looking at the back to see where to place it. He would watch your smile as you looked at an ABBA record. He remembered the talks you guys used to have when you were just friends hanging out.

"Steve, we have to go to the ABBA concert someday, I have to see Agnetha live." Your younger self cheered towards Steve in his living room.

"I guarantee they will not be in Hawkins any time soon." He said with a laugh as you hit his chest then laying on it.

"You know we would shock the school if we dated." You said, looking up at him.

He blushed, "What makes you think that?" You heard his heart quicken.

"Because you are Steve "The Hair" Harrington and I am just some totally lame girl that you hang out with in secret." You shrugged.

He felt guilty, "If we were to date, I would never hide you." He said with a smile.

"You promise?" You practically whispered.

"I promise." He kissed your the top of your head.

Steve wondered if you had ever remembered those moments, it didn't seem like you did. He knew what he did was extremely wrong but he wished you could remember the moments where he meant every word he said.

"Okay I believe that they perfectly sorted." You said with a grin, snapping him out his daydream.

"Maybe I should check." Steve said.

"Don't trust my sorting abilities Harrington?" You asked with a playful tone.

He gave you a smile as a response as you remembered the hatred and turned back around.

"Okay guys, let's go." Robin quickly said as you all exited to the front and she locked the door.

"So are we going in your car Robin?" You asked as she laughed at the assumption she can drive.

"Y/N, I hate to break it to you but I can't drive." She said, going to the side of Steve's car where the passenger seat was.

"Oh so this is your car." You said with a sigh.

"Yep, hop in." He went inside the car as you sat in the backseat, putting your seatbelt on.

He started the car as Robin turned on the radio to Honey, Honey by ABBA. Your face lit up as Steve looked in the mirror above him to see you slightly singing it.

He grinned as he started driving to a drive-thru called Billy Bob's. You had loved this place since you were little. Your mom used to take Steve and you to the drive-thru every single time you hung out which was like almost every day in sophmore year.

As you relived the memory, you noticed you had driven past the ordering machine. You were deeply confused and you guessed Steve had seen your face because he said, "Oh I'm sorry, I assumed your order because of the last time we went." He said.

The last time you guys went was two years ago.

"Oh okay, thank you?" You said, shifting in your seat.

He grabbed your order as he passed it to you, "Thank you for paying." You practically whispered.

"No problem Y/N, I owe you more than that." He said as your mouth agaped.

"God I love this place." Robin said, shoving fries in her mouth interrupting you guys as you and Steve both laughed.

The radio suddenly turned to When I Kissed The Teacher by ABBA as you couldn't hold yourself back, "Steve, turn this up now." You said as he quickly did, being happy that you said his name.

You started singing very loudly as Robin and Steve looked at each other in shock.

They both shrugged and started singing with you until the song finished and you were all panting.

You all laughed as you went towards Robin's house, "Bye guys!" Robin waved as you both waved goodbye.

The pure silence in the car was actually louder than anyone could've thought.

"I know that you don't wanna hear it once again but I really do want to apologize for everything." He said as he drove, "I was really stupid and I truly did like you, I just cared for what others thought about me more." He glimpsed at you through the mirror, "I never ever meant to hurt you, you meant the world to me and I have regretted it since you left."

You were starting to tear up at this point, "Thanks Steve, I really appreciate but I just can't forgive you, it wouldn't be right for myself." You gave a slight smile.

He nodded his head but you could tell he was visibly upset. He arrived at your house, "Thanks Harrington, stay cool." You smiled.

He waved goodbye as you entered your house.

Were you wrong for not forgiving him? I mean he had ruined your entire self-esteem, he didn't deserve forgiveness.

Or maybe he had changed and you just felt like you had to be angry.

Your emotions felt mixed and you couldn't decide what you wanted.

Did Steve Harrington actually change?

people who asked for tags : @shireentapestry @imagineme2you @pandoraneverland @wileywigginslover

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thejadecount · 2 years

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villain aru shah headcanons?

Okay forgive me when I mention plotpoints and I get them a bit wrong, it’s bit a hot minute since I’ve last read the books, but I mostly remember a bunch of the points in the books where I got bitter and gave Aru permission to become an antagonist. Like, I was bitter in the second book, my god. And yes, you can consider this a strongly worded hate letter to any other Pandava stan and if you say Aru doesn’t deserve to have a villain arc I will physically fight you.

Anyways—

She’s your bitch okay? She’s down for murder. She’s quoting vines. She’s unironically getting them wrong to annoy the other Pandavas

Mini: Aru stop this isn’t you—

Aru: Oh cry me a table, Mini

You see she hates the Pandavas, but she also hates her dad. She hates everyone. So she just does fuck all

“Fuck you, fuck my dad and fuck the gods, I’m Aru Shah you goddamn idiot and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

I’d like to think her villain arc would start in the second book, but it’s only her thinking these antagonistic thoughts, she really doesn’t do anything about them. She gets jealous and bitter but how different and unfair her life was compared to Mini and the others, but she keeps the same personality with them more or less.

It gets worse with the twins. They’re spoiled. They’re kind of brats. She starts getting into tiny, petty arguments with the others in their point of view, but reading in her perspective they’re completely understandable. Perhaps the arguments themselves are a bit ridiculous and overdramatic, but we can understand where it’s coming from.

And then comes her half-sister, and OH BOY this is when everything really starts taking off. Her dad’s trying to get her on his side every more because he knows. He knows Aru is so fed up with all the other Pandavas bullshit and he’s going to try.

Of course Aru isn’t an idiot. No, fuck her dad. She’s going to keep being a Pandavas to beat him of course. But once that’s done she’s out.

Soon enough, she’s a villain. She renounces the Pandavas and her sister, calls them and her mom out on all their bullshit, and just leaves. You don’t need school when you’re an antagonist. She knows 98% of what she’ll learn in that dump will be useless anyway.

She likes mostly annoying and do fuck-all to the Pandavas. You’d be surprised how quickly they’re willing to beat her ass. Of course, they’re failing, but that’s because Mimi still believes in Aru. She’s the only one who has truly appreciated Aru, and Aru respects that by not beating the shit out of her.

She has lightning powers. Her hands are tasers. If you want she could freely provide you a sample of what 3.1 million volts feel like being shot through your body.

I’d like to think she chills out more with Hindu mythological people, like nagas and the such. She has found out that they’re much more accepting and chaotic neutral.

Also, when she quickly makes her way to her villain arc, she finds out she is very much bisexual.

For a villain, she’s not one of the bad bad ones. Like, she’ll fuck up your day and maybe cause a rukus at the Night Bazaar. She might accidentally cause a few deaths here and there, but only a small percent of those were on purpose.

She mostly just hates the Pandavas. Fuck them. And the Gods too. But for the most part, as long as your not a demigod and you have a loose sense of morals, you’re on her decent side.

I’d like to think she’d try to raise a demon army like the Sleeper did to kill the Pandavas, once and for all.

Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss

She is very good at insulting people. She has made demons cry. She is merciless.

No matter the circumstances, if some demon or some other antagonist goes up to her and tells her about literally any plan that may or may not include fucking over the Pandavas, you bet she’s in.

Over time, she gains the heterochromia from her father once she starts accepting her more demonic qualities. She hates it of course—fuck her dad—so she uses contacts. Not those stupid boring brown ones tho, no she’s going to make her eyes highlighter yellow to fuck with everyone and make their eyes bleed.

I’d like to think she very much blurs the line between chaotic neutral and chaotic evil.

If she were to meet canon Aru, she would surprisingly comfort her. She hates the fact that for some reason, this version of her is still with the Pandavas and on ‘the good side’, but she suspects it’s more the gods and Pandavas fault and her desperation for friends and validation than anything.

She’s a theatre kid, most definitely.

And to confuse her enemies she’s start singing in the middle of battle no warning.

Just imagine she’s fighting the Pandavas and all of a sudden she starts belting out every Hamilton song in existence.

She still has her weapon, the classic ping pong ball. But now she knows how to properly use it, it’s her most dangerous thing in her arsenal.

Like you know those scenes in cartoons where a character throws a bouncy ball and it starts bouncing around the entire room at mock speed and breaking almost everything? Imagine that, plus electricity.

Half the time she’s a devious, cunning villain. The other half—

“I have no idea what I’m doing and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

#I probably have a bunch written somewhere that I can’t find #I had a big villain Aru phase like a year ago #but those are all the ones I can think of #enjoy!#aru shah

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patricidekid · 11 months

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My father tried to kill me , my mom multiples times.

I should have died, it’s funny how fates work ? In the end i should have died, i almost killed him too.

Every car ride during their divorces, every screaming fighting was the scary ghost of murders, he ran after her with an knife, she left, no one cared about the kids in the home.

No cops showed up, my aunt knew but just called him to try to talk.

They all abandoned us there, the only reason of why my dad didn’t do it was because he was scared of them calling cops, of not having the time to end his life, to be punished for his mistake.

Oh only if he knew that no one cared about the fates of broken bandaid child, all born for fixing an doomed relationship.

The only reason of me being a survivor is my dad weakness, an coward, an bastard, an perfect liar protected by everyone’s around.

If he didn’t killed us literally he did it mentally.

I prayed god, spiderman, everything.

I saw myself dying in his hand so many times, i learned the selfish scared of survivors, of crying in silence when he was beating my little brother because if we dared to speak… we would die, be abandoned, burned alive, stabbed.

I died at that dinner tables, every lunch, nothing was perfect everything was a reason to mock, bully, hit.

The bike day after my mom and dad broke up, my dad bringed me and my siblings deep in the wood with our bikes…. he beated, screamed at us for not being perfect.

Slut, bastard, bitch, asshole, mistake we were all that.

If my brother didn’t cried too loud, if those hitchhiker didn’t walked near, i would be dead.

One day on the side of an road if that guy didn’t stopped to ask if everything was alright… my mom would have died stabbed, we would have died locked in an car burned as gas was in our body inhaling it.

It’s an detail everyone forgot about but i remember it brightly, the car inside smelled gas.

One day before their broke up, he throwed my mom phones on the road and then he tried to run her over and then send the car into the ravine with us in the back.

But no one remember that ? Im the witness that no one want to acknowledge or see, he’s an great man, an cool dad right ? He bought my silence for years, my sister and brother don’t remember everything.

I wished it could stay like that, i be the only one suffering, the only witness, i would have protected and shielded them.

But it’s not true, one day their memories will comeback, all those horribles years buried would haunt them.

We were all broken, all killed so he could live, so he could buy himself an new happiness.

I’m weak too, i should have stabbed him, shot him.

Every time he beated or screamed at us that he should kill himself or abandon us, kill my mother, my stepfather, us, burn the house for guit tripping, keeping the control.

I should have jumped on him, i should have grabbed the rifle in the closet, the knife, the hammer, everything.

I should have stabbed his heart, his face so many times, his blood should had painted my face.

But i didn’t, i wasn’t an hero, an brave knights no i was just an scared child who learned to cry in silence so she won’t get slapped.

I couldn’t have done it, it wasn’t my roles, the system, family everyone abandoned us, doomed failed bandaid kid.

I wish he died, i wish he killed himself, i wish my dad wasn’t an coward bastard.

I wish my mom, family didn’t protected him, but they did.

« Poor bastard, he lost everything hes a good man, his pain is understandable »

Oh they all knew they just didn’t wanted to acknowledge it, all cowards, weak.

They killed us, he killed us and i couldn’t kill him.

#original poem #my text #text #poem #trauma tw #trauma

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fortheloveoffanfic · 2 years

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Beholder

John Wick x OFC (Anya Cohen)

Chapter 14 Bad Desire

Chapter 1 Chapter 13 Playlist Masterlists

Warnings- SMUT/NSFW, dub-con,Stockholm syndrome *Disclaimer:This work explores themes of violence, murder, kidnapping and dubious consent. Individual warnings will be posted on each chapter. Reader discretion is advised.

John, I’ve thought of a million ways to start this, though, I fear my thinking isn’t the same as it was…...well, I’m not sure how long it's been, so maybe this won’t quite seem like me. Though I promise you, it is.

It’s been turning over in my head for a while now, there isn’t much else to think about. I’m not sure if that’s the way you intended it. When I don’t think about it, my old life haunts me, the woman I used to be, that bad person, she haunts me. She's a bad person, yoou made me realize that, John, she hurt you, immeasurably so, and that wasn’t right. So now, I understand what you’ve done, how necessary it was.

I’ve already told you that everything I’ve done, with Jeremy and Christopher was intentional, though, it was never my intent to hurt you. I also never meant to fall for you, or for anyone. For a long time, I've been so unforgivably destructive, so irresponsible with hearts and so damn selfish-my sister always said I was selfish, she’s right.

A long time ago, before I came to New York, our mom was sick, Lillian left college for a while to take care of her. I took the first flight to New York when James offered me a full ride to Julliard. She hates me for leaving, I hate her for hating me.

I had a dream, you know?

The last time we saw each other, it was at her birthday party a few years ago. It was at that restaurant you took me to on our first date. We got into a fight that night, afterwards, she had her stupid PhD and I didn’t have anything to show for running away. I don’t really remember how the rest of it went, but she called me a self bitch when I told her I didn’t regret leaving.

She was so hurt, it was all over her face. Because our mother was dead, she is dead, and I wasn’t there and I still don’t regret any of it. Because I’m selfish, that’s who I am John. I couldn't stay in New Jersey and take care of my mom, not when New York seemed so much better.

The point is, I'm horrible, and I don’t know why, I don’t understand it, but there was a thrill in hurting you, in saying that I’d missed you when I tried to fill your space with someone else. Tried and failed.

He wasn’t like you, John. None of them were ever like you. You cared despite what I did. You loved me even when the ugly things I did probably made me an ugly person.

To this day, you are the strangest man I’d ever met. You knew everything that no one would expect you to. Everything that you probably shouldn’t have. The flowers, the restaurant, the wine. The words, you had all the right words, though, not many of them. How rare is it to find such a kindred soul? Someone who knows you so effortlessly, or perhaps, someone who puts that much effort into knowing you. I smile when I think about that night, that magical night.

Do you think about it too? Do you think about how much has changed since then? Did you always know that you were going to do this?

This place makes it seem like it.

This place. It was hell, at first, sometimes it still is. You come, you leave. You hurt me, you leave. But when it’s not hell, when you’re here and you look at me like I’m something special, this place is heaven. I think I’ve just realized that somehow, you have become my version of heaven. You are every bad thing I deserve and every good thing I’ve never wanted.

Love. Devotion. Ugliness, like me.

You care so completely, it’s unheard of for affection to run so deeply that it becomes an affliction. You love so deeply, I don’t think I deserve it. Do you deserve love? Maybe you do, maybe I can give it to you. I think I can.

For every reason to hate you, there are a dozen more to love you. My God, there are so many, you said you’ve killed, real people with real lives. You’ve stolen mine. But you’ve been lonely haven’t you? Alone in this violence; in the blood and the bodies. Above those reasons, that one makes me love you the most. You have chosen me to fill your loneliness.

It was so scary, it still is so scary. What can a man possibly expect of a caged bird; loyalty without choice? What can the bird expect of a man? To live at his whim? Yet still, the bird loves the man and the man loves the bird. It’s quite confusing, I fear you, tremendously. I love you, enormously.

A man who keeps something caged is a monster, but I’ve learned John……monsters can be beautiful.

Beautiful people John, they can be ugly on the inside. We can be ugly together. Be ugly with me.

Yours; Ani.

Late March John had read and reread her letter almost a dozen times. He was beginning to memorize every word of her confession. Her self-proclaimed ugliness…..the love she claimed to have for him. She had burned him, her flames lapping furiously at his skin and he’d been left to lick salted wounds every time she’d been selfish. But she had written that letter as something of a peace offering; it was what he’d been waiting for. His love returned, his heart fulfilled.

Still, John couldn’t decide if it was euphoric or disappointing. Does he hate her for realizing that he is a monster, or is he grateful that she loves him despite it? He should be happy, its only everything he’s dreamt about for just over a year.

Or is he just disappointed that Anya isn’t all he’d made her out to be?

Where’s the perfect, sweet girl? How could he have fallen for someone so manipulative and selfish? Someone who didn’t care about the havoc she’d wrecked on his life and who could only bother to write him a letter as a plea for forgiveness. How had his judgment fail him so sorely?

She’s never been nice, or good. She’s always just been selfish and completely disingenuous.

Setting it down on the coffee table, John retired further into the comfort of the sofa. He was trying to sort his thoughts, attempting to separate the woman he’d created in his mind from the one sitting in the shed in his backyard. The process wasn’t particularly one he wants to engage in, John never wanted to be wrong, especially about her, and the further his mind spanned, the more he realized how confused he’d been in the beginning. How foolishly naive he’d been when he first laid eyes on her. The woman who smiled coyly when handing over his change was also the one that had lied to his face. The young girl who seemed so innocent was the one who had cohorted him into essentially assaulting her. The pretty thing that he’d watched sleep had hurt him just because she could. Because Anya had been playing games while he’d been falling in love.

And still, somehow she’s still perfect for him.

And she loves him.

“She loves me,” he murmured under his breath, leaning forward and once again reaching for Anya’s journal. His fingers roved over her name carved in cursive on the front, and as his thoughts strayed from separating the Anya in his head to the one he’d grown to know, John found himself growing more acquainted with the fact that he did still love her. There was still some of the woman he’d known from the coffee shop, she was still the first person who’d ever willingly held his hand. Anya was still the first person to ever love him. And if not for the sake of anything else, he can forgive just so he can keep her love.

But he will forgive her for other reasons too.

She may think she’s ugly, he may have seen every bad thing that she is capable of, but all is not lost. He believes in her inherent goodness, that sweetness that oozes from her smile, that medicine that is her touch, he believes in it. She’s different, she just has to accept it.

Perhaps its time for another approach.

Reinvigorated, John was about to stand when the doorbell rang, forcing him off of the sofa and towards the front door. That’s strange, before Anya, he’d never had visitors. Yet, on the way to the door, John still hadn’t bothered with checking the doorbell camera, he did however swipe a gun out of the drawer of a bureau in the hallway, stuffing it into his belt at the back of the jeans, before pulling his sweater over it.

