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luxeavenger · 3 years

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My Thighs Are Connected To You

Part of the Backstage Pass (rockstar Bucky/Steve/Nat/Clint) series [Bucky's birthday edition]

Rating: Explicit (MINORS DNI) Parings: rockstar!Bucky Barnes x rockstar!Steve Rogers x female!reader

Word Count: 4361

Summary: It's Bucky's birthday, and special accommodations are required to grant his birthday wish.

Warnings: BDSM, BDSM scene, threesome, rope bondage, gags strap on, anal sex/fingering/fisting/gaping (no prolapse), face fucking, choking/gagging/retching on cock (no vomit), vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, spit roasting, filming, spit kink, praise kink, aftercare, dom/sub, dom Steve, sub reader, sub Bucky, top Steve, top reader, bottom Bucky, pet names (doll/dollface/kitten)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-fi

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Scott put his foot down, and said you weren’t allowed to tie the super soldiers up in the RV anymore. Bucky enjoyed being tied up immensely, and sometimes forgot his own strength. Scott’s last straw was when Bucky had torn a hole clear through the side of the RV because the RV gave before the handcuffs did. The band was waylaid for three weeks because Scott had to park it in a parking garage in Bumfuck, Nowhere while he hunted down the supplies he needed to fix it.

So Bucky makes Scott drive 250 miles out of his way to a BDSM club in Vegas where you and Steve could rent a room for a few hours to give Bucky what he wanted for his birthday, and spare any collateral damage to the RV.

The arrival in Vegas was delayed by three days because of Bucky and Scott’s petty bickering. Scott bitched about how pampered—how downright spoiled rotten—Bucky’s genitals were, and Bucky continually threatened to ride right on the goddamned dashboard with his cock out, just so Scott could get a real good look at exactly how spoiled it actually fucking was.

Scott was taking his time getting there just to be a bitch, which is ridiculous, because the whole reason for going was for his benefit—to spare his beloved RV. So you tell Scott if he doesn’t stop dicking around and get you there you’d stick your boot so far up his ass he’d taste the gum stuck to the sole. Then you’d threatened to park your boot in Bucky’s ass if he didn’t stop needling Scott constantly. His response was to growl, “Don’t threaten me with a good time, kitten,” but he’d thankfully moved to glowering at Scott from the couch for the time being.

Clint, Nat, and Steve take bets about whose ass would taste shoe leather first: Bucky or Scott. Nat’s money was on Scott and his wicked stubborn streak. Knowing what a pain in the ass Bucky could be once he was wound up, that’s where Steve’s money was. Clint had gone rogue, doubling down and betting it’d be both. He shrugs and explains, “Well, she does have two boots, after all.”

So, three days late, and one very surly Bucky later, you and Steve are unpacking a duffel bag full of supplies in a meticulously clean red and black room.

Impatient to get started, Bucky starts acting like a busybody and getting underfoot, so Steve tells him to be still, or he’ll cancel Bucky’s birthday entirely. Now he’s perched quietly on the chair in the corner, legs folded underneath him, watching with owlish eyes.

“Why don’t you help him undress?” Steve suggests to you.

Bucky pipes up, “I’m a grown man, I don’t need help undressing.”

“Shut your cock holder, Barnes,” Steve shoots back, bristling.

You pinch Bucky’s cheek and say, “Will you please just let us spoil you?” Then you baby talk, “It’s your birthday after all.”

“Not anymore,” he grumbles quietly.

You choose to ignore his remark, and tug his clothes off, piece by piece. Every item of clothing you take off of him eases the annoyed crease in his brow a little bit more.

“I’m almost ready for you, Buck. Why don’t you help our girl undress?”

You smile at Bucky angelically. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about. C’mere, kitten.” He pats his lap, and murmurs a quiet good girl when you comply. He undresses you, but sprinkles a liberal amount of kissing and touching between each item of clothing he removes. You’re both giggling and grinding against each other by the time he’s done.

“Okay, okay,” Steve lifts you off Bucky, “that’s enough, children. You, here.” He snaps his fingers and points to you then a spot on the floor in front of him.

“Aye, aye, Captain.” A low growl rolls out of him at the title. You see he’s splendidly naked now too, and you give a quiet wolf whistle.

He helps you step into a black leather strap-on harness that he buckles around your hips, complete with a heavy purple cock that’s so thick you have to use both hands to get your fingers all the way around it, and so long it hangs nearly to your knees. Then he buckles a short knife in a sheath around your bare thigh. You’re giggling and bouncing around the room on the balls of your feet to test the new weight tilting your hips forward and subtly changing your center of gravity.

Several minutes later, Steve asks, “Dollface, can you bring me your panties?”

“Yes, Stevie,” you dig them out of the pile of clothes and take them to him.

While you were flouncing around playing with your new dick, Steve—operating with precision and efficiency—has put Bucky on his knees, and tied him up like a gift. Red and white rope twists around his legs, frog-tying his thick, muscular thighs to his calves, keeping him kneeling on the ebony hardwood floor. His arms are bound behind his back, forearms joined with navy blue and white rope, strapped down to his chest, each hand hanging below the opposite elbow. Another length of red rope knotted around his neck to fashion a short leash with a heavy duty carabiner hanging from the end.

“Bucky,” you gasp, “you look beautiful.”

Softly, Bucky replies, “Thank you.” He keeps his head down, a curtain of shiny chestnut hair falling around his face.

“We both have knives, dollface,” he pats the sheaths strapped to his thick thigh and yours, “your panties are in his hand. If he drops them, we cut him out of the ropes. No questions, no hesitation.” Steve’s the boss, so you nod. He’s already gone over everything with you, several times in the last couple days, but it’s important stuff, because even though Bucky could get out of the ropes if he really wanted to, he shouldn’t have to. In order to fully let himself go, he’s trusting Steve—and by extension, you—to take care of him.

“Watch,” he tells you. He pinches Bucky’s chin and tips his face upwards. Bucky’s eyes don’t follow his face upward, but hover somewhere around Steve’s navel. “Buck,” it’s low, sharp, and commanding, and when Steve says it, Bucky’s crystalline eyes snap up to meet his. His eyes are wide and glassy, gaze attentive and expectant. “Open,” Steve’s hardly gotten the word out and Bucky’s mouth falls open. He slips the ring of a spider gag between Bucky’s teeth. As Steve buckles the strap of the gag behind his head, you watch Bucky’s pupils blow wide, eating up the ocean of blue.

Steve runs a thumb bearing a crown tattoo over the sharp angle of Bucky’s scruffy jaw, knuckles tattooed with S L U T skritch through his short beard. “So good for us, Buck.” His eyes flutter shut and he nuzzles his cheek into Steve’s palm. Steve slips two fingers past the wide o-ring, and pushes them to the back of Bucky’s throat, digging for his gag reflex until he chokes wetly. His tongue pushes a runnel of drool over his lip to course down the scruff on his cleft chin and patter onto the wood floor.

“Now, our pretty girl is going to fuck you with her big cock, and if you’re very, very good for her I’ll get your cunt nice and wet and fist fuck it as a reward. Can you be good for us?” Bucky whimpers, a loud sound without the shelter of his lips to hide behind. He nods so vigorously a hank of hair falls in his eyes, and he tries desperately to shake it out of his face so he can keep his eyes on Steve.

Steve chuckles and removes the ponytail holder from his wrist, and starts to put Bucky’s hair into a half bun to keep it out of his eyes. To you he says, “You can go ahead. He put a plug in this morning, so just pull it out, lube up a little, and go to town. Don’t be shy either, he can take it.”

You nod at Steve, and bend to place a soft kiss on Bucky’s cheek. His eyes drift shut again, and he leans into your lips just enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Behind Bucky, you find a few supplies Steve has laid out. For you, there’s a bottle of lube and a bath towel. You kneel behind Bucky, tugging at the end of the thick black plug stuffed in his ass, you gently work it out of him. You drop the plug onto the towel, and drizzle some lube into your palm and use both hands to spread it over the purple dildo. You bracket his legs with yours and feed the thick head into Bucky.

A muscle in his flank twitches like he wants to push back onto you but is fighting it, and you smooth a hand over the shuddering muscle, quietly shushing him while you work your cock into him. The hair on the back of your neck stands up like there are eyes on you, and look up to find Steve watching you intently. One hand on Bucky’s chin to keep his face tilted up, and the other stroking over his leaking cock, precome dribbling off the heavy PA piercing, and bobbing inches from Bucky’s face with each stroke.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he says to Bucky’s upturned face. You nod, not realizing that he means both you and Bucky were astoundingly beautiful.

Loud groans issue from Bucky’s throat, as thick and sweet as treacle. When your hips are flush with his cheeks you make several firm, shallow thrusts and the meat of Bucky’s ass ripples with the percussive impact. Then you pull out nearly all the way to fuck back in hard, and the noises stop abruptly as Steve slides his cock past the o-ring in the gag. A thrill shoots up your spine, and your cunt dribbles slick. You never thought you’d be at this end of a spitroast, and you made a mental note to extravagantly thank Bucky later for wanting this for his birthday.

Bucky’s body is rocking backwards as Steve is throat-fucking him so hard it’s pushing him onto your dick. Steve starts to fuck his face in earnest, pushing wet glottal slaps out of the tight channel.

“God, fuck. So good for us, Buck,” Steve grunts.

“So good,” you echo.

Bucky gags thickly, and Steve grins down at him, “Yeah. That’s right. I fucking want you to choke on it.” He cups a hand around the back of Bucky’s head, and holds his cock deep in his throat. Your hips slap against Bucky’s ass pushing Steve’s length incrementally farther down his throat. Bucky tries several times to swallow around the intrusion, but it just makes Steve groan and grind his pelvis against Bucky’s face.

He holds him there like that for an impossibly long time, until, finally, Bucky begins to fight a little, struggling against the restraining hand. You wonder if Bucky is going to drop your panties, but his fingers don’t loosen around them one bit.

Still, Steve isn’t letting up. “I told you to fucking choke,” Steve growls through clenched teeth. A beat later, Bucky retches.

Baring his teeth, Steve snarls, “Again.” Bucky’s toes curl against your legs, and he loudly heaves. Steve lets out a rattling groan, and comes down Bucky’s throat before pulling out completely. Bucky’s head tilts down, and he coughs and hacks up a wad of foamy spit, come, and bile onto the floor. Some of it gets caught on the gag, and hangs messily from his chin in ropes. Bucky’s breathing is quick, wet, and painful sounding. His cock is excruciatingly hard, leaking a puddle of precome on the floor between his legs.

Steve walks to stand behind you, and gives a low hum of admiration. “Buck, you should see how amazing our girl looks right now. She’s doing such a good job. I bet it feels incredible. Doll, do you mind if I take a video?”

You watch Bucky’s hole clench around your cock when you breathily answer, “Sure, Stevie.”

Steve retrieves his phone from his pants, and fires up the camera. He starts filming farther behind you, and slowly pans over your shoulder. It’s a pristine view of your hips pushing the big purple cock in and out of Bucky’s messy hole. Steve’s fingers trace around his rim and he murmurs directions to you: go harder, and fuck him faster, and yeah just like that, with a groaned good girl, when you obey his orders. He flips the camera around to get a shot of your flushed and sweat-dampened face to go with the breathy moans you’re making. He turns his face into yours for a kiss, and you meet him halfway, your hips never faltering while Steve’s tongue plunges into your mouth.

“Okay, stop, doll,” he says after awhile, gingerly tugging your cock out of Bucky, “Nono, stay where you are,” he gently restrains you when you try to move away. He keeps his phone aimed at Bucky’s ass. “Get your fingers in there. Yeah, that’s good.” Steve directs like he’s producing an award-winning film, “Two’s fine. Like that. Yeah. Mmm. Use both hands. Spread them out. Open him up. Good girl. Fuck yeah. Just like that.”

You’ve got two fingers from each hand hooked inside of Bucky’s rim, and Steve has you pull him open, so he can get a good look at the gape you’d created with your thick dildo. He noses along your neck, to murmur in your ear, “See that?” He spanks Bucky’s asshole with his fingertips to watch it quiver. “You did that. You wrecked his cunt. Looks so fucking good, don’t it? That was all you, dollface. You fucked him so fucking good.” Hovering over Bucky’s ass with the camera zoomed in on his hole, he expertly hawks a wad of spit so it lands right inside of the gape. He chases it with three fingers. “You fucked him good, now I'm gonna get my fist in his guts and fuck him stupid.”

He unbuckles the harness around your hips and tosses the strap-on onto the bath towel. “But first,” he stands, dragging you up next to him, and hooking his chin over your shoulder. He takes up his camera again, aiming it at your face, “I bet you’re so fucking wet right now.” He dips his fingers between your legs. He hisses when he feels how soaked you are, pushes his fingers into you and makes your hips buck. He catches your wanton moan on camera, then directs the view to his fingers, shiny with your juices. “You’re fucking dripping, doll. I bet you wanna come.” His voice is low and husky in your ear and when you whine, you can feel the smile that curls over his lips.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he tosses his phone aside and offers you his hand, a gentlemanly gesture that seems out of place in a room where one of your boyfriends is tied up, and about to have your other boyfriend’s fist inside of him. He pushes you down to the floor in front of Bucky, and spreads your thighs wide. Bucky doesn’t move, but he’s eyeing your pussy like he’s starving for it. His face is a mess, dried tear tracks down his cheeks, drool steadily coursing down his chin, he looks absolutely ruined. Steve removes the spider gag, and tugs on the leash that dangles from his neck. He clips the carabiner at the end to a heavy o-ring embedded in the floor. This puts Bucky’s face a couple inches above your pussy. Close enough that you can feel his shaky exhales ghosting across your cunt.

“Tell him what you want, doll,” Steve says as he pushes his fingers into your pussy. He pumps his fingertips against your g-spot, and you moan. A desperate sound leaks from Bucky’s throat. “Tell him what to do. Use him to get yourself off,” Steve purrs in your ear. It makes you even wetter, eliciting obscene squelches when Steve’s thick digits push into you. He takes one of your nipples into his mouth, you arch into him, and his fingers pump faster and faster. His palm grinds against your clit and your hips buck into his hand. Soon the quivering walls of your cunt are clenching down on Steve’s fingers, and you’re shouting his name while you come. Bucky is still hovering above you, a wounded look on his face, with a forlorn whimper trapped behind his lips.

Steve stuffs his slick-covered fingers into Bucky’s mouth, and his lips automatically seal around them, sucking and tonguing at them, hungry for a taste of you. He tugs Bucky’s leash until his face is flush with your pussy. “Tell him what to do. Use him,” Steve reminds you before he stands and grabs his phone again before disappearing behind Bucky.

Bucky’s lips are quivering against your cunt, but he doesn’t move to taste you. His eyes are on yours, and there's a soft and questioning look on his face. This is not at all the Bucky you’ve come to know. Usually handsy, commanding, demanding, he takes what he wants. Now you’re the one who gets to take, and it gives you goosebumps.

“Tongue out, Buck,” and you’re proud that your voice only wavers a small amount, and doesn’t belie how turned on you are. Bucky’s tongue slips shakily out of his mouth, brushing up against your folds. His eyes shut and he groans long and low at your taste. You grab the hair at the nape of his neck and pull his tongue deeper into your cunt. “Lick,” you moan as he immediately picks up the order, shaking his head side to side to get as deep as he can, slurping and tongue fucking your cunt like his life depends on it.

Steve is behind him, slicking up his fist, and pushing lube from a big jar into Bucky’s ass. He feeds four fingers into him and a shudder ripples up Bucky’s spine. After a few push-pulls of his fingers up to the web of his thumb, Steve adds his thumb by folding it into his palm and nudges his whole hand past Bucky’s stretched out rim. He balls his meaty hand into a fist and strums his knuckles against Bucky’s prostate until he sobs against your pussy.

You’re damn close to coming on Bucky’s tongue, but when he starts grunting rhythmically, you know you need to see what Steve is doing. You speed up your orgasm by making Bucky wrap his lips around your clit. When you come, Bucky slurps at your gash until you have to physically pull his face from between your lips using his hair. You scoot out from under him, and he lets his face sink to the floor, his cheek resting on the cool hardwood. Everything below his nose is shiny with your juices, and he’s mouthing the word fuck, but sound isn’t coming out of him anymore.

Steve told Bucky he was going to wreck his cunt, and that’s exactly what he’s doing. Steve’s using his balled up fist to punch-fuck Bucky’s ass: his fist coming all the way out of Bucky before punching back in. It looks brutal, but judging by the way Bucky’s drooling on the floor right now, you’d wager, if he could speak, he’d tell you he was somewhere north of heaven right now.

With the hand that isn’t wrecking Bucky, Steve is filming with his phone. When you sidle up beside him he sets it aside, and sinks his fist deep into Bucky, almost up to his fucking elbow, pushing a moan out of the kneeling man, like he’s Steve’s goddamned puppet. Steve gives you a deep kiss. He presses your foreheads together and asks, “Did you come, doll?” You nod, and he looks very pleased. “I’m glad. You’re doing so well. So good for me. Do you wanna help me?” He chuckles at the slow smile that spreads across your face.

He nods at the jar of lube beside him, and instructs you to smear a generous amount on your hand and over your wrist. Then he holds out his lube-shiny hand with his fingers spread so you can interlace your fingers with his. You sit on his lap, and he slowly pushes your combined hands into Bucky. Now much more gently, Steve slides you both shallowly back and forth. You’ve fingered both of the guys before, but this? This is beyond out of this world. This was a whole other planet entirely. Nothing could possibly have prepared you for how amazing it felt to have Bucky so vulnerable in front of you, and to feel the pulse of his heartbeat wrapped around your fist. You hiss an awed curse.

“Okay, doll. We’re gonna make him come now, then we’ll cut him loose.” He directs the pressure over Bucky’s prostate again, and Bucky starts whining pleasepleaseplease quietly.

“Tell him, doll,” Steve says quietly, jerking his chin toward Bucky, “tell him he can come. Tell him how good he is.”

“Bucky? Babe? You’ve been so good for us. You did such a good job today. ‘M so proud of you. We want you to come for us. Be a good boy and come for us. Now.”

An incoherent noise warbles out of Bucky, his ass quivering weakly around you and Steve’s wrists. His cock jerks when he comes hard, splashing hot, salty fluid over his thighs and chest.

Steve gives Bucky’s body a moment to come down from his orgasm, then gently works your hands free of Bucky’s sloppy hole one at a time. Steve rises to his knees and strips his cock a few times with the hand that was just inside of Bucky, and comes in hot ropes over his gaping hole.

He motions to your knife, and you help him carefully cut the ropes off Bucky. Steve helps him sit up, and when Bucky’s arm goes around his neck Steve scoops him up and bridal carries him to the low, blanket-covered bed against one wall, rolling him over onto his stomach. He sends you into the attached bathroom and instructs you to bring back a couple cold, and a couple warm wet washcloths.

Steve uses the warm washcloths to mop up the mess on Bucky’s face, and to gingerly clean his well-used hole. You use the cool washcloths to wipe the sweat off his skin. You also have a soft cloth you use to dry Bucky’s vibranium arm after you’ve wiped it down. You don’t offer to remove it for a more thorough cleaning, because, unless it’s really bothering him, he tends to feel helpless and off-kilter without it.

Steve has a bottle of massage oil, and squeezes some into his palms and begins rubbing Bucky’s legs, up to his lower back, all the way up to his neck, paying special attention to the muscles around his vibranium shoulder, because they’re always extra tight from the added weight.

Sitting on the floor next to the bed, you bring a bottle of water with a straw in it to Bucky’s lips, and he smiles at you gratefully before taking several pulls from the straw. You have a chocolate bar for him too, and you break off small pieces of it and feed it to him, encouraging him to take sips of water between each bite.

You and Steve both murmur generous amounts of praise to Bucky as you take care of him. When Steve rolls him over to massage his quads and chest, you take Bucky’s head into your lap and work the ponytail holder out of his hair and run a comb through it until there are no more knots in it and it fans out around his head like a soft chestnut halo.

Steve finishes massaging Bucky then leaves him with you for a moment so he can restore a little order to the room. Bucky rolls onto his side, nuzzles his face into your stomach and wraps his arms around your side, squeezing gently.

He looks up at you, smiling at you so sweetly and says, “Hi, kitten,” in a husky whisper.

You run a soothing hand over his shoulder and smile at him. “Hi, Buck,” you murmur. “Did you have a good time? Are you okay?”

He nods an affirmative, and smiles at you. You carefully trace some of the rope marks that criss-cross his chest and arms, softly telling him they look so pretty where they twist and twirl over his pale, tattooed skin. He preens as the compliment.

Steve’s back with a bottle of water for you. He’s chugging a bottle of his own, and indicates wordlessly that you needed to do the same. You drink some, and eat a bit of the chocolate bar, popping pieces into Bucky’s mouth too when he opens it.

“You did really well,” Bucky purrs at you. “Thank you.”

“Bucky, thank you for trusting me enough to let me help Stevie.”

“You both did very well,” Steve interjects. “Now let's have a little nap and then a shower before we wear out the welcome on this room.”

Steve motions for you to scoot against Bucky’s front, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you to his tattooed chest. Then Steve swaddles you both in the blanket. Steve curls around Bucky’s back, but goes up on one arm and uses a big palm to turn Bucky’s head around to face him. He traces gently over Bucky’s cheek and they kiss so tenderly. They press their foreheads together and murmur words of love and gratitude between them, until Steve instructs Bucky to sleep. Then Steve’s hand drapes over Bucky’s hip to squeeze yours. Bucky catches your thigh between his, and reaches to cup his metal palm over your ass to make sure you stay close.

Bracketed by his two favorite people, and cocooned in their warm arms, Bucky is the first one of you to drift off to sleep.

#bucky barnes x steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x steve rogers x female!reader #stucky x reader #stucky x you #stucky x female!reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #rockstar au #rockstar!steve rogers #rockstar!bucky barnes #dom!steve #sub!bucky #sub!reader #top!steve

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jeoniius · 3 years

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Teasing your enemy | jjk (m.)

☆pairings: enemy!jungkook x reader

☆genre: smut

☆au: college, enemies to (lovers?)

☆word count: 853

☆rating: 18+

☆warnings: grinding (that is literally all but I feel it should still be a warning)

☆summary: just you doing everything you can to make your mortal enemy loose (along with pleasuring yourself cause why not?)

