#i want this man unhinged by the end of the series. knee deep in the blood of those who wronged him and his kin while grinning.

[cottagecheese1]

unhinged worlds 3

summary: A few years after your father died, your mother marries a new man, to you having a new family meant new beginnings, but what happens when your new beginning comes spiraling apart just because of the people that made them.

paring: dark stepdad Andy Barber x reader x dark dbf Lloyd Hansen x reader x dark stepbrother Johnny storm x reader x dark bbf Colin Shea. warnings- (DDLG undertones) stepcest, Johnny is NOT Andy's biological father, he is the adopted son. smut, do not engage if you are uncomfortable with any of the following, spanking, blackmail, p in v, edging, thigh riding, oral, fingering.

Series master list right here

This all seemed so wrong–actually it was wrong. The way Andy was eating you out like a madman between your thighs seemed too good to be true, and the fact that some deep part of you liked this made you shiver. Maybe it was because of the foreign praise Johnny and Colin gave you while you squirmed in their grasp while desperately trying to give yourself an ounce of freedom.

“Aww, honey I just know you’re so close already”, Colin said with a mocking grin.

Apparently, Andy didn’t seem to be fooled by your desperate attempt to conceal the moans that were forced out of the back of your throat, because you felt his mouth attach to your clit and aggressively start sucking. You suddenly jumped back, trying to create some sort of distance between the both of you. Andy then just wrapped his arms around your thighs–pulling you closer, which caused a sudden spasm to exit your body.

“Mmm, look at you sweetheart, all sensitive and shit,” Johnny cooed while pinching your exposed nipples, which caused you to let out a weak squeal.

Colin chuckled and squeezed your other nipple roughly, “She’s just a Baby Johnny, she obviously can’t help it,” he said as he leaned down and pecked your forehead. “can’t you Honey? You’ve never felt this good, have you?”

You really haven’t ever felt this good before. Not that you would ever let any of the three men know that, but the desperate whine you let out as Andy shoved his tongue deeper inside of you just made the two men taunt you more, and the unwanted pleasure that Andy was giving you and with the crude words that spilled out of Johnny and Colin–you could feel that tension building up in your lower stomach want to unravel.

Johnny brushed your hair off your sweat covered forehead with his hand, then leaned down to give you a slight peck on your temple, “C'mon sweetheart, go ahead and cum for me–I know you want to.”, Johnny said with a teasing coo.

Andy then reached up to rub your clit, and that was your breaking point. You no longer could hold in that burning sensation, so you just let it go–feeling your body unravel all at once felt like heaven–you must have not noticed the pornographic moan you let out because the chatter of how ‘pretty she sounds’ came to topic.

As soon as your senses finally came back, you didn’t feel loved or cared about at all. You felt dirty, used even. As you lay on the couch with teary eyes, trying to keep up with the sound of your heartbeat, just so you could try to focus on anything other than the situation you're currently in.

Andy snapped you out of your train of thought when you felt your body being set up to lean against Johnny. Suddenly feeling exposed you bring your knees up to your chest while trying to somewhat cover your exposed chest, but considering the only two bare naked people in the room are You and Johnny–it didn’t seem to surprise you.

Andy then grabbed your chin and tilted your head up, so your gaze was meeting his, then he said, “You did really good honey, I know that was scary, but you sat there and took it like a big girl. Daddy’s so so proud of you.”, he then leaned in to give you a soft kiss on the lips.

Even though his praises did make you feel a little better–you couldn’t stop shaking–the heater broke at the end of spring, so it was always extra chilly in your house. That's why you always wore comfy sweaters around.

Johnny seemed to notice how much you were shivering when he wrapped his arms around you because he said, “You cold baby? Don’t you know I’m a human furnace?”, he asked with a teasing tone. You responded with a small, “yes..I’m cold”, and Johnny seemed to take that as a pass to go ahead and pull you on top of his lap while he adjusted his arms to wrap around you more tightly.

You didn’t even notice Andy left because he came back with what looks like one of his cable knit sweaters and a fresh pair of panties, then he made his way over to you with long strides before kneeling in front of you.