Before he could even close his hand in around in the knob, the person rang the doorbell and John mumbled an incoherent quip about patience before yanking it open.

Shit.

On his porch stood two figures he’d only seen in pictures or from afar. He knew what they were for though, and he couldn’t help but feel like things were just catching up to him at the most inopportune time. A woman, eight years Anya’s senior but still her spitting image and a man who had taken her to bed just before John had let himself spiral and basically kidnap her. Okay, actually kidnap her. Concealing his unease with his usual stoicism, John cleared his throat, “Can I help you?”

“Yeah,” Christopher stepped forward, offering his hand, “John right? Wick?”

Hesitating, John appraised them, just standing on his front steps, probably there to find out where Anya had disappeared to. It’s okay, you’ve got this. “Yeah,” he relented, accepting Christopher hand, shaking firmly before doing the same with Lillian. “What’s this-”

“My sister,” Lillian cut him off, folding her arms and setting her shoulders square, “You were dating her right? Before she disappeared.”

More abrasive than her sister, Lillian didn’t seem like the type to entertain excuses and goose chases, she wanted to know where her Anya was, and she was determined to find out what had happened. It was funny how much she still cared after everything that he’d just read about their relationship. Pretending to be surprised, or worried, or whatever’s supposed to be the right emotion for the situation, John widened his eyes, “We went out a couple times…..but I don’t know what happened to her, your guess is as good as mine.”

“Guess?” Lillian scoffed incredulously, “My sister’s fucking missing-”

“Lilly,” Christopher grabbed her forearm gently, presumably to calm her down, and when she pressed her lips together in a hard line, he turned to regard John with a renewed firmness, “We just need to know if you know where she might be. Last time I talked to her, she said she was in Paris with you.”

“Well, I haven’t been to Paris in over two years,” perfect, it’s the truth and it’s not like they can argue with that, “We haven’t talked in…..weeks,” John shrugged, stupidly digging himself into a deeper hole, “And-”

Her head snapped up and Lillian’s eyes, which were so much like Anya’s, went wide, “You talked to her, what did she say? Did she say where she was?”

Shaking his head dismissively, John rattled off the first thing he could think of, “Not much, I’d called her because we hadn’t talked in a while, she didn’t seem interested. Figured that was her way of breaking up with me.”

“Breaking up with you?” Lillian’s sharp, maybe a little too sharp; she keeps track of small details, smaller than the ones he’s been taking note of, “You said you only went out a couple times.”

What a stupid choice of words. Wincing at such a silly mistake, John tried eagerly to slow the erratic beating of his heart. His palms were already sweaty and while he’d never been worried about getting caught, he’d also never left a victim alive. There were so many loose ends, too many. Her computer and cellphone, both dead, but still in his basement. Women’s clothes that were just her style and size in his closet. Her in the fucking shed in his goddamned backyard.

He swears he’s an idiot sometimes.

“I mean, I figured she didn’t want to go out again,” John played it off, hoping her sister would believe it, “Haven’t heard from her since.”

“You sure?” Christopher stepped forward. He was about a head shorter than John and had one of those faces that suggested he wasn’t the confrontational type, though John figured that where Anya was concerned he might be different, not dangerous, just different. But he can’t kill him because then Anya will hate him and John really doesn’t want to deal with that.

Lillian though, she may have to go. But he doesn’t want to think about that right now.

He just needs to get them the fuck off his porch.

“I’m sure,” John gritted, “Look, I don't know what you’re expecting to find here, but I don’t know what happened to Anya.”

“You say that like you’ve got something to hide,” Lillian gritted, ripping her arm away from Christopher’s grasp, “There’s something about you, you know?” Unafraid, she stepped closer, a fire in her eyes that burned so bright it suggested that he might have been more of a handful that her troublesome sister, “I don’t know what it is,” she was so close, John could just reach out and squeeze her neck until it snapped, “But if you did something my sister, I’ll find out, and you’ll-”

Standing firmly, John stepped closer so she’d have to tilt her head back to meet his eyes, “I’ll what? I told you, I don’t know where your sister is. Not get the fuck off my porch before I call the cops,” the empty threat didn’t appear to phase her, but Lillian did stand down, letting Christopher take the lead.

“Look, I know it’s not cool of us to come here and accuse you of something, and I promise you we’re not,” he briefly glared at Lillian, who’d set her jaw so tight that she might have been grinding her teeth down to dust, “We just wanna find Anya,” he spared a minute to rummage through his pockets, eventually getting a business card out;

Christopher Holloway Senior Vice President, Holloway Enterprises Realty, Banking, Technology.

There was a series of contact numbers and an email address, all leading to Mr. Senior Vice President. “If you know anything, hear anything, give me a call. We’re just trying to figure out what happened, that's all.”

John read the business card again, reluctantly agreeing to call if anything comes up- nothing will, but he does have appearances to keep up. After their mumbled thanks and a stiff goodbye, they finally turn to leave and John barely waited for their feet to touch the bottom front step before he’d shut the door. How the hell did they even find his address? He’d supposed that Anya had told Christopher about him during one of their in person meetings, but his address, they shouldn’t have been able to find that.

But Christopher does have access to most of the real estate records in New York, given his positioning at such a renowned company.

Offering the ivory card another glance, it’s contents gave him hope for Anya yet. What kind of person broke up with a man who stands to inherit half the city? The genuine kind. She might have been a lot of things; deceitful, selfish, infidelious, but somewhere beneath her self-proclaimed ugliness there was a good, genuine person. Someone that didn’t care about money or status, someone who could forgive even the most ghastly transgressions. There’s something of the woman he’d first fallen for in there, and he can bring it out in her, John knows it.

His love can do it, he’s absolutely certain of it.

Setting the card down in a drawer in the kitchen, John holds her journal close as he heads to the shed at the back. When he was finally there, each lock was opened and then locked once more with ultimate consideration for any probable circumstance. He doesn’t even take the keys in; even if she makes it out the door, the gate is locked and there isn’t a chance of her getting the key. His entire system was awfully elaborate, and John thought that among everything he’d managed in her name, a faultless system that took her escape off the table was the one he was most proud of.

Anya is his. she’s like his little doll, waiting for him everyday so they can play.

She was sitting on the floor when he entered, back pressed the sofa and legs tucked to her chest, and before she’d noticed him standing there, John had caught her muttering softly. Despite his efforts to nudge her out of that shell, the one she’d enclosed around herself, and in spite of offering up her thoughts so easily, there was still the strangest distance between them. It was like he could reach her, but not quite, and John suspected that it was because she’d spent too much time alone. Quiet could be maddening sometimes, he suspected that Anya wasn’t an exception to the rule.

He’ll have to get her out of there soon, before she flips that switch of no return.

“Did you read it?” She lifted her head, tired eyes meeting his, brimmed with dwindling hope. Standing from the floor, Anya dusted off her bare legs, and proceeded to nervously wring her hands together. They were separated by no more than a couple feet of space, her dimming eyes enclosed in dark circles and the bruises on her face more healed than the last time; she didn’t quite look like herself, but she was in there, John can see her.

“I did,” he nodded stiffly, licking his lips. Briefly, he glanced down at the book in hands; he’d made that himself, every page had been crafted and bound with her in mind. For her most intimate and private thoughts, so she could have something that was solely her own, and yet Anya had shared it with him. And though the urge to read everything in there had gnawed at him, John had diligently resisted, mostly. He’d glanced at a few things here and there, just to make sure she wasn’t playing him- or planning something. “Did you mean it?” He set the book down on the small dining table.

“Mhm,” Anya nodded vigorously, taking a cautionary step closer, “I did. Every word,” she reassured, attempting another nervous step, “I-I’ve been thinking about it a lot, I’ve had the time,” she chuckled, but the sound didn’t quite sound humorous, or even dry, “No one’s ever…loved me like this. You could’ve just left, broken up with me. But you did this,” she glanced around and gestured awkwardly, “You must…..care a lot.”

“I do,” the words rushed past his lips and John too drew closer, until Anya was in arm’s reach and his hands were able to find her hips, “I’ve always cared….Ani,” he tested the name on his tongue, enjoying the feel of it. It was intimate, pretty and felt like it had somehow brought them closer. The familiarity that it afforded them, it ushered in a closeness that had never been there; it was a private name only to be used intimately and to know her like that was truly a privilege.

“I’ve always loved you,” he admitted breathily, “Everything I’ve done was for you….for us,” John reached out to touch her face in a backhanded caress, evading the fading discoloration of his healing sin, “I knew you’d understand one day,” he bent his head just as she tipped her chin. Like that, they were almost nose to nose, and he suddenly realized how desperate he’d been to be with her like that again.

“I love you,” she whispered, voice husky and soft, “And I mean it. I don’t understand-”

“You don’t have to,” John cut her off, eager for Anya to just not overthink it. There was a chance for them; all can be forgiven, they can just move on. Like it never happened, like all the heartache nwas never there. “You don’t need to understand,” he reaffirmed.

“I-” His mouth was on hers in an instant, swallowing up any utterance that might have changed her mind. His tongue invaded her mouth, swirling around hers and it had taken a minute for Anya’s muscles to loosen enough for her to respond, and even when she did, it was clumsy. She didn’t seem to know where to put her hands, if they should fall to his forearms, his chest or his neck, and the noises erupting from her throat, surprised and hesitant, proved that she was quite unsure as to what she should be doing.

But nonetheless, she responds.

Tilting her head, Anya shuddered into his mouth, and he could taste the familiar sweetness that persisted on her tongue, so uniquely her that John thought he could get high on it. She was like smooth, full-bodied liquor, and she was like home; intoxicating and tranquilizing at once. “John, I-” Between breaths, she tried to get words in, but they were all lost, unnecessary and destined to be unheard, “......John.” His hands slid lower, seeking the hem of her loose camisole only so he could invade it. He’s missed her skin; its softness, it’s silky warmth. Every touch he’d laid on himself couldn’t compare to the feel of Anya, she had paled everything else by just being who she was.

“Shh,” he soothed, and her hands found John’s hips, just as he was pushing her shorts down, letting the soft, shifty fabric pool around her ankles. “It’s okay,” he promised, moving to guide her hands towards the button and zipper of his jeans, “It’s okay babygirl,” John breathed into her mouth.

When Anya finally undid his pants, he nudged her top off before stepping closer, so her freed breasts were pressed to his wool clad chest. He’s been waiting for this. Anya was still hesitant, though significantly less so, and she eventually encouraged his jeans lower, right after he'd nudged his shoes off, her eyes meeting his as if to ask for permission to help him undress. “Its okay,” he permitted, encouraging her to lift his sweater over his head. Upon being face to face with his many scars, the freshest one being the closing wound under his ribs on the left side, the gash that Anya had stitched closed about a month earlier. It was still tender, and John knew that it would be easy to reopen, but it really was among the least of his concerns.

Swallowing thickly, Anya leaned forward ever so slightly, effort muted by their proximity, and kissed a thin, white line that ran diagonally over his heart. John could quite remember how he’d gotten it, but he did remember that it had been deep enough to boast the white of his bone, and the sheer, physical pain had been nauseatingly brutal, but her lips on his chest, right over the steady beating of his thawing heart was enough to make the distant memory wholly bearable, because had it not happened, that moment wouldn’t have either.

Perhaps that’s why she believes in fate.

When she raised her head, they kissed again, and gently, John turned and guided her to the nearest surface; the small dining table where her journal was the only thing populating the surface. Every touch was soothingly affectionate, and while it was completely uncharacteristic, John wanted to take his time with her, mind her fragility and ensure that he didn’t scare her. He spun her so her back was to his front, and as he peppered nibbles and pecks on the back of her neck, he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her panties, pushing them so they’d slide down her smooth thighs and gather in a pool of scanty, grey cotton at her feet.

His hands roamed the unfiltered beauty; the tapestry that was her satiny, unblemished skin. Leisured and gentle touches, reveled in every inch of warmth she had to offer; roving from her hips to her bare stomach, and then sliding upwards to cup her breasts. He swears he’d never touched anyone like that, he’s never held anyone with that kind of delicacy. “We’re gonna be like this,” his nose grazed the back of her ear, just as John planted a sweet, chaste kiss on the warm skin behind its lobe, “Forever.”

She shuddered at the word, goosebumps rising on her soft skin, and a hitched breath was Anya’s only response. Just after grinding slowly on his erection, Anya reached for his hands, pushing one of them down to her dripping arousal. “John,” she murmured headily when his rough fingers grazed her folds, dipping between a moment later. “Please,” she whined as John slowly worked her clit, feeling the swollen bundle of nerves under his touch.

“Do you want me?” He peered close to Anya’s ear, simultaneously stepping forward so she’d have no choice but to stumble further into the table, practically falling forward. Her legs were spread slightly, a positioning of his own doing so he could stand between her spread thighs. “Answer me babygirl,” he prompted when Anya hesitated.

Another impatient whine burst off her lips, “Yes,” the admission was soft and unclear, “I want you,” Anya whispered huskily, and John was too caught up in the moment to hear the pitiful remorse laced with her words, that thing that would have told him that she didn’t want to want him. Because she doesn't, part of her doesn't. That reminder that says that everything they’re doing there would seem deranged to some.

But John was consumed with passion and desire and above all, satisfaction to hear it; she’s right where he wants her. Somehow, by some miracle, he has conditioned -no- taught Anya that he is right for her, he is all she needs.

Just like she is all he will ever need.

“Good,” his digits journeyed just a tad lower, so he could slip them into her tight, drenched, haven. He wasn’t sure if her obvious arousal was just an unintentional consequence of where he’d led her, but John couldn’t have cared less; he’s put in the work and now he’s getting what he wants.

Months of waiting, planning and preying has paid off; she’s never escaping, and he’s settled in the feeling that she’ll no longer try to.

Anya is his.

Responding to his ministrations, her hips shifted excitedly and John’s eager erection, tenting his boxers, was pressed into her back. His fingers worked her with unmatched expertise; vigorous pumps with his thumb pressed to her nub, while his other hand held Anya in place at her hip. Her lewd mewls were more intoxicating than any poison he could pour down his throat and her heat around his finger, mixing with the taste of her skin under his lips, was near enough to get him off. Near. But John wanted more; greedily, he aches for more.

Without warning, he removed his fingers, two stocky digits being wretched out of her, slick with her arousal, and before going any further, he licked them clean and then angled his head, leaning over her shoulder while she turned her head, so their lips could be crushed together, her taste on his tongue as it roved over hers. Hastily, he shoved his boxers down and then nudged her legs open a little wider. With one hand firmly on her back, John guided Anya, encouraging her to bend over a bit more, leaning forward and so she'd be propped by her hands planted on the smooth surface. He didn’t ask for her ready, nor did he offer any real warning before pushing into her.

Her restrained moan was accompanied by his harsh grunt, and with a tight grip maintained on her hip, he began a regimen of controlled and pronounced thrusts, pulling out completely before burying himself as deeply as possible once again. As much as he likes it hot and rapid, without cause or concern for her- or whoever else he’s with- John is determined to extract every bit of gratification from that moment.

What’s that thing about savoring?

The symphony of short, stiff grunts seeping through bared teeth was joined by Anya’s soft whimpers, in sync with each jerked roll of his hips. John buried his face in the back of Anya’s neck, her skin hot against his lips, the fragrance of her hair thrilling his senses. “J-John,” she gasped when his movements quickened, and the air around them warmed.

Feeling her around him like that; a cocoon enclosing him so tightly, her body molded just for his, it was incomparably intoxicating. John had never felt so profoundly connected to someone, and it was right then that he realized; he will never, ever feel that way about someone else. There will never be a connection that spans so deeply, a woman so suited to him.

She’s pulled stings, played people for puppets and in his own way, he supposes he’s done the same with her.

Their crimes may be different, but she’s as bad as he is.

Or is that just something he's willing to believe, just so he can justify the whole thing?

John doesn’t want to think about it. Dismissing his spinning thoughts, John continued peppering kisses towards the front of her neck, one hand still on her hip while the other rounded to the flat plane of her stomach, journeying upwards until he was squeezing and kneading her breast. Alternating between roughly massaging her boob and rolling her pebbled nipple between his rough fingers.

Eventually, he could feel her thighs starting to tense up, and the sounds erupting from her slender throat became increasingly urgent. “That’s it,” he guided eagerly as she managed an erotic moan.

“John…..John….” Anya whimpered, breathless as her fingers curled, nails scraping on the table, leaving her propped on balled fists, “Uh….” Hair was falling over her face, and John could feel the exertion on her skin, melding with the dampness on his. If it weren’t for his hand gripping her hip, she might have fallen forward, and still when her ragged, gasped breaths grew louder, her legs went rigid and John felt the gush of slick moisture ooze out from around his sheathed length, he was taken completely by surprise.

The feel of her pulsating around him was enough to push John to gratification, and like her unmanned breaths, John’s strained grunts grew progressively louder as ribbons of hot product further drenched her walls. He could feel her squeezing him tight, milking him for everything as he rode out their mutual highs.

He lingered inside her until Anya had soaked up the final drips of his product and sticky moisture was leaking down her thighs in slow dribbles, and wetting his. Upon pulling out, John gathered Anya’s quiet frame in his arms, encouraging her to face him. It took a minute, and a bit of urging, but eventually she looked up at him, expression largely indecipherable, though, when he roughly brushed her hair away from her face with clumsy fingers and hasty movements, only to kiss her deeply, Anya responded readily.

She was beautifully breathless, and John pressed his forehead to Anya’s before divulging softly, “I think it’s time to move you to the big house sweetheart.”

*****

Tagging- @xenoxin @violator1986 @marvelgirlonmain @greenmanalishi @foxyjwls007

#keanu reeves #john wick #keanu reeves x reader #john wick x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #john wick x you #fanfiction #fanfic #beholder #john wick au

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yandere-society · 4 years

Text

Scream

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Synopsis: It’s been a year since your mother was slaughtered, with no leads pointing to any possible suspects. It’s been an up-hill battle for you to accept what happened— especially with no answers or closure— and the citizens of your hometown have been sleeping with one eye open ever since. But now, the mystery killer has decided to make an anniversary visit, and is making it known that they not only have a dire love for infamous horror films... but they also have their targets set on you and all of your closest friends.