☆a/n: I’ve been kinda busy so here’s a drabble from my old stash. p.s. not exactly proud of this. something is coming up though, real soon, so stay tuned! THIS IS UNEDITED.

*✧×✧*

"You think you can win against us, Jeon?" Mark asked him with a cocky smirk. "Why don't we see?" Jungkook said with a small smirk of his own.

Jeon Jungkook. Seoul University's epitome of bad boy. The most popular guy as well. Your mortal enemy. Maybe it was because he was always one step ahead of you and maybe it was because you knew it but couldn't do anything.

Jungkook walked towards the car and sat on the driver's seat. Before he could turn the key he saw a girl walk towards him.

few mins earlier**

"Why would you do this, Lee?" Mark asked with a suspicion in his tone. "I just don't like him. So I'd do anything to make him loose" You said with a blunt tone.

"Why do I feel otherwise?" Mark said, squinting his eyes and eyeing you up suspiciously. "I don't know. Feel what you want to feel. I told you the reason." You said, tired of his questions. "Alright princess, go ahead." You rolled my eyes at him and gave him a side glare already walking towards the car.

present**

You could feel Jungkook's strong gaze as you walked towards the car. "What's wrong Jeon," You asked him with a smile but you both knew it was just going to be followed by some sassy comment.

"Shouldn't you be with your girlfriends in your princess land? What are you doing here" He said, clenching his jaw at the last sentence.

You heard Mark announcing before you could reply back "Hello everyone. Today's street race is going to be a little different. We have Jeon Jungkook, competing against some of our best street racers. And to add a little more complication to our game, Jeon will be having a girl on his lap while driving." Mark said and looked over to Jungkook who's face looked unbothered. Giving a small chuckle he continued. "Today's winner will have a thousand dollars worth of money. Let the games begin"

You opened the driver’s seat and soon were straddling Jungkook. "So that's why you're here" Jungkook scoffed

"Will do anything to make you lose, Jeon."

And with that, you wrapped your arms around him, shifting your head to the side. Well, you didn't wanna block his vision and die.

One of the girls came in between the cars and shot the gun above her head. Jungkook started the engine and the car accelerated at full speed. Your arms flexed as you held onto him, not trying to lean on the steering wheels.

You knew that he was not really bothered by the fact that he had a girl on his lap while driving, so you slowly started moving your hips against his crotch. He sucked in a breath making you smirk. You moved your hips in slow motion. Jungkook gripped your hips with one hand while the other hand was on the steering wheel. "Stop," he said in a low voice.

You decided to do the exact opposite and pressed more as you moved with the pressure. Harshly squeezing the side of your hips he warned, voice dropping an octave "Y/N stop this or you are gonna regret it later.”

You could feel him hardening, the thin jeans material did not help. You started to move, picking the speed up, too busy to even hear him. Suddenly you felt him bucking his hips up, his bulge pressed right against your core.

He gripped the waistband of your panties and pulled it down while controlling the wheel with the other hand, you wondered how the car didn’t crash. You lifted yourself to help him take off your panties. You sat on his now hard dick, the only barrier being his jeans.

Picking up your speed, you moved in a fast motion, moans escaping your mouth as you felt Jungkook bucking his hips, slowly grinding back, his hips moving rhythmically along with yours.

You could feel a knot forming in your stomach. You gripped his biceps, hips moving fast as you chased your high. Hiding your face in the crook of his neck, you bit his shoulder as you finally came, the engine noise drowning against your moans.

You looked up to see the finish line approaching with him being in the lead. As he crossed the finish line, he picked up the speed, jaws clenched. “Wait, aren't you gonna stop?” you asked, eyes at him but he ignored you.

Soon you found yourself on top of a hill as he stopped the car by the end. You looked at him, eyebrows knitting in confusion. "Why am I here, Jungkook?" You said looking around.

He picked you up by your thighs, your legs unconsciously wrapping around his torso as he got out of the car. Opening the back door he pushed you in. "Hey!" you said trying to get up to defend herself.

Jungkook pushed you back, making you lay down. He slapped your bare core causing you to whimper. “Now,” he said, positioning his face in front of your now dripping core, licking a long strip, “it’s my turn.”

tags: @mwitsmejk

#drabbles #bts drabble #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #jjk smut #btshoneyhive #kcollegenet #bangtanbathhouse #bts smut #jeon jungkook #jeoniius #smut drabble

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jarofstyles · 3 years

Note

More CEORRY PLEAASEEEE🙏🙏🙏🙏

CEORRY part 5 🤩

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

___________

Having Y/N around this often was a sweet form of torture.

It was about a day ago that he gave into the fact that his crush was very real and not going anywhere. It had been a particularly rough day at work, his nerves grated, and he was irritated beyond belief. When she knocked he didn’t think twice, barking out a rough ‘What?’ Only to have the door open to a sheepish looking Y/N.

It hit him in the stomach then, thinking about how he never wanted her to look at him… nervous…. Like this. She must have heard the yelling about in his office and known her was in a bad mood, because for once she had knocked. Harry found he didn’t like when she was quiet and meek, the way she usually was appealing to him much more. An uneasy seedling of guilt spread in his stomach and up his throat, making him cough to clear it.

“Oh. Hello.” He said, stiffening awkwardly. She entered, a bit hesitantly with a tray in her hand. Clearing her own throat this time, she made her way to set it down in front of him, hands nervously playing with her rings as she took in his slightly flushed face. It has softened slightly but still, she could feel the irritation in the room even still.

“Hi, Mr.Styles.” She said softly. “I’m… I went to the bakery we went to that day we went to the paint store? And I got you one of the white hot chocolates. And then, a chocolate chip muffin and an orange scone. Wasn’t sure which one you ended up liking more that day, but I know you liked both enough to eat them so I grabbed one of each for you. You know, the cashier remembered me and asked me where my grumpy bodyguard was and I laughed and said you were at work and I was gettin’ you these things and she said she wanted to ask for your number, and I told her no cause… Y’know, you don’t like that.” She rambled, the silence after her words stopped making her cheeks heat.

Damn it. Not again.

She could have sworn though, seeing a tiny quip of his lips. Almost a smile in the workplace. Her eyes widened slightly, watching him take a peek inside the bag.

“Thank you.” He said softer than before. “I… I really appreciate that, Miss Y/N. And for letting the bakery employee know. I’m not interested in her.” He said strongly. No.

“Oh! Okay. You’re welcome, I know… I heard how frustrated you were before and I knew you’d be probably in a weird mood which I totally get. It’s hard to run a business and all these employees paint you as some dick- uh, dictator.” She stumbled. Almost calling him a dick to his face. This time, he let himself chuckle at her slip up, shaking his head as she continued.

“But I always say that it’s got to be hard. Having all these people’s jobs and money on your back and everyone asking for favors or half doing their jobs, it’s not fair. And you’re blamed always if things go bad. So I’d be a bit strict and not so friendly and bubbly if that happened to me.” She finished, continuing to twist the rings on her fingers as she realized she definitely just overShared.

What she didn’t realize, was that she had just chipped away at one of his biggest walls. The way she just fucking… got it. Understood him. She knew he wasn’t a true asshole. And she fucking defended him. Even when she didn’t think he would ever find out, she defended him and the only reason he knew was from a verbal slip up. She had brought him a hot chocolate and travelled 20 minutes to the bakery, and got him the damn two things she had seen him pick out and eat with her.

Who was she? And why had an angel like this even sent to a man like Harry?

“Thank you.” He said, licking over his bottom lip. She looked so adorable today, with her cute little cardigan and her floral earrings. He wanted to grab he and tug her body into his lap. Bury his face into her neck, place his hands under that cardigan and warm them up by holding her bare skin, press kissed to her shoulder and jaw and anywhere to thank her for such a sweet and thoughtful gesture.

You’d think a man of his power and status would have lots of people. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t get thoughtful gifts from anyone besides his family and everyone else expects the gifts from him.

It was this day that he realized his big, fat crush on her wasn’t going to be able to be avoided any longer.

#ceo!harry #ceorry #ceo harry #writing #harry styles one shot #jarofstyles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #blurbs #blurb #fluff #Harry blurbs

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todayisreveluv · 3 years

Text

Forever Yours pt.1

Jung Jaehyun

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT . Cheating, Cursing.

"It's all fake."

You hear Jaehyun say.

"Fake?" Another familiar voice, Mark says.

"Of course, this whole relationship is just bullshit." Jaehyun chuckles, "lately she's been denying me, acting to needy and clingy, so moody, I'm sick of it."

"And what are you going to do about it?" Mark asks.

"Leave her, of course, I got other girls who want my dick in their throats and I'm not gonna waste my time with her and her needs." He scoffs.

"Are you sure about breaking up with her though? Because lately.. I don't know man.. but you've been... keeping her away from us."

"How so?" Jaehyun furrows his brows.

"Like every time one of us would ask where she is you'd give us a scary look, like we're not allowed to talk about her." He says, "You even tell her to stay in the room when we visit."

Jaehyun shrugs it off.

"That's none of your business, but I'm still going to break up with her and that's final." He says.

Your heart shatters at his words, but you keep quiet.

"That's a bit fucked up though." Mark says, "Why would you be with her in the first place?"

"She gots a nice body, she cooks, she cleans, she does what I say and she gots a tight ass and pussy waiting for me when I get home" Jaehyun chuckles, "and let me tell you, I didn't have to wait, she gave it to me right after the first date, she begged for my dick and let me take her anytime and place I wanted. The sex was so amazing with her until two weeks ago."

"Woah, for real?" Marks eyes widen a bit, "When her and Taey-"

"Taeyong doesn't have game like me, that's why she left him." Jaehyun says, "She's a slut and she's all for me to fuck with."

"Again, that's really fucked up." Mark says, "You gonna let her go easy or?"

"Yeah, I guess I should." Jaehyun replies, "But I know she'll beg me to stay, my dick game has her under my spell."

"Are going to stay ?" Mark asks

"Nope, I'm tired of her already, but Whatever man, let's go get something to eat." Jaehyun says, "Y/n won't be back till tonight."

Mark nods, getting up.

Right when you hear the front door shut, you come out of your hiding spot, your heart deep in sadness as you look down at the pregnancy test in your hand.

"So he really doesn't care..." You look at the positive sign, sitting on the floor.

You lean against the wall, bringing your knees to your chest, you put your head down and tears just start streaming down. You cry on the floor, feeling helpless and used by the person you were falling in love with.

— Timeskip

Later that night, when Jaehyun returns, your bags are already packed, you were about to leave when you had the overwhelming feeling to throw up.

Jaehyun looks at the small suitcase and duffel bag on the bed and furrows his brows. He opens the bag and sees your clothes inside.

"Babe?" He calls out.

You hear him as you wash your mouth, you turn off the sink leaving the bathroom.

He looks over at you then points to the bags, "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving." You say.

"To where?" He furrows his brows.

"I'm going back home." You walk past him and to your bags.

"Why-"

"Because I said." You cut him off, putting you duffel bag over your shoulder.

He grabs your arm, hard and turns you to him.

"That's not a good reason." He says.

"I'm going home, because I want to go home." You say, pulling your arm away, "I'm leaving you, and I don't wanna hear what you have to say."

You get your suitcase off the bed and Jaehyun rips it out of your hands, putting it behind him.

"You're not fucking leaving me." His eyes darken, "You're staying under my roof, with me! And I will make sure you don't fucking go anywhere!"

"Fuck you! And fuck staying under your roof." You push him, making his shoulders move back, "You don't even care about me!"

"What the hell are you even talking about?" He steps forward, "I work hard for your lifestyle, I put food on the table, You use my money for your needs, whatever you wanted I always got it for you, I do things for you. How dare you say I don't care for you? Huh?!"

"You don't care for me! All you care about is my body, and your own needs! I heard it all Jaehyun, I heard you and mark." You say, your tears forming, "I loved you and I cared for y-you and you're going to break up with me just because of my moods? I thought you were different- but you're not, you're just like every other shitty guy I've been with, selfish and a narcissistic."

Jaehyun doesn't say anything and you wipe your tears with a scoff.

You get your bag from behind him and leave the room, soon leaving the apartment.

Ima make a part two of this so stay tuned~

#nct 127 #kpopsmuts #nctusmuts #nct u #nctsmut #jung yoonoh #jung jaehyun #jaehyunsmuts #nct jaehyun #jaehyun

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aravas-writing · 3 years

Note

(Secret Star AU)

Title: "Ravenous Rave Romp!"

Cinder had been desperate for money, her normal "allowance" delayed for some reason (Watts!) Which means she needed a job. Emerald, who she had just recruited, said this place would be perfect, but Cinder had second thoughts the minute she walked into the porn studio. But before she could protest, Emerald had already signed her up for a Rave scene, wearing a multi coloured wig, hiding her identity. Cinder reluctantly went along with it, it wasn't like this smiling blonde could be rough with her, which she would have known, had she read the script...

She hated this whole situation with all of her heart. Cinder Fall was not a prostitute! She dangled the dream of sex with her in front of others to do her bidding, not give away her body!

She was done with that ever since she left the Silver Unicorn...once had been well enough.

Alas, that brazen arrogant fool Watts told her that there was some form of difficulty to move her required funds, so she would have to get a job.

Who the hell did he think she was?!

Calm...Calm...deep breaths... Emerald tried her best to get something that would get money easy while being somewhat dignified and matching Cinder's CV.

Somehow, her help had come up with an adult film company looking for new talent. Cinder had almost fried the chocolate-skinned street rat for it, but she had to concede that the terms of the contract she brought back were acceptable. It was a small consolation, alongside Emerald also being given a form.

Of course the greenette would have to fill her copy out as well.

The script was easy enough. Dance in a rave party alongside carefully chosen actors, all of whom actually seemed to relish being able to party on company clock. Then she was to carefully seduce her co-star into dancing with her, before getting dirty right on the dance floor.

Cinder had to admit, public sex had a thrill to it, which was possibly why she accepted these tacky-looking extensions in her hair. Sure, no one outside could tell that those weren't actually part of her hair, but still! Green and blue?!

Right, she was supposed to be a raver...

Miniskirt ready for easy access, skimpy top, makeup done and she was ready to rock the world of whatever guy was going to be sent her way.

...wait, how would one dance rave?

Too late, the crowd was ready and music was getting blasted through the speakers. It was a rather unsophisticated tune, but it certainly was easy enough to dance to. All one had to do was follow the beat.

Easy enough. The bodies around her were dancing fairly close to her, but not close enough to disrupt either Cinder or the cameras. The ravenette put on a bit of a show for them. A shimmy turned into a luscious roll of her hips, before excitedly jump around and letting her ass jiggle beneath her skirt.

And, of course, she only wore a thin thong.

As she danced, she noticed a figure approaching her spot on the dance floor. Judging him to be her co-star, Cinder threw a sneaky glance his way. Blonde hair adorned a head sitting on a tall body as blue eyes sparkled with mischief and adoration in equal parts.

'Oh no, he's hot.' That was most definitely not Cinder Fall's immediate thought upon seeing the guy, who himself was dressed in a shirt and shorts which both featured splatters of neon paint.

She used all her skill as a receiver to pretend to notice him just as he started appearing close to her own space on the dance floor. A howl of excitement ran through the crowd as the song changed. Fittingly enough, it was called "Satisfaction".

A coy smile his way and an extended hand, this silly boy took one huge step towards the Fall Maiden turned raver and danced to the beat. His hands met her hips immediately as he got close, a smile on his own lips as the two actually had fun.

Cinder could scarcely believe it herself. She was having fun to gaudy music and dancing with this ridiculously handsome- this adequately attractive stranger. Her smile became a little more genuine, certainly more so since she became what she was today.

But alas, this lighthearted atmosphere had to be shattered and replaced with a more sexual one. Taking his arm and lifting it slightly, the seductress used the opening to dance right into his arms, rubbing her shapely ass against his crotch. To finish this, she lifted her head to smile at the blonde boy.

He looked surprised at her forwardness, but soon relented and let his hands roam her perfect body. One caressed her thigh, inching close to her crotch while lifting her skirt as another roamed her flat stomach while searching a way towards her boobs.

Another jiggle of her ass, some pressing of her hips against his, and Cinder knew that her co-star was packing. Certainly something to look forward to as one of his hands finally made it up to her clothed boob to cup it gently. His thumb started to circle her nipple through the fabric, making Cinder bite her lip and shimmy around in his arms some more. Her flat stomach undulating was perfectly caught on camera.

Through the droning beat, Cinder wished he could hear her breathing heavily under his touch as he whispered all the dirty things he would do to her in her ear. Alas, there was no sound beyond the music.

Not that words were really necessary. The blonde's hand finally crept beneath her skirt, teasing and caressing her clad mound. She moaned, not that anyone could hear, as she realized that she had gotten wet under him. As his hand kept caressing her, she looked back up to him, craning her neck as she did, and smiled at him using her best fuck-me eyes.

He would have to oblige her, since they still starred in a porn video. He needed to fuck her, he just had to! Oum knows she wanted it.

Nice, well-shaped fingers pulled her thong away, baring what little it concealed to a curious camera lens as the music changed again to a different sound, this one like something was approaching. Cinder smiled at the timing of it as her handsome co-star probed her pussy, exploring it carefully instead of jamming it in like a possessive brute.

So many steps up from what she had to endure...He was focused on her pleasure, his finger scraping against her in the nicest way, pistoning in and out of her tight and ready pussy.

Cinder patience left as her libido rose, and she had to pull his wrist away from her pussy and towards her ass as she turned around, facing him now.

A female voice could be heard in this track, seemingly addressing the listener with an endearing and horny "Hey Baby", asking them increasingly lustful questions. Cinder herself fumbled at her blonde stud's- her friendly blonde's pants to fish out his painfully hard cock. Amber eyes not leaving blue, nimble hands wandered all over his length as her smile grew. Finally, she pulled close, slinging a leg around his hip and directing his cock close to her waiting muff. She could feel his tip close to her lips, so close that her hips moved against it in her own.

Finally, her blonde grabbed the ravenette by the hips and the leg slung around him, balancing her, and guided himself inside her. He didn't even use his hands, making her eyes widen as he entered her just like that.

To anyone looking on, the two were dancing very provocatively. To Cinder Fall, this was an experience unlike any other. He fit her excellently, dare she say perfectly; his cock filled her pussy completely! All the sexy minx wanted was for him to move immediately, perhaps giving her her first orgasm!

Dammit, she was so turned on!

His one hand cupping her ass cheek, he pressed deep and rhythmically inside her, then pulling out, then repeat three times before he followed with several shallow thrusts.

Cinder was certain that her juices were glistening in the lights as the speaking part of the song turned overtly sexual and her man fucked her good. Waves of pleasure ran through her, coursing through her veins as he held her close, amber eyes gazing at him with something so close to adoration that she herself wondered...

"Oh my God!" The girl in the song moaned in pretend lust as Cinder gasped it in actual lust as he simply picked her up, arms beneath her kneepits, and fucked her hard and good while standing.

She was getting close as he made his lust for her relentlessly known. Blue eyes and a mouth slightly opened to moan softly mirrored her own expression as she approached her own high; the very first anyone ever gave her!

A head snapped forward in the decisive moment and hungry lips met, tongues battling against one another as their climax rocked their bodies, a deluge if fun filling Cinder as her partner shivered, moaning into her mouth as her own sounds vibrated, letting them both feel it.

Finally, they separated, and Cinder was gently set down on wobbly legs. Not wasting a second, right after his still-hard dick was back in his pants, she pointed off the dance floor, in the vague direction of "private", and took his hand to lead him away...

"Cut!" The director yelled through the sound. "Excellent shoot, you two! Magnificent performance! You led her well, Jamie!"

As the ravenette blinked owlishly, torn out of her horny mode, her partner basically scratched the back of his head. "Thank you, but I'm pretty sure my partner here is the real star," he screamed back over the din of the ongoing party and pointing to the ravenette.

"Ah, certainly!" The director nodded to her. "We'll wire you your payment for this gig ASAP! You can go to the showers now; just-"

As soon as Cinder heard the word "showers" and saw the hand pointing in the direction, her trek continued, pulling this "Jamie" along undeterredly.

As soon as they arrived, her clothes practically flew off of her while she hungrily glared at the blonde. "I want a second round, Jamie," she clarified.

"Jaune, actually; Jamie is my stage-"

"Jaune, then." He was almost adorably nervous. "Get those extensions out if my hair and I'll make it worth it," Cinder commanded in her best seductress voice, beckoning him to follow as she headed to the shower.

She would definitely sign up to exclusively work with him...

#rwby #secret star au #cinder fall #jaune arc #rwby smut #rwby knightfall

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goggles-mcgee · 4 years

Note

i’m really loving the Wish me Away au idea! Would you be up to writing about what the batfam does after seeing mari’s reaction to emilie and adrien?

Like an actually little drabble? Yeah sure! It'll be based off the headcanons from this post -> 👶

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♤♡◇♧▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

Bruce couldn't remember having so much fun, he always loved to brag about his kids and show them off at work, but it was a little hard when it was 'Bring Your Kid To Work Day' and most of your kids worked with you. That's why he was so happy bringing little Marietta with him to Wayne Enterprises, he also brought Damian but Damian had wandered off to see what Dick did since, and he quotes, "I know everything about you father. If I am to be your successor it is only natural I familiarize myself with your work. I believe it would be beneficial for me to oversee Grayson's work ethic."

Honestly, Damian could have just said he wanted to see what Dick did but that was just part of Damian's charm. Before he had left, Damian had let Marietta grab his finger and give it a little shake which delighted her, if Bruce was not mistaken, Damian had even smiled before he said bye to the both of them. The boy had really grown to love Mari and Bruce could not be more proud of his son. Though, he had to admit, all of his children were absolutely enamored with the baby, not to say he wasn't, but Lord have mercy on anyone who dared mess with his baby girl. She would have an army behind her of overprotective brothers and sisters, and father and mother, and grandfather, and cow...and turkey...and dogs...and cats...and dragon bat....and semi-god things that called themselves kwamis...and two very very powerful almost godlike godparents (Diana and Clark.) Now Bruce didn't like to think about it but he did also have to add Mari's....friends to that list... i.e. some of his rogues, which yes was fucking bizarre beyond all reason, but some had even cut back on crime because of their friendship with his little mini-hero so that was a plus. Right?