“Daddy got you a nice cozy sweater and fresh pair of panties for his special girl.” Andy said softly as he pulled the overly large sweater over your head and pulled the cotton panties up your legs.

Colin cooed teasingly at your flushed face before saying, “aww, that was nice sweetheart, what do you say?”, you looked down at your lap and fidgeted with your fingers–trying to hide your flushed face.

Andy chuckled before responding for you, “Don’t tease her, she’s just a little shy right now. Isn’t that right honey?”, you look at Andy's smug expression before nodding.

He kisses your forehead before standing back up and sitting by you and Johnny, “That reminds me, your uncle Lloyd is coming tomorrow to stay for a while–you don’t know him honey, but-”, Andy gets cut off by Johnny when he quickly responds with, “That fucker is NOT my uncle. Why is that asshole coming anyway?” Andy rolls his eyes at his banter before he continues.

“Well, I’ve been telling him about our little angel, and he wants to come and see her.”, Andy says sternly. This conversation between them both seemed to make you perk up because, who is Lloyd? Why has he been telling this man about you?

Andy seemed to sense your concern, so he pulled you onto his lap, “Oh honey, there's no reason to be worried...”, he said before he adjusted you on his lap, so you were straddling his legs, then he rested his hands on your hips.

Andy then continued, “Lloyd really likes you sweet girl, so there would be no reason for him to be mean to you unless you’re not very nice, but I won’t have to worry about that because you're a good girl, right?” You paused, trying to process his words, but the expression on his face said, ‘give me an answer now.’ so you just nodded.

“Words angel, I wanna hear that pretty voice.” Andy said sternly, so you responded “Yeah”, you could tell that wasn’t what he was looking for, but he seemed to settle thankfully.

Colin then pitched in, “don’t believe him baby, that guy is a total asshole–he’s probably into some fucked up shit-” Andy cut him off quickly before scolding, “Stop that, you’re scaring her..remember you’re in my house Colin.”

This new information makes you nervous. Scared actually. What if Colin was right–just like he was right about Andy. All you felt right now was overwhelmed and afraid, you never asked for any of this, so now you could only assume this random man was gonna come here and do worse things to you.

You could feel a sob bubbling up in your throat, chest tight, heart racing, you don’t know why you felt embarrassed about the tears that were running down your face. They are the ones doing this to you, it's not your fault, but you couldn’t seem to think when you were hyperventilating and a fresh rack of sobs coming out all at once.

Andy tried to calm you down, rubbing your back and squeezing you in a tight hug did little to cease how upset you felt, “sweetheart, look at me.”, you couldn’t think all you could do was trying to get away from him–you hated how he touched you–how safe he made you feel, how gentle he was. You hated this but you couldn’t help but look at him when he told you too.

“Such a good girl..I know you’re overwhelmed honey, but nothing bad is ever gonna happen to you when you’re here. Lloyd is not gonna hurt you because he knows he needs to be gentle with you.” Andy said as he pressed your head into the crook of his neck.

Johnny leaned over to rub your back and pressed a kiss on the top of your head before saying, “Colin was just exaggerating baby, he’s not that much of an asshole.” Johnny then got up and stretched his arms above his head before continuing, “In fact, he’ll probably treat you just like his little princess, I bet you’ll end up loving it as much as he does.” he ends as he walks away with a yawn.

You could hear a distant “goodnight”, being called, but you just laid against Andy’s chest–listening to the sound of his heartbeat as he spoke once more, “He’s right honey, everything is gonna be okay..I’d explain more but you look sleepy, you wanna sleep with daddy tonight? I give great bedtime cuddles.”

You yawned tiredly before snuggling into his chest more and closing your eyes, letting sleep take you over. Andy chuckled before peppering a bunch of kisses on your face, “Alright cutie, let’s get you to bed. Goodnight Colin don’t say anymore shit like that again.” he said while giving a glare to Colin.

“Night’ Mr. B, tell my baby I said goodnight.” Colin responded with a smug grin.

Andy gave him a groan and carried you bridal style to his bedroom–setting your sleeping figure under the duvet. He walked over to his side of the bed, sliding his shirt off while watching your sleepy figure. Andy slid under the blanket beside you and reached over your head to turn the lap off. He pulled you closer to his chest and kissed the crown of your head.