Word count: 8k

Headline: Small Town Woodsbroro Is Waking Up Screaming Once Again!

Warnings: dark themes; Gore; Smut; Crackhead humor (only because I promised my bff I’d give her an honorable death scene); Foul language; Jungkook is psychotic; Graphic depictions of him killing your mom/friends; we’re also going to pretend that it’s outrageously easy to get away with murder; dont fact check me on anything you read here; rough sex; mask kink.

Admin: @tatertotthethot

Baley was high as a fucking kite.

So high, that she didn’t care about it being 1am as she blasted the Cha-Cha slide at full volume.

So high, that she was completely disregarding her lactose intolerance whilst making herself a triple layered, sharp cheddar grilled cheese that was bound to have her ass blasting right back off by 3am.

So, outrageously stoned, that she was totally unaware of the masked killer standing just outside the glass doors in her kitchen, watching her every move.. With her beat up, hogtied boyfriend laying out next to him.

“Now it’s time to fawnky! To the right now—“

She crab walked along with the instructions, spatula in hand.

“To the left!”

“Take it back now, y’all.”

Ghostface grimaced beneath his mask, eyes stalking the stoned woman with disdain. She was the epitome of “crackhead energy” and it pissed him off how much she resembles you. It only makes sense, being as you two have been best friends since kindergarten— probably soulmates in a past life— but it is within that fact that Ghostface has grown to absolutely fucking loath her.

She’s too much like you. She keeps up with your humor and probably has more of your heart than he, himself, has earned a place in yet. He knows good and well that if it ever came down to you having to pick between him and her, you’ll pick her.

That simply will not do. That’s exactly why he is about to rid you of that option— or, as he sees it, the dilemma.

He growled and swung at the air, wishing he could just bust in and end her already.

“How could you be in love with that creature?” He hissed at Taehyung, the built-in voice box beneath his mask altering it enough to remain anonymous. The question was quite hypocritical, being as he was in love with a girl that most would consider Baley’s second-half, but only you were an exception to being so.. abnormal.

“Mmmph—“ Taehyung drearily gurgled out from beneath the strip of tape over his mouth, tears breaching his eyes as he watched Baley’s precious, uncoordinated ass do the “Charlie brown”. It looked more like a fucked up gallop.

“What is the sex like, dude?” Ghostface ripped the duck tape off Taehyung’s split lips. “That’s a serious question.”

“Boo bear..” was all Taehyung could muster up, more scared for her than himself.

Ghostface gagged and slapped the tape right back on with a little too much force, having to take a second to regain his composure before pressing the call button on Taehyung’s phone. The Spotify music thankfully cut off as her phone rang out from the counter.

Baley was only upset for a split before she spotted the name on her phone screen, and was quick to answer it with a sickening amount of glee.

“Angel muffin!” She cooed. Gross

“Hi, boo bear..” Ghostface flipped his middle finger up at Taehyung before clutching his Bowie knife back down to his side.

“Oh my God, What was that? You sound like Corpse, mixed with the bear from Five Nights At Freddy’s.”

“The bears name is Freddy, dumbass.”

Baley neck rolled back in offense.

“Are you trying to get pegged or prolapsed? Might wanna remember who the fuck you’re talking to, the next time you call this cellular.” She snapped, hanging the phone up with a viscous pout. She still somehow managed to pick back up on the beat and cha-cha’d real smooth as she took the pot off the eye and turned the stove off, visibly upset.

Ghostface stood there for a moment, processing what she just said, before turning towards Taehyung.

“She claps your cheeks?”

Taehyung glared back at the screaming-ghost mask, bracing himself when a gloved hand reached out to once again rip the ductape off his lips.

“It’s not sus!” He immediately defended. “I have a gspot up there for a reason. I am not ashamed to use it.”

“I don’t give a fuck about that!” The killer snapped out. “why would you let that.. unstable individual insert something into your rectum—“

“You’ve got a whole lotta nerve calling somebody else unstable,” Taehyung deadpanned, and with that, his mouth was once again resealed shut.

He called Baley’s phone again, just as she was about to take a bite of the sandwhich that she’ll, unfortunately, never get to eat.

“What, fucker?” She scorned.

“I can see you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She sarcastically spat. “Then what am I doing?”

She clenched her buttcheeks in and hunched her back out, her body resembling a question mark, before vigorously gyrating her body- mostly just her spine. Jungkook knows from the various tiktoks you’ve shown him that he was witnessing the inverted-twerk.

“Hm? Tell me, fuckboy. What am I doing?”

”Something a fucking cockroach does after I spray Raid on it. How the fuck do you clench your buttcheeks like that?”

Baley halted in mid thrust, surprised but not exactly fearful (yet) as she whizzed around to face the sliding glass doors that led into her back yard. It was pitch black outside, and all she could see was her own reflection starring back at her. She was also too high to care about the fact that she had the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and the strings pulled all the way out, which only exposed the center of her face in a squished circle.

“I use my glutes. You know that. Why haven’t you come in?” She asked, not superstitious but a lil-stitious.

“This isn’t Taehyung.”

“Okay, Isn’t Taehyung. Why haven’t you come in?”

“Because I want you to come out here.” The killer responded, grinning at the visible unease finally creeping into the girls stance.

“Okay, babe— I hate to be a bummer here, but considering that today is the one-year anniversary of Ms. (L/N)’s murder, this isn’t very Cash Money of you. Can you please just come in and.. stop?”

He let out a chuckle, a dark one.

“Boo bear?”

“What, Isn’t Taehyung?”

“Turn on the outside lights.“

Ghostface put the speaker on the phone and sat it on the ground as he crouched over Taehyung, pulling him to sit up straight. He watched as Baley apprehensively padded over to the light switch by the door. He could practically feel her heart beating in-sync with Taehyung’s racing one as he placed the knife to his neck, smiling beneath his disguise.

The lights flickered on, and she screamed, terror finally bringing the seriousness out in the situation.

“HANG UP OR MOVE A MUSCLE AND HE DIES!” The killer roared, knowing she was still too high for her survival instincts to kick in. Any sober, sane individual would’ve probably caught on to the fact that they were gonna die no matter what she did. What was just making it easier for himself, knowing her dumbass was gonna comply.

“W-What do you want me to do?”

See?

“Be a good girl, and come here.”

“Quit trying to seduce me, you sick son of a bitch. My boyfriend’s literally right there!” She croaked out, voice shrill with exasperation.

The killer plunged the knife into Taehyung’s arm, making him jolt to life with a pain-filled howl. Baley began sobbing out, apologizing profusely.

“Your boyfriends going to get gutted like a fish if I have to repeat myself. Drop the phone and come here.” Ghostface seethed, wrenching the knife back out on the last word.

Baley reluctantly— and stupidly— did as told. She let the phone fall from her hand, then jumped out of her skin as the Bluetooth reconnected in the house and started playing WAP. She tried not to sing along despite the situation as she padded over, shaky hands rising to cover her mouth.

“N-Now what?” She asked.

“I just figured your last words should be said face-to-face. Is there anything you two would like to say to each other?” He asked, that being the only generosity he’d be willing to spare as he ripped the tape away from Tae’s mouth, one last time.

Baley dropped to her knees, so much despair in her eyes. So many things she wanted to say. She recollected herself and caught her breath in just enough time to utter final goodbye: “I-I-I said certified freak..”

Tae’s eyes closed as a single tear escaped, nodding his head in understanding. “Seven days a week...”

“GAH!” The killer roared out, wrenching Taehyung’s head back to slice his throat before shoving him away and lunging at Baley.

She landed on her back with him on top, and he wasted no time as he began slashing her apart, in any way he possibly could. He let all the pent up rage and annoyance he felt towards her, out on her body. It was worse than the brutality he inflicted on to your mother this time last year. He’d only stabbed her a total of 19 times— one for every year she failed you as a mother. With Baley, he didn’t stop tearing into her until WAP ended. And damn, did it feel good. He finally felt like he’d purged his soul clean.

This may all seem reckless, but Jungkook was actually just lucky. In order to mask his true motive behind all this, he had to find another one to cover it with. It was simply convenient that Baley’s father is the town mayor, and after a little digging, he made the grand discovery that he was also having a secret affair with (Y/N)’s mother. In fact, the mayor had several mistresses throughout the town.

Jungk—er, Ghostface.. chopped off one of Baley’s fingers and slid the glass door shut, writing the same words on it that he wrote on your mother’s bathroom mirror.

CHEATING PIG!!

Yes. When he did this last year, the police had to dissect through your mother’s long line of past sexual partners, and had to track down the father you never met for an interview. No leads came about, because it was all time wasted, anyways. Now, with this new addition, the mayor will not only have to set the scandals ablaze again by having to publicly confess his infidelity to the town and police, but they’ll have to lead on another pointless investigation for every woman he’s cheated with— over a dozen of them. They’ll have to also charge him with withholding crucial information from the investigation as well, but what’s so fucking comical about it all is that.. NONE of it has anything to do with any of this. It’ll just be another cold case with no leads.

And maybe, just MAYBE you’ll be smart enough to ditch this place and come with him. That’s all he wanted. You have nothing left and nothing to come back to now, and as long as you give in to him and leave, there won’t have to be anymore lives taken. You could start a new life and never experience another hell like the one he’s creating here. If only you’d say yes.

“May you both continue to clap each other’s cheeks in the deepest depths of hell,” he told the mauled corpses as he walked off, so happy to have Baley gone that he almost wanted to skip to his car.

Now, he will go home and clap your cheeks to complete the cycle.

—

“Damnit, bitch, pick up,” you huffed in frustration as Baley’s FaceTime continued to roll over, telling you that she’s unavailable. You thought you could power through today with your newly adapted ability to suppress shit, but it was hard when you’re left alone to reminisce. You just couldn’t shake the fact that the date on today’s calendar marked the same day that your heart, soul, and peace of mind was so horribly torn apart.

It didn’t help that you also missed your mother terribly. She wasn’t always the best, but she still loved you, and you loved her. Oh, God. Mom—

No. No. Don’t think about her.

You tried calling Baley one more time and couldn’t fight off the tremble in your hands, nor the tears at your water ducts as it rung through till the end. Damnit.

You couldn’t be angry. She doesn’t owe you the company— especially since you two have already been FaceTiming all day. But she was good at distractions, always able to drag you out of your shell of deprecation with her chaotic sense of humor. She is one of the only two people you have in your life that are capable of doing such, but you knew you’d get scolded if you blew up the others phone. Jungkook hates being hounded and rushed, having already told you that he’ll be there any minute. But he’s taking way too fucking long it seems, and you just hate sitting here, waiting.

You can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. The feeling first crept up on you this time last year and never left. You felt so venerable to the cruel world when you’re alone, especially since the maniac is still out there.

You still resent the police department for practically giving up on your mother’s case after 9 months. “Cheating pig” was the only lead they got and yet, it pointed them no where. She wasn’t in a relationship. She didn’t even like relationships. And still, they deemed it a randomized attack— no leads, no motives. Nothing. Just a local woman stabbed in the chest 19 times while taking a shower. Like some Psycho remake. No signs of forced entry. No evidence of sexual assault. Just a very passionate, yet unexplainable massacre with a useless message left behind.

It doesn’t make sense. And even though you wish to never have the attacker come back, you can feel it in your bones that they will wish to clarify it one day.

“Fuck it.” You breathed out, heart slamming against your chest and paranoia gnawing at your insides as you quickly scrolled to Jungkook contact. But then, just as your thumb twitched to press the call button, your door bell rung and you sprung up to your feet, making a mad dash to the door. You checked the peep hole first, just knowing it was gonna be him, but was disappointed when it wasn’t. That still didn’t keep a rush of relief from washing over you when you did see who it really was, though. You forced a welcoming smile on to your face as you unlocked all 7 bolts from the door, and opened it to greet Namjoon and Hobi with a hug.

They were cops, currently in their uniforms, also old friends from highschool. They’ve been looking out for you ever since last year, always making sure you knew you were safe beneath their watch. They use to take turns guarding your house until they were told to stop, but you were extremely happy to see them both here at the same time tonight.

“Everything okay?” Hobi asked, having noticed the shake in your limbs during the brief embrace. He leaned back and observed the tension in your eyes, even though you were hoping to hide it.

“Yes, just— today,” was all you could say, and didn’t have to clarify for them to understand.

“That’s why we’re here. We got permission to guard your house tonight,” Namjoon explained, eyes drifting over your shoulder and into your house. “Are you alone?”

“Yes, but Jungkook should be here any minute now. He had to go to South Korea for a week for his fathers birthday and just flew back in tonight, but apparently there’s been some huge wreck on the main highway and everyone has been stuck.”

That bit of information was actually true. However, Jungkook was lucky enough to have just miss it.. because he’s the one that actually caused it. It was honestly dumb-luck as to how he did it, but kind of amazing when given details.

He was in the express lane, him and the car behind him hitting 80mph. He recognized the car as the one that was parked beside his back at the airport, because he had stopped and took a moment to judge the driver for how worn down and raggedy the tires were. One bad pot hole or nail in the road would strip that sucker straight from the rim.

And that’s exactly what inspired him as he recognized the car, an idea sparking that could soon serve as an alibi in the future. He already had a hand out the window, smoking a cigarette. He still has those iron steak-nails he used at his construction sight. They’re 5 inches in length, subtle enough to casually drop out of a car window along with the cigarette. If they hit just right...

He gave it a try, honestly thinking it wasn’t going to work.

But holy fucking hell, did it. Not even a second after he dropped it, did the car suddenly swerve out as it’s tires screeched and sparks flew. Rubber scattered out amongst the road as the car continued to spin out, getting struck by a the car in all 6 lanes of traffic, ultimately causing a huge pile up in just under 10 seconds. It was the most destruction he’s ever witnessed and it happened so fucking fast he almost ran himself off the road just watching from the rear view mirror.

“NO FUCKING WAY!” Jungkook had squawked out as his head rapidly whipped back and forth to witness the massive mess he just created behind him. He was smiling like the maniac he is, undoubtably impressed with himself. He did it so lazily, too. But it only pumped him up even more for what he needed to do- the whole reason he even thought to do that. He only wanted something major enough to buy himself maybe an hour’s worth of time, so that when/if he gets interrogated in the future, they can check the traffic reports for a registered wreck to fit his alibi. But considering that he just shut the whole damn highway down, it’ll not only register but definitely make tonight’s news.

“Ah, yeah. We heard about that. 36 cars piled up. Can’t believe nobody was killed.” Namjoon said.

“How the fuck did that even happen?” You wondered, baffled.

“Some dickhead was going 80 an hour on an old tire and it wiped out after hitting a nail on the road. Thankfully, he only has a broken nose and whip flash, but with all the cars that got totaled— I don’t even want to know how much the cost of damage would be. But it caused 5 miles worth of traffic back-up.”

“Mm..” you grimaced, shaking your head. “Well.. would you guys like some dinner? Maybe some Coffee?”

“Ah, thanks, but there’s no need. We’ve got all the energy drinks and McDonald’s we need. You just chill out for the night, we’re right out here if you need anything,” Hobi assured, making you genuinely smile for the first time in the past two days.

But that was just before a familiar car pulled up that had your mood skyrocketing.

“FINALLY!” You broke out, sprinting down the steps and over the driver side of it right as the man of the hour stepped out. He welcomed you with open arms and easily lifted your feet up of the ground.

He looked just as good as he smelt. You’ve missed him more than words could describe in this past week— and Jungkook knew it. Of course, he had offered to take you with him so that you could finally meet his parents. But as predicted, you declined, saying that it’d be too much to meet his mother when the anniversary of your own’s death was approaching.

You continued to squeeze your arms around his neck for the next several seconds, and it wasn’t until he heard you sniffling and felt your shoulders shake that he realized you were crying. He couldn’t help but like that type of reaction. He was hoping the distance would torment you, maybe teach your ass a lesson.

“Don’t cry,” he rumbled in your ear as he pressed you hard against his lower half, making sure to up the intimacy of the embrace as he felt the eyes of the onlookers in the yard.

He waited for a second before peering over at the officers, who were awkwardly standing beside their cars. He gave a wave, pretending as if he were sheepish about them having to witness this.

“How’s it goin, guys?”

“Fine, fine,” Hobi responded. “Don’t mind us. We’re just here to watch out for you guys.”

“I appreciate that. Really.” He said in his best acting voice, even flashing a dimpled grin that gave off nothing but innocence as the two got into a patrol car, nodding to him in welcome. It actually makes things more convenient for him. They’ll be able to backup his whereabouts later on.

He pondered this while returning his attention to you, coaxing you out of your emotional outburst.

“I’m sorry. It’s just been so hard not having you here. Fuck, I’m so glad you’re back.” You breathed in and sighed out, and he could tell by the end of the last sentence that you were more-so talking to yourself, clinging to him one last time just to greedily soak in the physical presence of his body. He felt something ache in his heart, as well as his jeans.

“Well, I’m here now. Maybe next time, you’ll just go with me,” he lightly chided, hand coming up to pet your head as he kissed the top of it.

“Yeah.. I started regretting it after the first hour you left.” You whispered out, meeting his lips. You kissed each other a couple times, probably more than necessary. But it calmed you down and made you feel steady again. “Come on, I made you something to eat.”

He got his duffel bag out from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder before taking your hand, following you inside. It boosted his ego knowing that the two men watching from the tinted windows of the car were secretly jealous of him. They had a thing for you. Almost every straight guy in highschool did. That’s why he never minded what you wore, and was more than happy to let you flaunt yourself to their eyes. He liked teasing others, knowing they’ll never have such a prize as you.

Once inside, you were quick to relock your bolts. You were very strict about that now, taking extra precautions to prevent a potential attack. It kind of humored him knowing that it was him, a resident inside this very home itself, that those locks were meant to keep out. You’re literally locking yourself in with the killer.

“Damn, you cleaned the hell out of this place.” He ogled, not only taking in the immaculacy but smelling the pinesol and bleach amongst the floors and counter tops. All the laundry was folded, not a speck of dust in sight. You even cleaned the grout amongst the kitchen flooring, it seemed. Nothing looked out of place.

“I had to do something to keep from wigging out,” you shrugged, walking over to start the microwave for him to heat up his dinner plate. He left his duffel bag by the door and grabbed himself a beer before sitting at the table, noticing it’s prestigious shine.