Well that was a thought for another day, now he got to take his little girl around and take her into meetings, which was certainly going to be interesting, but Marietta always seemed interested in watching him work so he wasn't too worried. He packed her plenty of snacks along with her lunch that Alfred made, he made sure to pack her favorite toys and a variety of coloring books and markers and crayons. And of course he remembered to pack cookies for Tikki who was riding in the hood of Marietta's dress. Plus he made sure to pack a little first aid kid just in case, also another sweater for Marietta in case she got cold.

He liked to be prepared. Sue him.

First meeting of the day was with a Ms. Graham de Vanily. If his memory served right this was Emilie and not Amelie who he had spoken with in the past. Not for the first time he had to wonder what possessed their parents to name the identical twin sisters Emilie and Amelie, but apparently she had brought along her son as well so that made this meeting a little less awkward. He adjusted his hold on Marietta before he continued on his walk to his office where he would be meeting Ms. Emilie, he had hoped to show his daughter around more when they had arrived but he had actually forgotten about this particular meeting and so hadn't rescheduled it to a time when he would hand over Marietta to one of her brother's since they deemed it "unfair" that only he got to show her his work.

Honestly his boys. They were wonderful but boy did they get jealous of one another if Marietta gave one more attention than the other. He fondly remembered one family game night where all the boys were asking who Mari's favorite brother is and she had just been laughing at all the attention not really understanding and it was the first time Bruce had witnessed Damian giving someone a smile and opening his arms for a hug. Of course he had done it behind all his siblings backs and only Alfred and Bruce himself had seen it. It was a sight to see everyone's face when Mari giggled out a, "Dami!", and ran over to him. When everyone turned around he was back to his stoic face but he was hugging Marietta and she was snuggling herself against him but as he looked at everyone he gave them a small smirk. There was an uproar, a demand for a retest, but Damian wouldn’t have it and it had been one of the most chaotic nights in the Manor. Selina had been very entertained especially when Marietta somehow made her way out of the gaggle of children and waddled over to her and had climbed in her lap very clumsily before plopping herself down and making herself comfortable, almost like a cat Bruce had thought, before smiling up at Selina. Selina had just turned to Bruce and said in a complete monotone voice, “I would die for this child.”

Him and Selina hadn't tied the knot yet so to say, nor had he proposed. They were trying their hand at dating again but he couldn't help the way his heart skipped and his mind conjured up images of tuxedos, lace, friends and family, cakes and kisses, and rings and vows exchanged, when his baby girl, his little Marietta looked up at Selina and called her Maman. Bruce wondered if she ever shared his thoughts, he almost convinced himself she did whenever he saw her melt and practically purr when Mari, or as Selina liked to call her, Kitten, would call her Maman. He could see the love in the older woman's eyes and he had no doubt in his heart that this time, they would work out, this time they would get their 'happily ever after' or whatever came close to it.

He was ripped from his thought when he heard his baby girl giggle at something Lucius said.

"Morning Lucius."

"And good morning to you Mr. Wayne. I see you brought the little one."

"Yes. I promised I would bring her but I must admit, the meeting with Ms. Graham de Vanily slipped my mind." Bruce sighed out.

"I guessed as much. Well if you want, I can watch the Little Wayne while you have your meeting." Lucius offered, of course Bruce trusted him to watch Marietta seeing as the older man also practically adopted Mari at first sight. He was basically another grandfather to her.

"Gampa Fox!" Marietta began before dissolving into her baby babble. She was getting very good at speaking. Honestly she was very smart for a two year old.

"That's okay Lucius, I want to bring her in. Besides if her brothers spot her with you they wouldn't hesitate to snatch her up before their scheduled times. If Ms. Graham de Vanily has a problem with it I will insist on a reschedule. It's not everyday I get some one on one time with Marietta." Bruce admitted.

"You know one day someone is going to say no to you despite your good looks, money and reputation. Fine. Head on in, our guest is already here, which by the way, I don't think she will mind Mari seeing as she brought her own son to this meeting." Lucius sighed but he gave Mari a little wave and pointed Bruce to one of the smaller meeting rooms they had in Wayne Enterprises.

"Aww Lucius you think I'm good looking?"

"Go."

"Yes sir." Bruce chuckled out with a brief wave before he made his way over to the meeting room Lucius had pointed to and gently rapped his knuckled on the outside door despite the room being visible from outside because of the large windows. He heard a feminine voice call out from inside so he entered,

“Remember your manners Marietta and if you need anything don’t be shy.” Bruce told his daughter softly as they walked in, he chuckled when she nodded enthusiastically. As soon as he caught sight of the blonde woman he put on his best business smile. “Ah, Ms. Graham de Vanily, so sorry to keep you waiting. I must admit that this meeting slipped my mind.”

“No worries Mr. Wayne, I don’t believe this will be long. I see you brought your daughter. I brought my son! Adrien say hi.” Ms. Graham de Vanily light-heartedly scolded her son and tapped his shoulder. When Bruce took his seat and placed Marietta on his lap he finally got a good look at them both. Both mother and son were blond, her son, Adrien was a teenager, from the looks of it he was 16 maybe even 17. When his mother tapped him on the shoulder he sat up straighter than when he was slouching so obviously he didn’t want to come. So why bring him then?

“Hello Mr. Wayne, it’s an honor to meet you.” Adrien greeted him with a model smile, he had seen enough to spot them from the real deal.

“Likewise. Marietta, can you say ‘hello’ to our guests?” Bruce asked gently down to his daughter who was being uncharacteristically quiet. Usually she would already saying ‘hi’ and waving, maybe even trying to get a high five or hand shake. Though now she was hiding her face in his chest and hugging her backpack to her, she made a small noise like a whimper and Bruce was absolutely dumbfounded. His daughter had never acted like this before, not even with Joker for crying out loud yet here she was trembling and trying to hide herself in his arms. He didn’t know what was going on but his daughter was scared so he scooped her up and held her closer to him but she still tried to pull herself closer. Finally Bruce caught sight of Tikki inside Marietta’s open backpack and saw her antennae-like things pulled back and her eyes narrowed as the kwami glared at Ms. Graham de Vanily and her son, if he wasn’t mistaken she was even glowing a faint red especially as she stared at Adrien. Bruce didn’t understand what was causing these reactions but he did know one thing, he wasn’t going to make Marietta sit there.

“I apologize. She’s not normally like this, I think it would be best if I take her to one of her brothers if you don’t mind.”

“Oh...no worries at all. I’m sorry if we scared her somehow.” The woman actually sounded genuine but Bruce wasn’t going to risk anything, especially with how her son actually looked at his daughter for the first time that they walked in there.

“I’m sure that’s not the case, but it will probably be best to take her to one of her brothers that way we can get through this meeting. I will be fast.” With that he was out the room and speedwalking down the hall over to Lucius’s office. “I don’t have time to explain but Marietta was acting strange around Ms. Graham de Vanily and her son and Tikki as well. Can you take her to one of her brothers please? Just inform me who and I will go pick her up after the meeting.”

Lucius on his part did his best not to ask questions knowing Bruce didn’t have the time but he did raise a brow that told Bruce he would be answering those unasked questions later. “Of course. I’ll go see what Dick and Damian are up to.”

“Thank you Lucius.” Bruce said sincerely before he made his way back to his meeting. He had questions too and they were all for Tikki, but there would be time for that later, now it was time for business.

__________________________________________

The meeting passed and all Bruce could think about was getting to Marietta. He checked his texts from Lucius that informed him that he did indeed leave Mari with Dick and Damian so he made his way over to the central security room knowing that’s where Dick would most likely be. When he got there he was relieved to see his baby girl laughing and playing with Dick while Damian sat on a chair watching, as he walked in the two boys stood up swiftly with Dick scooping up Marietta and angling her away from the door but when they saw it was him they relaxed. “Father, Lucius told us nothing, what happened?” Damian demanded.

“I’m not sure myself. Marietta started acting scared when we got in the meeting room with Ms. Graham de Vanily and her son Adrien.” Bruce answered.

“NO!” They all stared at Marietta in shock when she screamed and tried to hide herself in Dick’s chest, then they all stared at each other with wide eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey. Etta what’s wrong?” Dick asked softly.

“No Adrien! No!” Marietta cried out.

The air grew cold. Bruce could hear his son’s gasp and he wouldn’t be surprised if he did as well. “ طفل الخفافيش (tifl alkhafafish), you’re safe. This Adrien won’t harm you I promise.” Damian cooed to Marietta.

“الأخ الأكبر (al'akhu al'akbar).” Mari cried out wetly as she reached her hands out for him and he of course took her out of Dick’s arms and held her.

“Tikki. Explain...please.” Bruce pleaded.

Tikki flew out of Mari’s backpack and sadly looked over at the girl before flying over to her and kissing the top of her head before flying and landing on Dick’s desk. “It’s...They are from her old life. Ad- He was her former partner...the one who wished her away. That woman shouldn’t be alive.”

“He was the one to betray her?” Damian asked, his voice full of ice and steel. “Father I will be needing my swords. All of them.”

“Damian. No.”

“What do you mean no?” His son asked indignantly.

“Yeah what do you mean no?” Tikki asked with a tilt of her head, Bruce glared at her, she knew what she was doing.

“Tikki what do you mean that woman shouldn’t be alive?” Dick asked.

“Simply that. She was a corpse. No soul. Haw-Gab- The villain Mari had to face before, she was his wife. He wished for her life.” Tikki explained as though it made total sense to all of them.

“Yeaaaaah, you’re going to need to expand on that.” Dick said which made Tikki frown in confusion.

“While I do agree with that, maybe we should wait until we are at home to continue this conversation. You boys know how Tim and Jason will be if they aren’t informed about what happened. You boys tell them and I’ll take Marietta. We will continue on with our day, but if you see either of them lingering here alert me. I don’t want Marietta to have to interact with them at all if we can help it.” Bruce said as he gently took Marietta from Damian who looked like he wanted to do anything but give his little sister to his father.

“If I see them I have a right to defend Marietta.” Damian stated. “You can’t stop me.”

“Damian.”

“Don’t worry Bruce, at least he doesn’t have a sword on him.” Dick chuckled.

“Who said I didn’t? Was it Todd?”

Bruce needed a break. Bruce questioned why he had so many kids not for the first time in his life. Bruce decided to ignore the fact his child admitted to having a sword somewhere on him and just did as he said he was going to do, continue his day with his daughter and if he held her a little closer to him than usual? Well it couldn’t be helped.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♧◇♡♤▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

I know it’s not like the reactions yet but I am in the process of writing Wish Me Away so take this! XD

طفل الخفافيش (tifl alkhafafish): Baby Bat

“الأخ الأكبر (al'akhu al'akbar): Big Brother

#wish me away #wish me away au #wish me away drabble #maribat #mldccrossover #mldccrossover Damian Wayne | Robin #mldccrossover Bruce Wayne | Batman #mldccrossover Dick Grayson | Nightwing #mldccrossover Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir #mldccrossover emilie agreste #mldccrossover marinette dupain cheng | ladybug #MLDC #mldc crossover #goggles ask #goggles answer #goggles answers #mldccrossover Lucius Fox

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honestgrins · 3 years

Note

if you're doing prompts... Mates Trope?! something during s1-2 of TO where part of the reason the wolves (or maybe just the elders who are very righteous about tradition) don't trust klaus is because he wanders around with everyone but his mate (which for this purpose i guess they can sense when a wolf is mated)

Oh || Klaroline

Elijah frowned deeply. “I’m not sure which scenario would be less tolerable to the pack, you being disrespectful to the mate bond or being mated to a vampire.”

Cradling the noticeable swell of her baby bump, Hayley snorted. “I might very well be carrying the next alpha with his disrespectful ass, so they’ll get over it eventually,” she pointed out. “But the vampire thing is always going to be a problem.”

“Not if Miss Forbes stays away from New Orleans.”

That was the crux of it, truly. Whether or not he had a mate, there was precious little Klaus could do about it in the eyes of the pack while she gave his city a wide berth. Honestly, her absence would likely make it all easier for them to swallow - perhaps to forget entirely with a few generations of distance. The thought left a hollow feeling in his chest, one far more noticeable since learning of his…predicament.

Learning he was to be a father after a millennium of running from the only one he’d ever known had been difficult enough. He’d ingratiated himself into the fabric of New Orleans in order to situate it to his needs, even softening the wolf pack to the idea of his leadership outside of the traditional hierarchy - at least, until he returned from Mystic Falls with a freshly established mate bond he apparently left behind.

A mate bond he could only imagine began with a defiant kiss and a slow-rising smile as bright as a sunlit afternoon.

Unfortunately, he didn’t know a thing about it until Hayley broke the news as to why the pack had turned against him. It was small comfort to know her use as a direct line in the camp, but he needed more. He knew so little about life as a wolf, that having been denied him for so long. “How can they know that I’ve found my mate?” Suspicion was a long-earned habit, and nothing was adding up. “How can they sense it here when I had no idea with her right in my arms?”

With a delicate cough, Elijah leaned forward to take some of his focus off Hayley. “I understand this is a difficult revelation, and there’s much to be learned about the mate phenomenon. However, I feel there’s a decided advantage in ensuring Miss Forbes is a non-factor in the politics of the city.”

His hand was around his brother’s throat before he could consciously think to do it, his hybrid strength more than enough to pin Elijah to the wall. “Stop. Talking.”

“Klaus.” Hayley’s voice was shaking, and her hands now covered her belly in a protective gesture. “You feel it now, don’t you? The need to protect her above all else?” She stood slowly, careful not to spook him further. “Even over your own brother?”

With excruciating control, he loosened his grip, finger by finger. “Alright,” he breathed once he could manage it past the sudden onslaught of rage. “I’m listening.”

“Caroline, you’re up!”

For at least the third time that afternoon, Caroline reminded herself there were too many witnesses at the Fall Festival to eat her sorority sisters. "I'm all for scamming money out of sleaze bags in the name of philanthropy, but I still think there are better ways to go about it than a kissing booth."

Amber just scoffed. "Suck it up, pledge, we all had to pay our dues," she said, divesting herself of the Gamma blue sash that said Kiss me! and handing it to Caroline. "If it helps, there's a total hottie in line. I almost extended my shift to get a chance at him."

Rolling her eyes, she forced a pageant smile as she slipped the sash over her head. "Thanks for your sacrifice."

"Funny," a familiar voice noted behind her. "You never thanked me for any of the sacrifices I made."

With a deep breath, she tried to make herself count to ten before turning. Call it personal growth that she made it to six when her glare fell on Klaus waiting at the booth. "I'm sorry, are we including the time you literally tried to sacrifice me? Because I'm so not in the mood to deal with you today, in case you can't tell."

"Oh my god, Caroline!" Amber looked mildly scared, but she took a step in front of her anyway, a stance she recognized from other sisters at any number of frat parties when a creep made himself known. "Who is this guy? Do I need to call security?"

She glanced back to Klaus, who remained uncharacteristically quiet as she decided what to do. Reluctantly, she met Amber's eyes with widened pupils. "Everything is fine, but someone needs to cover my shift. You never saw him, and I went home sick." When Amber obediently repeated her words, she also returned the sash. "Thanks!" she called out, quick as she was to flash away from the crowd, knowing he would follow.

Her dorm wasn't exactly a safe bet, given Elena and Damon's constant sexiling, and she didn't want to risk Bonnie catching them on campus. The only place she could think of was the wooded trail behind the chemistry building, where she found a quiet bench for them to sit. Well, for him to sit and for her to pace in front of. "We had a deal, Klaus. You weren't supposed to come back."

"To Mystic Falls," he clarified, his hands pressed together between his knees. At her decided frown, he allowed himself a sigh of discomfort. "Unfortunately, I have good reason to violate the spirit of our agreement."

She crossed her arms and waited.

He sighed again. "Sweetheart-"

"Just rip the band-aid off, Klaus!"

"I need you to accompany me back to New Orleans, and I need you to trust me enough to keep you safe," he said. With eyes intent on hers, his energy seemed barely contained, like he wanted nothing more than to grab her and go. "I would like you to do so freely. And quickly."

Her arms tightened, and she sank onto her jutted hip as she took in his plaintive request. "Points for being polite, I guess, but I doubt you would be if I were in any real danger. What I don't know is if this is you being overly cautious or just being a dick."

Rubbing two fingers at his temple, there was an ancient exhaustion in his face. "Neither of us can truly know what this is," he muttered to himself more than anything. He spoke up with more resolve. "Elijah wanted to hide you away in one of our many properties throughout the world, and Rebekah suggested a less involved plan that offered you an anonymous scholarship across the country - anything to keep you far away from me."

"Why are your siblings trying to get rid of me?" she demanded. "I didn't even do anything."

He shifted on his feet, and he couldn't quite meet her eyes. If he weren't Klaus Mikaelson, she might think he were embarrassed. "Your absence in New Orleans has been noted."

Confused, she pressed her hands to her face. "I seriously doubt that, since I've never been there. The only people I know in New Orleans is your family, and you've already established they don't want me there."

His ears flushed red, and then she knew he was embarrassed. "Hayley has found a home with nearby pack," he explained with a wince, "a pack that could prove necessary to the balance of the city. However, they are disinclined to negotiate with me at the moment."

"Gee, I wonder why. How many of them have you killed so far?"

Klaus gave a ferocious glare. "None, actually. But perhaps you missed the fact that a wolf with a known grudge against you is well placed to inform any number of enemies of your name and location."

The scoff burst out of her without permission, an absolute confidence emboldening her. "Like you'd let that happen."

Then he took a step closer, and that confidence withered into a new understanding - one that scared her. His voice lowered, soft in its menace. "Why do you think I'm here, Caroline?"

She swallowed, the tension unbearably thick between them. "I'm no one," she said, her voice shaky as she fought for the calm she felt only moments before. "Even if they could use me against you-"

"They can," he answered, deadly serious. "And they will. Maybe not now, but someday." He watched her closely; for what, she didn't know. His whole face softened whenever he found whatever he was looking for. "I'm only just beginning to understand myself," he admitted. "But you're far from no one, and I need to establish that you're firmly under my protection."

"Why?" He never really answered her questions, Caroline realized. This one, though... This, she needed to know. "Why me?"

His eyes seemed to burn with gold, and she held her breath as he stared. "Wolves know when another has found their mate, and this pack has judged my character unfit for abandoning mine."

If she weren't a vampire, she would swear her legs might collapse beneath her. As it was, her head felt suddenly light. Her mouth fell open, and she finally remembered to breathe. When she exhaled, it escaped as a sigh. "Oh."

"Yes, oh."

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #listen #i tried about six versions of this fic and they all kept getting worse #i'm sorry this is the best i can do but #i hope you like it!#to rely on the kindness of strangers #fic: oh

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wiypt-writes · 4 years

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Part 1

Co-written with @southerngracela

Summary: You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween… When you arrive, you’re actually kind of excited and intrigued…but it isn’t long until that excitement and intrigue give way to fear when you find yourself in a helpless situation.

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is a collaboration between myself and the wonderful @southerngracela for @jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 challenge…and will be a mini-series, with an as of yet undefined number of chapters.

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"I can't even get in, not even with a press pass, I've been trying for two weeks, Mick!” you looked at him, your mouth slightly open. You’d told him this countless times at morning briefings. You hadn't even heard back from the organizers about sneaking around the press pass issue and offering an exclusive on the joint, a small fact you kept Mick in the dark about.

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

You glared at his retreating form. What the fuck did he not understand about the situation? Mind you, what did he understand about anything? There was a reason everyone working for him called him Mick The Prick.

There was also a reason he was being extra prickish to you. Earlier in the spring time of the year you’d run an article on Ransom Drysdale- the stuck up, trust fund asshole who had literally gotten away with murder. He’d confessed to murdering his grandfather’s house keeper, attempting to murder his grandfather and then, in a violent showdown with 2 police officers and a private detective present, he’d attempted to murder his grandfather’s nurse, Marta. And he would have succeeded, except the knife he’d used had been a stage prop. It was like some fucked up Murder, She Wrote plot, and when you’d interviewed the real life Jessica Fletcher (in this case the rather charming PI named Benoit Blanc who’d been a character to say the least) it got even more confusing. Ransom had hired Blanc in some elaborate scheme to frame Marta for Harlan’s death to do her out of the inheritance via the Slayer Rule. That had back fired spectacularly when she had unwittingly switched back the vials of medication Drysdale had tampered with, meaning Harlan had truly committed suicide.

The article was supposed to be done showing his side of the story, a way for him to set the record straight, but the more you’d dug and spoken to people surrounding the case, the more you were absolutely convinced of his guilt, not least because he’d been acquitted on the murder and attempted murder charges on technical grounds due to his confession being, allegedly, obtained under duress and without a brief being present. The only thing they’d managed to pin on him was the arson which had burnt the Chief Medical Examiner’s office to the ground, and when his brief had successfully argued mitigating circumstances- he wasn’t of sound mind given the shock surrounding him being cut from his grandfather’s will- he’d basically ended up being released on license.

It was a joke, and that was basically what your article had said. You’d written a scathing attack on how money could basically render you untouchable by the law, highlighting the failures of the Criminal Justice System. At the time, Mick the Prick had been delighted with it, publishing it under your suggested head line “Murder, He Wrote”- ha, go figure, and copies had flown off the shelves, the article online going viral.

And then money had talked once more, and the Drysdale’s had threatened to sue for defamation. That in itself was a joke, as you knew full well his mother, Linda, was only doing it to salvage her own reputation, the same reason she’d worked so hard to find a lawyer to get him off the charges despite the fact she knew full well he was guilty as sin. Mick The Prick had attempted to throw you under the bus spectacularly when the board had come looking for blood, but as editor the buck stopped with him, and he was given a formal warning whilst you were forced to publish a retraction and offer a written apology much to your utter chagrin.

Which was why he was now making your life as hard as possible, and your Investigative Journalism skills, that you’d honed over the last decade; from high school paper, college tribune and now your current employer, over the last 10 years or so since graduation were now being focussed on covering stories about housewives who found Jesus’ face in a slice of toast, or in this case a fucking Celebrity Host Halloween Haunted House review. Whereas you had dominated the first 2 pages once upon a time, you were now lucky if you made it further up than page 11.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

By the end of your day, you were burning what felt like the midnight oil however it wasn't very late at all. Dark had settled in but it wasn't late by time. Just before you were to log off and leave for the night, a TV dinner and pint of mint chip waiting for you in your freezer (and probably a job search too seeing as you would no doubt be fired tomorrow morning for failing on your deadline) your email pinged on your desktop. You frowned at it, wondering who could possibly be emailing you this late but then you recognized the sender.