Andy yawned quietly, “goodnight honey, I love you.”

Tag list.

@xycnsstuff

@wolfsmom1

@abbyyourlocalmilf

@jeelsinha

A/n: its currently 12am, sorry I took such a long time for part 3, enjoy! (let me know if you would like to be tagged.)

[badolmen]

Ngl I wasn’t a fan of Flint season 1 but now that we’re getting some whys behind his absolutely batshit insane behavior and choices he’s growing on me like algae

[noteguk]

bad attitude | jjk | m

[ ! ] this is part of the bad influence collection. You can read it as a stand-alone though! 

— summary; in which Jungkook finally learns how to behave. Kind of. 

— contents and warnings; pwp, smut, badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits/enemies to lovers, brattysub!kook x dom!reader, actually more of a switch!kook/switch!reader, the oc is kind of a demon with teasing because payback is a bitch, bondage, edging, dirty talk, begging, oral (m receiving), female masturbation, cockwarming, unprotected sex (don’t be dumb), creampie, stuffing, Taehyung makes a cameo, terrible use of the two wolves meme I’m so sorry 

— words; 7,2k 

— author’s note; yes I started this with a meme and no I’m not okay. This is kind of chaotic tbh but I wanted to write something a bit more unhinged and lighthearted after all that drama from the third part of the series. This happens some time after bad reputation. 

Also! Take a look at the text messages that brought them to this moment ;) 

Probably one of the dumbest things that Jungkook had ever heard came from his roommate and childhood friend, Taehyung, after a few hours scrolling through Facebook with a blunt hanging from the corner of his lips. Taehyung was in the deep web equivalent of social media: entrepreneur pages, where young, overly-dressed men with obviously rented convertibles promised to teach gullible people how to become millionaires by working at home (if you only pay for their courses). Nevertheless, what started as an ironic scroll through shallow motivational quotes quickly escalated into a semi-believable, mostly high rant about the importance of controlling your inner demons, which Jungkook sadly had to endure, since he was the only person around and, therefore, his roommate's sole target. 

Taehyung was high out of his mind, but it seemed as if he would be the last to get that memo: in his twisted conception, he was spilling the hottest of truths (and not the incoherent ramble that it really was). Fighting through Jungkook’s complaints and eye rolls, he simply went on and on about how the page “Alpha Billionaire 101” wasn’t really that off beat when they said that you do, in fact, have two wolves inside you — and the one you feed is the one that wins. Jungkook was basically disassociating by the point that Taehyung started drawing some graphs, looking fixedly at the two wolves on the screen of his computer (one written “success and drive” and the other one representing “failure and procrastination”) and wishing that the gods above would strike him down once and for all. 

And why is that important? Well, because eventually Taehyung fell asleep and moved on with his life, only casually mentioning the other stuff he saw on that page, but his words stuck around, glued to the back of Jungkook’s head. Not because they held any sort of meaning, but because the wolf metaphor was just too stupid to forget. And that eventually caught up to Jungkook in the strangest, most unexpected of ways: with you and bondage being involved. 

Now, Jungkook had two wolves inside of him: one was extremely laid back and barely cared about most things that happened, as long as he was having a good time. The second wolf was a bitter, prideful, egocentric, mean little thing that simply wouldn’t fold no matter how much the world wanted it to. And it was that second wolf that took him to that position: because Jungkook told you that he was positive, certain, a hundred percent sure that he’d never be like you and beg for something during sex. 

Which made both of your wolves absolutely pissed. 

“What the fuck…” he mumbled, looking up at your agile hands moving like wasps around his wrists. The room was dark, barely illuminated by the moonlight that came from the window, but that wasn’t really the reason why his pupils were so blown-out. “Where did you learn to tie knots like this?” 

You smiled, giving a last pull on the ropes to make sure they would stay still. Jungkook had been elated when you finally told him that you’d be willing to try it out bondage. One thing he didn’t expect, though, was that he would be the one getting tied up. “I was in the Girl Scouts,” you told him, sitting back against his thighs. 