“Did you polish it?”

“Yeah...” you said as you scratched the back of your neck, somehow embarrassed.

“It’s looks amazing in here, kitten. Really. I know you did it to cope but still, you did a damn good job.” He praised, feeling a little bad. He knows this took a lot of work, and it sucks that you opted to do all this just to keep the anxiety of his absence away.

“Thank you,” you sighed, taking his plate out and sitting in down in front him, then handing him some utensils.

“Where’s your plate?”

“I already ate, silly. I’ll munch with you, though.” You began making yourself a salad as he began to eat, complimenting you on how good it was. He doesn’t know that you’ve been awake for two days straight, and that you’re still battling off an anxiety attack. You were expecting it to vanish now that he’s here, but the sleep deprivation was getting to you.

So, you decided to reminisce on better memories. The old days; back when you first met him.

It was senior year of highschool, and he was the new transfer student from South Korea. He was the punk-emo guy that stood out amongst the crowd. All black clothing, more band shirts than anything. He had that messy mop-hair going on, and approximately 6 piercings on each ear, along with a studded labret to boot.

From day one, he was the most attractive guy you’ve ever laid eyes on. Much to his exterior trope, he was anti-social and didn’t seem friendly at all. The only time you personally heard him speak for the first few months of school was when he’d answer the teacher for roll call.

You only had one class together, chemistry. He’d always sit at the back of the classroom, and you’d remember the giddiness you’d feel just before walking into class and making eye contact with him, even for just a split second. You heart always skipped a beat and would threaten to seize up whenever Baley would lean over and tell you that he was looking at you again. Of course, that would be all the interaction you could get, being as you refused to engage any further. But life seemed to play out like a Wattpad fic back then.

Around the middle of first semester, your teacher was fed up with all the chatter amongst friends, so she decided to assign seats. Jungkook’s was still at his designated one, but you had to sit directly in front of him so that Taehyung could sit closer up, next to Baley. It’s also thanks to that class that the two of them fell for each other. It was also the same day she issued a partner-assignment that had to be done with the peer behind you.

You remembered having to play it cool, turning your desk and chair around to face him head-on for the first time ever. You anticipated that he’d still be sporting that ice-cold, disinterested glare, but he actually seemed pleased. He wasn’t actually smiling but he had a friendly glint in his eyes, like he welcomed you.

“Hello,” he started off, naturally confident in himself.

“Howdy,” you responded, immediately hating yourself. You’ve never uttered such a word in your life and you don’t know why the fuck you decided that that was the perfect moment to try it out.

He only snorted back at you, though, amusement swirling in his colorless eyes. You were intimidated by that as well. They were jett black. No distinction between his pupils and his irises. Just solid, black orbs boring into you.

You then continued to battle with basic communication.

“So, uhm.. wh—..”

English, motherfucker! Do you speak it?!

“What parts do you wanna do?” You rushed out.

“I’ll get the information together and answer the questions, as long as you create the PowerPoint and present it to the class,” he said without missing a beat, as if he’d already decided on that for the both of you.

“What criteria, though?” You asked, still waiting on that part.

“All of it...” He reiterated in a “duh” tone.

“That’s not fair to you, though...” you continued.

He arched an impressively sharp brow. “How?”

“You’re literally doing all the hard work.”

He shrugged, and you tried not to drool when you saw all his rings and the veins on his hands and fingers as he took his phone out. “I learned this shit back when I was freshman in South Korea. We’re way ahead of y’all there.”

“Oh.. well.. I can at least do the images and label them.”

Stop starring at his fingers.

“Mm,” he hummed with a lack of conviction, still looking at his phone. “No offense, but no.”

“Uhm.. okay..” you frowned in dejection, not sure how to respond to that.

“I said no offense,” he grinned up at you apologetically. “I just know you’re bad with visualizations.”

“What? I have an A in here. How do you even know that?”

“The teacher got onto you for messing up the labels on the last test. You got all the functions right but failed to match them to their description.” He said without any hesitation, and you were just as stunned as you were embarrassed. But he didn’t seem to be insulting you, and even reassured you of it. “Again, no offense. I just think it’s best for the both of us if I do it.”

“Okay. Cool,” You agreed, deciding to let him have it. Your face still burned, though.

“You still have an important role, don’t worry. Presentation is worth 40%, so you’re still gonna have to put in work and present it accordingly.”

“I can do that.” You nodded, suddenly feeling like you were sitting before a full grown man rather than a teenage boy. You couldn’t help but ask: “How old are you?”

“19,” he mused, as if he knew what you were thinking. He didn’t even ask you why you asked, and instead returned his attention back to his phone screen. “You?”

“18,” you muttered, your eyes reconnecting to his hands like magnets.

You really wanted to compliment them but decided against it, being as you were no longer as confident with this situation. Sure, he deserves to know how beautiful his hands are but you’re weren’t going to be the one to say it. You were expecting a cheeky personality at most, just because it fits the mischievous bad boy bullshit you read about in teen fiction, but you were instead met with a blunt and mature persona that made you intimidated in a way that you’ve never experienced before. He almost seemed.. authoritative to you.

“I see you like my rings.” He smirked, eyes not even looking back up at you. You had spaced out whilst tracing the path of his veins again, and immediately cut your eyes down to your own phone, feigning innocence.

“Whatchu mean?”

“Everyone like my hands, for some reason. I see you’re no different.”

“I ain’t even looking at your hands. Maybe you’re just too conceded,” you shot back, leg nervously pouncing as he lifted his head up to peer at you.

“Really?” He sarcastically challenged, making your insides stir. He sat up straight and pulled his hands back under his desk. “So the gold rings didn’t even catch your eye?”

“Your rings are silver.” You said without even thinking, then straight up face-palmed when you caught yourself.

“Thought so.” He openly grinned, and the little notion caused butterflies to erupt in your tummy. He pulled his phone back out and still wore that playful grin of his as you bashfully held his gaze. “Now, if you think you can manage to tell the truth, what’s your phone number?”

It’s amazing looking back at those memories, because you’re now starting to think that maybe Jungkook just knew back then that you two were going to hit it off. He’s always seemed so sure of himself when it came to you, always knew what the next move was gonna be and never once sent mixed signals or struggled to express how he felt towards you. He’s the most straightforward person you know, so much that it’s almost unnatural at times. If he was ever bluffing about anything outside of being playful, you’ve never been able to call it.

But damn, are you madly in love with him. You guess his ability to always remain focused and blunt is perfect for a person like you. He keeps you moving... well, for the most part. He wants you to move back to South Korea with him, and although you know you’ll eventually give in, you’ve been trying to hold off on it for as long as you can.

It won’t be as easy for you as it was for him. Jungkook was already fluent in English when he came here, thanks to his mother’s bilingualism. He hardly even had an accent from how well adjusted he was to your language. You, however, don’t know a bit of Korean. For you to go there, it would impair you in almost every single way. You won’t be able to go anywhere without him. You won’t be able to read directions or road signs. You won’t be able to go out and eat or order off the menu if there isn’t any pictures. You won’t be able to work. You’ll have to adapt to a whole new culture and way of communication, just to properly function outside of your home without him at your side.

Which, brings along another point, you’ll be without any friends. You don’t want to live in a world where you can’t go out with Taehyung and Baley whenever you wanted. You’ll be lonely as hell and home sick, he’ll be your only source of humanly contact until you learn.

You’ve told yourself that if the two of you remain stable for one more year, then you’ll go. You are ready for a change, but if you could just get one more year of preparation, you’ll be ready to go. You’ll take that leap of faith with him.

“What is it, kitten?” He finally asked, the prolonged silence getting to him.

“Nothing,” you lied, but didn’t want to divulge. “How was your trip?”

“Nice, but I was bummed out the whole time.” He shot you a look that made you pout in apology, but continued. “I talked all about you to them, showed them pictures. Almost fucked up and showed my cousin your vagina.”

You choked on your salad, which made him laugh. “I told you to put those in your hidden folder.”

“There’s so many, I just haven’t taken the time to pick them all out. It’s okay though, they only saw your face. They all think very beautiful— especially my mom.”

Your smile grew at that, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. So does my grandmother and my aunts. They were passing my phone around more than the dishes.” He snorted to himself, “They were even more surprised to see how much I smiled in our selfies. Which... I should warn you, when you do finally see my parents house, don’t be surprised when you spot our photo booth pictures framed in the hall. My mom went feral when she saw how much of a simp I was being in those.”

“She printed those out?!” You almost cried.

“Yes, she did. She printed each one individually and framed them side-by-side.”

“Aw, Kookie. I should’ve just went. I’m so sorry.” You pouted, guilt causing your heart to sink.

“You weren’t ready, angel. They understood,” He assured you, leaning forward to take your hand in his. You suddenly wanted to cry again.

“But I promise to go next time. Or whenever you wanna take me. I swear, I’ll go.” You said in determination, and was a little thrown off by his reaction.

His face went blank for a moment c like his brain needed a second to buffer.

“You will?” He inquired, that being the first time you’ve actually agreed or expressed any type of want. “Why now?”

“Because it sounds like they really want to meet me, too? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. That’s great. I just figured you wouldn’t be moved by that. You really wanna go now?”

“Yeah. Your family sounds so nice.”

“Was that what kept you from coming?” He interrogated, and it’s clear that he genuinely had no faith in you ever entertaining the idea.. which was a little disheartening. You’ve never said you’d never want to go, you’ve always kept a window open for later. You not sure why he’s so surprised.

“No, not necessarily. I wasn’t ready to meet them but if they’re that excited to meet me, then.. of course it’ll make me want to meet them, too. And get a little taste of South Korea.”

“Alright, I’ll plan a trip,” he had to say with forced enthusiasm, which you bought as you kissed his lips. Inwardly, though, he was screaming. If all it fucking took was a little conviction by saying his family was nice, just to make you consider.. them maybe he wouldn’t have had to do what he just did.

Whatever. Extra insurance. He had to tell himself, and decided to retrain his thoughts back on you as he remembered something.

“I have a special surprise for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he stood up and walked over to his duffel, fishing around before pulling something out. “Close your eyes.”

You did as told, and waited about 10 seconds.

“Open.”

You almost shit yourself upon hearing the voice, then came closer to shitting yourself when you took in the familiar Ghostface mask that you seen in the movie Scream.

“WHUZZZUUHHH!” He drawled out while doing the cowabunga fingers, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Where the hell did you get that?”

“Halloween store. I got it in Korea.”

That was a lie. He’s had two of these masks for over two years, both of which he got from Party City here in America. He bought one to kill your mother in— the same one he just wore to kill your friends in— and the other one was meant for what he wanted to do now. He wanted to fuck you with it on. He’s not sure why, but why not? You might discover you have a mask kink.

“What the fuck is up with the voice?”

“Sexy, ain’t it?” He animatronically purred out, and it wasn’t until he fully stepped forward and began undoing his belt that you realized he was already shirtless.

Your eyes grew wide as you landed back in your chair, unable to decipher if this was a joke or not. You soon realized it wasn’t as he was now popping his button loose and unzipping his pants— his hardening dick print becoming more prominent.

“You’re not fucking me with that mask on,” you blurted out, sticking your foot out to stop him from advancing any closer.

“I’m fucking you with this mask on,” he argued, grabbing your ankle. “Consider it pay back for the time you refused to give me head unless I let you wear your Burger King crown.”

“No, Darth Vader.” You tried pulling your leg back but soon wound up almost getting drug out of your chair and onto the floor. Your unease soon turned into giggles and screams as wound up besting your play fight, his mask only coming off long enough to go down on you at the kitchen table.

And that’s what set the night off. You went from getting your pussy eaten at the dinner table to getting your throat wrecked on the living room couch. Then you were forced to watch yourself get rammed up against your body mirror in the bedroom, and now you’re bent up like a pretzel amongst your bed.

“Ah— GAH!” You grunted in struggle, finding it hard to cuss like you wanted being as a hand was firmly constricting your air supply. You watched the masked man above you as he heatedly fucked into you, his chain dangling above your face. Your ankles helplessly swayed around his shoulders with each brutal slap of his pelvis. Your face still stung from the actual slaps of his palms, causing you to flinch any time his hands moved. You noticed done time throughout all this that he was hellbent on making you look at that damn mask. You weren’t complaining, though. Just more-so concerned about how hot it must be under there.

But then he slowed down for a moment, trying not to cum again as he lowered his face to yours, and finally decided it was time it come off, being as you were ready for a kiss.

“T-Take that damn mask off—“

Wrong move.

He growled and ripped your hand away as you tried removing it yourself, and you were stunned by how much aggressive he became— more aggressive than he was already being, as if truly lashing out. He man-handled you, flipping you over and plunging back into you with way too much force. You yelped at the intrusion but could do nothing else as he pinned your hands behind your back, picking his speed right back up. He kept your hands locked in place with a single one of his own before clapping the other around your mouth, darkly chuckling at the fright on your face.

“I meant it when I said it’s staying on,” he rasped, pushing into you so deep that veins protruded from your neck in strain.

He couldn’t explain it— or maybe he could. But he felt extremely powerful when he wore this mask. It took him all of two rounds to finally admit to himself that it turned him on, knowing you were getting off to the very same face that your loved ones last looked at in sheer terror. He didn’t realize up until then that he somehow considered Ghostface as a different alternative to himself, one he was growing to like a little too much. It even made his dick more sensitive to the feel of you, making you seem tighter. And warmer. And sluttier.

He’s sure he began speaking Latin somewhere in the midst, but it wasn’t until he saw tears surfacing in your eyes that it dawned on him that his hand had somehow traveled up to cover your nose, as well as your mouth. A moment of panic shot through him when he dropped it and allowed you to breathe, thinking you were gonna make him stop. But much to his pleasant surprise, you only coughed out and mewled, head collapsing on the pillow as you pushed against him, a silent demand keep going. So he did. He made sure to keep the punishing pace up and running. Your body violently jolted with each slam, ass bone aching at the brutal impact. Each thrust was felt like a punch to your cervix and someway or another, you were okay with it.

Little did he know, it was actually because you didn’t want any type of deja vu happening. He fucked you in all the ways you liked the night before you found out that your mother was slaughtered inside your childhood home. You didn’t want tonight to be anything like it. So you let him hurt you.

If only you knew history was going to repeat itself, no matter what the two of you did.

It didn’t take but a few more strokes before he lost his ability to hold off, and emptied himself inside for the third time since he’s arrived back.

Once he did that, the blinds were illuminated in a dim grey, hinting at a sunrise. After a quick shower and clean up, the two of laid there, the mask finally gone.

“What are you thinking, baby?” Jungkook wondered, starring up at the ceiling. You haven’t said much of anything since that last bit. “Did I hurt you? Scare you?”

“No. I could take it.” You said, and it sounded genuine. But he still wanted to know what was on your mind. “I just don’t know what the hell I would do if I didn’t have you. You’re the only person I know that’s never even accidentally done wrong by me. You’ve been nothing but good.”

A void clouded his mind, emotional absence taking place of everything else. It’s a defense mechanism that he’s certain only comes up to block out any sense of guilt or remorse. He kept his gaze up at the ceiling, even as he felt you crane your neck back to look up at him.

“I love you, Kookie. Thank you for being here.”

“I love you too, baby,” he said numbly, those words being true... but his next words were not. “I could never imagine myself doing anything to hurt you.”

Being as he wasn’t planning on looking down, you crawled up for a moment just to kiss him, unbothered by the distant stare in his gaze. You then laid back down and got comfortable, readying yourself for a good days sleep.

“I think it’s finally time I start seeking happiness again, instead of contentment.”

That’s when it hit him. You didn’t notice how his heart cleaned beneath your head, nor was there any way you could feel the tension in his gut. He can’t say he feels full remorseful for what he did, because that would require him sympathizing for the innocent lives he’s taken away, with no rational reason. He simply didn’t feel anything for them. He was only concerned your pain, especially knowing it was unnecessary now. His trip to Korea was enough to motivate you to move on and consider a change of scenery. You didn’t need any fear to drive you out, you just needed time. God only knows how far of a set back this will be now. The fact that you’re laying here, currently thinking that life will only go up from here, when he knows damn good and well it’ll be in shambles again before the day ends..

He really needs to work on his impulses. Maybe homocide shouldn’t always be the first option he leans towards. It was just more fun that way.

But moments like this weren’t fun at all. He remembers how grueling it was last year, waking up with you at the sound of the doorbell going off. He remembers the grim look on the sheriffs face as he told them that they found your mother, dead. It was his arms that had to pick you up off the floor as you crumbled down and screamed, his ears that rung as he held you, not knowing how to console you. For the last year, it’s been his shoulder you’ve cried on, his company keeping you sane, his reassurance telling you that everything was going to be okay.... When it was his hands that caused every single bit of grieve all along.. and was about to cause even more.

So, he did the only thing he could do in that moment. He held you and mentally apologized, hoping that there was some way to telepathically tell you that you mean more to him than life itself, and that’s he’s so sorry for letting it drive him crazy at times. He’s still clinging to the original intention that you’ll say fuck it and flee with him, but he regrets going about it so recklessly.

You were fast asleep now, snoring even. He only hoped the discovery of the bodies would hold off long enough for you to get some much needed sleep. But it seems the universe was done working in his favor.

Those same, familiar knocks sounded off at the door, and he immediately ordered you to stay put as it woke you up.

“Probably just them checking up. Go back to sleep.” He whispered, assertively pushing your head back down and pulling on some sweats before going to the door.

It was the sheriff, same look on his face as last year.

“Sir?” Jungkook frowned, posing cluelessly.

The sheriff looked ghostly pale, like he was nauseated and on the verge of tears. Jungkook knew why but he had to act like it was a throw off.

“Sir..?” He repeated.

“Y’all’s friends.. Baley and Taehyung were found this morning.”

He had to stall and blink, as if he wasn’t catching on to the implications. The sheriff reluctantly continued.

“Baley was found, dead on arrival. Looks like the killer has returned.”

“Wh-What?” Jungkook stuttered, acting like he was bewildered. The sheriff’s next words, however, would spark a more genuine reaction.

“And Taehyung was found unconscious, but still alive.”