It was the reply you'd been waiting on from the organizers from the Celebrity Host Haunted House. Clicking the email open, your eyes scanned the message. The organizer was setting you up with a private tour, TONIGHT. "9 pm," you finished reading aloud, relief flooding your entire body. It meant a long assed, sleepless night whilst you wrote your article, but it was better than the looming threat of unemployment. Plus, on the upside, as it was a charity gig the organizer had pulled out the big guns and the blurb on the email told you that it was to feature none other than Lucas Lee, a once-upon-a-time famous A-List Movie star, who was possibly just as arrogant as Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you had to give it to him, in the films you’d seen he was actually damned good, and also pretty hot so…every cloud.

Glancing at your clock, you had just enough time to clock out and grab a quick bite at a drive thru on your way. The location was nearly an hour outside the city so you needed to get gone and fast. A quick reply telling the organizer you were on your way was sent out and you grabbed your coat, pulling it on over your sweater dress and were gone.

It took a good hour like you'd estimated and that was with stopping for a quick meal, to reach the address your GPS brought you to. It was creepy even at its first glance so you could only hope this payed off. With a quick swig of your watered down and flat fountain drink, you grabbed your bag and phone, exiting your vehicle and locking it shut. The cool night air bit at your exposed cheeks and you were glad you'd worn your coat and tights.

As you stood, gazing at the dilapidated house you shivered, as though, ice had replaced you spine. The walkway leading up to house was cracked, blood red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate and the moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the house. Vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the of the house's walls which showed the black decay of neglect, in between which splotches of original paint hinted at the house’s former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey and you gave another shudder, as far as first impressions went, yeah, it was fitting for a Halloween Haunted House tour.

Pulling out your phone, noticing you had no reception (of course you wouldn’t, wasn’t that the cliché?) you took a few photos to use in the article and then gave a little squeak as the door creaked open on its own. Arching your eyebrow slightly, in a manner very much like the man you were here to meet, you strode forward and into the house. Immediately a musty, dank odour crept into your nose. The house was deadly silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans typically associated with a property that age. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling of the tall hallway you stood in and the windows that framed the door on either side were covered with grime and dirt meaning the calm moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays, the main source of light being the open doorway. Sharp shadows roamed around the room and as your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed that there was a bright white envelope almost perched on the wooden table to the side of the hall. It was the newest thing in the room, so was obviously there for you.

You crossed over, the heels of your suede boots clicking loudly out in the silence of the hallway, and gently reached out for the envelope. A single word- Start- was written on the front in cursive, looping scrawl, very fitting for a spooky note. Another detail you committed to memory for your write up. You slid your finger into the crook of the envelope and slid it open. Inside was a small, white card, containing a message written in the same writing.

To ensure that you don’t become tomorrow’s big news, In this envelope you’ll find the first of 6 clues Of your super sleuth skills you should be proud, So make sure that you read your answers out loud. As one by one they lead to your ultimate demise. Which may or may not be a scary surprise…

Okay, now you were interested. This wasn’t just a walk through some scary assed, supposedly haunted house where Lucas Lee was no doubt set to jump out at you in some ridiculous disguise. This was a scavenger hunt, and your natural inquisitiveness was piqued. 'This could be fun', you thought as you reached for the next card that was in the envelope, reading the first clue.

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but, not enough to prevent cold

You pondered for a second, heat was leading you to think of a fire, and they certainly grew shorter with time, well eventually when they burnt out…but then again, the longer they went the hotter they got, and they certainly prevented the cold. Scanning the hallway for anything that might fit the description, your eyes flicked up to the ceiling which held an elaborate, but tarnished candelabra style chandelier. And then it hit you. Tall when young, short when old.

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

At that the door leading to the outside slammed shut behind you, and you gave an involuntary scream as the dominant source of light was sealed off. You spun round to look at it, and then your scream turned in to a laugh as you shook your head, for an Investigative Reporter you prided yourselves on steely nerves but so far that was twice this adventure had caught you off guard.

Turning back round, you then spotted that the door at the end of the hall was open, and you could clearly make out a Jack-o-Lantern looking at you, the candle inside flickering. Its face was creepy, really creepy. The nose and eyes were harsh triangles and the grotesque, twisted smile it sported was constructed of sharp, jagged teeth. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You may have had no service, but the flashlight was working. Keeping the light held in front of you so you could watch your step on the cracked tiles of the hall, you made your way towards the lantern and found yourself in a large, run down kitchen. The lantern and your flash-light provided the only light in the room as the windows were all overshadowed by gnarly trees, their branches every so often scratching the glass as they swayed slightly in the wind outside. The only other sound to be heard was the drip, drip of the faucet in the porcelain Belfast sink.

A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound

“Oh come on…” you muttered, “That’ ones obvious. Knife, the answer is knife…” You picked up your phone and shone it around the various surfaces of the kitchen and your eyes honed in on a wooden knife block containing a solitary knife. You crossed the room towards it and as you closed in on it, you noticed that the handle of the knife was an ornate silver filigree. It was no ordinary kitchen knife and as you pulled it form the block you realised it was in fact a dagger, antique by the looks of things. The blade was curved slightly, reaching a sharp point, the silver tarnished. But the more you looked at it, the more you suddenly became horribly aware that it wasn’t merely a dullness of colour at all. It was blood.

“Dramatic…” you mumbled, and with a sigh you then realised there was no clue attached to it. Was this a distraction? A decoy? You were just about to stat ransacking drawers to find the actual knife you needed, when you glanced back at the block the dagger had been held in and noticed a flash of white peeking from underneath. Picking it up and moving it aside you smiled as you saw the same cursive writing, spelling out the word three. Seeing as you might as well play along, you used the dagger to slit the envelope open, tossing it back down on the counter as you read the next clue.

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

You fell silent, your mind racing to how the hell you were going to find a piano in this decrepit and yet enormous house. Then, your ears heard it. The subtle note from deep inside the house. It was a single key. But now that wasn't your concern, no, it wasn't the mice or the bugs or even the brown water. Your heart raced at the notion that someone was in fact in the house with you.

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Step by step you followed the note that chimed every few steps and you found yourself beginning to wonder if it was a recording or if someone were really playing it, timing their play with the sound of your boots over the rotting floor. You wound your way through the narrow hall, ancient wall paper peeling from its tack, mastick and plaster falling away to reveal studs in places.

Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room.

The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host.

“Get a grip Y/N” you mumbled to yourself. You were surprised to find just how much this place was starting to set your nerves on edge. You took a deep breath, the pounding of blood in your ears began to quiet and you took a look around the room. There was no one in there with you, you were alone.

With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream.

Not for the first time, you had to admire the effort Lucas was going to here. It was clear he had a flare for the dramatic, anyone could see that from his films and interviews but this was pretty damned good. It was making you wonder how he was doing it. Was he somewhere watching, pressing buttons to enact the various parts of his show? Instinctively you glanced up, looking for a camera or something you were being monitored by but you found no evidence of anything.

“Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat.

“Window. It’s a window.”

Usually, at that point, something happened to point your attention to the place you should be looking but this time, there was nothing. Instinctively you looked out of the one on the wall by the piano, but as you stared at nothing but the darkness outside you realised that was too obvious. Just then your ears picked up a sound you couldn’t quite figure out, but it was familiar all the same. And then it came to you, it was the familiar click and clack of a skateboard, the wheels gliding over the brittle old floor and you span round in the direction it was coming from to see a window you hadn’t noticed before, this one was an ornate, stained glass window which bore some kind of flower design that faced directly out into the hall.

He passed by slower than a flash but just enough to allow you to catch only a glimpse. You audibly gasped, your breath coming in a sharp intake of fright, because until then you had been alone on this chase. But it appeared you dramatic host had finally come out to play. He was merely a shadow, bulky in frame, tall and dressed all in black as he moved past but it was enough to puzzle you. You didn’t remember Lucas being that broad, or tall. With a frown you ran into the hall to catch him but saw nothing, and heard nothing, the only thing to indicate he had been there was a faint smell of the cedar and amber of what you assumed to be cologne.

You paced quickly down the hall in the direction the figure had gone but as you passed the stairwell the light flickered on, instantly attracting your attention. You’d only briefly noticed the ornate staircase before, but with the lack of light you certainly hadn’t noticed the writing on the wall, dripping in fresh paint. Swallowing, as you mouth suddenly felt dry with fear you stepped onto the first stair, and as soon as you did you were plunged into almost complete black. Letting out a shriek as, once again, he’d managed to get the drop on you, you shook your head and reached for your phone, taking another few steps up so you were level with the next clue which you read aloud.

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize.” You bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination.

Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Alongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background. And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby.

You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway.

This room was a little lighter thanks to a lamp which stood on a nightstand. It wasn’t bright, by any means, but it was enough so that you could clearly see the bed in the middle of the room. And there, placed by the pillows was a thin box. On unsteady legs, you shuffled slowly towards the bed, the box before you making you quiver, your insides churning. A shaky hand tilted the lid open slowly, afraid something would pounce in a sneak attack. You shut your eyes ready to protect them in case a bat or bugs flew at you and when nothing happened, you opened them slowly and inspected the boxes contents. There was no envelope this time, just copy of a newspaper. Your newspaper. And you felt your blood run cold as you recognise the bold headline across the top. Murder, He Wrote: A twisted tale of Inheritance, Crime and Exoneration "Drysdale," you whispered in realization. But now, while you were well aware of what the article meant and who it was referring to, your brain shut down processing how on earth Lucas Lee and Ransom could possibly be connected. Your breathing deepened and you moved to pick up the article, but then the lid to the box caught your eye and you froze, for on the inside of the lid was another clue, only this one was a straight forward question which was spelled out using cut-out letters from the newspaper in question.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath. And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.

*****

When Y/N went limp in his arms, Ransom laid her across the bed only leaving the room to hurriedly cover his tracks, blowing out candles and removing any trace of her that had been in the house. His time as his grandfather's research assistant gave him far more experience than it should have. When he returned to the bedroom she was still out cold but light as a feather as he carried her downstairs and out the back door to the awaiting SUV, smug that his plan had gone so well.

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

He drove away from the scene of his new crime towards the city, driving through the dead of night, on the beltway, and continued twenty minutes outside downtown Boston before pulling into the garage of a large red cedar and quartzite home. He killed the engine and closed the garage door, pulling Y/N from the seat she was slumped in when it was clear to do so.

He couldn't be seen, he wouldn't be seen. He carried her inside the spacious home, his boots tapping heavily against the dark marble floor of the kitchen and finally the lush carpeted staircase that wound down into the basement.

This is where he laid her, in the basement, on a bed, but not just any bed, the one that would now become hers. He adjusted the lighting in the space, low enough not to disturb her, but bright enough to give the room a glow so he could finish what he'd set out to do. In the shock of the struggle in the bedroom, she’d dropped her phone and he’d made sure to smash it long before he left the haunted house, making sure there'd be no device to track her. He'd already disposed of her car while she was playing his little game, every loose end as far as he could see was tied up.

And now she was all his.

He brushed the hair away from Y/N’s face where it had fallen over her eyes. With gloved hands he manoeuvred her undone, black woollen coat off her body, leaving her in the bottle green turtle neck sweater dress and thick tights she was wearing before he tossed it over the chair in the corner of the room and then undid the zips on her brown suede knee high boots. He dropped them to the floor, kicking them towards the same corner with the equal carelessness he’d shown her coat. With a final meticulous movement he rearranged her on the bed, so he’d appear more comfortable and just before he left the room, he wrapped the cool, metallic cuff around the ankle. It locked in place with a clink and with a final glance at her still unconscious form, he turned and exited the room, the door latching shut and with the snap of the deadbolt he locked her in.

*****

Your head pounded, your nose burned and your mouth felt dry with the faintest taste of something foul lingering as you swallowed. The light was low but still your eyes ached. You tried to decipher exactly what the hell had happened to you while you got your bearings. You tried to sit up but your body felt heavy, the soft bed you now realized you were lying on was not your own. Your breathing rapidly increased as you started to move in fear but a clink caused a screech to escape your throat. You felt the weight of the cuff around your ankle and a full panic set it.

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

You remembered getting the email from the Haunted Mansion supposedly hosted by Lucas Lee. You had arrived and were sent on what you thought was a fun and exhilarating maze littered with clues and riddles and then you remembered the last piece of the puzzle. You gasped as you remembered how his breath felt hot on your skin and how his voice registered in your mind.

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!"

The door to your room, now coming into focus around you, flew open and there he stood, smug smirk, raging ocean blue eyes, hair neatly in place, dismantling frame clothed in a black sweater and dark denim, heavy footfalls sounding against the thick carpet under his feet.

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away.

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask.

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"I...I'm not, don't call me that," you spat defiantly as he moved closer, taking you in, his predatory eyes moving over your body. This was it, you were going to die all because some trust fund prick was a hurt baby about an article (that you forcibly apologized for) revealing the sick and sadistic truth about him, his family, money and the justice system.

"Are you gonna kill me?” You watched him carefully as he crossed the room towards you, trying to keep your voice calm so as not to betray the utter fear that was coursing through your veins at the fact you were trapped, fuck knows where, shackled to a bed with a murderer being your captor. “That's what this is about, right? My apology wasn't enough?"

"Your apology was forced bullshit.” He responded, his voice carried a hint of amusement, because of course, this was all a game to him. “You smeared my name, dragged my reputation though the mud and you expected an apology like that, half assed and full of more crap than your original hatchet piece, to be enough?" He was standing damn near over you now, a hand moving up your leg that was held by the cuff, your body frozen in a confused silent argument of fight or flight.

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

"No. I. Didn't." He lied and you had to hand it to him, a lesser person might have bought the garbage he was talking, because he was good at it. Lying must have been enough of a second nature for him that he actually believed everything he said himself. But then again, it wasn't actually a lie was it? Sure, he'd planned on indirectly killing Harlan and that plan had backfired and Harlan had actually slit his own throat. So at most he was indirectly responsible for his death, but none of that had stuck with the prosecution and so now here he was, a free man.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked.

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow.

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

"Try me, you son of a...." You didn't expect his lips to cover yours but they did. Unexpectedly warm and soft, despite the painfully harsh kiss. You managed to pull away but his hand still gripped at your throat and you felt the fear constricting your chest. But you were damned if you were going to show him a shred of weakness.

“You’re an asshole, Hugh…” It was all you had, the only thing you could use in your arsenal given your situation. You still had your voice. And you’d noticed that for whatever reason he appeared to hate that name.

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

“Or what? You'll kill me?” your voice rose in both volume and pitch as your desperation began to show. “We both know you're gonna do that once you've fulfilled whatever sick, twisted little fantasy this is. What are you waiting for, Hugh? Huh?”

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

You stayed stock still as large and surprisingly gentle hands trailed your curves up the outside of your thighs to your hips. As he reached the hem of your sweater dress he paused as you wrapped your hands around his wrists.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“This will be much easier if you just play-along, sweetheart” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. You let go of his wrists and raised your hands, laying them over the wool of his cable knit, palms flat against the plain of muscle as you attempted to push him off.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand. His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” He ground out, his lips inches from your ear as he nipped at your skin. He was impressively strong and balanced, his weight even through his body as he kept his knees between your legs, a hand against your breast and the other stroking your sides and up your thigh. All the while, his lips sucked at your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point as you turned your head away, tears filling your eyes

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

“I told you not to call me that.” He growled against your skin and pulled back, his eyes blazing as they locked on to yours. In sheer desperation, you managed to wrench a free hand from between you and gave him a slap, nails biting at his skin. Instantly you knew you’d pissed him off. His nostrils flared, his jaw set and as his eyes filled with fire and rage.

And you knew then, you were in for it.

“Bitch…” he snarled as he raised his left hand to his face where you had struck him, and then both his hands grabbed yours, yanking your arms up, pinning them above your head. You bucked upwards, violently in an attempt to shake him off, but it was futile. He was far too strong. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and despite yourself you let out a small whimper of fear.

In one hand he had the ability to cuff both of your wrists and he did so while his other grabbed at your dress, shoving it further up your body, fingers curling over the waist of your tights and panties, a handful of the material fisted in his palm. They wouldn't slide down quick enough and you felt your body lift away from the mattress slightly as he ripped away the material, the snap burning your skin. You fought, boy did you fight. You had no control of your hands or arms as he had them easily pinned, but your legs and the rest of your body gave as good as they could. You thrashed from side to side all the time screaming your objections. You drew your knees up to your chest in an attempt to buck him off. You screamed protests, threw every insult you had at him, but it was no use. He was simply too strong.

He didn't even bother with his belt or button, he just unzipped the flies on his jeans, pulled his solid cock free and slid in. You were wetter than you expected to be, but it still burned with friction and ached from the thick stretch against your tight walls. It hurt, definitely hurt.

"You know you want this. I know you want this." He rasped as he pulled out before thrusting back in, his face twisted in a look that was halfway between being smug and satisfied. Just looking at him made you feel sick but for some reason you were unable to look away as he continued his slow assault, before he picked up the pace slightly, his groans of satisfaction filling the room as he bottomed out, balls deep and it was at that point you closed your eyes and tried to block out what he was doing to you. But try as you might to remain mentally detached from the situation, your body was anything but. And the more he moved in and out of you, the more you could feel your physical reactions. You were powerless to stop them and the heat between your legs and in between your belly was spiking with each thrust into you.

It felt good. And you knew it shouldn’t. So you fought it, but eventually, you couldn't fight it anymore, not with the way his thick cock filled you, velvety smooth skin sliding in and out of your defiant core. You didn't want to cum, but your body told your brain it was going to and Ransom nearly puffed his chest as he fucked you into your body's submission.

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you, Sweetheart? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

“Fuck, yeah…see…” Ransom’s hips began to move faster, and then with a sudden movement he pulled out of you, making you wince involuntarily at the sting. He shot his load all over your thighs, a growl bubbling from his throat, the warmth of his release trickling down your leg made you feel even more dirty than you already did.

“Not so fucking smart are we now, huh, miss Investigative Reporter…” his snap was snide, and childish, but you knew he couldn’t help himself. Your head remained defiantly in its position on the pillow, turned to the right, eyes focussed on a spot on the wall. “Look at me, bitch.”

When you didn’t do as he asked, he grabbed your chin bruisingly, making you wince as he pulled your face round so he could see you. You knew he would be able to see the tears on your face, and you hated that. Hated that he would see how much he’d hurt you, scared you even,

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat.

"That's all you got? You're a fucking child, Drysdale. It's why you’re doing this." You said, your voice trembling and croaking from the fear and exertion of what he had just put you through and you shook your head. “You’re a fucking man child with mommy and daddy issues. A spoilt, little whiney brat who can’t bear to be told no.”

That struck a nerve, you could tell, as his jaw clenched tight and his fists clenched around the sheets by your side to the point they were shaking. He grabbed your chin once more with his right hand and pinned your face still, forcing your eyes to look back at his

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

As you looked at him, you felt your anger starting to simmer. This fucking ass hole had just raped you, and he had the gall to be saying you were going to tell him that you were sorry. No chance in hell. You knew you were screwed, literally and figuratively. Whilst he had you captive behind a bolted door, shackled to a bed you had nowhere to go, he knew that you knew that too and you could see it in his face as a smug smirk flickered on his lips. Well fuck this, if you were going down it was with a fight. With a sudden movement, that caught him off guard you moved your head slightly as much as you could in his painful grip, and spat right in his face.

Ransom blinked, his anger morphing to shock, then back to fury once more as he released your face and with a flash of his hand he back handed you straight across the face. The blow to your right cheek snapped your head to the left, sucking the breath from your lungs and leaving you a little dazed.

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

***** Ransom stormed up the steps to the kitchen of the house, slamming the top door behind him and bolting that one shut too. He was furious that little bitch had scratched him and no doubt marked his face. He strode over the marble tiles of the room and walked into the large hallway and across into the den. He made his way straight to the bar, poured himself a healthy measure of good scotch, slopping a little on the dark wooden counter, before he glanced up at the large mirrored surface of the bar behind the shelves.

He could make out three vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby.

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end.

The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his.

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** Part 2

#murder he wrote #j's haunted house 2020 #dark ransom #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale #reader insert #chris evans #chris evans characters

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tyrannosaurus-trainwreck · 3 years

Text

The one thing I don’t really understand about the whole Joss Whedon thing is takes like this:

The community’s sense of shock and betrayal could be seen in part as an indictment of the culture of fandom itself. “As fans, we have a bad habit of deifying those whose work we respect,” Kurtz, the comic-book artist, told me. “When you build these people up so big they have nowhere to go but down, I don’t know why we’re surprised when they turn out to be fallible humans who fall.” (from the Vulture article making the rounds)

Literally all Whedon had to do was produce the work he produced and be an okay dude. That was it. This is not some unscalable peak, some unfordable river, some impossible dream.

Like, yes, please, by all means stop acting like an artist’s output is any indicator of their personal worth, their personal morality, whether or not they’re a decent person, etc. There’s not actually any kind of correlation between the two, it’s a bad idea in general, there’s no real upside to it, blah blah blah.

But can we, for the love of all things holy and un-, not then turn around and act like “Don’t be an active shitheel” is an unreachable standard of behavior? Can we save the “fallible human” speeches for shit like needing to go to rehab, or having an affair with a costar and getting divorced, or handling your money so badly that you do a lot of shitty projects because you need the dough, or being Perfectionist McGee to the point where it makes you kind of difficult to work with, or putting your career ahead of your family? Notably: things that tend to blow over quickly in terms of needing the “fallible human” speech, since the reasonable fans settle down post-revelation and the unreasonable ones burn their swag and move on to their next idol.

Whedon could be described as going down--in a very gentle, controlled descent toward a very soft landing on a very high plateau--prior to it becoming extremely common knowledge that he’s a raging asshole, but it was largely because he hadn’t updated his writing in two decades and people were getting tired of seeing the same things out of every new Whedon project even as the cultural milieu drifted farther away from anything that gave those things relevance.

People got less and less forgiving of certain tropes Whedon leaned on as they aged poorly, sure, but he still enjoyed broad acceptance as a ‘90s dude-feminist who’d done groundbreaking work and then gotten lazy. It wasn’t even that inexplicable, given the slacker ethos popularized just as he was starting to take off--one of the primary benefits of Making It was supposed to be that you could do what you were interested in doing with people who were more friends than coworkers and still get paid. (Further illustrating the concept: 90% of Adam Sandler’s filmography, practically everything directed by Kevin Smith since 1997.) And probably most people would have said that his feminism seemed sincere, if shallow and dated.