Jungkook scoffed, tugging at the ropes. They weren’t too tight, yet they burned his skin a bit — not an unwelcome feeling, but his mind wasn’t too focused on it. He had to live up to his own words. “Of course you were in the fucking Girl Scouts.” He rolled his eyes. “So, how long is this gonna take?”

His gaze followed as your hands unclasped your bra. Jungkook, who had already been stripped down to his boxers, could barely disguise the twitching of his eyebrows when your breasts finally came into view. The bra collapsed somewhere on the floor. “Depends on how long it takes for you to say it,” you reminded him. 

Jungkook shifted around, gaze following the rise and fall of your chest. His hands struggled against the ropes, aching to touch your breasts, and you could notice the frustration blossoming at the back of his throat when he spoke up. “I’m not gonna say it.” 

With a pout, you leaned back in, placing your hands on his broad chest for leverage. “Then it’s probably going to take a long time.” You blinked up at him, and there was a devilish glint in your eyes that he didn’t remember seeing before. He was doomed. “Comfortable?”

“Not at all,” he complained. 

The smile you gifted him made his knees weak for a second. “Perfect.” Your hands traveled to the back of his neck, fingers playing with his hair and eyes zeroing in on his mouth. “Now, be good and kiss me like you mean it, okay?” 

Be good? 

Jungkook didn’t get any time to digest your words before your mouth was pressing against his, enveloping him in your warmth — and suddenly he didn’t want to think about anything else. How could he? When you had your hands caressing his neck, with a soft sigh against his lips, there was nothing else in the world that could rob his attention. 

In the end, past his brooding, unshakable persona, Jungkook was still a weak man when it came to you, he really was. It had become a natural, well-rehearsed reaction of his to explore your mouth with his tongue at every chance that he got; your lips slapping together as he groaned against you. The skin of his wrists was tingling, pressing hard against the ropes that held his hands back from exploring your body; from pulling you closer like he wanted to. Instead, he was at your mercy, following your own pace as you leaned your head to the side, fingers tugging on his hair as you sighed happily into the kiss. 

It was exactly the way he liked: sensual, slow, messy; made his head spin when you rolled your clothed center on his erection before sucking on his tongue. Jungkook was sure that you were doing all that on purpose, riling him up as much as possible before finally touching him where he needed so much, and that was definitely going to be a problem. 

In the back of his head, Jungkook was currently trying to decide if he hated Taehyung or not: the fact that his roommate had compulsively chosen to attend a party three hours away was the reason that you were there, kissing him like he was the air that you breathed, but also the reason why Jungkook had gotten tied up in the first place. If he had had a bit more time between texting you that he would never beg in sex (a very dumb, very unthought action), and the moment that you actually tried to make it happen, perhaps he would be able to convince you to step down from it. Perhaps he would realize that his prideful side was also really, really fucking stupid when it came to predicting his own limits. 

Truth was: Jungkook was pretty much panicking when you moaned against his lips, because his cock was unbearably hard inside his underwear and he just knew that he would fold after some time. Especially when you were acting like that, like a demon trying to seduce him into selling his soul; a siren about to drag him to the abyssal depths of the ocean. He could barely follow what was happening. 

Because of his dominating tendencies, Jungkook had never seen you showing your typical neurotic, controlling self during your sexual adventures — which was something he endlessly teased you for, but never thought it would actually have any sort of backlash. It seemed that both of you liked the usual dynamic (of Jungkook taking over) well enough and, yet, as he watched that sadistic expression monopolizing your features, he realized that maybe it was for the best. Maybe you had been training your whole life to perfect the masterful art of having things happening the way you wanted it, and maybe giving you the lead was one of the worst decisions he had made in some time. 

As you pulled away, Jungkook chased after your mouth, managing to place another small kiss on your lips before the ropes held him back. “More,” he groaned. 

The curve of your mouth was a wicked little thing, almost making him lose his composure for a second. “No, no more,” you were firm in your words. “Be patient.” 

He huffed. “You only got an attitude because my hands are tied up.”

“I always have an attitude,” you were fast to correct, getting out of his lap. The lack of your warmth was instantly felt, made his chest heave in frustration as you sat down next to him. There was an embarrassingly large wet spot on his underwear that he was hoping you wouldn’t notice. “But, yeah, maybe I’m a little braver because of it.” Before he could muster up a response, one of your hands traveled between his thighs, faintly tracing its way up his skin. “And what are you going to do about it?” 