Jungkook’s veins ran colder than ever before, all mimicked emotions becoming sincere in that moment.

“Someone attempted to cut his throat, but aimed too high and cut his under jaw instead.”

Jungkook could only stare at the sheriff, probably just as pale in the face now.

“He’s in critical condition. Doctors don’t know if he’ll make it just yet, but there’s a fighting chance that he might.”

#yandere society #bts #jeon jungkook #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts halloween #bts crack #jungkook smut #bts smut

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contrispos · 3 years

Text

Episode 8 - Reunion

[Star Wars: The Bad Batch]

WARNING: This thing is long AF

—

Oh no… oh shit… stop… Okay I’ve missed Mr Toothpick here we go

PLEASE LET HIM GO

LET HIM BE WITH HIS BROTHERS AGAIN GODDAMMIT

“It’s Clone Force 99” with a completely monotone voice… stop…

Can Lama Su stop calling them Experimental Unit 99??? THEY ARE SOLDIERS BITCH GIVE THEM SOME RESPECT

TERMINATE THEM?????????? FUCK YOU RAMPASS

Omega is so focused I love it🥺

Wrecker really knows his stuff… so much for being the dumb one(no offense)

Oh my god I know the stress she’s going through… gosh I hope Wrecker has a brain and doesn’t actually blow the whole thing up

YES UNCLE WRECKER

Mom is coming… Dad wants you back on the cruiser

ECHO DID A SUPERHERO LANDING

Awwwwwww I can’t with Wrecker and Omega🥺🥺🥺🥺

FUCK YOU SCRAPPERFUCKS

OH YEAH

THIS IS THE SOLDIER STUFF I CAME FOR

Can Omega stop being the cutest thing ever??

“That’s not comforting” Tech… I can’t explain how much I love you okay???

I got a bit of a heart attack when Wrecker hit his head AGAIN… but then I remembered the last episode…

TECH WHY DIDN’T YOU SHAVE THE OTHER SIDE??????? YOU HAD A CHANCE TO ACCEPT YOUR PUNK SIDE COME ON!!!!!!

Tech’s helmet is the cutest thing, he constantly looks like a little puppy🥺

I don’t like Hunter’s helmet tho… can’t explain it

Wrecker’s undying love for explosives, I can’t

No shit Tech, the lights LITERALLY JUST TURNED ON OF COURSE THE POWER IS BACK

TECH STOP BEING CUTE

I KNOW IT’S JUST HIS VOICE BUT IT’S CUTE AS HELL

THE WAY HE SAYS OMEGA

Echo… Just join Rex goddammit we know you want to

Is it just me or did Echo’s accent just fuck up a bit?? He almost sounded drunk… aRE yOu dRuNk?

YES IT’S THE TECH SCENE FROM THE TRAILER

HE’S TINKERING

TINKER ON BOY

COME ON TECH CAN YOU JUST GET PROPER ARMOR FOR GODS SAKE???? PROTECT YOUR THIGHS!!! PROTECT YOUR NECK!!!!! PROTECT YOUR BALLS I MEAN COME ON

Oh Tech my sweet, sweet darling Tech… JUST TALK ABOUT YOUR EMOTIONS!!!! TALK ABOUT THE STRESS YOU WERE UNDER DURING THE WAR!!!! TALK ABOUT YOUR FEAR OF LOSING YOUR BROTHERS!!!! I WANT TO BE HURT REAL GOOD!!! IF I DON’T NEED THERAPY AFTER AN EPISODE YOU HAVE FAILED!!!!

Okay please tell me Omega is standing on something, I really don’t want Tech to have worse posture. I know he’s 6’4” so like Omega should be WAY shorter than that compared to him

Ah shiet

Stop

Company, leave!!

Away

LISTEN HERE YOU GIRAFFE!!!! I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN IF YOU DO ANYTHING TO MY PRECIOUS CHILD OKAY

Oh god

Stop this right now

DAMN HE IS LOOKING GOOD

sorry

I don’t like this

Crosshair knows them so well this isn’t good

WAS THAT??? NO IT CAN’T HAVE BEEN? WAS THAT HOPE IN HIS VOICE?? IS HE HAPPY TO FINALLY BE WITH THE BATCH????

Stop it I don’t like not liking clones

Oh Crosshair I have missed you and all but can you just like leave??

Oh my god the regs really are stupid huh?

Tech I love you you little smartass

Crosshair, stop it, get some help

I am honestly pissed at Tech, like constantly… WHY DOES HE GET FUCKING PERFECT THIGHS AND I DON’T

Oh hell nah

🎶 fuck this shit i’m out 🎶

i don’t like this

i’m scared

Tech you sneaky bastard

TECH STOP BEING SO EXCITED ABOUT MASS MURDER

I don’t like when Crosshair disrespects my children like that

I’m crying

this is too much

Omega, you get a golden star for being cute as fuck

Tech, you get a golden star for being cute as fuck

The rest of you, you get to sleep on the floor

OH HELL NO

DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE

“Your issue is with me, not her” Hunter, your dad is showing. Like literally it’s consuming you

HUNTER I TOLD YOU LAST WEEK THAT THIS WAS NOT THE KIND OF HUG I MEANT

HOLY FUCK MY FAMILY IS HOME I CANT LAUGH NOW

THAT SCREAM

AHHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHA

Wrecker this isn’t a video game, you know that right??

TECH HOLDING OMEGAS HAND??? KILL ME NOW

WAIT

crosshair held the side of his head

DOES THAT MEAN????

weeeee a slide

Oh Wrecker I love you

We should let them have more slides

I think it could be mutually beneficial

They have fun, I get some extra serotonin

Hey! You should have let him finish!

What are the engines capable of, Tech? *blinks unnaturally quickly*

HUNTER HOW FUCKING STRONG ARE YOU???

How did you do that? I wanna save Tech too 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Crosshair clearly isn’t used to talking this much, his voice sounds kinda sore…

Tech could you maybe like, stop being emotionless? YOU ARE ABOUT TO DIE

holy fuck they’re gonna die

ohhhh no

no no no no no no no

OH YEAH MY SMART BABIES I LOVE YOU

OH MY GOD

they really are a group of dads

NOOOOO TURN THEM OFF

CROSSHAIR

STOP

TURN THE ENGINES OFF MY BABY IS DYING

Omegas little welps🥺🥺🥺

CROSSHAIR MY CHILD

HE LOOKED SO SCARED

okay, who did that?

CAD FUCKING BANE????????

ARE YOU KIDDING ME????

THIS JUST BECAME A WHOLE ASS WESTERN

THE MUSIC AHHHHHH

HOLY FUCK I NEVER THOUGHT ID BE EXCITED ABOUT CAD BANE YET HERE WE ARE

stop

nuh uh

nope

i’m out

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD

HUNTER

STOP

OMEGA

Oh no

Crosshair is properly fucked

oh shit

IT CANT STOP THERE

okay not gonna lie that was a gorgeous scene

is that what it looks like in their helmets??? really? I thought is was just like, a window, but this makes more sense

HOLY FUCK

created by DAVE FILONI yeah bitch I am gunning for you. I will find you, and i will kill you.

BITCH

74 notes · View notes

mochegato · 3 years

Text

Nannyette

Chapter 6 – Radio Mysteries Are Still a Thing

Chapter 1 Chapter 5

“I’m not tired though.” Mar’i whined in a sleepy voice.

Marinette smiled down at her as she patted down the comforter around her. Mar’i’s eyes were barely staying open as she talked. “Yeah, I can tell. But your Mommy has a bunch of super fun things planned for you two as soon as she gets home tomorrow. I know she is really excited to spend time with you, so you want to be rested and full of energy for her tomorrow, right?”

“I’m so excited.” Mar’i squealed quietly, suddenly reenergized thinking about spending time with her Mom. “We’re going to bake cupcakes and go shopping and practice flying and get lunch together and get our nails painted and take some cupcakes to Daddy. You and Tim should come with us!”

Marinette smiled at her. “I’m flattered you want us to come with you but I think you and your Mommy should get some time alone. I know she’s missed you a lot.”

Mar’i thought it over and nodded as she thought. “And you and Tim should get some time alone, too. I know he likes you a lot.”

Marinette’s cheeks flushed. “That's nice. Tim is a very nice and thoughtful man. I'm sure he likes lots of people.”

Mar’i’s eyes started getting heavy again as she corrected Marinette. “Not really.”

Marinette blushed further. “Well then I feel honored.”

“But he likes you. He gets happy when he sees you. You two should go on a date.” Mar’i nodded decidedly, or at least tried to. The yawn interrupted the serious face she was trying to make.

Marinette’s smile turned bittersweet. “Thank you, but he has Kon.”

“But they don’t go on dates. Kon goes on dates with Cassie, not Tim.” Mar’i said quietly as she turned to a more comfortable position under the cover. “He thinks you should date Tim, too.”

Marinette looked at her confused. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” she slurred, barely still awake. “He told me today… It’s a secret though, so don’t tell Tim.”

Marinette quietly closed Mar’i’s door and padded out to the living room. She stumbled slightly when she saw Tim was still there with papers and photos scattered across the living room table. She blushed thinking about her conversation with Mar’i. “You’re still here.” She said quietly.

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. I was looking over some of Dick’s files and didn’t want to take them out of the apartment.” Tim shrugged in what he hoped was a casual manner. The less she thought about the lie the more convincing it would be.

She grabbed her school bag and settled on the opposite side of the couch from Tim. She scanned over the photos quickly as she pulled her books and notebooks out, not sure if it was any of her business. But then again, if he didn’t want her to see them, he wouldn’t have them out in the open on the coffee table. She paused her unpacking when she saw the bloody body. “What… what is this? I thought Dick was the detective. Or is this one of the cases your family is working on?”

“Oh, no.” Tim looked up sheepishly. “I like working on cold cases. This is a file Dick set aside for me to look into.”

“Oh, right.” She nodded distractedly, examining the pictures again. “Are these the cases Kon was talking about? That you two work on together.”

Tim looked confused for a few seconds before remembering what she was talking about. He looked away sheepishly. “No, he wasn’t sure if you knew about our hero activities, so he was looking for a way to say he’s only responsible for me when we’re in the field. We partner together a lot on missions.”

“Ahhh, that’s what you meant.” Marinette said quietly to herself, almost too quietly for Tim to hear. She squeezed her eyes shut and mentally face palmed. God what an idiot! She called Adrien her partner, too. She really, really should have thought of that! She was totally blaming the damned concussion. As though it hadn’t taken enough from her already; reduced caffeine, reduced electronics, and reduced energy. It really had to add reduced rational thought?

“What?” He scrunched up his nose adorably in confusion.

“Oh, nothing.” She flapped her hands like she was shooing away the question. “You mentioned Kon was your partner. I just realized you meant in your hero activities.”

Tim looked at her mortified. “You thought Kon and I…” He had been flirting his ass off for the past few weeks, granted it was awkward, clumsy, terrible flirting. But it was flirting none the less. Had she not noticed?

Marinette shrugged at him, an apologetic grimace on her face. “You two seem very close and you mentioned he helped take care of you and was your partner and Kori mentioned you were always together so... It seemed to fit.”

“No!” Tim said too loudly. What was wrong with him volume regulator lately, he chastised himself. “No,” he repeated quieter this time. “No, we’re just good friends, best friends. He’s my partner, you know, my superhero partner. No, I’m not in… um… I mean… I’m not dating anyone right now.” Tim stuttered out. “My last girlfriend and I broke up ages ago.”

“Oh,” Marinette nodded, looking away to try to hide her blush. “That’s um… that’s good to know. Must have made New Year’s awkward for you. Nobody to kiss and all. It was for me anyway.” She turned back to the pictures again scanning them absentmindedly to distract her brain from thinking about her not at all subtle hint. God, when did she lose her ability to flirt? She puckered her lips in annoyance when she realized she never had it. “And the police suspect him but can’t make it stick?” She asked pointing to a wealthy looking businessman in one of the photos.

Tim shook his head to focus on what she was pointing to and try to remember the case again after the myriad of revelations Marinette had just revealed in the last minute or so, including the confirmation that she was single. He examined the picture she was pointing to and looked at her wide eyed in surprise. “No, but that’s who I suspect. He had the most to gain if you consider the repercussions.” Marinette looked at him questioningly. “The wife was the immediate suspect. She was having an affair with her husband’s secretary and she inherits everything. But if she was implicated in his death, she could be sued and lose any stake in the company, whether it was proven in court or not. It would go to the next in line, which is him.”

Marinette nodded along with him looking at each of the people as he pointed them out. “Makes sense. No proof though?”

“Not enough. What made you suspect him?” He looked over at her curiously.

“He changed his suit.” Tim looked at her blankly. “See these are pictures from the same party.” She scooted closer to Tim to point out to two pictures. Tim scooted closer to her to get a better look at them. “Everyone is in the same clothes except for him. He’s wearing different suits.”

“Those look like the same suit to me.” Tim said doubtfully.

Marinette scoffed at him. “I’m sure they were supposed to. It wouldn’t work if the suits didn’t look the same. But see the lapels?” She leaned over Tim’s shoulder to point to the man’s lapels. “They’re a different sheen. This one is shinier than this other one. And see the buttons, this one has a design. I can’t make out what it is, but there is one, but this other one, doesn’t have a design. Plus, this one is Tom Ford and this one is Armani.”

Tim’s mouth dropped as he turned to her dumbfounded. “How did you know that?”

“I’m more than you give me credit for.” She grinned smugly at him. She froze when she noticed how close they had gotten. Their faces were only a few centimeters from each other, their mouths so close she could feel his breath on her face. He froze too, his eyes widening as he made the same realization. After a second, Marinette’s courage failed her and she backed away from Tim shyly. What if Mar’i was wrong? She was only 4, she could have misread the signals. Just because Tim wasn’t dating, it didn’t mean he wanted to date her. He was smart and funny and handsome and sweet. He probably already had his eye on someone.

Marinette grabbed her discarded textbook and held it up for him to see, her notebook shoved haphazardly into it. “I’m a design student and have my own online boutique. If I didn’t notice that, I’d have to seriously reconsider my career path. And I’ve seen enough murder mysteries to know that if someone changes clothes in the middle of a party, there’s a reason. Could be that someone spilled something on him, but with a suit that expensive, someone would know it happened. If it was staff, they would be worried about getting fired and sued. Worth looking for the suit anyway. Depending on how cocky he is, he may have kept it and just gotten it dry cleaned, thinking nobody would investigate him anyway.”

Tim looked at her in awe. “You… you like murder mysteries?” he was finally able to stutter out.

“Yeah. Normally, I’d have one on in the background while I work on homework but, concussion and electronics aren’t a good mix. Hell, normally, all my design research would be online… concussions are a bitch. My electronic activity has been restricted.”

“Yeah, I mean not the worst I’ve gotten, but the limited electronics thing is just the worst.”

“Yeah, I imagine without magic to protect you, you guys must get hurt a lot.”

He gave her a double take. “Why would magic be involved?”

“Oh… our heroes had magic to protect them and used magic to reverse the damage they and the rest of us sustained.” She tried to shrug nonchalantly like it was nothing important.

“Your heroes?” Marinette turned away from his adorably scrunched nose.

“Paris’ heroes. Ladybug and Chat Noir… Rena Rouge, Carapace, King Monkey… Multimouse?” She listed off as casually as she could manage.

“I think I’ve heard of Ladybug and Chat Noir, maybe. They disappeared a few years ago, right?”

“Yeah. Their job was done. One occasionally pops up in New York to help Knight Owl and Majestia but, pretty much, they disappeared.”

“Their job wasn’t stopping criminals?”

“No,” she said affronted. “Their job was to catch the villain who had stolen two miraculous and deal with damage caused by the miraculous. When the villain was caught their job was done.”

“Huh,” Tim turned away to think about that. “I guess I’ve never thought about not trying to help people. If I can help, I want to do it.”

Marinette’s eyes turned serious. “It’s bigger than that though. The miraculous are bound to creatures with god-like abilities. The miraculous in Paris had the ability to rewrite history and reality itself. The potential for that to go horribly wrong or fall into the wrong hands and be used for evil is too great.” She sighed and looked at her book. “Not to mention the heroes were children when they started fighting and they couldn’t reveal their identities to anyone so their only support was each other. They deserved a break, a chance to heal and be children. Children shouldn’t be taking on the battles of grownups.”

Tim looked at her sympathetically. “Definitely not the philosophy I grew up with, as a child vigilante.”

Marinette gave him a weak smile. “Maybe you deserve a break too.”

Tim looked away for a few moments, considering what she had said. “Maybe…”

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud yawn. He looked over and saw a sheepish look on her face. “Sorry. I think the pool tired me out just as much as Mar’i.”

“You should take a nap. I can watch over things while you do,” he offered gently.

“No, thank you though.” She gave him a grateful smile and held up her textbook. “I have miles to go and chapters of text to read before I sleep. I usually have something else on while I do though, something to distract my brain.”

He looked over at her and gave her a small smile. “You know they have radio murder mysteries. I can find one to play while you work on your homework, if you want.”

“Yeah,” she smiled back wider, appreciating the change of topic. “I’d like that.”

“I… there are a few to choose from,” he said holding up his phone. “Did you want to choose?”

Marinette moved so she was touching him and looked through his phone. “That one looks interesting,” she commented handing it back to him.

Tim smiled and started the mystery. He smiled wider when he noticed she didn’t move away from him after choosing the mystery. He waited a few minutes then slung his arm around her shoulders. He held his breath waiting to see her reaction. Marinette stiffened only for a second then relaxed into his side. Tim let go of the breath he was holding and enjoyed the feeling of having Marinette next to him.

Marinette opened her textbook and started reading and making notes while Tim pulled up more information on the suspect for the case on his laptop. After a few minutes, he noticed Marinette’s pencil had dropped and her breathing had evened out. He looked down at her and the sight filled his heart with warmth. She had fallen asleep curled up into his side, with her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. He smiled affectionately, relishing the feeling of having her curled up against him.

He gently closed her textbook and moved it and her notebook out of the way. He grabbed the blanket haphazardly thrown over the back of the couch and wrapped it around the two of them. He pulled her closer into his chest and leaned further back into the couch to get more comfortable. His smile softened even more when she sighed contentedly and snuggled further into his chest. He would stay in this position as long as he could, as long as she wanted.