All that would have been required to maintain that whole perception was, again, to not be an active shitheel.

Especially at the level he hit after Buffy was a huge and obvious success, where if you have relatively decent intentions, you don’t even have to be like “Wow, my interpersonal skills in this regard are subpar, I should work on that!” You can just hire people to handle stuff you’re not great at. “People get upset when I forget their birthdays, I’m shit at remembering birthdays, somebody place an ad for a PA to remember birthdays for me.” is a perfectly acceptable move for a rockstar showrunner to make--but it does require you to care that people are getting upset and want them to be happy instead.

Practically none of the stories that gained any traction were of the “he could be a thoughtless dick” or “he was an exacting director” stripe, though. The stuff that stood out to people--the stuff they’ve been putting on social media and telling reporters about--has all been about incidents where he was really clearly out to hurt someone. Because they disappointed him, because he could, as a warning to everyone else in the room, whatever, everyone’s on the same page that it was done deliberately.

See also, sleeping around. Would literally anyone have ever cared about who he had consensual sex with if he’d a) not been married to someone to whom he’d promised monogamy and b) excluded employees and teenagers? Probably not! And that’s still an absolutely enormous pool of potential sex partners! But you do have to want a lot of sex with hot women instead of wanting to emotionally abuse hot women willing to have sex with you.

The bar is just so goddamn low. Trotting out the fallible-human thing when people tunnel under it really doesn’t help.

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ficforthought · 4 years

Text

On being SO DONE with M*sha, a rant a decade in the making!

After giving this some thought I'm going to go ahead and give my opinion on Misha and yesterday’s situation in public for the first time ever. I was going to just post on Twitter but since this has been 12 years in the making I have exceeded the number of tweets I can put in one thread! There’s A LOT in here, so my summary is also long. I'm aware that I will lose followers over this, I'm not looking to offend anyone but it will inevitably happen. I wish anyone leaving all the best as fellow human beings.

TL;DR - having kept quiet for so long I’ve finally reached my limit and it’s all come bubbling out. I’ve never been a fan of Misha, I’ve been ambivalent for the most part, but have never criticised him in any hateful way, that's not who I am, but after all these years of putting up with his bullshit, attention seeking and troublemaking I am DONE. Deleting his tweet containing the word Wincest and replacing it with an APOLOGY just to pander to his Minions and save face is the straw that broke the camel's back. He has consistently pushed his ship on not only fans but on other actors (despite Jensen's discomfort, and him having repeatedly made his feelings known on it), he has stood by while his Minions/Hellers have harassed, victimised, doxxed and sent death threats to people based on their FICTIONAL ships. He has pandered to their gatekeeping, constantly demanded attention in obvious and not so obvious ways, and to the best of my knowledge never criticised their actions even though he's aware of it in a very real way. Some of his Minions have now taken their shit into The Boys fandom and created negativity for Jensen before the guy has even got a foot through the set door, and how is that supporting one half of your ship?

Misha has claimed to be a victim of targeted harassment from Wincest/brother fans (not only shippers) yet his fans have said and done the most despicable things on his watch, all in the name of what he must think is entertainment, or even his idea of a ‘joke’.

Any respect I had for the man based on his humanitarian work has gone because I can only take so much hypocrisy. He and his pandering because of a desperate attempt to be woke and wholly inclusive (which is actually impossible, no matter how good intentions are) are beyond pathetic. Whilst I have never seen why people think he’s so great I have friends IRL and online who genuinely adore the man, yet they have been shocked and upset by his contempt for half of the fandom that made him somewhat famous. It's disgusting and I'm not scrolling by any more. Misha, I hope to never see you on anything J2 related in future because none of us need that kind of negativity, *especially* not J2. Be gone, foul fiend!

OK, so to the too long part. Please be aware that these are my opinions as a fan of the show, of Sam and Dean, and J2, not only as a shipper. I can separate canon and fanon, and can view canon from a gen or shippy PoV. Whether you agree or disagree with my opinion let me be clear that I do not condone constant bashing and hate of a person or character so this isn’t the start of a regular thing for me. It's possible to have an opinion and not show the same vitriol that has been following this man around for years, and that’s what I’m doing. I've not posted this to prompt more negativity, it's simply to get it off my chest and make it clear how I feel. I stand by my philosophy of ship who you want to ship, enjoy it, but don't force it on other people and don't be a dick about it…hmm, that kinda sounds like familiar behaviour, though, does it not?!

I have ABSOLUTELY NO ISSUE with other people liking Misha, Cas or Destiel when it’s for the love of the characters and the ship. What I *do* have an issue with is people who are the true definition of a Heller. I don’t see that as a generic term, don't be ignorant and think I do because I know the difference between actual ship fans and the crazies, both ships have ‘em and I want no part of either of their venom. If you are reading this and class yourself as a Heller then you are part of the problem so run along and as you are all so fond of saying, 'get help' and take your bestie king with you.

I’m stating my opinion in what I feel is the most mature way I can, because unlike many people on SM, I am an adult and can act accordingly, with forethought and without resorting to temper tantrums and bullying of other people to get my point across. I am able to tell the difference between reality and fiction, I don't tar everyone with the same shipper brush and I don't expect everyone to agree with my opinion, but as we know opinions are like arseholes, we all have them and sometimes they stink. Unlike some, for the most part in life (online and offline) I *do* stand by what I say and don’t backtrack or delete things to appease the masses. I have spent a lot of time writing this out to be as clear as possible without being intentionally hateful. Bear with me jumping between actor and character where relevant, at this point they're conjoined. I will say this before I go any further, it doesn’t end well for Misha, I don’t mince my words and if you don’t like seeing facts and opinions laid out, this isn't the post for you.

I’ll say right off the bat what most of you have surmised - I’ve never held Misha (or Cas) in high esteem but I have never *hated* on him. I have shared mild criticism of his actions and opinions on Cas over the years but never, I feel, in any way that has made me feel I have something to apologise for. I have said several times I've been unhappy about Misha crashing con panels, taking attention away from J2 when at those cons *most* people paid their hard earned money to see the STARS of the show they love, first and foremost, and anyone else is a very nice bonus. The odd appearance here and there crashing a panel is fine (and Misha isn’t the first or last person to do it), maybe take up a few minutes then leave, but when someone commandeers an entire panel, that's just not on. It's not only selfish, rude and attention seeking but also disrespectful to other actors, fans and to the organisers who work hard to make sure everything ties in to give us the best con experience we can have. Everyone gets their turn on stage, there's no need to try and hog any more of the limelight, Veruca Salt style. Oh, and if you’re reading this and not getting that reference, (a) you shouldn’t be on my blog because you’re far too young, (b) look it up, and if you still don’t get what I’m saying… well then please refer to point (a). Thank you, kindly!

There was a time in Kripke's era where Cas was - I feel - intentionally used as a pawn by the writers to divert *canon* from the ‘questionable’ relationship between Sam and Dean, i.e. Wincest focus. Prior to that people (other fans) lightened up and just accepted the fact that Wincest had been there since day one in terms of the writing of the show and the fandom. All the cast and crew knew - J2, Kripke and JDM in particular - and made light of it, never judging, never shaming and often encouraging it because they understand it’s a fun part of fandom. Wincest was present enough to be part of the not so subtle subtext, as I said people just accepted it. Kink tomato was alive and well, so was ‘don’t like, don’t read’ and we all just scrolled over things we didn’t like without turning everything into a personal vendetta and excuse for bullying others who didn’t share our views. When the angels came into the plot I think most of us Wincest fans gave the Dean/Cas innuendos the small laugh they deserved and then turned back to the focus of the show which was the brothers, as it had always been intended. Misha, however, milked those moments as much as possible which was amusing at the start but got old *very* quickly, not just for fans (shippers and non shippers alike), but for other actors, in particular Jensen who is on record MULTIPLE times showing his dislike for Destiel. He told people outright that's not how he was playing the relationship between the two characters and CATEGORICALLY said "Destiel doesn't exist" but did it end there? No, it did not because neither fans or Misha let it go, in fact Misha only pushed more, goaded fans into flogging the same dead horse as much as possible. He’s never stopped, not even when there was so much discord in the fandom, a huge wedge was driven into it because of ships, which IMO he heavily contributed to.

Fast forward to over a decade later (a decade, seriously man, let it fucking go!) he didn’t even stop when Destiel did partially go canon. I have never doubted that Cas loved Dean (Sam, too) because in SPN lore angels are made to love, even rebellious ones. I, along with many others, liked that about Cas because who doesn't love a rebel, especially one rebelling for very good reasons, and because of those two wonderful men? Sam and Dean allowed him to see beyond what he'd been brainwashed to believe his entire existence. The fact is that although the nature of that love changed for Cas, it never did for Dean and was CANONICALLY UNREQUITED because Dean was incapable of loving anyone else as much as he loved Sam. All that mattered to Dean, even when he saw other characters as "family" was still Sam…ALWAYS Sam, every step of the way. Again for those who have too much Misha shaped wax in their ears, that’s canon. Whether people choose to see that love platonically or romantically is up to them, soulmates don't always have to be romantic, either way, brotherly love won out above all else on the show. No amount of Misha screaming ‘hey look, Destiel!’ changed that, but it sure didn’t stop him trying, did it?

So now that the obvious has been stated, here's something else we all know - never once in all of the years on the show did Misha drop rallying of the troops to his precious, ego stroking ship. Never once (that I am aware of) has he called out his Minions and Hellers on their continued harassment of everyone involved in the show and other fans despite the fact that they have bullied, victimised and wished bodily harm, rape and death on people who don't see their ship and because didn't get the ending to the story that they wanted. Not once has Misha shown any remorse for the trauma his "fans" have caused, and I’m taking REAL trauma, here, not the kind Twitter stans see as ‘triggering’ - people have been driven to close SM accounts, attempted, and in some cases succeeded in taking their own lives. These Minions have openly mocked Jared’s struggles with depression and anxiety, and Misha - who claims to be friends with J2 and be supportive of them in every way - has stood by and let it all play out, knowing full well some of the goings on, if not the full extent of how toxic these people are. We know he sees things being said online, and I have absolutely no doubt he spends time online searching his name for things that are relevant in some way to him in an effort to insert himself into a current conversation, or even start one so that attention is on him. Gotta stay relevant, somehow, right, Mish?

He has actively encouraged bullying by his actions of enabling the behaviours above, both by the flogging of the aforementioned dead horse, AND by not objecting to unacceptable behaviours. Remember when Minions and Hellers were slating J2, particularly Jared, for not posting on SM about BLM and other topics? Yeah, he didn’t ask them to stop doing that, either, even when he was tagged in things along the lines of ‘If Misha can post why can’t J2?’ etc. There have been some token protests, con vids I've seen have show his 'objections' which IMO have been done in a very tongue in cheek way, meaning that those people who needed to be pulled aside and told to change their ways just carried on, because their evil overlord didn’t explicitly explain it in terms a three year old could understand that bullying and forcing your opinion on others is WRONG. Not all of his cult are young and impressionable, not by a long shot, but many of the more vocal and vitriolic ones are.

As a father himself I wonder what Misha would do if he found out that his kids were behaving in ways his Minions are? I’m aware they’re young, but kids are cruel and bullying doesn’t just happen online. Even at whatever age they are, would he laugh it off the way he appears to have done with all of this fandom toxicity? Not bloody likely! I wonder if he’s as desperate to gain the approval of his family, friends and colleagues as he appears to be for that of his Minions/Hellers? I would certainly hope so, but that question can only be answered by Misha, himself, and I can and will not presume to speak on someone else's behalf on things in their personal life. For the record I would never presume I know what J2's answers would be on anything, however I do feel that after 15 years I have an accurate gauge on what kind of people they are so would be confident that any opinion I had on a matter aligns with their morals and ethics. As much as J2 have shared of themselves with us - willingly and under no pressure to do so, I might add - we don't *know* them, but we know enough to have an informed opinion. I can’t say the same for Misha because based on the behaviour he’s repeatedly displayed, things I've heard about from other fans as well as people I know IRL who have had direct dealings with him through cons or GISH (including some very actively in the early days when it was GISHWHES) he just hasn’t seemed like a person I wanted to follow on SM. I’ve never watched any of his solo panels, though I have watched ones with both or one of the J's, mostly being left irritated because of his behaviour. Watching the J’s put up with that shit is painful, and it’s a testament to how good they are as actors that they managed to hide at least some of their disdain for as long as they did. Microexpressions give them away, particularly Jensen, and they certainly have faces I have spent many years watching closely. Beautiful faces to go with beautiful souls, both of them! <3

I have precisely ZERO interest in Destiel as a ship, very little interest in Cas as a character anymore (though I did like him in the early days,and his relationship with Jack in late seasons) so I have absolutely no reason or desire to follow anything Misha does. That said, I've obviously been peripherally aware of some things he's been involved in because of friends, from things I’ve seen on SM and general fandom stuff. Despite the things I've already mentioned about his behaviour, up until now I have been able to maintain a level of respect for him as a person because of the humanitarian and charity work he's done. He seems like someone who really does want to change the world for the better and I am in full support of that fact, so much so that I have supported TWO campaigns relating to him. I bought one of the Super Good t-shirts for the campaign he did with Michael Sheen (a true angel!), the SPN/Good Omens x-over to help homeless charities, and I chose the design with text only and not artwork of Michael and Misha on, basically because I didn’t want to be wearing something with Misha’s face on it and I make absolutely no apology for that, whatsoever. I also bought Alex's #TheEndHasNoEnd shirt, which some of the profits went to Random Acts who do great work, so again, despite not liking Misha I still willingly contributed for a cause bigger than me, and to support Alex, who I absolutely ADORE. I'm aware that Stands aren't popular with some of the fandom, however since most of the cast of SPN are happily affiliated with them then I don't feel it's my place to either judge, or to discuss topics I know next to nothing about. But I digress, as a decent human being I have shown support tangentially to a man who I don't care for out of respect for the work he does outside the fandom. Telling you this isn’t to paint myself in a good light - I don’t need your approval, I’m a big girl, unlike some I don’t need constant validation! - only to provide background on how I’ve actively *not* hated on Misha.

Now though, any respect I had for him has come to an abrupt end, the events of the past 24 hours has seen to that. Whilst I have been annoyed at his behaviour in regards to shipping, I don't feel it's ever gone this far, or at least not that I've seen first hand. This man has, IMO, contributed to so much toxicity in the fandom by way of things I've mentioned before, he's claimed - without actually saying the words - that Wincest fans weren't interested in him as a character when he came onto the show, and hasn’t felt included because of the fans’ love of the brothers. Um, hate to break it to you, love, but when you come onto an established show that is about two people, and you’re a *guest star* you can’t expect everyone to love you. Some characters we as individuals do fall in love with straight away (Bobby, Charlie, Crowley and Rowena are good examples for me), it takes time to establish a dynamic, so if that’s how he felt then it was incredibly naive of him as an actor to expect instant acceptance from anyone. Also, why wait until after the show finished to bring it up AGAIN … oh wait, yeah, that would be to step back into the limelight in a way intended to garner sympathy from Minions and INTENTIONALLY piss off bro fans and Wincest shippers alike? How fucking self centred, desperate and disrespectful do you have to be to shit all over the finale of a show that for the most part accepted you and kept you in paid work for 12 years? Well, Misha Collins levels of all of those things, obviously.

So, on the topics of self centred, desperate to stay relevant, attention seeking and being oh so needy, the tweet yesterday from Amazon mentioned Castiel. He wasn’t tagged in it, so I refer to my earlier comment about searching online, because how else would he have possibly seen that? It’s possible someone sent it to him, I appreciate that, but if we go off past behaviour it’s not any stretch at all to believe that didn’t happen. So, once again, having seen the tweet he took it upon himself to - oh so predictably - turn it into something relating to Destiel. When I saw it I immediately rolled my eyes and thought ‘here we go again’, but then also had a little smile because I really liked the fact that he explicitly mentioned Wincest, therefore seeming to accept that his poor old dead horse wasn’t the only one in the race. I actually mentally tipped my hat to him then because it appeared that he’s matured enough to acknowledge by name the ship that predates his inclusion on the show. Great, I thought, this is a positive thing in a sea of negativity surrounding the man and his sunken ship, because what followed was Wincest trending in the US (it may also have been other countries as well but I had to sleep!) … largely due to the fact that Hellers were responding to it, calling him out on mentioning the dreaded ‘W’ word. I’ll repeat that because it’s been a rare occurrence up to that point… the Minions were actually disappointed with their overlord for mentioning another ship. We all know what they think of it and I for one, don’t give a flying fuck about their opionion. Ship and let ship, it’s all fun (or meant to be) so we have different tastes, that’s life kiddiwinks, deal with it. I mean, you really don’t have much of an example set for you when your king has proven several times over to be one of the biggest obnoxious brats out there, but just give it a try for your own sakes, yeah? Awesome, good on you, besties!

An unexpected development - to my joy and that of other Wincest shippers - them doing that got the topic trending, only *kept* trending by the fact that were all coming online asking why it was trending. Wincest shippers barely lifted a finger, we just flooded each other’s timelines with lovely content and basked in the Hellers - and Misha - shooting themselves in the foot, which was awesome. But did the vitriol stop? No. Did he get the attention he so clearly craves? Yes. Was it in the way he wanted? Fuck no, so poor, emotionally wounded baby backtracked after seeing that his name was trending alongside Wincest because that’s *so* not what someone narcissistic to do it in the first place, wanted.

Now here’s where I could easily have just moved on with an unusually fond chuckle, giving him an ironic pat on the back and a ‘thanks, Misha’ for being the one to instigate hours of fun, but once again his despicable behaviour made that impossible. It’s been more than obvious for many years that he cares more about what his fans think than anything else to do with the show and the fandom in a larger sense, but to delete the tweet and APOLOGISE for daring to be so insensitive to the snowflakes’ delicate sensibilities for mentioning Wincest in the first place was absolutely disgusting. Stating , “I used a term that I had never really given any thought to other than, "that's a thing?! Yuck." is not only complete and utter bullshit, it’s pandering of the highest order.

We all know he has referred to Wincest on multiple occasions, so to say he hadn’t thought about is a flat out lie, which IMO is an insult to everyone, not just Wincest shippers. Does the man have no self respect at all, why would you contradict yourself in the face of such overwhelming evidence? Instead of either ignoring all the people calling him out, or addressing it with another tweet saying ‘yeah, that happened’ or something similar he chose, I repeat, CHOSE the route of claiming he didn’t realise he was being offensive to people who felt ‘triggered’ by him using the word Wincest. He basically shat all over an entire ship and large sector of the fandom in an attempt to appease his own fan base which consists of a lot of children (or those that act like children) who have no idea what RL is like.

Once again, he’s reinforced the idea that if you shout loud enough at someone just because you don’t like something they said, they will back down and apologise for something even when there’s nothing to apologise for. If he wants to be such a role model then he could easily have pointed out that a fictional ship doesn’t condone RL incest, any ACTUAL trauma people have suffered because of RL situations, and made an effort to make sure people understand that. He COULD have used it as an opportunity to do some good in the fandom by encouraging people to build bridges, to accept that people are entitled to their beliefs and that sometimes we see things differently but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t treat others with BASIC HUMAN DECENCY because of it. Instead he YET AGAIN chose to show that he cares more about what Minions think of him, keeping them onside to constantly stroke his unbelievably fragile ego in everything he does.

It is my understanding that Misha is big on (or claims to be big on) putting positive energy out into the world, treating people with respect, helping others and accepting people for who they are, not who you want them to be… all this after YEARS of consistently practising what he preaches only when it suits him. He sends out a message that it’s perfectly OK to bully, to spread hate, to draw attention to yourself at the cost of others, to throw colleagues and friends under the bus and at the same time use them to further your own agenda and get hits for your YouTube channel. Is this really the legacy he wants to leave? Is this an environment he wants his own kids to grow up in as well as future generations? Is this what he thinks is a valuable contribution as a human being? JFC, the arrogance, hypocrisy and the need for constant validation this man exhibits is nothing short of cringeworthy… actually it’s beyond that. It’s deplorable behaviour, it’s not new, and he will continue to act like this for as long as he’s being enabled and this harmful cycle needs to end.

I have friends IRL and online who are (now, possibly, were) big Misha fans, who have supported him from either the beginning of his run on the show, or since they started watching, and this is how he repays this behaviour? He’s willfully alienating decent people (including multishippers) all to make himself look good by being seen to do everything he can not to offend people. Spoiler alert, you DID offend people, you continue to do so time and again and we’ve had enough. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be to be such a perpetual people pleaser, but let me say it’s not doing you any favours in any way, shape or form.

Misha, you are *not* a role model, you’re *not* someone to look up to when you can't live up to the ideals you preach. You’re spitting in the face of people who have supported you even after some questionable things in the past, who gave you the benefit of the doubt because we’re all human and we all make mistakes. The key to growing as a person is not to keep repeating the same mistakes over and over, understanding *why* what you said and/or did was a mistake and making a concerted effort to make changes. I don’t ever see you doing that, you will continue down this path of only caring about Minions under the guise of caring for people in general. You are transparent, you are sad and despite the fact I’ve never particularly liked you, I didn’t speak up because I didn’t want to get involved in the drama. Well now I have spoken up and I’m saying you’re a disgrace, you have no respect for other people and nobody is fooled anymore. If it hadn’t been this tweet it would have been something else, but I for one am glad it happened so soon after the show ended so we can finally be rid of the limpet-like behaviour. It’s over, let it go for the sake of what dignity you might have left, for the sake of your family and friends and for the sake of anyone who isn’t capable of seeing through your ‘it’s a joke’ mentality.

You have been weighed, you have been measured and you have been found wanting. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, Misha.

For anyone who made it to the end of my ramble, thank you. This has been a cathartic exercise and I’m drawing a line under it now, I don’t think I could possibly make my thoughts any clearer. I urge you not to get caught up in any petty squabbles with his Minions, let’s celebrate J2 and other cast and crew members who have shown us all respect and who I am proud to call part of the SPN family. There’s always one member of the family who needs to be frozen out for the good of everyone else.

#ficforthought speaks #sorry not sorry #i spent way too long on this #purging the poison

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stxleslyds · 3 years

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MY TOUGHTS ON THE END OF RED HOOD BY CHIP ZDARSKY.

Dishonour! Dishonour on you, dishonour on your cow!