Jungkook clenched his jaw — it was embarrassing how sensitive he was, goosebumps spreading through his legs. “Don’t tease."

“Or what?” A squeeze of his bulge was everything you need to make him shut up, his hips buckling up to meet your palm. Jungkook was hard and leaking, pulsating as you gave him a few, half-assed pumps through his underwear. A few seconds were more than enough to let him have his fun, it seemed, because you were soon removing your hand from his erection. “Now, stay still unless you want me to tie your feet too.” 

He hissed at the lack of contact, but refused to complain about it out loud. You smiled at his reaction: Jungkook was so stubborn when it came to things like that, would never show you his weak, needy side so easily. But you were patient and, from what you had been told, you had all night to get your way. 

Call it revenge, call it whatever: there was nothing that you wanted more than to see Jungkook bite back his own words and beg for you. It was an ego thing, perhaps, the mission to leave him just as overwhelmed and desperate as he had made you so many times in the past. Maybe you were a bit mean about it. But it was well deserved. 

You took your time pulling one of his legs towards you, watching as his cock throbbed when you placed your body between his thighs. Jungkook could only think about how soft your mouth felt as you kissed up his thigh before, at last, you were nuzzling your face against his erection, placing kisses on his clothed member as your thumb pressed down on his sensitive tip. His breath grew irregular at the feeling, his tongue poking out to wet his lips as you looked up at him with that demonic smirk of yours, those big doe eyes that wiped his thoughts clean. Jungkook was absolutely fucked. 

Luckily, he didn’t have to urge you further because, soon enough, you were pulling his underwear down, making it join your bra on his bedroom floor. Jungkook could’ve cried when you rolled your thumb over his crown, spreading his precum all over him, a delighted hum dripping past your throat. “You’re leaking,” you commented, eyes following the glistening of his reddened tip. He could only muster a raggedy, short sigh before you were talking again. “I can clean you up, don’t worry.” 

Jungkook moaned out when you wrapped your lips around his cock, not hesitating much before you sank down on him. His head fell back when you started sucking, your cheeks hollowing out and tongue pressed flat against him. “God, your mouth feels so fucking perfect.” His hips thrusted up, but you had enough of a reflex to pull away before he managed to hit the back of your throat. “Take it deeper, baby, do it for me.”

But you did the opposite, removing him from your mouth. You glanced up at him with a disinterested look plastered all over your face, lips glossy with a beautiful mixture of your saliva and his wetness. Jungkook made a mental note to never forget that sight. “I don’t know if you understand what’s going on here, Jungkook.” You wrapped one hand around his cock, pumping it twice. It felt good, but nothing compared to your mouth. “But it’s really not your place to tell me what to do right now. That’s not how it works.” 

“Yeah?” He chuckled, eyebrows raised in a silent dare. “And what are you going to do about it?” 

Poor decisions: Jungkook’s week was filled with poor decisions. Blame that unshakable arrogant side of his, blame his terribly constructed defense mechanisms; blame whatever it was that didn’t allow him to think clearly when you were so beautifully placed between his legs, but it seemed that he really thought it would be a good call to provoke you when you were already 1) deadset on making him embarrass himself 2) probably the best Girl Scout to ever tie a knot in history. 

Jungkook was completely helpless: he knew that, you knew that. So the reason why he mocked you in such a position would forever be another mystery that science could never answer. 

And the payback arrived soon enough. Jungkook only earned a few seconds of relaxation, staring at your impassive face, before your mouth was sinking back down around his member. 

If Jungkook thought that you were teasing him before, now you were sucking him like you wanted him to cum in two seconds — hands pumping his length, playing with his balls, tip hitting your throat, tongue dragging against his slit: the four horsemen of your apocalyptic blowjob technique that got him seeing stars in no time. “Fuck, that’s my girl,” he moaned. He was sure his wrists would be all red in the following morning from the way he was mindlessly moving his arms around, his mind just so hyper-focused on the need to touch you, to pull your hair when you were wrapping around his cock so well. “Feels so fucking perfect.” 