Chapter 7

Tags:

@timari-month-event @ichigorose @stainedglassm @better-toast @theymakeupfairies @trippingovermyfeet

#maribat #timari #timinette #Timari January #Nannyette #prompt - I'm more than I seem

195 notes · View notes

latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

Text

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎! 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜: 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, promoting, encouraging, justifying nor romanticizing yandere behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warnings: Mentions of toxic relationships, yandere behavior, bullying, harassment, blackmail, sexual scenes, abusive relationship, manipulation, verbal abuse, abortion, attempted murder.

��━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐

𝙳.𝙾.𝙱: 𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟼𝚝𝚑, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟿

𝙷𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝟷𝟽𝟹 𝙲𝙼/ 𝟻'𝟾 𝙵𝚝.

𝙰𝚐𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■■100%

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■□90%

𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢: ■■■■□80%

𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: 𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚃𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚛

𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜:

𝙰𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜/𝚘.

𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 .

𝚄𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜.

𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚢.

𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You had known him for the longest time, probably since you were both learning the alphabet.

Even back then he was a troublesome boy.

Loved to dip your hair in paint, pour glue inside your backpack.

Or always pushed you off the swings cause he wanted to play in it.

This didn't really faze you back then.

Most of the boys that age played such tricks on almost all the girls.

They all had a specific target and you were Wooyoung's.

You remember telling this one day to your mom, who simply chuckled.

"Honey, boys tend to tease the girls they have a crush on."

You remember looking at her with confusion.

How could they treat someone they like with such utter disrespect and rudeness?

"Because they don't know how to express their feelings."

Like an idiot you believed that, and being the naive little girl you were, you kinda started developing a crush on him.

You remember the first time you talked back to him, it's engraved in your head because it was the first time of many to come where his words, and actions, hurt you.

"Just admit you like me Wooyoung! You only tease me cause you're in love with me."

You remember the rage and disgust in his eyes as he shoved you to the ground, making you scrape your knee on the pavement.

"Get this through that dumb brain of yours Y/N....

No one will ever love a dirty little rat like you."

You came home crying that day. Hurt physically and emotionally at his words.

And the years to come weren't better, as you grew up, Wooyoung's bullying towards you escalated.

You hoped that after you graduated high school and started going to university, you'd be free from him, never see him again.

You could finally be happy for once in your life. Focus on your goals and career.

Everything was going great for you!.......

Until you walked into class and found out not only had Wooyoung been accepted to the same university...

He was majoring in the same field as you!

"Hey dirty little rat. Missed me?"

His cocky smile sent shivers down your spine, you were already fearing what he had in store for you.

If you thought high school was hell, it was nowhere near as awful as the torment Wooyoung was now putting on you.

Tripping you down the stairs to the point you had severe injuries.

Writing nasty and derogatory names on your desk that now wouldn't come off and you'd be forced to look at every time you went to class.

One time he went as far as stealing your assignments, ultimately leading to failing an entire semester.

You were so heartbroken and just done with his shit. You felt no more motivation to even continue studying.

Until a cute boy named Yeonjun transferred and took an interest in you.

He was super nice, friendly and not to mention good looking and hella tall.

It was more than obvious too that he wanted establish a relationship with you, anyone and everyone could see that.

Especially Wooyoung and he did not look the way someone else was making you happy.

So he devised a plan, not caring how messed up it was.

He made sure someone convinced you to go to a party he'd be at.

You found it odd that he was suddenly acting super nice to you, not even calling you those mild nicknames he called you in front of others.

And it shocked you even more when he suddenly apologized to you for everything he'd done to you, even offering to talk to your professor about your assignment.

His eyes seemed so sincere, you actually believed him.

Perhaps he finally decided to change, realized his behavior was unnecessary and immature and of course, like an idiot you accepted his apology.

You got wasted for the first time in your life that night and could not remember anything at all.

Until Wooyoung was 'kind' enough to brief you in on what happened.

He pulled out his phone and made you watch a video he had filmed of you two that night.

Your stomach hurled over as you realized it was a fucking sex tape, you and Wooyoung had actually fucked that night.

"What! No no! This couldn't have happened! There's no way!" You refused to believe it.

Wooyoung just smirked at you.

"Oh but it did happen kitten. You were so eager too as the video displays, you kept asking me to go harder, begging me for another round and wanting my cum all over you..."

"I wonder what would the whole school say if I posted it online....especially Yeonjun."

Now you realized what his game was. He was never sorry. It was just another form of him to torture you, and this tipped the scale.

You were so shaken up, you got down on your knees and begged him not to show anyone the video.

"Please Wooyoung! I'll do anything! Anything!"

"Anything?......really? How about becoming mine then?"

And now you were forever tied to your worst nightmare.

Wooyoung especially enjoyed seeing Yeonjun's disappointed and heartbroken look when he announced that you two were now dating.

Now he couldn't even look at you anymore, feeling somewhat betrayed by your actions.

You wanted to tell him you were sorry and explain to him what was going on, but Wooyoung had eyes on you 24/7.

He even made you move in with him and now even your free time had to be spent with him.

You hated living with him.

He not only made sure to verbally abuse you, but actually seemed to have fun causing tiny accidents to happen around you.

His favorite was when he'd peer over your shoulder as you tried to study.

He scoffed. "Why even bother if all you'll ever be good at is spreading your legs?"

Those were his favorite insults: "whore" "slut" "bitch".

One time you were just so fed up with him, that you ended up snapping back.

"Shut the fuck up Wooyoung! You're such an insufferable piece of shit, no wonder your mom left you and your dad back in middle school."

As soon as the words came out, you wanted to swallow them back in.

Wooyoung was livid at your words.

He not only yanked you up by your hair, but he actually threw you to the floor and started kicking you harshly.

He didn't kick you for too long though, he did not want to risk anyone questioning when he told them you fell down the stairs.

And especially not take you to the hospital.

You had no choice but to stay home as you tried to recuperate.

You remember one of those days, you came home from a quick trip to the convenience store and found some girl blowing Wooyoung on the couch.

You weren't fazed. He often brought girls home and fucked them right in front of you.

You just sighed and decided to ignore the shit eating grin he'd give you whenever you caught him.

You decided long ago it wasn't worth it.

You two weren't even dating cause you wanted to.

He just loved controlling you, having power over you, holding something over your head.

He had this obsessive need to make you miserable.

And you hated that you had no choice but to allow it.

Even when there were things you didn't want to do, you had to or he'd once again blackmail you.

The one time you adamantly refused to was when you found out you were pregnant.

Wooyoung was just as shocked as you.

"And you're telling me I'm the father?"

"Uh......I can't have sex with anyone who isn't you, obviously you're the father."

Wooyoung couldn't let you go through with the pregnancy.

"Get rid of it." He told you.

You wrapped a protective hand around your bump.

"No! This is my baby and I won't allow you to harm it!"

You weren't going to budge though.

"Show the tape to everyone! I don't give a fuck anymore! But I'm not killing an innocent child who has done nothing wrong. "

Realizing he was losing control of you, Wooyoung knocked you out unconscious, deciding to take matters into your own hands.

You woke up a day later, feeling sore and aching in your inner thighs and lower abdomen.

You immediately panicked and sensed something was wrong.

You didn't need Wooyoung to tell you, you knew he had taken you to a clinic and had the baby removed.

You were so shaken up, cried your eyes out and no longer had any will to fight against Wooyoung.

You felt like it all all your fault, the death of your baby was your fault.

You weren't strong enough to save it and it was killing you inside.

You no longer trusted anyone, and you didn't have the heart to talk about it to anyone. Not like they'd believe you or care about you.

But someone did notice, Yeonjun never stopped caring about you and although he was hurt you went with someone else, he still had feelings for you.

And he was very observant and noticed that ever since you started dating Wooyoung, you were skipping a lot of classes....

And you were having a lot of accidents...too many in fact.

And now he just saw you completely lost and like a walking dead.

"Hey Y/N, are you ok?" He asked you one day.

You were going to respond, but the devil made an appearance by your side.

"She's fine and was just coming home with me. Weren't you baby?"

To everyone, it looked like a sweet and caring smile from your doting boyfriend, but you knew it was all fake.

Nonetheless you just kept your head low and went home with him.

Yeonjun noticed the way you trembled when he put his arm around you, noticed the frightened look in your eyes and he knew something was wrong in your relationship.

When you got home, Wooyoung was pissed off at you and immediately struck your face.

"I thought I told you not to talk to him! Can't you obey a simple order you fucking bitch?!"

When he pulled out a knife from the kitchen, you were now scared for your life.

You tried to fight back, but Wooyoung was stronger than you and you were still in pain after the abortion.

He knocked you to the floor and managed to land 2 stab wounds into your right side.

You could never forget the wrath and hate in his eyes as he told you:

"I'm going to fucking kill you."

By some miracle, someone taller and stronger than Wooyoung got him off you, that someone being none other than Yeonjun.

He felt glad about following his hunch and followed you both back home, otherwise he'd end up reading about you in the newspaper.

He had no trouble in subduing Wooyoung and calling the police.

The only thing on his mind was getting you to the hospital as soon as possible.

"It's ok Y/N. You're going to be fine." He assured you

Your physical injuries were easy to recover from, but the emotional trauma and abuse Wooyoung put you through was not.

Yet Yeonjun was there every step of the way, going with you to therapy and just listening to you and your terrifying story.

For the first time in your life, you felt truly loved and happy....

And safe.

A year after the ordeal, you were doing much better and were nearly fully recuperated.

Yeonjun and you rented a place together and were completely in love with each other.

Everything seemed to be going perfect....

And then one day your phone rang.

Picking up, you asked "Hello?"

"Don't think it's over yet you dirty little rat."

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orangepurin45 · 3 years

Text

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐫!! - 𝐂𝐨𝐩! 𝐈𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐗 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐏.𝐭 1

WARNING: Guns, some Yanderish themes (Oikawa is protective of Bara-arms), Blood, Drug dealing delivery, 🔞triggering sexual content 🔞, Angst, Fluff?, Slight!IwaOi, Mentions of past humiliation & trauma (high-school bullying)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

This is my first time writing btw. Happy Reading! if not the exit is over there 👉🚪.

Papers sprawled all over the desk, strings attached each other to another. A loud sip from the bulky man and a paper flip to side then eyes rose up to the photo of you grinning like a mischievous fox with red lips and taunting eyes screaming "CATCH ME IF YOU DARE," vibe Hajime grit his teeth glaring at your dirty face.

L/n Y/n, also know as the dark phoenix, Japan's most notorious drug dealing, homicide, and man-woman torturer and murderer in the whole country.

Everyone fears you.

Everyone obey at you.

Everyone believes you are the end.

Everything they think, you were responsible of all of this.

"Iwa-chan! Chief wants you to-..." Tooru spokes but was stopped by the sound of Iwaizumi's chair screech. He stood up, shadow loom under his gaze as he walks out the door.

"Wait! Iwa-chan I was supposed to...!

SLAM!

Inform you, " he finished, his lips turned downwards at the cold room, his chocolate eyes scanned every detail of the room then stopped to your portrait of your scary taunting face.

"Thanks a lot, Y/n-chan... But I didn't know you were into kind of... mess, " he smiles sadly, tracing his fingers at your photo. Lips tighten softly at the flashback, of yourself and the other 3rd years. How ironic to see your sweet, sweet smile in the memories compare to your now scary one.

"But I'm not letting you hurt Iwa-chan...That's a promise!,"

He points at your portait, eyes of determination and protection to swearing to blood to bone of himself not want his childhood friend be hurt. He turned away as long he lives

He will never let Hajime's life on the line.

Blood splatter, and small packet of white powder in the sachet all over the floor. Blowing your gun, hot steam coming out of the hole. Soft red lips upturned wickedly, your loyal subordinates gathers the small plastic packets inside the black bag.

"Bring it on the trunk immediately," You grinned as they nodded, immediately running towards your car.

Although, all happiness and rainbows has to ended when your car exploded and a familiar gunfire break a loose killing at off your men in sight.

"Oh dear... here we go again," You giggled then smirked, eyes delighted to see the man, who is obsessed of you being arrested.

How cute! 💕

"DARK PHOENIX!!!," Hajime yelled, eyes filled with fury and justice glaring at your calm figure. His teeth angrily clench pointing his gun at you.

"What a pleasant surprise!... I never thought you were such a party pooper, Iwaizumi-san! I'm absolutely...hurt," you pouted furrowing your brows playfully at him, to which he just flinch remembering a memory, looking down at the thought.

But you took this opportunity to snatched the gun off of his Iron grip by sitting on his shoulder then do some acrobatics before jumping off his broad shoulders then before jumping back then throw him on the ground with a headlock.

"You know it was all good~ back in the day! My mom always taught me to take care of what mess it was...And that was me she was talking about, "

He grunt, trying to wiggling his way out of your grasped but no avail the tightness is stronger than he expected. You giggled when you heard him yelped.

“Let ME go this is instant! I’m gonna make sure you’re gonna rot in prison!,”

He shouted, throwing his saliva right at your face at each sentence he threat for you. But you only grinned, eyes in mischief and raising a brow at him.

“Oh please~ Cry me a river! Your the cop here aren’t you gonna do it but instead you’re just laying under me...shame on you Iwaizumi-san,”

Silence ... You saw how he looks down and saw sorrow at his face, seemingly remembers something, you hummed a growing smile on your soft lips.

“Ne, Iwazumi-san Do you remember the day Oikawa-san humiliate me?,”

He snaps out his trace, then looks at you eyes as larger as the china wares.

“You didn’t help me back then, instead you let him do what he did to me,”

Rains started to pour, as the steaming car slowly deflates it’s flame little by little by an hours. Hajime’s heart dropped at the statement.

Yes, It’s true he did only watched.

He just...didn’t know

He didn’t know what to do If he did help you back then.

Because of a certains rumors that you seduce your father, your uncle, other male students in any campus. That’s what Oikawa made up, He thought realising it.

You rejected Tooru because you view him as a brother only and nothing more.

“Isn’t because of Oikawa...was it?,”

“All of that wasn’t true SHUT UP!!,”

Unrealising you let him go and back yourself away from him, giving Hajime to sit up then slowly stood. He saw suprising seeing you hitting your head, slapping and punching your head. Snot and tears and all, pulling your hair out, heavily breathing then whimper and cries. Hajime was about to approach you giving the comfort you deserve, you deserve long time ago that he was going to give if he helped you.

But being a fucked out mentally ill you are, Throwing your head back flash of lightning. Red eyes and nose all bloodshot. Wet Hair stuck on your face.

“FUCK THEM ALL FOR BEING NAIVE ASS BITCH THEY KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ME!!,”

“Y/n I-,”

All of the sudden a hooded man engulf you in an embrace then took you, jumping in each delivering cubes. But before he left, he shot Iwaizumi by the calf making him grunt then kneel down to hold where the shot is.

“IWA-CHAN!,”

Oikawa runs afront of him, and by anger he tried firing his bullet back at the hooded man but failed when he fired back to disarm him then fled at the scene.

“That bitch had company I see... Iwa-chan are you alright,”

After the rage diminished into concern laced tone, he pulled Iwaizumi up throwing his arm over his shoulder. Gazing in greater concern at him.

Or Love, so to speak.

“Everything will be all right, Iwa-chan I already called back-up,”

Hajime grunt, he unlatch himself off Oikawa suprise at the action he give, he stumbled and winced but he then glared at Oikawa.

His heart ache’d at the facial expression, shattering to him into pieces.

“Get off me I can take care of myself, I’m not some type of baby being taken care of,” He explains, he took a second to look where you feld and the hooded man went, A breath escape his lips and just stumble ahead.

when the back-up came, they help him guide back inside the ambulance.

“I told you I can take care of myself! Lay off!!,”

“Japan needed you Iwaizumi-san...So you’ll be needing our guidance for now,” The medic discipline and explains The Cop as he guided Hajime at the back of the ambulance.

He click his tongue before the paramedics lift him up in ease onto the ambulance.

Oikawa on the other hand, chocolate-colored eyes darkens at the moment of Hajime's pained expression when he taken the bullet that strike his calf.

And the sorrowfulness of his face when he was about to hug you.

His staring directly at your self-hate state as if he was that main guy at a certain love story, but a fucked up one.

He wanted to comfort you so badly that he might forget you'll stab him by the back. He grit his teeth, his knuckles turning white at point of view of your being.

But first he had to make sure you will be torture to hell where you belong.

"Oikawa-senpai! Is everything is going to be alright?"

A turnip head guy pops out, eye'ing in concern at the ambulance where Iwaizumi resides in, left the scene. Tooru took a deep breath, as he face his youngest colleague with that well-covered smile.

"It's alright! There's no need to worry! Cause' He will have the greatest care in the hospital... For awhile I think"

"Oikawa-senpai... Your palms are bleeding"

Kunimi pointed out, staring boredly at the fresh wound that have his blood run down his fingers to his knuckles.

He hadn't realise in mad anger, he clawed his palm so bad at the thought of you gonna ruining Iwaizumi's life.

"Ahhh! My hand slipped in the strawberry jam! My bad hehe"

(；^ 3^）✌️even though it was rather darker than the sweet jam itself, Kunimi could tell it was a lie. He could tell the deep nail marks on his palm and blood mixing under his nails too.

"Uh... Okay I guess..." He pretend to buy it, much of Oikawa's satisfaction.

"Okay back to work! We need to investigate this piece of shit of a burning car!" He grin happily as he skipped towards the steaming car, not caring about the rain pouring down.

Hope you rot in hell Y/n dearest or else one touch on Iwa-chan and you are gone he thought with a deep frown thinking about you makes Oikawa sick upon his stomach but hopefully that one day, you'll be captured and rot in jail.

Or maybe suffer in death sentence because of the multiple crimes you make.

Hope you suffer He thought with sadistic grin.