Well Jason Nation, it happened again, fanon wins over canon. The amount of bullshit that DC made Zdarsky write in this issue is insane, I have never seen this many fanfiction tropes shoved in a single issue in my life.

This book has been a constant insult to Jason’s character and his Red Hood “persona” since the very first issue but I never thought it would end this badly. It’s incredibly sad.

I will go ahead and say it, this tumblr and this post is not “Batfamily” friendly and it definitely isn’t fanon friendly when it comes to Jason Todd.

Fanon is destroying canon for Jason Todd. I am sorry but that’s how I see it, fanon doesn’t belong in canon, I would never get tired of saying that. But here is the thing, DC latches on to Jason’s fanon version because it fits their narrative of “the Batman is all that is right and all must follow his rules or they shall disappear”.

DC has been dying to make Jason bland and flavourless just like Batman. And now here it finally is.

Let’s be honest the story in this book, the new drug, Cheer, Tyler and his mom, none of that shaped this story, none of those things were the support beams for it. It was all about this never ending “daddy issues” thing that DC pretends is going on between Jason and Bruce.

It was all about those two fighting because they “think differently” so in the end they can push Jason towards the “no killing rule” being also the Red Hood’s modus operandi.

Its utter bullshit.

From the moment that Jason had to put a bat suit on I knew that this was going to be a mess. Luckily like I predicted they didn’t make a big deal out of him wearing it but the “Jason admires Batman” feeling was very present in the issue.

I will not talk about how easy it was for that one thug to land a punch on Jason while he was distracted and I will also not talk about Jason being a dumbass for not securing his dumb mask better when he knew the fight will involve gases. I will not talk about it.

Anyway, let’s talk about the Cheer Gas induced illusion, shall we?

In Jason’s illusion he finds Bruce at the manor looking at the picture of Joker’s death (?) and even though that is strange what Bruce says next is even weirder, he says this: “I did it. He was the last one, but I did it…Joker is dead. I am done.”

Now what the hell was that? This is Jason’s illusion, and by the looks of it in his illusion Bruce has killed every baddie in Gotham and left the Joker for last? Am I reading that right? Is this this a joke?

I understand that this is an illusion so the gas is making “real” things that Jason probably doesn’t know he wants, like wanting Bruce to go on a killing spree, which Jason never wanted because he said it himself, do you guys remember the iconic “I’m not talking about killing Cobblepot and Scarecrow or Clayface. Not Riddler or Dent…I’m talking about HIM. Just him.” Because I remember and it’s so important to Jason’s character, Jason never wanted Bruce to go on a killing spree, he wanted Bruce to kill the clown who had killed him when he was only fifteen. Is that so hard to remember DC?

And then it gets worse! Since WHEN has Jason wanted a perfect family life with the people that he has tried to kill, harm or looked down to? Why is “being with a bunch of people who NEVER get together for anything other than “help” the Bat in a fight against a fucking clown” the idea of happiness to Jason? Has this man ever interacted with any of these people in a positive way without the intrusion of a Batman/Robin event in the way? I will give you the answer, it’s no, the answer is no.

Jason Todd doesn’t care for your “Batfamily” bullshit DC, why would it matter to him? Because he was Robin? He was killed by the Joker when he was Robin, and he was killed because the man in charge of him didn’t pay enough attention! Jason Todd who was written as Dick Grayson’s number one hater for so long (and fandom loves that) is now having an illusion where he enjoys happy times with him along the others? Cass and Stephanie? What? Am I missing something, is this actually AO3, is this fanfiction?

I think Zdarsky got confused, this illusion is what would happen if Jason were dosed with fear gas. That must be it, I solved it everyone! Zdarsky just got confused by his own writing!

I wish.

Let’s go back to the sad reality, Jason has a moment in which he actually puts all his training in motion and shakes of the gas’s grasp on him. He does that but he is grabbed by so many people (who are this people?) and he is unarmed and I believe that’s the only reason why Cheer is still alive after saying that he has someone in Tyler’s mom’s hospital room ready to kill her if he doesn’t join him.

(If this were the real Jason, Cheer would have dropped dead instantly.)

But this is not the real Jason and this is not a *real* comic, it’s fanfiction! So just like that time in Batman #100 when Dick was fighting alone as Nightwing (for the first time since his “family” left him alone after losing his memories) the rest of the “family” shows up to fight Cheer and four random thugs.

Yep, its like the MCU had considered having Cap say “Avengers Assemble” when they were fighting a couple of robots instead of Thanos.

What a mess.

Also having Jason say, in real life (not illusion world), “You know what happiness is? It’s knowing that others have your back.” about this group of people is the perfect recipe for a big OOC moment for absolutely everyone. I cannot believe they have dragged Jason back to this awful concept and that they have sank him so low. It’s quite honestly, disgusting.

But the horrors don’t end there, we have a wonderful moment after Jason gives Batman the antidote, Jason stops Batman from punching the living shit out of Cheer. Because I am not stupid. There is no way in the world that you can convince me that Jason just stopped Batman from killing Cheer.

How incredibly delusional do you have to be to write Batman finally killing someone and that someone being Cheer, a guy that was introduced to comics two months ago?

Yes, later its said that between the gas and the antidote Bruce was a little too crazy and couldn’t help himself BUT I call bullshit once more, because Bruce has gone completely bat-shit-crazy on people before! I remember two recent instances in which that happened. Batman #57 in which Bruce beats the living shit out of KGBeast after he shot Dick. And the other one is Batman beating up Jason more brutally than he ever beat up Joker in RHatO #25.

DC cannot fuck with me. I might has bought this digital comic for 8 dollars but I am not buying that bullshit.

ALSO, there was no need for Zdarsky to do Jason as dirty as he did him when he made him say: “If you are going to come down from mount judgement to MY level for once… he’s not the guy to do it for.”

Zdarsky, why did you write a Red Hood story when you hate Red Hood? Couldn’t you have just told DC that you wanted to write a love letter to Batman? Once again, I am reading a Red Hood story for RED HOOD content not Batman content. Is it really that hard? I bet that if Zdarsky had asked DC to let him write a Batman story they would have said yes, there are like 20 Batman stories, they wouldn’t say no to one more!

Can you tell I am mad? And salty?

This post is so long and so full of anger, I am truly sorry for that but I have to write these feelings down or I would explode. And I am not even done, our suffering, Jason Nation, continues.

But first a little break from the pain, Tyler. Thank you after all the pain this book has given me Tyler is back and just like I predicted his mom is fine and he will stay with her, they both have been given a place and money to rebuild their life (not given by Jason nor Dick but I was close enough). The only happy ending that Tyler could have, he had and I am thankful for that, we even got a little adorable moment between the Red Hood and the Blue Hood.

I am weak for these little glimpses of a good Jason take in the middle of an incredibly awful/OOC story. And just to live in my own fantasy world I will headcanon that Jason promised himself to keep an eye out for Tyler and his mom. He would have wanted to know about their life and that they are still out of trouble.

Jason is a good man, don’t you forget that DC, I don’t care how much you twist it. Jason killing Tyler’s dad wasn’t a horrible act, it was fair game. That man was a horrible person, he drugged his child and made his wife (?) almost overdose. You never gave context as to why that man was working as a drug dealer but you told us those things so Jason should never feel like he did something wrong. As far as we know, Tyler and his mom are better off without him.

Having said that, lets go back to the pain of what is reading a Red Hood story.

“I’m giving up the guns.”

You know what, fine, as long as DC doesn’t pull another “I will stop being Red Hood for you Barbara” I will be fine. He can kill people with other things, he used to have the all-blades, he had normal swords and he had crowbars.

I will sacrifice Jason looking hot as hell when he pulls out his guns just to keep him as the Red Hood, all DC has to do is not give him that stupid… bat… symbol… oh no…. oh my god I can feel it… that thing, that horrible thing is making a comeback! NO!

Jason and Bruce’s talk is basic and it doesn’t do anything for anyone, in the end saying that Jason isn’t changing his ways for Bruce but that he is doing it for himself is more of the same. We know he is doing it for Bruce and we know DC is doing it because they cannot handle good, complex and interesting characters. We know that and sadly we have to live with it.

About Bruce’s illusion, well, Bruce has said that he wanted to kill the clown for a very long time and in the King run it was basically said that if Bruce were to be happy then the idea of Batman would die.

Listen, between me and you, sometimes I think that the Joker isn’t that big of a problem for Gotham as a whole, that clown has beef with the Bat and no one else. If Bruce has killed the Joker Jason would have been happy with Bruce all those years ago but killing the Joker wouldn’t make Gotham a safe place and any of his kids happier.

Bruce needs to care for his children, but he won’t do that, he has Dick for that. Taking care and raising Damian? No, thank you, I will not do that. Giving a shit about my son who lost all his memories and is alone? No thank you, I won’t do that and then I will lie about having watched him over. Tim? Oh, never heard of him, sorry.

The last page of this story is the one of Jason arriving home and finding a new suit that Bruce gave him with the bat symbol on it. That symbol that he had ripped off of Jason’s beat up body back in RHatO #25 (nope, I am not letting that one go).

Oh, and Bruce leaving that suit in Jason’s home gives me the same exact vibes as the time that Bruce was like “Long overdue. This is where you belong. As one of us. One of the family” in Nightwing #74 a second after Dick had regained his memories.

I don’t know why but they make him sound incredibly cold and like these people are just his pawns that he needs to rope back in every time they get away from him. It’s very disturbing.

Anyway, that’s all from me, I obviously LOVED this book, best Jason Todd/Red Hood characterisation ever! 11/10 would recommend to everyone including my enemies!

🙃

#jason todd #Jason Todd #red hood #Red Hood #batman urban legends #urban legends #urban legends red hood #red hood and the outlaws #red hood outlaw #dc comics

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study-coffee-chicago · 3 years

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Seasons of PD and Med: Season 0: The Backstory (A Halstead! Brothers + Halstead Sister! imagine)

Hey, I had an idea to pick episodes from every season of PD and Med and write them as if Will and Jay had a younger sister involved. This is the first installment and it will deal with some big things in Jay and Will's young adult years and Y/N's childhood years! Stay tuned for the next update which is season 1 of PD (I'm not gonna say what ep it is yet because I want you guys to be surprised.) I just made up a name for Mama Halstead since she hasn't been named in the show...I'm still waiting on that crumb that the writers neglected to add.

Anyway, enough of the long note, enjoy!

Will's age: 20

Jay's age: 18

Your age: 4

"Dad, I'm leaving tomorrow! It's not like I can change it now!" Jay yelled at his father as he paced the living room, his mom and dad sitting on the couch. His mom was trying to calm his dad, but that wasn't working very well.

"Both of you, keep your voice down," Amelia Halstead hissed at her husband and youngest son. "Y/N's sleeping. And if either of you wakes her up, there will be hell to pay tomorrow."

"Sh- Crap," Jay fixed his language quickly, knowing that he shouldn't swear around his parents. "Y/N."

Amelia's eyes went wide. "Jayson Halstead! You haven't told her yet? You said you wanted to be the one to tell her!"

"He won't have to tell her anything if he doesn't go," Pat Halstead shrugged.

"Patrick." Amelia gave Pat a warning look. "He's his own person and as much as we both hate it, he's an adult in the eyes of the law and can make his own decisions. One of which is whether or not he wants to join the military."

"I just think he should go out and get a real job. Why is it that none of my sons want to do that? Will wants to become a doctor and waste God knows how much time and money in school and this one wants to go and get himself killed. And for what? Because you want to play with guns?"

"Dad," Jay groaned. "We've been over this. I want to help protect people and I want to do that somewhere outside the country because there are others over there who really need it. Also, I like the adrenaline rush."

"Jay, not the time," Amelia scolded in reference to the last part.

"Sorry, Mom," Jay mumbled.

"I'm still not okay with this, no matter your reasoning. I don't need you to come home in a coffin!" Pat yelled.

You heard the booming voice of your dad down the hallway and jumped awake. Why was he yelling? Shouldn't he be sleeping just like you had been? But, maybe he was just yelling at the Blackhawks game as he did that often. Maybe if you got up he'd give you some juice. Your mom was always strict about no sugar before--or during--bedtime, but your brothers and your dad were a lot more easygoing.

So, you slid out of bed and walked down the hallway, excited to see if you'd be able to get some grape juice in your favorite princess cup. You clutched your Build-A-Bear in your hand, which was also dressed in pajamas, as it was bedtime, and walked down the hall. But, you stopped short when you heard that Jay was yelling as well.

"I'm leaving tomorrow and there's nothing you can do about it, Dad! If you hate it so much, feel free to stay home when we all go to the airport!"

Jay was leaving? Did he have another seven-sleep-long soccer camp? He always had those in the summer. And, when you went to his games with your mom when the leaves changed, he scored lots of goals.

"Jay wait--"

"Mom, I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

Jay got halfway down the hall before he saw you.

"Hey, what are you doing up? Isn't it way past your bedtime?" Jay asked, his voice softening as he crouched down in front of you.

Your lower lip started to tremble and you pulled your Build-A-Bear, who you had affectionately named Beary, close to your chest. "You go to soccer for lots of sleeps again, Jay Jay?"

Jay sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Of course, you had heard him say he was leaving. And of course, the only thing you had to compare it to was him leaving for his soccer camps which he always went to at the end of July.

"What's the biggest number you can count to?" he asked, trying to sound excited.

"Um...um...um," you furrowed your eyebrows, trying to remember what you had learned at daycare. "Ten," you finally answered.

"I'm gonna be gone a long time," he told you.

"So, ten sleeps?" Ten was a long time. It had two numbers!

"Longer than that." He placed a hand on your shoulder and went to hug you because he saw the tears in your eyes, but you ran away from him. "Y/N, wait--"

"Mommy!" you yelled as you ran into the living room as fast as your little legs could carry you.

Amelia Halstead jumped up from her place on the couch. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" She crouched down and then picked you up.

"Jay Jay," you hiccupped as tears rolled down your face. "Jay Jay leaving for more than ten sleeps! He not my favowite broder anymore!" you wailed.

The door opened, revealing Will who had just returned from the library since he was taking some summer classes. "What am I, kiddo? Chopped liver?"

"Will my favowite now."

Will put his backpack in his room and then entered Jay's, who was sitting on his bed with what looked like a new outfit for your Build-A-Bear right next to him.

"So, I'm assuming you told her?" Will asked after he had sat down next to his younger brother.

"Yeah. And she hates me now, so there's that."

"Nah, she's just confused. She's four, Jay."

"I know that."

"Did you tell her why you're leaving? Where you're going?"

"No. When I told her I'd be gone for more than ten sleeps she started to cry and then ran to Mom. I made her cry, Will. You're the only one who's supposed to do that."

"Hey," Will smacked Jay upside the head. "I stole her bear once and I'm forever dubbed the horrible brother, yeah okay."

Jay laughed. "I mean, it's true, though. She hated you and cried for hours until you came home and gave it to her because you hid it in your car."

"I agree. It was a dick move." Will picked up the bear outfit. "What's this?"

"I got her a military outfit for her bear. Figured maybe it'd help her feel like I'm not so far away. And, it wouldn't freak her out when she sees me in my uniform tomorrow."

Jay and Will looked up at the sound of his door being opened. "Someone wanted to see you," their mom said, still holding you in her arms. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

You nodded. "Down peas," you said, trying your best to say please.

The minute you were safely on the floor, you ran to Jay's bed and hauled yourself up all by yourself. "I sowwy," you told your big brother.

"It's okay. But you know what will make me feel better?" you shook your head no. "A hug."

"Okay!" you jumped into Jay's lap and hugged him, unknowingly jumping somewhere that hurt him, causing him to grimace and Will to burst out laughing. After a warning glance from your mom though, Will stopped.

Once Jay regained his composure, he grabbed the bear outfit from next to him. "I have a present for you."

You pulled away from him and looked at him expectantly. "Weally? But I was mean."

"I know you didn't mean it. I forgive you."

You had no idea what he was talking about, but nodded anyway.

"You know how the good guys fight the bad guys?" Jay started. You nodded. "I'm leaving to fight some really bad guys."

"So you a good guy?"

"Yes," he chuckled. "And I wear something that looks like this. So, I thought maybe Beary would like his own. That way, you know that me and him are both the good guys and when I'm gone, he'll fight off all the bad guys in your bad dreams."

"Beary can fight da bad guys?"

"Yes, it's because he has this. He can even just wear the hat and be fighting bad guys."

He handed you the camo shirt, pants, and hat for your bear.

"You not wearing dis," you told him.

Now it was your mom's turn to butt in. "It's because he's sleepy. He doesn't wear it to sleep. But, he'll wear it tomorrow and Beary and Jay will match."

"Beary match Jay Jay 'morrow?" you asked, looking up at your mom expectantly.

"Yes. And they'll match faster if both you and Beary go to sleep."

"Weally?"

"Really. Now, how about we go to sleep and you can put Beary's new outfit on tomorrow?"

"Okay. Night night, Will. Night night, Jay Jay."

Once your mom had taken you out of the room, Will spoke up. "Damn, now I'm gonna have to get that bear a white coat once I graduate from med school just to one-up you."

"His name's Beary," Jay told him.

Will rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'm gonna have to get Beary a white coat when I graduate from med school. Happy now, little brother?"

"Beary happy."

***

You, your mom, dad, and Will all walked into the airport to say goodbye to Jay before he boarded his flight. Beary was dressed in his camo, but you hadn't seen Jay dressed in his yet as he had left early to say goodbye to Allie and some other friends before you had gotten the chance to see him this morning.

"Look, there's Jay," your mom said, trying to be as happy as she could so that you wouldn't get sad. But, on the inside, her heart was breaking. But, once again, this is what her son wanted to do, so she wouldn't stop him.

"Hey guys," he said as he walked up to you, again, trying to be as happy as he could. But, since you couldn't really read the tone yet, you missed the nervousness in his voice.

"You and Beary match!"

"I told you we would! Would I ever lie to you?"

You shook your head no. You trusted both your big brothers to always tell you the truth.

"C'mere." Will was the first one to give Jay a hug. "I'm gonna miss your annoying--" Will leaned in to whisper in Jay's ear, knowing that if his mom heard him swear around you, he'd never hear the end of it. "--ass."

"I'll miss you, too. And all that annoying school talk you do. Dad?"

He turned to his dad and he hugged him, shocking both Jay and Will. "Stay safe out there, son."

"I will."

"Mom, please don't cry," Jay said as he turned to your mom, who was still holding you in her arms.

"I just love you so much. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Mom," he said as he swallowed a lump in his throat and hugged her. "I love you, too."

He pulled away and then looked at you. "And you, I am gonna miss you the most."

"Weally?"

"Yes, don't tell Will, but you're my favorite."

"Mommy! I'm Jay Jay's favowite."

"Flight 51163 now boarding."

"I gotta go. But, remember what I told you, okay? Beary will always fight your bad dreams for you because he has his own uniform now."

"Just like you?"

Jay nodded. "Now, can Mommy put you down so I can get a big Y/N hug?"

Your mom set you on the ground and Jay crouched down to your level and enveloped you in a hug. "I gotta go," he said as he pulled away. "Be good for Mommy and Daddy."

"I will. I love you Jay Jay."

"I love you, too." He stood up and looked at the rest of his family. "All of you."

He turned and started to walk away. More than ten sleeps is too long! And, before your mom could pick you back up, you ran towards him, dropping Beary in the process.

"No no no Jay Jay, peas stay!" you yelled.

Jay's head whipped around just as you attached yourself his leg with tears running down your face.

"Y/N, Jay's gonna be home before you know it," your mom said.

"But- But I don't want Jay Jay leave. I want Jay Jay home!"

"I know, I know. But remember what he told you last night? He's gotta get all the bad guys. And, you want him to get all the bad guys, don't you?"

"You pwomise to get all da bad guys, Jay Jay?" you asked, still holding onto his leg.

"I promise."

Your mom reached down to grab you and then lifted you up into her arms.

Another guy wearing the same clothes as Jay came up to you. "Is this yours?" he asked you.

"Beary! I dropped Beary, Mommy!" you exclaimed as you reached out and took your bear from him.

"I see that. Now, what do you say?"

"Tank you!"

"You're welcome," he said.

Then, you waved goodbye as your mom walked away with you and returned to Will and your dad. All the while, you clutched Beary, making sure he didn't fall out of your grasp again.

"Kid sister?" the guy who handed you Beary back asked Jay.

"Yeah, she's four. Doesn't really get what's going on. Thanks for giving that back. She would've gone crazy if she got in the car and it wasn't there," Jay answered. "I'm Jay Halstead by the way."

"Greg Gerwitz," he replied. "But everyone calls me Mouse."

***

Will's age: 22

Jay's age: 20

Your age: 6

"Mom is gonna be shocked, man," Will said to Jay as he parked his car in the driveway. "I just hope she doesn't me kill for keeping it a secret from her."

"I think that'll be the last thing on her mind when she sees me. Now, you said that her and Y/N are leaving at 8:15, right?"

"Yeah, so you better go stand outside my car now because it's 8:14."

Meanwhile, inside you ran back down the hallway to your room. "Y/N!" Your mom shouted after you. "We have to go! You don't want to be late on your first day of kindergarten, do you?"

You ran to your room and then grabbed Beary. You had changed him back into his military uniform outfit--or, what you called Jay Jay's clothes--earlier this morning. It was the only thing Beary wore during the day since Jay's been gone. You'd put him into his pajamas at night and then right back into the military uniform outfit when you woke up.

"I'm back, Mama! Beary's coming to school with me!"

"That reminds me," she pulled out a small toy backpack from behind her back. "Beary can't go to school without a backpack now, can he?"

"No, Mommy! Thank you!" you quickly put the red backpack on Beary's back and then your mom took a picture.

Then, you and your mom stepped out the front door.

Jay and Will were both leaning against Will's car. Tears came to Jay's eyes when he saw that your bear was still in that military outfit he'd gotten you two years ago before he left for basic training and then for Afghanistan.

Through a rushed phone call a few months ago, Jay had asked Will when your first day of school was. He didn't want to miss it, being the good big brother he was. So, once he had a date, he went on a mission to get himself off his tour one week early. Somehow, he was successful. Then, he coordinated with Will about what time his flight was landing in Chicago and he'd picked him up. The two brothers spent the night at a hotel--Will saying he was staying at a friend's house--and then driven home that morning.

You were having a very intense conversation with your mom about what you hoped kindergarten would be like when she stopped in her tracks and put her hand over her mouth.