Then, as he was just about to tip over, you pulled away. 

“No, what the fuck,” Jungkook’s eyes snapped open, still unfocused and glazed-over. His body flinched at the interruption of his pleasure, and his cock throbbing against his pelvis, angry for attention. “Fuck, why did you stop?”

“That’s what I’m going to do about it.” You smiled, and Jungkook noticed that he was really playing a very dangerous game. In a span of two seconds, he asked himself if he was that mean to you, realized that he probably was, and came to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t change anything about it. “Are you going to behave now, Jungkook?” 

He groaned, fighting against the frustrated waves that overtook his body. His orgasm, before so close, had now been washed away, leaving him with a pulsating feeling inside his guts. “You’re pissing me off.”

“Likewise.” You tilted your head to the side, placing one hand on his thigh. “Now, stay still and do what I tell you to do. That’s the last time I’m asking.” 

He frowned. “Or what?”

You blinked, pausing for a second. “Isn’t it obvious? Or I’m leaving you like this.” 

Jungkook’s brain finally seemed to comprehend the fact that, sometimes, it’s better to keep your mouth shut. So, instead of saying something, he simply watched as you removed your underwear before sitting between his legs, your thighs over his. 

Because you absolutely hated him, you had opened your legs wide, pussy on full display, as you used one hand to lean back against the mattress. His eyes almost jumped out of their sockets when you used two fingers to spread your folds apart. “Look,” you said, your breathy voice making something inside his chest switch. “I’m so wet.” 

And wet you were. Jungkook exhaled, nostrils flaring. His mouth salivated at the thought of licking you clean, fingers growing white around the ropes. He never hated an object so hard in his life. “I can… I can see that.” 

You giggled at the grogginess of his tone, dove into the satisfaction that came from his focused eyes on your soaked folds. A gentle suspire left you as your digits slipped up, covering your clit with your arousal before pressing down on it. You were acting up a bit, whining loudly at the feeling because you knew that it drove him crazy to hear you make sounds for him. “Jungkook…” you trailed off. You had to bite back a laugh when his stare snapped up at you, looking so overwhelmingly horny and pissed off at the same time — the duality of men. “Want to have you inside me.” 

He exhaled heavily. “Do it,” he said and you allowed him to think that it was his order (and not your decision) that made you move. 

Jungkook’s pupils were blown out in sheer desire, wanting to absorb every light that bounced off your soft skin when you lined yourself with his cock, covering his tip with your warm wetness, allowing it to rub between your folds. By the time that you sat down on him, he was dangerously close to cracking. 

“Oh fuck.” His hips thrusted up, wanting to feel more of your tight walls around him. It was heaven and hell, just the way he loved it, but his delight wouldn’t last long. “Fuck, baby, that feels so good.”

“It does,” you agreed, but there was a teasing inflection in your tone that he did not miss. Soon, your fingers were back where they were before, circling your clit. “And I happen to know how to make it even better. For myself, at least.” 

It took him a few moments to understand what was going on, but, once it clicked inside his head, he could’ve cried from frustration. “What are you doing?”

“Getting myself off.” You smiled — oh you were such a fucking demon, he thought, a trickster spirit that wouldn’t rest until he was begging you to let him cum. Worst part? He might as well do it. “You don’t mind, do you? I know you love to keep your cock inside me like this.” 

They say that revenge is sweet and, as you saw the flash of desperation that crossed Jungkook’s face, you couldn’t agree more. “Aren’t… aren’t you going to move?” He tried. 

You could tell that he was holding back from just thrusting up inside you, which was equally satisfying and arousing: maybe, just maybe, he was starting to learn one thing or two about following your orders. “Hmmm… not at all.” You smirked, a tiny gasp leaving your lips as you circled your sensitive spot just the right way. Jungkook followed the movement of your lips as if they were writing the secrets of the universe. “Not if you keep that attitude up.” 

He frowned, the corners of his mouth twitching in frustration. From your peripheral vision, you could see his wrists vaguely struggling against your knots — humbly speaking, you were a great Girl Scout, the typical overachiever, and you were positive that they would hold up. 