-End P. T 1-

That was not I expected, but judge all you want all because of the grammar I've been working is still under- construction and I've been using writing stuff like this because of a certain mental stability I've got... Not all that set aside. Thank y'all for reading don't forget to leave a heart or not because due to my ungrateful grammar that make you sick... I'm sorry about that and I apologies for being born... Is all

-orangepurin45

#iwaizumi x y/n #slight iwaoi #first writing #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime #x reader #criminalxpoliceau!#Minors don't interact #blood #imnervousethisismyfirsteverwritinghereintumblr #skskskksks #yandere oikawa

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1990jeevas · 3 years

Note

I love it when people talk about things they're passionate about, tell me something cool!! Anything you want, just something you find interesting or want to talk about :D

hello anon my beloved, I am in a bad mood so you will be receiving a passionate, yet lowkey of pissy rant about why villainizing bakugou makes me wanna vomit and its NOT just because I'm a dumbass kinnie :)

tws: child abuse (emotional and physical), near death expierences, bullying, kidnapping, suffocation, lots of trauma in general tbh. if you've seen bnha then basically just keep all the general triggering plot stuff in mind incase i missed any warnings

also, note: I havent caught up on bnha in a minute, I'm at like the start of the war arc but I barely remember shit there tbh so like. probs missing new stuff. also bnha spoiler warnings lol

so, for starters, the homie bakugou has like,, a good handful of issues that come from his childhood that explain why he's an ass. he was always praised and never actually reprimanded for being a twat which led to him having a huge ego that ended up fucking him over majorly. this ego was something that his mother acknowledged him having, but literally didnt try to fix it with anything other than violence. see here:

like, instead of trying to help him, she hits and insults him, which is probably what led to his weird inferiority/superiority complex. being constantly told by others that you're outstanding and one day you'll be a top hero because you're rude and aggressive and then going home and being hit by your mother for those exact same behaviors is bound to fucking confuse a child.

so like, now that we've established that its definetly canon that his mother (parents? I think he said parents at some point but masaru doesn't seem like the type so 🤷) hits him though we don't know how much or how often (though if bakugou was as much of a little shit back then ((which as far as we've seen- he was)) then it was probably often), lets talk about how regardless of all that 1) hitting your kids as "discipline" not only doesn't work but is abusive lol like idc if it's spanking/popping them on the mouth for talking shit, slapping them across the face "on occasion", etc. shits not okay 2) hitting your kids!!!! does not work!!!!!!!! it is literally PROVEN not to work!!!!!!!! hitting a child who has done something wrong doesnt teach them to stop doing something it teaches them to be scared of you, which will cause the child to withdraw, removing part of their support system (assuming said abusive parents would even offer that up) and will most likely lead to them thinking they're a bad person, not that their actions were bad, which are two different things. so, ya know, that would clearly have an effect on a kid. like, as someone with a mother who reminds me all too much of mitsuki: I have acted like a complete shitbag and taken my anger out on people to feel better in the past because of the way my mother treated me. though it was nowhere near what bakugou did, I still know first fucking hand what a mother hitting and insulting her child will do, especially if they have no proper outlet for that (friends, a safe place to vent) which bakugou never fucking had.

theres also the fact that just talking to your kid the way mitsuki does (saying it's his fault he was kidnapped because he's weak, all while hitting him) is not??? okay?????? ive seen people arguing that this was just a joke in poor taste but like her son was KIDNAPPED and even if it was a "joke" there's literally NO WAY that would EVER?? BE FUNNY??????? she just sounds like the kind of parent who at the very least says shit without thinking that would traumatize bakugou (because being told right after being kidnapped it's your fucking fault by your mother is absolutely traumatizing) but it comes across as her being emotionally abusive.

mitsukis character as a whole comes across as a shitty mom who doesn't realize she's a shitty mom and thinks bakugou being an ass isn't at least partially her fault even though she's admitted to realizing he has always had an ego problem and doing nothing to fix it except for hitting and yelling which obviously did nothing but make him just as loud and violent as she is.

this is obviously not the entire reason why he's a dick but he was never properly taught that the shit he was doing wasn't okay and people not stopping it and/or praising him endlessly even tho he was a bully is basically the same as encouraging it, thank you very much.

moving on from that, let's talk about bakugous other traumas and how he naturally responds to them. hint: it's with either full blown panic or a fight response (verbal or physical, though usually physical. also sometimes it's the panic followed by the fight response.)

so far in bnha (keep in mind that I am not caught up, I've only read up to the beginning of the war arc and i barely remember those bits so) bakugou has...

nearly died via sludge villain (he was unable to move and was being suffocated to death- keep this in mind)

lost for the first time ever and against deku of all people (this nearly sent him into a full blown panic attack, likely because of that sexy little inferiority/superiority complex combo. think of this as like. gifted kid burnout lite. he has always been the best of the best and now suddenly he is being beaten by somebody who has always been weaker than him, which immediately makes him start thinking he was never actually that good, he's actually a fucking failure, a goddamn fraud)

won the sports festival by default (bakugou counts this as yet another failure because todoroki didnt try his best. had bakugou lost to todoroki full strength, he would've taken 2nd place with a bit of bitching, but he still wouldve taken it rather than refuse the medal as it would be a reminder that he failed. instead of accepting that like UA shouldve, the staff chained and muzzled him on live television and then had all might, his fucking idol, force the medal into his mouth. remember the sludge villain incident and how he couldnt move and was suffocating to death? yeah.)

been kidnapped because of the way he reacted to winning during the sports festival (he was aggressive and tried to refuse the medal because he felt he didnt deserve it and was then retraumatized by being chained up and muzzled. his "villainous attitude" was a fucking trauma response, do not tell me otherwise)

was then chained up once again by the LOV after being kidnapped,,, do we see the "retraumatize bkg" theme yet?

"ended all might" (he literally blames himself for all mights retirement because had he just not have been weak, all might wouldve had more time, right?)

my point with all of these is that bakugou has been severely traumatized and has then had his trauma responses (aggression, fight) used to further demonize him. not all people with trauma react the fucking same and the way the fandom just refuses to acknowledge anger as a valid form of trauma response is gross as hell.

moving away from that topic, bakugou has literally never had any actual friends, they all just used him and didn't care about him which absolutely will fuck up a kid, especially one who already has all that other shit going on. bakugou deadass never had a support system or people to help him grow as a person, let alone properly work through his fucking emotions so it's not surprising that he would take out his bullshit on the one person who tried to help him especially considering he saw dekus actions as him thinking he was weak. bakugou was raised to not seek help, he thought somebody strong shouldnt ever need it, so for somebody like deku (who bakugou percieved as weak and helpless already) to offer up help? deku must obviously think bakugou is even weaker than him, what other explanation could their possibly be!

speaking of which, there's his heaps of insecurities that he basically hid by being a twat and bullying others for most of his life. kid was so insecure he bullied deku for fucking years cause he thought deku looked down on him, thought he was better than him, etc. and that only got worse bc his idol then decided to take deku in, train him and even give him his quirk. there's probably some shit im missing but still he's got issues and always has had issues. that being said, he's actually improving and working them out now which is what makes him a really good, interesting character. it's also nice to see a character who is a dick without some tragic backstory (like his backstory is sad but its not the classic "my family was fucking slaughtered and i turned into a raging bitch who murders people" type shit) bc that rarely happens and it's like most assholes don't actually have a story like that they're just assholes lol

now lets talk improvement! lil bitch has been getting better since he got into UA and im so happy abt it!! he had a rough start what with deku suddenly having a quirk and all but like he is really improving now and it highkey shows that bakugou just mostly needed people who 1) didn't constantly praise him and actually criticized him instead 2) actually fucking punished him doing stupid shit and 3) some motherfucking friends

Since going to UA he's gotten actually feedback from teachers about his weaknesses and how to get stronger, he's lost against others, hes been told he has a shit attitude and is a dick, told he should be nicer and leave deku alone, etc etc. He hasn't gotten in trouble too much with teachers but others give him shit for what he does and aizawa has punished him too, while still acknowledging that bakugou is an amazing and dedicated student, something which no one else had done up til that point. and uh???? homie actually has friends who like,,, don't use him and also call him out when he's a dick. like specifically kirishima has done this shit and him and bakugous relationship is clearly very healthy and beneficial for the both of them. makes me feel all happy n shit, ya know

bottom line is: while it is absolutely valid to dislike or even hate bakugou because he is a massively flawed person who has been very cruel to others, villainizing him for the way he acts which in large part seems to be from a lack of guidance, a shitty mother and heavy amounts of trauma, is fucking awful. his actions cannot be fucking excused, he needs to apologize and continue to grow, but he is also a fucking teenager, who is just now being told that the way he acts is unacceptable by people who dont fucking abuse him (and I swear to god if any people who think mitsuki isnt abusive interact with this fucking post I will fullstop hardblock you, I do not fucking care) and actually treat him like a normal person instead of some prodigy child or someone who needs to be fixed.

people are free to debate my points or whatever bc I know some of this stuff is up to interpretation but like. dni if you're just here to say you hate bakugou for xyz reason or that he's irredeemable. also especially dni if you compare him to fucking endeavor yall bitches make me gag.

anyways thxs for the ask anon <33 sorry this is a kinda messy info dump lol

#shit self #asks #boku no hero academia #long post #bakugou katsuki #yes i am a bakugou kinnie shut the fuck up /lh #this is all /nm btw its just so much easier to make my long posts aggressive yk #this is just how i talk irl but Better Formatted #info dump #kinz #anti mitsuki #discourse #bangerz

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trashforhockeyguys · 3 years

Text

Vienna Waits For You -3- William Nylander

A/N: So I think this counts as the start of their friendship? Or at least them no longer hating each other. As always, all previous parts are linked in my masterlist! Enjoy!

The apartment was quiet, save for the sound of the old game she was trying to watch. Frustrated, Avalyn took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes, hoping the screen would stop being blurry if she just took a second away from it. She could very easily be out with some other members of the cast, drinking and having a great night. Or she could be like Jackson, who seemed to be spending a lot of time with various members of the team.

It was good for him though, he didn’t have many guys around him that understood the game that he devoted many years to. She often wondered if Jackson regretted giving up hockey so he could act instead. She remembered his last game, the way he looked so defeated when the buzzer sounded, despite the fact that they’d won.

The knock on her door was enough to pull her away from her little hockey bubble. Maybe Jackson decided to stop by after all. She didn’t bother trying to make herself look any better, after all, Jackson witnessed her looking far worse than this.

William shifted his weight, hoping she wouldn’t slam the door in his face. Especially not after he literally ran to go find ice cream. He figured Jackson’s tip couldn’t hurt. He’d been a dick to her, so he wouldn’t blame her if she refused to talk to him. He probably wouldn’t talk to him either.

He expected to see her all done up, like she always seemed to be, but instead the girl that opened the door was a far cry from that. Her hair was a little curly, but not like she’d curled it, more like that's just how her hair dried. She had sweats on, an old worn college sweatshirt that wasn’t her’s, but maybe one of her parent’s? What really surprised him was the fact that she didn’t have a single bit of makeup on, and she was wearing glasses. He hadn’t seen so much as a single picture of her without makeup on, or with glasses.

“Oh- I uh,” She seemed to stumble back a few steps, “I thought you were Jackson. How do you- how do you know where I live?”

“Jackson,” William shrugged, “He’s downstairs at Auston’s place.”

“What?” Avalyn questioned, not being able to process much of anything.

William smiled almost shyly, “Auston lives two floors below you. Jackson suggested that I come up and try not to be a dick.”

“Are you capable of that?” She regretted even asking the second the words left her mouth.

“I brought chocolate ice cream, if that makes a difference?”

Avalyn sighed and stepped away from the door, pushing it all the way open for him, “I’ll get bowls.”

William wasn’t sure what he expected from her apartment, but he didn’t expect it to be fairly empty. It didn’t feel like a home, more like a cold apartment, half furnished so someone could at least live in it. Even Auston’s place felt more like a home, granted that’s mainly because his mom and sisters came to decorate when he first got it.

“Sorry, I-” Avalyn shook her head, “I’m still trying to get settled or whatever.”

William nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, watching as she started dipping the somewhat melted ice cream, “I get it.”

He eyed the bookshelf, which seemed to be the one piece of furniture that she really put some thought into. There didn’t seem to be any space for any more books, some even seemed to be doubled up. He smiled slightly, there was something human about her after all. He thought back to Jackson saying that she hadn’t been able to be herself in a very long time. Maybe this was a rare glimpse at who she might be.

“So uh- Jackson told you to come up here?” She asked, not really understanding what was happening.

“Something like that,” William replied, “Are you watching one of our old games?”

Avalyn felt her face turn a little red as she handed him one of the bowls, “Well, it’s hard to go to an actual game, no one really knows that I’m here yet. Besides, I can watch more online and I get the option to replay things.”

He looked at her for a second, watching the way she started to eat big spoonfuls of her ice cream. She didn’t seem at all like the person he’d seen earlier today, or the person he’d been told about. Maybe she had a point when she told him that he should at least try to hear her side of the story.

“You said I didn’t know your side,” He said abruptly, “So, what is your side?”

She stopped eating for a moment and took a deep breath, “It’s complicated, and messy, like Shakespearean level messy. We all knew each other as kids, Jackson, Margret, and I. The three of us started around the same time, landed a few roles together and just kind of became best friends. We did everything together, and would’ve done anything for each other. Things changed, Jackson and I did some things to protect Margo that should really stay between the three of us...and I don’t know. She just took it all the wrong way and was convinced that I took Jackson from her, which isn’t the case. But she wouldn’t let either of us explain, things just ended up getting really out of had.”

“So all of this over that guy?” William blew out a breath, “No offense, he’s cool or whatever, but he isn’t worth all of that.”

“She said some things on the record and got blacklisted,” Avalyn added, “Everyone says she’s a terror to work with, among other things. She blames it all on Jack and I. It is what it is. You can believe me or not, I don’t care.”

He looked down at the small coffee table. Notebooks were strone all across it, drawings and neat handwriting covered all of the pages. He noticed the diagram of a rink, along with explanations all around it. He couldn’t help but pick it up and look closer at it.

“So, how much do you know?” He asked.

She leaned back into the couch, “Not enough. The technicalities I understand, the mechanics and how the game is supposed to work. But the lingo and how it actually works, that I’m lost on.”

He smiled lightly, “Yeah, that I can help with.”

She watched as he leaned forward and grabbed her notebook and laptop. He closed the windows she’d been flipping between and instead pulled up a movie. He smiled lazily, putting his feet up on the coffee table, “This is the first step.”

“What is this exactly?” She questioned.

“This is Slap Shot. We’ll watch the Mighty Ducks, Goon, and Miracle later. But to understand a hockey team, you have to at least see Slap Shot.”

“I-” She shook her head and pulled the blanket from off of the back of the couch, “Okay, if you say so.”

“For the record, I still think you might be a stuck up bitch,” He shrugged, “But you were right, I do want what’s best for the sport, and my little sisters would actually fly over here and murder me if they found out I refused to help you.”

Avalyn couldn’t help but smile lightly, just the slightest up curve of her mouth, “I still think you might be a selfish prick, but I want the crew to be taken care of.”

“Then I guess it’s settled.”

A week later, Avalyn found herself sitting at a table with William and other Maple Leafs, as well as various members of the cast. They were all laughing at stories that the hockey team was telling, mainly of things they did in their youth.

As Avalyn sat laughing, she realized that this was more than just a team, they were a family too. A close knit band of brothers. Jackson used to talk about how his old team was like that, but Avalyn hadn’t seen anything like it before. She wasn’t used to a close knit family unit like this, especially given how her parents raised her.

Her notebook was still open in front of her, sometimes she would jot down a few things, especially hockey slang that she wasn’t yet familiar with. But she could say, without a doubt, that she was beginning to feel like she was a part of something bigger than just her. Something that went beyond the crew too. Because they had a whole team working with them too.

“So you two worked it out?” Mitch asked, gesturing to Avalyn and William.

“Uh-” William scratched the back of his neck.

“More like, called a cease fire,” Avalyn clarified.

“Better than all out war,” Jackson joked, “Avey, we’re all going to get on the ice later today, you should come.”

She shook her head, kicking Jackson under the table. The last thing she wanted was to get on the ice for the first time in front of professional hockey players. She hadn’t skated in years, not since her and Jacky were kids. She didn’t want to embarrass herself, especially after she just got William to somewhat like her.

“I think I’ll pass for today,” She said nervously.

The rest of the team and cast kept chatting, while William leaned over to Avalyn, “You can’t skate, can you?”

She felt her face turn red, “I can...I just haven’t since I was a kid.”

“We won’t let you fall, you know.”

She shook her head again, “I don’t want everyone to see me fail.”

“We all had to learn too you know, and some of the guys taught their girlfriends at the last family skate,” William explained, “We rented out the whole rink, it’s part of learning the ways of the team.”

She still shook her head, “You just want to make fun of me.”

“Well actually I wanted to help you, but if I get to laugh at you that’s a bonus,” He explained.

“Asshole.”

“Bitch,” He smirked, “Avalyn is gonna come!”

“Hell yeah!” Mitch cheered, “You can ride over with me and Aus.”

“I hate you,” She whispered to William.

“Yeah yeah, we established all of that.”

But the truth was, she was starting to dislike him less. They talked nearly everyday, sometimes he’d come to her apartment, and sometimes she would go to his. He would send her highlight clips, and ask if she understood what was going on. They would facetime so he could walk her through things, and she even made sure that she could watch his games, just so she could get more exposure to the sport.

It was strange, she wouldn’t call them friends at all, but they weren’t enemies. Truth be told, neither of them knew what they were. But they wanted to do right by the show and by the small hockey community around the world. They never talked about Margot, but William slowly started to talk about his family and growing up in Sweden, and in other parts of the US because of his father’s hockey career. She liked hearing about his life, more than she thought she would.

A few hours later, she found herself sitting on a beach just off of the rink. She had her skates on, but didn’t exactly know how to lace them up, and Jackson was nowhere to be seen. So she sat helplessly, hoping he would find her before one of the other guys did.

“You can’t tie them, can you?”

She groaned before turning to the blond Swede before her, “Why is it always you?”

He shook his head before bending down in front of her, “Give me your foot, I’ll tie it. It’s supposed to be tight, okay? But not so tight that you can’t move.”