"Mommy, what's wrong?" you asked, looking up at her with wide eyes.

"Hi, Mom."

You knew that voice. But, usually, it only came through the phone and your mom wasn't holding the phone right now.

You looked away from your mom and towards the sound of footsteps.

There, right in front of you, was your big brother in his military uniform that matched Beary's.

"Jay Jay!" you yelled and sprinted towards him.

"There's my favorite kindergartner!" Jay exclaimed when he picked you up. "Did you miss me?"

"I missed you this much!" You spread your arms out as far as they could go.

"Really?" You nodded your head. "You missed me a lot, huh? Well, I missed you more!"

"Did you get the bad guys?"

Jay swallowed, images from his deployment and having people bleed out in front of him coming to the forefront of his mind. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, Y/N. I got all the bad guys."

"Good!"

"How did you- How did you both do this?" your mom choked out, in tears.

"Mommy, don't cry," you told her, still in Jay's arms. "Jay Jay's home, be happy."

"I am happy, baby. These are happy tears. But how did you do this? I thought you weren't supposed to be home for another week, Jay!"

"Me and Will talked about it. I found out when Y/N's first day of school was, and the rest just fell into place. I couldn't miss walking my favorite sister to her first day at big kid school, now could I?" he asked, tickling your stomach, causing you to giggle.

"No, stop! Jay Jay stop!" you giggled and he set you back down on the ground.

"How about you walk to school with us and then the three of us go out for breakfast?" your mom suggested.

"What about me?" you asked, looking up at your mom. "Can I come?"

"You'll be in school, honey. And, remember what I said you'd get after school?"

"A donut!" you exclaimed.

"Wow! Someone's lucky!" Jay said, overexaggerating it.

"Make sure you tell them it was your first day of school, Y/N," Will started, "because I know they'll be sure to put extra sprinkles on it."

"Mommy! I get extra sprinkles!"

"So, I heard. But, we better get going, we don't want to be late."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Mom," Will started, "But I gotta start heading back to New York."

"Med school can't wait another day, huh?" Jay asked.

"I've already missed one lecture, but it was on the ethics and implications of not respecting a DNR...which is common sense in the medical world. But, I don't think I can afford to miss anymore. Sorry guys."

"You'll be back soon though, right?" you asked.

"Yup, I'll be back for Thanksgiving. A lot faster than Jay got back."

"Okay!" you exclaimed. Then, you grabbed your mom's hand and Jay's and walked to school in the middle of them, excited to have your big brother who fought the bad guys back home.

***

Will's age: 25

Jay's age: 23

Your age: 9

It's been three years since Jay's first tour ended, and he was currently overseas on his second tour. You were in third grade now, so you enjoyed getting to write letters to him and tell him all about school. You'd also send some to Will in New York so that he didn't feel left out. And, Will would send you these super cool things called postcards with pictures of different places in New York on them!

Overseas in Afghanistan, all hell had broken loose. Jay and Mouse were in the same unit again, which was great, but what wasn't so great was what happened with his Humvee. The Humvee had hit an IED and left Jay and Mouse as the only two survivors. Jay was trying to do his job the best he could, but he wasn't sleeping, the images of that day etched in his mind and always there, even when his eyes were closed.

In the northeastern part of the US, Will was procrastinating all his homework--but somehow still turning it in on time and doing well on exams--while he worked long, unpaid hours at a hospital, learning everything there was to know about treating patients and performing surgery. He was also partying a lot in his spare time. He had seen one of his professors, Yates, at a party, so that was weird and freaked him out. A grown man partying with his students? Why? But, Will had more important things going on to worry about than why the hell one of his professors was at a big ass house party.

Back at home, your mom was crying and you had asked her what was wrong, but she told you not to worry about it. Despite that, you were worried. You had never seen your mom cry like this. She didn't even cry this much when Jay and Will left!

"Mom?" you asked when you got home from school to see her sitting at the kitchen table crying.

She frantically wiped away her tears to try and play off that nothing was wrong. You looked down at the stack of papers in front of her and noticed that one said something about a will. There wasn't an "a" in front of Will's name! He was just Will!

"Mom! They messed up Will's name! See? I'll fix it!" You picked up the pen next to you and uncapped it.

"No!" your mom yelled.

"Why? It's wrong."

"I'm sorry, baby. These are just really important papers that you can't write on, okay? They're adult papers."

"Will and Jay are adults?" you asked, your eyes going wide. No, they weren't; your mom still called them her baby boys.

"They are!" She laughed at your expression.

"When will I be an adult?"

"You've got nine years yet, baby. You have to wait until you're-- until you're eighteen," she stuttered, trying not to get choked up as she realized that she probably wouldn't be here when you turned eighteen. If the doctors were right, she wouldn't even be here for your tenth birthday.

"Mom, why are you crying?" You sat in the kitchen chair next to her and looked up at her with curiosity in your eyes.

Now was as good a time as any, your mom thought to herself. Both Will and Jay knew and Jay said he'd be home any time now since he had been honorably discharged between the Humvee and IED incident and your mom getting sick.

"Sweetie, mom's really sick," she told you.

You cocked your head to the side. "So, you just need to go to the hospital or get Will to fix you up."

"I wish it were that simple, baby. But, the sickness is way inside my body and is moving around too much to have Will fix it."

"But can't they go inside with those fancy tools that Jay's scared of?"

"It's not as simple as going in with a few needles, baby."

"But what about that yucky stuff you give me?" you asked, referring to the grape flavored medicine.

You heard the door open. "The important thing is that I'm okay right now. I'll just be a little tired and we might have to go to the hospital soon."

"Mom? You here?"

"Jay!" you yelled and ran to the living room, the emotional talk with your mom long forgotten the moment you heard your older brother's voice.

"Y/N!" Jay yelled, matching your enthusiasm as he crouched down and opened his arms wide.

"I missed you!" you told him as you squeezed him tightly.

"I missed you, too! Now, is Mom here?" he asked as he stood back up.

You grabbed his hand. "She's here. Did you know she's sick, Jay?"

You led him to the kitchen, where your mom was still sitting at the table.

Jay glanced over at the paper sitting in front of your mom. He swallowed as it all quickly became real for him.

His mom was dying and he was home. But, his older brother wasn't. Will was off partying while their mom was dying.

***

"No, chocolate's better than vanilla," you argued as you and Jay both walked the short walk home holding your ice cream cones.

"No, vanilla's better. You're just a weirdo. Now, how about you eat your ice cream before it melts and drips on you and you get all sticky?"

It was the first day of May and Jay had been home since February. Your mom's condition was rapidly deteriorating as the cancer spread throughout her body. You had noticed she had been more tired than usual and that your dad hadn't been as excited to watch you at soccer practice. He didn't even want to come with you and Jay when you went to the ice cream shop today. It was opening day for the season, and it was a Halstead tradition that the whole family go get ice cream together. And, Jay wasn't going to let his dad wreck that for you, so he took you.

Jay had finished his ice cream and you were at the bottom of your cone when you walked up the front porch steps.

"You're just going to give up, Amelia? You do know that's what this is right?"

Luckily for you, you were so focused on finishing your ice cream, that you didn't hear the yelling between your mom and dad right away. But, Jay did.

"Hey, Y/N?" you looked up from your cone at your older brother. "How about you go grab your soccer ball from the garage and I'll get some water bottles and we can go to the park and practice for your game on Saturday, how does that sound?"

"So I can get better at stealing the ball from the other team?" you asked.

"Yup. Now, let's hurry up, okay?"

"Okay!"

As soon as your back was turned and you ran off to the garage in search of your soccer ball, Jay entered the house.

"Pat, that's not what this is and you know it!" Amelia argued, using what little strength she had after chemo to stand up.

"Then what is it?" Pat roared.

"I don't want Y/N to see me deteriorate!"

Jay rushed into his parents' bedroom. His mom was clutching the bedpost as if her life depended on it.

"Mom," he started, causing both his parents to focus their attention on him. "How about you sit down? You're tired."

"Jay, will you get me the phone please?" she asked, still standing.

"Amelia, you are not making that call!"

"It is my life! You are not taking this last big decision away from me!" Her voice softened. "Jay, sweetheart, the phone please."

"What's going on?"

"Your mom wanting to stay at the hospital is what's going on," Pat spat.

"Mom, no. You- you can't. Stay here. Please," he begged. He knew this was the last straw. Staying in the hospital likely meant she'd die there. She only had a limited time left. And, he wanted her to be here, at home with him. He had missed so much when he was away in Afghanistan. He just wanted more time of her staying home, of them being a normal family, despite her battling cancer with all her might.

"It'll be better for me there, Jay. They can give me painkillers and probably other things to help me feel better."

Jay hated it, but his mom was right. It probably was what was best for her.

"Okay, I'll get you the phone."

He walked into the kitchen to grab the phone and walked back to the bedroom to give it to his mom.

He reached out his hand to hand it to her, but it hit the floor with a thud.

"Dad! What the hell?" Jay yelled.

"You know what! She's staying here, Jayson!"

"Last I checked, it was mom's decision, not yours! And, she said she wants to go to the hospital! Respect that!"

"Like you and her respected what I had to say when you wanted to leave for the army? You didn't respect what I had to say then, so why should I respect what she's saying now?"

"Because she's your wife and she's dying!" Jay yelled. "You're stressing her out and stress is bad for her."

He picked up the phone and went to hand it to his mom. She took it.

Pat reached out his hand, but Jay stopped him. "You touch her or that phone, and I will lay you out where you stand. It's mom's decision."

"You'd really hit your old man?"

"Try me."

There was silence for a moment before Pat turned. "I'm going for a drive. I'll be back later."

"You didn't have to do that, you know," Amelia said to her son once Pat was out of the room.

"You did the same thing for me when I left to go to the army. You respected my decisions, so I'm respecting yours, Mom."

"When did you grow up so much?" A tear rolled down her cheek.

Jay sat down next to her. "Army will do that to you."

"Jay? You ready?" Jay heard you call for him.

"I'll be right there, Y/N!" he hollered back. Then, he turned back to his mom. "I was gonna take Y/N to the park, but I can stay here if you want me to?"

"No, go, Jay. You're a good brother. Promise me you'll watch over her when I'm gone?"

"Mom don't say--"

"Promise me. She needs you, both you and Will to look out for her. Who knows how your dad will get through all this. She needs her big brothers."

"I promise, Mom."

"Jay?" he heard you yell for him from outside.

"Be right there!" he yelled back.

After grabbing and filling up two water bottles, he walked outside to be met with your puzzled face. "What's wrong?"

"Why'd dad leave?" you asked, holding the soccer ball under your arm.

"Uh," Jay faltered. No way in hell was he going to be the one to explain this to you. Him leaving for the military, yeah, he could explain that one. But your guys' mom dying and telling you that she was going to the hospital because the end was near? Yeah, not gonna happen. He'd leave that to someone else...someone that was not him. "He's running a few errands," Jay answered.

"Oh, okay. Can Ben come to the park with us, too?" you asked.

Ben was your best friend and also your neighbor. Jay had dated his older sister before he left to fight the bad guys far away. Sometimes, when Jay had to babysit you, Allie would come over and bring Ben. And then, you'd get lots and lots of candy and get to watch movies for a bit. And, they'd promise you both Mcdonald's if neither you nor Ben said that Allie had come over. It always worked. You didn't know what the two teenagers were doing, but all you knew was that you got french fries and candy out of it, so both you and Ben had kept your mouths shut...despite it being against both your parents' rules to have a boyfriend or girlfriend over when they weren't home.

"You know what, I think that's a great idea," Jay answered. And then, you made your way to the Corson's and then to the park, thinking nothing of it.

***

Jay was sitting in the hospital room, clutching his mother's hand, just wondering how his life had turned out like this. Will was almost to the hospital; he'd gotten a last-minute flight from New York to Chicago, knowing that that would be faster than driving. Your dad was picking you up from school an hour early on a Friday. But right now, right now Jay was alone. And his mom, well she was still here, but he knew it wouldn't be for long. He knew that she was sleeping right now, and he wanted that for her because at least she wouldn't be awake to feel the pain of death, but at the same time, God, he wanted her to wake up. He wanted her to wake up so bad. He wanted to tell her that she was the best mom in the world. He wanted to tell her that he should never have had gone to Afghanistan, that maybe Dad was right, maybe he should've stayed in the States. Maybe he should've stayed in Chicago. He should've stayed home, just so that he could have had those three missed years with his mom. So that there could've been those extra two years before Will went to med school where the five of the Halsteads would be a real family. Because, in a matter of hours, hell in a matter of minutes, the Halsteads would dwindle down to a family of four forever. And, then, when Will left to go back to New York, it would dwindle down to three, at least for the time being.

Damn it. He just wanted more time. More time with his mom. He'd give anything for just a little more time.

"Jay! Jay! How is she?" Will burst into the quiet hospital room looking more worse for wear than normal. He had just gotten off an eighteen-hour shift of his med school rotation when he had gotten the call from his dad to get to Chicago as soon as possible. He found the first available flight--not caring about cost--and left, not even glancing at the clothes he threw in a duffle bag.

"Shhh!" Jay hissed at his older brother. "She's sleeping. And, shouldn't you know from your fancy schooling that as long as those monitors are still beeping, that she's still alive? Or did you just get too drunk and not even study and leave me to deal with dad and a very distraught and scared Y/N?"

"Man, you know I stopped doing that once I started working long shifts at the hospital!" Will whisper-yelled, trying to keep his voice down.

Jay sighed. "I'm sorry. We can deal with this later."

"You said Y/N's scared. What's she actually doing?"

Jay swallowed, trying to hold back the tears of what you'd been asking him those last two and a half weeks. "Um, every morning when she wakes up, she asks me if Mom went to heaven when she's sleeping. And then- And then before she leaves for school, she tells me to tell Mom she loves her if I go to see her."

Will rubbed a hand down his face. He didn't know what to say. He knew he should've been in Chicago for his little brother and sister, but he hadn't been. And, he couldn't change the past now. And, he knew he couldn't stay in Chicago after the funeral. It was no use telling Jay and you that he could stay; it'd just be an empty promise.

"William," Amelia's hoarse and groggy voice broke through the silence.

Will rushed to the opposite side of the bed to grab his mom's hand, the one that had the pulse-ox on it. "Mom, I'm here. I'm here."

"I need to- I need to tell..."

"Here, Mom." Will held the water cup with a straw in front of his mom. "Drink a bit. Please."

Amelia obliged and listened to her oldest son. After all, he was going to be a doctor one day. And, she hoped a damn good one at that.

"Thank you, baby," she said once she had taken a few sips. "My ring."

"What about your wedding ring, Mom?" Jay prompted.

"It's not a race...but whoever finds...the right girl first...gets it."

"Mom, don't say that," Will choked out. "You'll be okay. Everything will be fine."

Jay wanted to scoff. Leave it to Will to say that. He wasn't the one sitting in the hospital every damn day just watching their mom deteriorate and waiting for the inevitable.

"But, I'm supposed to wait until Sunday," you told your dad as you entered the hospital room, clutching the present you had made in art class for Mother's Day.

"I think it's close enough. And, it'll make Mom super happy," your dad answered you.

You nodded, the clay heart clutched in your hand. "Will!"

"Hey, kiddo."

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too. Now, what about this mother's day present? Why don't you come over here and give it to mom?" God, he didn't know how he did it, how he talked to his little sister like this was just a normal day and their mom wasn't minutes away from leaving them forever. He thought that his time working in a hospital and watching doctors and nurses deliver devastating news to families might have something to do with it, though.

"Mom." You stood on your tip-toes so that you could fully see her since her bed was tipped so that she was in a semi-sitting position.

"Yes...baby?" she asked, her voice no more than a whisper.

"I made this for you. I'm supposed to give it to you on Sunday since that's when Mother's Day is, but Dad said I can give it to you now." You passed the ceramic heart which was painted a shade of lavender and had I love you, Mom carved into it in your messy third-grader handwriting. "Do you like it?"

"I love...it, baby...I'll...cherish it...forever."

"I love you, Mommy." You hadn't called her Mommy in years. But, you knew it always made her happy when you called her that. Maybe, this would make her feel happy.

"Where's...Dad?" she asked weakly.

"He had to go to the bathroom," you answered.

"I love...you...my three...babies."

The sound of the monitor flatlining filled the room. Jay let out an agonizing scream, one unlike you had ever heard before.

"No," Will sobbed. You'd never seen him do that before. He always tried to be the big brother who didn't cry. Both your big brothers did.

Will wanted to start chest compressions, but he knew they'd be no use.

"Mommy," you whispered, shaking her shoulder. You knew it was no use, but maybe, just maybe she'd wake up. "Mommy, come back. Please."

"She's gone, Y/N," Jay said. "She's not coming back."

"Jay!" Will yelled.

"She needs to know that! Mom's gone, dammit!"

Jay slid down the wall, his anger, sadness, frustration, all of it, getting the best of him and he cried. Sobs racked his body.

He heard whispering near him and vaguely made out that Will was telling you that Jay didn't mean to sound so mean. And, then, he felt a pair of little arms wrap around him.

"Jay Jay," you whispered.

And that just made Jay cry harder.

Will came over and joined the hug, all three of you sobbing.

You heard a gasp and the sound of someone running into the room. Then, you heard a blood-curdling scream, the sound of a husband losing his wife way too soon.

The ceramic heart you had made for your mom fell to the floor, finally becoming too heavy to stay put in her lifeless hand now that there was no grip left. It shattered into sharp, lavender pieces, much like your real hearts. Despite still beating, they may as well stop, too. Because, just like how that ceramic heart would never be whole again, without your mom, your heart would never be whole again either.

***

Jay's age: 24

Your age: 10

It had been about a year since your mom had died. Day by day everything was getting easier. But, a part of you was missing, and you'd come to accept that it'd never be filled. Jay moved out right after your mom died and you'd see him sometimes. He worked different hours now since he was a police officer. But, even if you wanted to watch one more movie with him at his apartment, he wouldn't let you and he'd never let you spend the night. He'd always bring you back home to your dad.

You were in bed, Beary laying next to you since you had let go of him in your sleep, when you were woken up by the sound of sirens.

You located Beary from beside you and walked out into the hallway. The light was on as you still didn't like it when you woke up to go to the bathroom and it was dark. So, you walked to your dad's bedroom and pushed to door open.

"Dad," you whispered as you placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hmmm?" he asked, opening his eyes. "What's wrong, honey?"

Since your mom died, you and your dad had grown a lot closer. You'd always watch hockey games with him and he'd come to every single one of your soccer games and take you out for a snack after. He always made sure he was home from work before it got too late so that he could help you with your homework and make sure you weren't scared of a thunderstorm at night. He was the dad that Will and Jay never had. He just hated that it took the death of his wife for him to become a better father.

"Why- Why are there police officers at Ben's house?"

"Police officers? At the Corsons?" your dad asked.

"Yeah, from my window I saw the flashing lights. What's going on?"

"Just give me a minute and we'll go see if they need anything, okay?" he asked, not knowing there was crime scene tape everywhere.

Once your dad was ready, you walked outside, holding tight to his hand and to Beary.

"Uh, yeah, tender-age male. From the looks of it raped and possible cause of death being asphyxiation."

You had no idea what anything he was saying meant, but you knew that Jay was the one who was talking. He was here! Maybe he'd know what was going on! And, maybe he'd know where Ben was, because, from the people around, you hadn't spotted Ben yet.

"Jay!" You let go of your dad's hand and ran towards him, ducking under the bright yellow crime scene tape.

"Shit," he muttered as he ran towards you, trying to block your best friend's body from your view.

But, he was too late.

"B-Ben?"

Jay grabbed you and pulled you close to him so that his body was blocking you from seeing the body any more than you already had. But, he knew that it was no use; the image of your best friend laying in the grass with a rope tied around his neck and duck tape on his mouth and wrists, pants on backward and shirt haphazardly threw on, would forever be etched in your mind.

"Ben!" you wailed.

"I'm gonna take her back to the house. You got it from here and I'll meet you back at the station?" you heard Jay say to who you assumed was his partner.

"Yeah, who is she?"

"My little sister. Kid was her best friend."

"Take as much time as you need, Halstead. I'll tell the sergeant that you might not be back tonight."

"Thank you."

Your dad stayed with Danny and Gail, while Jay brought you home.

"Do you want some water?" Jay asked quietly as you entered the house.

You shook your head. "What happened?"

"Maybe when you're older I can explain, okay?"

"So, he's with Mom now?" you asked, looking into his teary eyes.

"Yeah, he's with Mom now. She'll look after him." He pulled you into a hug. "I love you, kid. You're my favorite sister."

"I'm your only sister, Jay."

"That's why you're my favorite."

Jay took a deep breath as he held you tight. That could've easily been you laying on the ground instead of Ben.

After that night, any day that Jay didn't have to work in the mornings, he'd walk you to school. He did that for the rest of the year. He never told you why; he'd only say that he wanted to spend time with his little sister and sometimes he'd even bring you a donut. But, you knew it had something to do with Ben...and the fact that the person who hurt him had never been found.

You weren't supposed to know that information, but you figured it would've been on the news if they found the person who did it. After all, the case was on the news when it first happened.

Little did you and Jay know, that it would be three years until justice would be served and that Jay would almost lose his badge over it.

A/N: Hey, sorry this took me so long to post! It took me a while to write since most of the scenes were sad. Anyway, as I mentioned at the beginning, this will be a series, so look for the next installment! Those will be better because the age will be when Y/N's a teenager...and I write those a lot better than I do when I have to write times when Y/N is a kid.

Thanks for reading and please feel free to comment! It gives me so much motivation to continue writing!

#jay halstead #will halstead #jay halstead imagine #will halstead imagine #jay halstead fanfiction #will halstead fanfiction #Halstead Bros #halstead sister #halstead sister imagine #halstead brothers #chicago pd #chicago med #chicago pd imagine #chicago med imagine

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stay-midnight · 3 years

Text

Royals. I

Hyunjin x Male Reader

(Late Hyunjin Day Special)

a/n: Look at me and my late ass post again 💀, Anyways, this would be split up into two or tbree parts cause it’s gonna be a bit long than my other fics. So enjoy this for now 🤧 Smut would be on the second part which would be posted in a week or two (No promises though cuz 🤡)

Things to note: Royal AU!, Insult Fight, Implied Changsung (BinxSung), All of skz is here/mentioned, Implied Hookups, TXT is mentioned, Y/N’s a bit of a dick, Hyunjin is barely mentioned here yet, Minho is also a bit of dick, flirty Minho, Minho and Y/N tension, maybe some Seungmin x Y/N here and there too-. Prince! Felix, Jeongin, Changbin, Jisung, Hyunjin, Seungmin, Y/N and Knights! Minho and Chan. Y/N’s last name here is "Hyangsu"

W.C - 2.9K

A prince of the Hwang Kingdom is having their 21st birthday and you were invited, you were a bit salty about this since you really just wanted to relax after these past weeks of taking different lessons from your oh-so-called studious teacher.