He started jerking on the laces, pulling each section as tight as he could, and then loosening some that he felt he got a little too tight. Avalyn tried not to think about how close they were, her foot was caught between his arms, the blade of her skate pushed into his chest. It almost felt too intimate to her. Like her skin would start crawling. But her skin instead seemed to burn with his touch, she could feel her whole body heat despite the cold temperature of the rink.

“How’s that?” He asked, releasing her foot, “Not too tight?”

She wiggled her foot a bit, her ankle felt secure, not limp like it did before he tied them, “Uh no, I think it’s good.”

“Alright, good,” He nodded his head, “Other foot, and then we’ll get you out there.”

“I still don’t want to go out there,” She stated.

“Do you want me to hold your hand?” He teased.

“William, I’m serious, I haven’t skated since I was a kid. Even then I sucked ass,” She explained, “I’m going to fall and literally break my butt and everyone is going to laugh at me. You guys are professionals, you literally do this for a living. I don’t know how to skate on a blade that’s an eighth of an inch thick.”

He looked up at her, “I’m surprised you know how thick the blades are.”

She shrugged, “I told you I’ve been doing my research.”

He sat back, putting her other foot back down on the ground, “I won’t let you fall, okay? But even if you do, it’s fine. We fall sometimes too. I’ll even let you use the little kiddie rails too.”

She shook her head, grabbing onto the bench, “I think I’m going to stay right here.”

He held out a hand for her and flashed a big smile, “C’mon Avalyn Bradshaw Kreitzburg, I didn’t think you were one to back down from a challenge.”

“Avey!” Jackson yelled from the other side of the rink, “Get your ass out here!”

She took a deep breath, grabbing William’s hand, letting him pull her up, “Just don’t you dare laugh if I fall.”

“Yes ma’am,” He replied, “You better hold on tight though.”

#william nylander imagines #william nylander fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #toronto maple leafs imagines #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fanfiction #toronto maple leafs fanfic #nicolewritesthings

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

Past always Ketch’s up...

Summary: What happens when a certain British guy tries to get your attention? Will you give in or recall what you had with Dean?

Pairing: Dean x Reader; Arthur Ketch x Reader?

Characters: Sam Winchester

Warnings: angst, language, cocky Ketch, jealousy, arguments, making out, use of handcuffs, sneaky reader, mentions of characters death/murder

Sequel to: Ketch me if you can...

“You know, if you wanted to get kinky and see me again, you could’ve called, sweetheart,” you smirk, looking up at Ketch.

Months ago, you told the Winchesters to not trust the Men of Letters made in Britain - sadly your guts were right again.

If not for Ketch you would be already six feet under, or so that bitch coming after you thinks. She looks at you, an empty expression on her face.

Somehow you’ve got the feeling you saw the blonde woman before, but your brain is busy to suggest one-hundred and two ways to escape the sticky situation you are in.

“I am truly sorry for the inconvenience,” Ketch smirks, rounding the chair you are handcuffed to. Bad luck for him he doesn’t know your father taught you everything about handcuffs and how to get out of them in less than twenty seconds, “but we had to talk to you, my dear.”

“Talk…right,” you glare at the woman, not missing the twitch in her cheek. She looks like she’s fighting a battle she can’t win. “I had the feeling your nice toy over there wanted to do more than talk. Her knife almost piercing my shoulder said more than a thousand words.”

“Mary was just a bit, over-motivated,” you hide that the name rings a bell. Suddenly you remember where you saw the woman’s face before, but this is impossible. Mary Winchester died ages ago.

“Over-motivated,” watching Mary Winchester stand next to Ketch, eyes glassy you know, something must’ve happened to her. There is no way a Winchester would’ve attacked a fellow hunter, let alone kill one. “You should tell your dogs to not bite if you want them to only bark, Ketchie.”

“You have to excuse her behavior. Mary needs to settle in with her new position,” you dip your head, looking at Mary once again before you meet Ketch’s eyes, a grin on your lips. “We need to get rid of the weak and inefficient American hunter.”

“Inefficient, I get it,” your stomach churns but thanks to your training to never show your true emotions unless you trust a person unconditionally, he won’t see the disgust in your eyes. “Why did you not kill me?”

Crossing your legs, lazily leaning back in the chair you play your cards well, crossing your arms to reveal your skills. “You are capable to adapt, Y/N. I see potential in you. I saw the report about your kills. There was no mercy for any monster.”

“Correct,” it’s a lie, you do see a difference between Garth who got bitten and lives a life in peace, and a bloodthirsty werewolf slaughtering innocent people. “Is this an interview, Ketch?”

“You can call it an interview, Y/N,” you nod glancing at Mary. “Don’t worry. There is no need for Lady Bevelles methods. Mary was stubborn but a strong hunter. Sharp and deadly but too emotional.”

“I see,” you’d like to ball your hands into fists and beat the shit out of Ketch and stuff his stupid tie into his mouth, but you need more information. You need to know who is on their list. “Who else will need conditioning and who is – disposable.”

“The Winchesters,” a tiny flash of recognition flickers in Mary’s eyes before it’s gone. “It was a shame we had to put them down.”

“They are dead?” you try to keep the fear out of your voice when you meet Ketch’s gaze. “Who did it? I am jealous, would’ve done it myself. They messed up this world more than they did good.”

“The bunker, their home will kill them. The only way out is unreachable to them. We locked them in. No air. No water. Just death. Buried alive. I think,” he looks at his watch, grinning, “they got around ten hours left.”

“Ten hours, nice,” you slowly get up from the chair, wetting your lips seductively. “Why don’t you fulfill your promise from back then?.” Hand sliding over Ketch’s chest you batt your eyelashes. “Tell me more how you defeated Dean Winchester and we can have the night you wanted…”

“I will tell you all you need to know…”

“Kinky,” Ketch purrs, dropping his button-up to the ground. His eyes focused on the handcuffs in your hands, he smirks. “For you or me?”

“Oh, Baby,” you husk, pushing Ketch onto the bed to straddle his lap, slowly grinding against the prominent bulge in his pants. “I want to ride you hard, to welcome you to this country.”

“Do it, darling,” he watches you slide your hand over his chest, leaning close to his lips when you restrain one hand to the headboard. “Only one?”

“Sweetheart,” the word is thrown at him, piercing his ears as he can suddenly hear the venom in your voice. Ketch looks up at you, failing to stop you from restraining the other hand too. “A friend once told me: Do your job right or don’t do it at all. He was a good man, a bit crazy and torn between helping or killing me but he was right.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he’s panting now, harshly tugging at the handcuffs. “I still can keep you safe.”

“You don’t get it,” moving off his lap you grab your pants and shirt, to hastily redress. “I’m not looking for protection or a partner. If Dean Winchester dies, he does it through my hand or a monster. Not a snob in a suit.” You smirk, picking up the tie Ketch removed minutes ago. “I’ll keep the tie as a souvenir, Romeo.”

“Wait, don’t do this,” he calls after you, fighting the handcuffs.

“We see us soon, Arthur. I don’t think you will survive our next encounter, tho. Thanks for all the instructions to rescue Sam and Dean.” Blowing Ketch, a kiss you snicker at his angry expression. “Sorry, I don’t ride an English dick…”

“Let’s see,” glancing at the grenade launcher in his brother’s hands Sam grins, nodding at Dean. “Blaze of glory or freedom.”

“Blaze of…” The door to the bunker suddenly opens, feeding the building with fresh air. “What the fuck?”

“Boys, if you want to go to the sauna, just ask me. I can tell you how to do it,” you walk down the staircase, smirking at Dean who has a grenade launcher in his hands. “Damn, Dean. Big guns today. I like it.”

Dean always admired your taste in weapons., especially when he could impress you with a new one. “You just ruined her debut,” he sighs, looking at the launcher.

“Maybe we can use it to blow the headquarter of those idiots. I mean, your mom tried to kill me thanks to them. Not funny, I can tell,” Dean watches you slide your fingers over the grenade launcher, grinning proudly.

“We should fight back,” Sam pants, still fighting to get more fresh air into his lungs. “Maybe have a shower first.”

“You know, there is no time for luxuries. I pissed Ketchie off, left him half-naked at the hotel suite,” you snicker when Dean’s face falls, contorting into a mask of anger.

“Did you let that asshole touch you?” Lips pursed you pat Dean’s chest, not impressed by his alpha behavior.

“What if I did, Deano? What if I rode his British dick until I got all the nice information to save your ungrateful ass?” Dean huffs, handing the gun to Sam before he pokes his finger into your chest.

“I…I won’t allow it!” You laugh at his words, pushing against Dean’s chest. You know it’s childish but who cares.

“Fuck that and your attitude! You left me, Winchester. One day you tell me you love me and the next you chicken out, leaving me behind to give me a chance,” you roll your eyes. “Fucking coward.”

“I didn’t know Sam was alive, Y/N. I tried to do what’s best and reunited with my brother. When I recognized he wasn’t the same, I knew I will need all my strength to find out what happened to him and how I can fix Sam. You got…in the way…” Chortling you punch Dean’s nose, followed by backhanding his cheeks. Left first, right follows close behind.

“You will not get away that easily, Winchester! It was you pushing me away and starting an unnecessary fight to get rid of me! I opened up to you only to get hurt,” Dean nods, finally seeing your side of the story.

“Listen, we’ve got no time for discussions or drama, but I want you to know, I am sorry. What I told you back then, that I love you was not a lie. I know you will not believe me and if this is over and we are still alive, you can backhand me for the rest of your life,” you grin, fisting Dean’s shirt roughly to press a soft kiss to his plump lips.

“You know I will remember those words and follow them through, Winchester.” Dean nods, returning your grin. “Ketch will soon catch up with me. I handcuffed him like five hours ago.”

“Handcuffs…huh? Still kinky,” you would like to slap Dean’s face again but he’s right. There is no time to lose.

“I handcuffed him to get information, not to have fun. He might have seen a piece of my ass, but that’s all. Now get your guns, knives, and enthusiasm. We are going on a hunt,” Sam smirks when you get the British flag out. “I’m for hunting an empire down…”

Tags in reblog.

Story Tag

@winchester-wifey

#Past always Ketch’s up...#dean winchester #death #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester SPN #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #Arthur Ketch #arthur ketch x reader #angst #tw: mentions of characters death

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theyearoftheking · 3 years

Text

Book Eighty-One: Billy Summers

“Maybe a chilly story needs a chilly writing room, he thinks. It’s as good an explanation as any, since the whole process is a mystery to him, anyway.”

Well hello there, Constant Readers! Have you missed me and my half-assed reviews of Steve books?

Crickets.

I know I’ve promised book reviews, television recaps... all the things. But I’m kind of busy living and enjoying life at the moment, without the need to take notes or screen grabs. That being said, I really did enjoy Billy Summers, and it took me almost a hundred pages to remember how this blogging thing worked. I was supposed to take notes? Dark Tower references? DePere, Wisconsin? Should I remember that for some reason? But don’t worry, it was like riding a bike. This blog is full of all the stuff you’ve come to know and love, as well as SPOILERS!!! So, if you have not finished the book yet, stop reading and come back once you’ve turned the last page.

SPOILERS!!! Consider yourselves adequately warned.

Billy Summers doesn’t really include anything supernatural, and it’s more suspenseful and plot driven than some of Steve’s other books. In other words, it’s another great recommendation for people who don’t claim they don’t like Stephen King.

Billy is an assassin who has mastered the art of “dumb like a fox”.

He’s hired for a new assignment, but something seems off. Billy has been in the assassin game long enough to know when something is foul in the state of Denmark. He doesn’t trust the people who hired him, and he has the distinct impression he’s going to end up as the patsy in the end. But, he plays along as Dave Lockridge, single man and writer. He moves onto a charming street in Midwood (I kept reading this as Midworld... thanks, Steve), makes friends with all the neighbors, and beats all the neighborhood kids at Monopoly on the weekends. This part of the book was so tender, it reminded me a lot of Ted Brautigan and the kids from Hearts in Atlantis. Of all the things Billy later regrets, it’s letting these kids down, and having them trust him when he was obviously so untrustworthy.

During the day, Billy writes at his office in Gerald Tower. There’s always a tower, isn’t there? And this tower takes on more significance, because it’s the spot from which Billy is supposed to shoot Joel Allen. Joel is due to be transferred to Midwood, and marched up the steps of the courthouse just like in The Outsider. Constant Readers remember how well that worked out...

Billy has an assassins creed: he only shoots bad guys. On the scale of bad guys, Joel Allen isn’t quite Ted Bundy, but he’s not Mr. Rodgers either. He had something of a “me too” moment when he accidentally mistook a feminist writer for a sex worker; and there was a gun fight outside of a poker game. It’s enough for Billy to work with.

Billy is waiting for Joel to be transferred to the Midworld Midwood county lock-up; and he bides his time by actually doing some writing. He covers his tragic childhood (his mom worked in a laundry facility, just like Steve’s mom), and his time in the military. This is where Steve really shines. Billy’s book is written in a childish tone that just WORKS. It’s exactly what you’d expect from a simple-minded assassin. But still waters, friends. As the story goes on, Billy’s voice grows and improves. Well done, Steve, it’s like two books for the price of one.

In between writing, Billy assumes another fake identity (Dalton Smith), and secures a bolt hole to hide out in once his job is complete. Believe it or not, the murder of Joel Allen is such an insignificant part of the book. Billy successfully takes him out, and makes it to his bolt hole undetected. And this is really where the second part of the book starts.

One rainy night, Billy hears random noises outside his apartment. He looks out the window in time to see a van full of guys dump a female body into a gutter. Billy should have just anonymously called the police... but if he had done that, we wouldn’t have a story. Instead, Billy goes full on Captain Save A Ho, and pulls the young woman from the gutter. It’s clear she had been drugged and assaulted, and she manages to puke all over Billy’s place.

Neat.

When Alice wakes up in the morning, she recognizes Billy from the police sketches, but promises not to rat him out for the Joel Allen murder. They form an unlikely friendship that includes watering the neighbor’s plants, watching Blacklist, and Alice reading Billy’s book. Basically, they were sheltering in place before that was even a thing; something Steve jokes about. Eventually, Billy knows he needs to get the rest of his money for the Joel Allen hit, and punish the guys who raped Alice.

Y’all. I’m still having nightmares over the most creative use of a hand mixer I have ever read. I thought the can-opener in Lisey’s Story was bad... this was worse. But the kind of worse you feel good about, if that makes sense.

After finding out the name of the guy behind the Joel Allen hit, killing a few bad dudes, and pissing off a bitch named Marge (fucking Marge if you’re nasty), Billy and Alice hunker down in Colorado with Billy’s assassin booking agent, Bucky.

As soon as Billy and Alice entered Colorado and the town of Sidewinder was mentioned, I knew where we were headed. Yeah buddy, Overlook time!

Billy takes to writing in a little shack behind Bucky’s house, and inside the shack is a Polaroid picture of the topiary animals at the Overlook. Every time Billy looks at the picture, the animals seem to have shifted. It gives him a cold sense of dread.

There’s a certain parallel I picked up on in Colorado: Jack Torrance and Billy Summers are both haunted men running away from things. The Overlook was where Jack went to dry out, and work on his writing. He wanted to work on his marriage, and become a better father to Danny. We all know he failed spectacularly. Then, we’ve got Billy. Billy actually gets writing accomplished, and becomes an unlikely father-figure to Alice. Despite having just as much, if not more baggage than Jack, Billy doesn’t let it define him. He acknowledges it, and moves past it. It’s almost like Billy accomplishes what Jack couldn’t. And it took the Overlook burning to the ground for that to happen.

While we’re on the topic of Billy and Alice, one of the things I love about Steve’s characters is he never forces romance where there doesn’t need to be any. While Billy acknowledges the age gap between him and Alice, nothing untoward ever happens between them. There’s obvious love, but never the romantic kind. Steve is one of the few contemporary writers to get this right.

The story ends with Billy killing the guy behind Joel’s hit, getting shot by Marge as he leaves the crime scene (fucking Marge), Alice nursing him back to health, and getting him back to Colorado where they all live happily ever after.

I wish.

I wish I had stopped reading twenty-three pages before the book ended, because the actual end was more realistic, but heartbreaking. In reality, fucking Marge shot Billy in the stomach, and he died of an infection in the back of a Walmart parking lot. Fucking Marge indeed. But this was the way the book should have ended. Needed to end. Anything else would have been unrealistic. But damn, I hated to see Billy go out like that.

There was one Wisconsin reference: after Billy kills Joel Allen, he’s supposed to be transferred to a safe house in De Pere. You know... where Steve lived when he was in a kid.

Other than Gerald Tower, we were also graced with “the world has moved on-” just to remind us that we all follow The Beam.

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 49

Total Dark Tower References: 78

Book Grade: A+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

Doctor Sleep: A+

The Talisman: A+

Wizard and Glass: A+

11/22/63: A+

Mr. Mercedes: A+

Billy Summers: A+

End of Watch: A+

Under the Dome: A+

Needful Things: A+

On Writing: A+

The Green Mile: A+

Hearts in Atlantis: A+

Full Dark, No Stars: A+

The Outsider: A+

The Bazaar of Bad Dreams: A+

If It Bleeds: A+

Just After Sunset: A+

Rose Madder: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

Stephen King Goes to the Movies: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

Finders Keepers: A-

Bag of Bones: A-

Duma Key: A-

Black House: A-

The Institute: A-

The Wastelands: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

The Dark Tower: A-

Dolores Claiborne: A-

Blaze: B+

Hard Listening: B+

Revival: B+

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Joyland: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: B+

Wolves of the Calla: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Song of Susannah: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

Later: B+

From a Buick 8: B

The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon: B

Sleeping Beauties: B-

The Colorado Kid: B-

Storm of the Century: B-

Everything’s Eventual: B-

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

The Wind Through the Keyhole: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Cell: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Desperation: C-

Insomnia: C-

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Faithful: D

Gerald’s Game: D

Roadwork: D

Lisey’s Story: D

Christine: D

Dreamcatcher: D

The Regulators: D

The Tommyknockers D

I’m not going to end this with any promises of upcoming posts. That way when I do randomly stumble on here one afternoon, it will be a delight for us all.

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights,

Rebecca

#constant reader #stephen king #the dark tower #the shining #billy summers #hearts in atlantis #lisey's story #the overlook #jack torrance

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