As a prince of Hyangsu Kingdom, you were called to attend the Hwang Prince’s birthday ball, and attending this party was of your at most displeasure since you just wanted to have a relaxing break from your studies.

It was a 21st birthday after all, the age where you’re supposed to find a possible suitor and you just didn’t want to see girls fawning over someone.

You sighed in annoyance as your butler comes rushing with different clothes from your wardrobe, ranging from the royal-tailored attire, elegant clothing to a more casual one.

“Just pick me something that looks presentable as Prince, please.” you mumble to him as you glared him down causing him to tremble at your passive-aggressive tone.

You didn’t even know why they’re so serious about this, you’ve went to many royal banquet and events before, and none of them have ever got your parents or workers so.... worked up.

Is it because the Hwang Kingdom was one of the most powerful in the continent? You wanted to scoff at that thought but you may not be wrong.

In the end of playing a game of picking clothes with your butler, he picked a white suit with gold lines tattered over it, it had a gold plating at the shoulder, a red silk belt matching with the red silk long half-blouse, and white pants accompanied by white boots with a red sole.

After getting dressed you walked down to the lounge, waiting for the caravan to arrive.

You were a bit rude and snappy to people, you hated if they interrupted you one bit, not to mention you were sarcastic and people find it hard to win arguments about you. The only things people really liked about you are your looks and brains, you actually had a brain, unlike those snobby rich prince and princesses — who thinks they own the whole world, and the only aspect that are important to them are looks and money.

You sigh as you wait for the royal caravan to arrive.

. . . .

After minutes and minutes of waiting, “Sire?! The caravan is here, the carriage you are going to stay in is ready outside the palace gates.” your butler said fast, fixing his tie and cleaning his monocle afterwards.

You nodded and stood up to walk over to the gates, without command or words exchanged — the guards opened it as soon as they saw you walk down the path. Bowing respectfully at your presence which you answered with a simple “Thank you.”

You hum at the sight of the royal carriage — colored white with intricate designs and patterns made with real gold and of course, the family crest at the side of it.

A knight in a silver suddenly came out of the royal carriage, removing his helmet and smiling as he waved at you.

You let out a small smile back to him, Ah, the one and only Lee Minho, “Minho.” you spoke, reaching out to shake his hand, to which he gladly obliged.

“Y/N. Always a pleasure to see the prince. Well, if you were a bit more excited about this.” He teased, letting out a few snorts. Petting your head while constantly laughing amusedly.

“I’ll stick a fork in your eye one of these days, you stupid knight.” You gave him a death glare as a warning.

“Ah, Prince, you’re so kind~” he grinned, winking at you too, you rolled your eyes at his behaviour. He was always like this, flirty and sometimes egotistic. You didn’t mind it though since he is an amazing duelist and mentor. He isn’t a King’s guard for no reason.

But one day, his cocky attitude is gonna bite him in the ass.

You grumbled and moved forward to the royal carriage, “Lino, you should move, we can’t be late remember?” You tsked, giving Minho a smirk.

“Whatever.” He spoke up in an sassy tone, you snorted at him, to which he glared at you.

He entered inside the carriage, with you slowly following right after.

After entering inside, you sat down at one side while Minho sat near you. It was spacious inside as expected and a small window was also in place.

You had no interest in staying awake for 3 hours during the ride so you decided to take a nap.

“You could use my shoulder, you know?” He teased, patting his shoulder while smirking at you.

“Shut up.” you mumble as you shifted a bit so your head could rest more comfortably against the wall.

As much as you wanted to just sleep laying down at the long couch-like thingy where you’re sat at, you can’t because this stupid knight is watching you.

And the last thing you want is him, teasing you for being less than ‘formal’.

Slowly, the sounds around you seem to deafen itself out causing you to relax your shoulders and fall asleep regardless whether Minho is there watching your every move.

Opening your eyes as you felt someone poke your cheek, your eyes drifted slowly to the side. You were eye to eye with the knight, faces inches apart.

Your recently droopy eyes from sleeping — shot open in panic, “W-What are you doing!” you stuttered, leaning back from him which made him grin.

“We’re at the city, prince~” He pets your hair, running his hand through it softly.

You glowered and slapped his hand away, “Ugh, keep your hands to yourself, Lino.” you tried to glare the knight down.

“Ah, Feisty.” he smiled back at you to which you responded with a scowl making him laugh loudly.

“No need to be so aggressive~” Minho winked making you just look away and give up, you ignored him and looked out through the window, finding the surrounding endearing.

The loud chattering from the outside is muffled by the walls of the carriage, from at first glance, this was a very happy city.

It has a warm and vibrant tone to it.

. . .

The carriage comes to a sudden halt after riding in what seems to be a hill due to how it felt riding it earlier, the ground was sloped upwards.

The coachman driving the carriage suddenly spoke up, “We’re here, sire.” he spoke up, muffled by the wooden walls but you caught it.

With a sigh, you opened the door and slowly stepped down — your eyes widening at the sight of the towering castle.

It had a wonderful structure, the stone bricks perfectly fit into one another and of course the Hwang family crest adorned the flags that were raised.

Your kingdom’s castle was in no means small but it pales in comparison to that.

Looking around at the surroundings, you saw that a lot of royals were around, some you recognized and some that you had no idea where they came from.

You looked far and noticed the view of the capital at the city which you saw while taking a ride.

“...Prince Y/N.” After getting lost in a little bubble after staring at the refreshing view, Minho was nudging your shoulder.

“Hm? What is it?” you said, looking at him with raised eyebrows as you fixed the tie of your suit.

He rolled his eyes, “Did you even hear what I said?” he glared, tapping his foot on the ground multiple times.

“Would I be asking you if I did?” you shot back, clicking your tongue in annoyance as you waited for his answer.

He groaned at your attitude, “You have to sign up to enter the castle. Lose the attitude too, prince.” he said in a careless tone, looking at you with his icy glare.

“Who are you to talk like that to me, knight..?” you scowled at him as you stood your ground firmly.

What was happening now was in contrast to earlier, this was a more serious battle between you and Minho. These were times were usually one of the houseworkers back at your kingdom, steps in to stop both of you and succeeded most of the time.

To be honest though, this fight shouldn't escalate at all.

. . .

From the distance though, someone was watching both of you in amusement, “The party hasn’t even started and they’re bickering all ready.”

“Chan if you could stop them, please?” The man with long black hair commanded to the person next to him.

The knight fixed his posture and nodded, “Of course, my prince.”

“You can call me by my name, you know? We’ve been friends for a long time.” the long-haired man chuckled.

“Still need to use honorifics, sire.” the shorter smiled at the taller before leaving to stop the heated glare-down and exchange of insults at the entrance.

He took one last glance at the royal that was bickering with a knight, finding him amusing but at the same time, he found him interesting.

“Might need to keep an eye on that one.” he hummed to himself before going back inside the castle.

. . .

Minho just recently called you a brat and undeserving of being called a prince of your kingdom, he even mentioned your brother, the crown prince — next in line to the throne — he says of how your brother is just better than you in every way. This sends a devastating pang to your heart as this was not only hurtful to your pride but in a way, he also disregards all your hard work.

“Fuck you. You have no rights to tell me this. You are not my brother nor my parents. You are merely a fucking knight!” you said, shouting the last part.

Your own eyes are tinted with anger, wanting to choke the life out of your escorting knight.

“What, isn’t what all I said was t—”

An applaud was heard from the near distance, cutting Lino off and causing your head to turn to the source of sound.

The man with the curly locks and a pretty face bowed to your direction, “The opening ceremony of the party is starting soon, Prince Hyangsu Y/N. I suggest you sign the guest book and head on inside.” he smiles at you, dimples shown causing you go soften your look.

“While you,” he said sighing after, pointing to Minho with a finger.

“...Fellow knight, let’s chit chat for a bit.” he coughed and grabbed Minho’s hand — dragging him away despites the struggling knight's protest.

You looked around and noticed some of the royals still outside, staring at you with a hint of disappointment probably because of your fight with Minho.

You grumbled, annoyed and angry at the disrespectful knight — you'll most likely have to talk with Minho after this god-forsaken party.

. . .

A yawn almost slipped out of your mouth as the host of the party or ball, at this point you question which is it. The speech lacked any entertainment of the sorts causing you to just listen with half-lidded eyes.

Then came the introduction of the Prince that is having their born day.

A tall man suddenly came out of the curtains, aura filled with confidence and pride, gleaming and filling the room. You inspected his face and not gonna lie, he was indeed pretty, prettier than most princes you have seen — Long black locks neatly tied up in a ponytail, alluring eyes, thick and kissable li— You snapped out of your little bubble after noticing that you were checking the Hwang, this is not good.

You turned away from the center of attention and looked for your small group of friends but felt as if someone was boring holes into your skull.

Turning back, only to see no one staring at you but instead just the continuous blah blah blah’s by the Hwang Prince.

Sighing, you continue to scout the palace room for any signs of a certain fox-eyed brat, someone who dressed too dark and a ray of sunshine.

You clicked your tongue in annoyance when you still haven’t spotted the trio.

. . .

The Prince finally stopped talking and just announced that the dance will start in about an hour, giving his guests — free time to converse with one another.

After going through a sea of screaming princesses that want to marry him, you sighed in relief and just wished to leave this place. That is, until you finally caught a glimpse of a familiar royal. Finally.

You poked the shoulder of the foxy prince which startled him, almost causing him to spill his red drink over his royal wear. “God, Y/N, couldn’t you just approach me like a normal person.” he tutted.

Then returned his dimpled smile, he hugged you with one hand unable to engulf with his arms due to the drink he was holding.

“I thought you didn’t go to this clownfest.” you sighed, your words having a sarcastic tone.

“Me? Yang Jeongin wouldn’t miss a ball, especially one that is hosted by one of the richest kingdoms.” he laughed, taking a sip of his drink.

“Is that wine or juice? Also, why are you talking in third person?” you stared at him with confusion.

“This is red water.” he sassed mockingly causing you to roll your eyes and flick his forehead a bit too hard with your index finger.

“Ow!” Jeongin squinted his eyes at you.

He pulls on your ear at payback which you took easily before yawning and looking at the clock impatiently. You wanted to return home and sleep, and also give Minho a lecture.

“Where’s Bin and Lix?” you piped up before taking a seat at the small seat near a pillar, curiously scouting the again for signs of them.

He sighed and sat down right next to you, “Felix-hyung is hunting for more exotic food, since he liked the Shark meat a bit too much and well...” he trailed off, taking a sip of his drink and clearing his throat.

“Bin-hyung is getting flirted slash hitted on again by Prince Jisung of the Han Kingdom. I thought the he already gave up but nope. He still pursuing the Bin booty.” Jeongin chuckled, calling over a roaming waiter for a refill to which the worker happily obliged

You laughed at that since Han has been shooting hearts at Changbin for a long time and always had flirted with him at different parties. Changbin had always rejected his advances though.

“Also they sent a new representative from the Kim kingdom. I’ve never seen him before. Looks cute though, might be your type.” Jeongin said, nudging your shoulders and pointing at a specific direction. Your eyes raked over the prince’s form, charming and handsome but at the same time cute — He was leaning back at the wall, also drinking something.

You grumbled though, this is once again Jeongin trying to hook you up with someone again. It didn’t end well last time — The last prince, Jeongin hooked you up was Prince Yeonjun — All he wanted was sex though, causing you to immediately cut off ties with said prince, leaving a bit heartbroken at that since he only said that he wanted sex after you already spent the night together.

“Not this again, Innie.” you tsked, crossing your arms around your chest.

“Come onnn~.. I thought Yeonjun liked you a lot, he stared at you a lot during Taehyun’s party” Jeongin mumbles since he knows, that you don't like fooling around with people who didn’t even have a single interest on being on an actual relationship.

He felt bad matching you up with him, since he thought that was time you actually would get out of the singles’ list.

He nudged you and tilted his head to the Kim prince’s direction, “He’s walking over here.”

Your head immediately snapped to him, “Did he notice me staring at him earlier?!” you whispered nervously.

He raised his shoulders as he doesn’t know but you could already hear his evil mind spouting not-so-good ideas when he let out a grim grin.

“Well.....~ Y/N, I have to go find Felix, I kinda wanna try the shark meat, Ok byeeeee~” he said as if he was in a rush but this was just a part of his scheme.

“Jeongin, wait, don’t lea—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he was out of sight, the man was already extremely near you, his eyes never leaving your own.

You gulp, not knowing what to do in this situation.

In a mere second, you were face to face with the unfamiliar prince. He looked down at you with a emotionless face before sitting down next to you.

“My name is Kim Seungmin, yours?” He spoke with a honey-laced voice crossing his legs as he looked at you with curious eyes.

A smirk was starting to form at the corner of his lips before you opened your mouth to speak.

But nothing came out

He was attractive but he had soft features and an aura that resonates well with his features. He had this cute puppy-look to him but by that smirk he isn’t all that rainbows and sunshines.

Now, this is totally not good.

Little did Y/N know someone was watching this interaction in the distance, a prince than seems to be allured to you ever since he saw you within the crowd. He doesn't seem happy though~

~ tbc

#kpop x male reader #stray kids x male reader #hyunjin x male reader #male reader #lgbtq #skz #hwang hyunjin #skz fics #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz aus #royal skz #kpop scenarios

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dreampathic · 4 years

Text

❥chapter 02-beefy strong arms

❥masterlist

❥warnings: suggestive themes, sexual jokes, cursing

❥a/n: there’s a written portion 😉😉😉 also my best friend @katiea03 helped me out a ton with this chapter so please check her stuff out!

-written portion-

Iwa walks through the front door, running a hand through his hair. He sees Makki and Mattsun on the couch watching a shitty 1980s horror movie.

“Hey,” He nods.

Makki takes a handful of popcorn and turns to Iwa, “Hey baby daddy.” He bites his lip jokingly.

Mattsun turns his head, “Bringing your sugar babies back some money?” Iwa walks up to the couch and slaps both of them on the heads.

“Stop calling me daddy you fucking dumbasses!”

Makki rubs the back of his head, “I know you can hit harder daddy.” Giving a devilish smirk to him.

Iwa grabs the throw pillow next to Mattsun and chucks it at Makki’s face.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Mattsun starts cackling with laughter, but abruptly stops once Iwa takes another pillow to hit him. “OKAY OKAY WE’LL STOP WE’LL STOP!” Iwa throws the pillow next to him, “Fuck you guys.”

He walks away, heading to your room. Your door is wide open, you’re sat on your hardwood floor wearing sport shorts and a black tank top fanning yourself with the dresser instructions.

All of the parts of the dresser are out of the bags, separated in two piles. One with the screws and bolts, and one with all of the wooden parts.

“What the fuck?!” Iwa looks at the unbuilt dresser in disbelief. You look up at him, “huh? what?” He gestures his hands to the floor, “Why is everything out of the bags??”

“The bags were taking up too much space.”

Iwa couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He tried his best to hold in his anger, “YOU DUMBASS WE NEEDED THOSE!” It didn’t work out.

“Why??”

“IF YOU READ THE INSTRUCTIONS YOU WOULD KNOW EVERYTHINGS NUMBERED”

You open the instructions for the first time, read a section, and look back up at him, “Ohhh I thought it was saying how many bags there are.”

Iwa rubs the back of his neck, “I never thought I would say this but YOU’RE WORSE THAN OIKAWA.”

You gave him a look of disgust and stood up from the floor. “How DARE you say I’m worst than Oikawa!”

Iwa rolls his eyes, “I’M NOT WRONG!”

You furrow your eyebrows and grab your phone from your bed, “Don’t make me call him on his date. I’ll do it.” You threaten.

He crosses arms and smirks, “Do it I dare you.” He wanted you to call Oikawa because he knew it would piss him off for you being a cockblock.

“FINE! I WILL!” You scroll for Oikawa’s contact and hit ‘audio call’. Waiting for him to answer, you stare at Iwa with one hand on your hip. When Oikawa picks up he is clearly agitated, “What the fuck do you want? I’m tryna get laid.”

“Iwa-Chan is being mean to me!”

“The fuck you want me to do about that? He’s been bullying me my entire life.”

You frown, “He likes you the best.” Iwa lets out a loud laugh that makes you punch him in the arm. He looks at you with a taken back look because no one ever tries to punch him, because he always punches back harder. But you’re the exception.

“Since when?” Oikawa asks, there is no way he’s the favorite.

You throw your free arm up in frustration, “Since ever!”

Oikawa sighs on the other end, annoyed at his roommate calling him for something so unimportant, “So you’re telling me, you interrupted my chances of getting pussy for THIS?”

Iwa howls of laughter, holding his stomach. You roll your eyes, “Do my feelings not matter?”

“NO not right now!” All Oikawa wants to do is hang up and go back to his date.

“Oikawa-” You try to make him stay on the phone but he cuts you off, “BYE!” He hangs up, leaving you with your mouth agape.

Iwa can’t stop laughing but you punch him again, “Shut up! Help me please!” He sighs, “Fine, I’ll help.”

You give him a wide smile, clapping your hands together, “Thank you Iwa!”

“Yeah yeah whatever,” He mumbled as he took off his work shirt, revealing him in his white tank top showing off his biceps. Of course you always joke around with him about his beefy arms but, wow. You wouldn’t be lying if you said you didn’t imagine those arms wrapping around your-

“Where’s the L screw?” Iwa says, pulling you out of your trance.

“Uhh,” you scratch your head, a bit flustered. “What’s that?”

He sits down, opening the instructions. “You know the metal piece that looks like an L?”

“Oh…” You fucked up.

“Where is it?” He asks, concerned.

“I threw it out.”

This man prayed.

---

Eight hours later, Iwa has been screwing everything in with a knife, almost cutting himself twice. You’re half asleep, leaning on his bicep. You yawn and Iwa looks down to you, “go to bed I got it from here.”

You shake your head, eyes closed, “noooo im helping,”

“you’re not doing anything.”

You open your eyes, looking up at him, “i'm here for moral support!”

Iwa rolls his eyes, glad you can’t see the blush forming on his cheeks. “Just go to sleep”

“No I can't.” You felt bad leaving him to fix your dresser without any company.

He sighs, “It’s fine, just go to sleep.”

You groan, leaning closer into him. “Your biceps are so nice though.”

He really hated the effect you had on him. Making him blush over sleepy confessions, he felt like an idiot getting flustered over you, no matter how much he wanted you to touch him again. “Shut up.” He mumbles.

“It’s a complement!”

“Go to sleep.” He demands.

“Hmph! Fine.” You get up, holding onto his arm for support and plop on your bed, mumbling some nonsense then instantly falling asleep.

Iwa looks over and grins, he wouldn’t have minded your company for a bit longer.

When Iwa finishes up the dark oak dresser, he admires the work he’s done and looks over to your bed, he gives a small smile and leaves your room.

He yawns as he takes off his tank top, throwing it near his hamper and plops onto his bed. He shuts his eyes. Before drifting off into sleep he hears Mattsun from his doorway say, “you’re a fucking simp.”

---

You wake up around the afternoon, first thing you see is your finished dresser. You jolt out of bed smiling wide. You run out of your bedroom and go across the hall into Iwa’s, jumping on top of him yelling, “IWA THANK YOU SO MUCH!”

He opens his eyes right away, “GET THE-” He was about to pry you right off of him, thinking you were one of his other idiot roommates. But he just stood still, cheeks flushing red as your boobs are against his bare chest, trying his hardest not to get a boner.

“THANK YOU THANK YOU! YOU’RE THE BEST!” You shout over and over again pulling him closer to you. He wanted to hug you back, but that wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do.

“LEAVE” He shouts. You don’t budge, “WHY.” You could stay like that forever, but you knew at one point you would have to actually leave. “BECAUSE I SAID LEAVE” “YOUR BED IS COMFY”

Mattsun walks by, half-asleep and grumpily says, “simp.” Makki walks behind him scratching his head saying, “you’re just mad you don’t have a hot girl jumping on top of you in the morning.”

Mattsun punches him in the shoulder, “Ow man!”

Oikawa struts in the apartment, hair disheveled, hickies on his neck with a cocky grin on his face, “Guess who got laaaaiid” He announces going straight to the ‘ACTION BOARD,’ erasing ‘2 weeks’ next to his name and writing ‘0’.

“Nobody cares,” Makki exclaims from the hallway. Oikawa quickly turns to Makki and Mattsun, surprised they’re awake at this hour. They usually sleep in till 3pm.

He takes his jacket off and puts it on the rack, “why are you guys up?”

“Y/n is screaming, we’re all up,” Mattsun yawns.

“Especially Iwa,” Makki snickers.

This instantly sparked Oikawa’s attention. No one ever has the balls to wake Iwa up, they know it’s a deathwish.

“She woke up Iwa-Chan??”

“yep” Mattsun nods.

“where's the blood?”

“the only blood around here is in Iwa’s dick.” Makki laughs.

Oikawa instantly runs into Iwa’s room, being the nosey bitch he is. “Aww Iwa you finally have a girl in your bed!” He cheekily says.

As soon as Iwa heard his voice, his blood started to boil and pried you off of him and pushed you out of his room, “LEAVE ME ALONE!” He shuts the door in all of your faces.

You pout, “Why didn’t he want me in his room?”

All of the guys look at each other, knowing the real reason Iwa didn’t want you in his room. Yet all they could tell you without ruining your innocent gesture was, “don’t worry about it.”

---

❥fun facts:

-they have a ‘sex board’ (well they call it an action board) in their house where they write down how many days they went out without sex on a white board

-Oikawa is NOT Iwa’s favorite

-Mattsun wants a hot girl to jump on him in the morning

❥tags: @pockyxx @cece-lives-here @psychedelicwh0r3 @elianetsantana @elephantloser @reina-de-tay @agaashesmilktea @navymacaroons @victor-criss-bish @langalvr @bakugouswh0r3 @killlerqween @tsukkiswifeey (send an ask to be added to the taglist!)

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