“You’re going to regret this later,” Jungkook warned, but his words didn’t even have the chance to affect you. One clenching of your walls around him was all that it took for his head to roll back, a deep grunt dripping from his mouth at the sensation. It was just enough to keep him dangling over the edge, but not even close to making him cum. “Your pussy is so fucking tight, baby. Feels so fucking good.”

“I’m almost there, that’s why.” Your other hand slithered up your waist, cupping one of your breasts. Being a bit more theatrical than necessary (because you wanted to provoke him as much as you could), you gasped out his name as you rolled one nipple between your fingers, arching your back at the sensation. You swore you saw Jungkook’s eye twitch. “Gonna cum just like this. And you’re gonna be good and watch me.” 

Again with that be good bullshit, again not giving him enough time to process it before you were timidly rolling your hips. “Baby,” he gasped. “This isn’t fair.” 

“It isn’t,” you agreed, slightly breathless, your hand moving to play with your other breast. Jungkook followed the action like every part of you was magnetic, calling for his attention. “You do that to me all the time, though.” 

He frowned. “But I let you fucking touch me.” 

“How nice of you,” you sarcastically remarked. Another small roll of your hips made you gasp, fingers working faster around your clit. Teasing Jungkook got you shamefully turned on, it seemed, because you were just about to tip over the edge. “Fuck, feels so good.” 

“It would feel so much better if you just— God, you’re so fucking wet,” his mind was barely functioning at that point, the heavenly feeling of your walls clenching around him was making him go insane. “Just ride my cock, baby.” 

“No,” that simple word was like an arrow, shooting all his hopes down. Jungkook closed his eyes and threw his head back, trying to fight against the claustrophobic nature of his position. There was no way he could hold himself back, he thought, he would beg you as many times as he needed it that was what it took for him to finally cum. “I’m close, Kook.” 

That whimpery, needy tone of yours would be the death of him one of those days. “I can fucking feel it,” he cursed. Jungkook just wanted to thrust inside your dripping pussy, make you cream his cock like you were made for it, but he knew that you would just stop everything again if he did so, and he seriously didn’t think he could take that. “S-Shit, baby, you don’t know what you’re doing to me.” 

But you had a good idea of how you were affecting him. Through parted lids, you watched as his face contorted in pleasure when you squeezed particularly tightly around him; a muffled sob perishing on his throat when you vaguely raised your hips. Jungkook was filling you up so perfectly, like he always did, and it was that amazing stretch of his cock inside you, combined with the clear hunger that covered his features, that pulled your climax towards you. 

The orgasm that washed over you was abrupt, overbearing, just blinding enough so you didn’t notice the weak little moans that Jungkook let out at the throbbing of your walls around his aching length. You tried to prolong it for as long as possible, rubbing yourself, crying out his name for theatrical reasons, but eventually sensitivity got the best of you and you stopped. 

What you found when you did, however, was a glorious sight. Jungkook was a perfect picture of lust and desperation, his chest rising and falling rapidly and eyes locked on where your two bodies joined. There was a thin coat of sweat all over his skin, the small sound of the  ropes pulling on the headboard. When he noticed you were staring, he found your gaze. “I- I stood still,” he said. 

“I know, you did so good.” You placed one hand on his cheek, leveling your face with his so you could kiss him. Jungkook melted under your touch, a deep sigh leaving his mouth as you pulled away, his cock still deep inside you. “I’m proud of you.” 

As if something had magically changed, Jungkook tried to fight against his immobilized hands, only to find out that he was still unable to free himself. “Wanna touch you so bad, baby. You look so fucking hot sitting on my cock like this.” Jungkook was spoiled, you realized, because it didn’t take him two seconds of good behavior to revert back to what he wanted to happen. It was a terrible habit, you realized, one that you probably helped enable. “Fuck, just let me cum, baby. Take these off and I’ll fuck you just the way you like it.” 

And maybe if you weren’t so high up in your power rush, you would’ve at least considered his offer. However, having Jungkook turned into a pliant mess beneath you was worth more than anything else at that moment. “I’ll think about it if you say the magic word.”

He frowned, his charm melting away. Jungkook was so adamant on having it his way that it bordered on a joke. “Not gonna do it.” 

You kissed him once again before speaking up. “Then we don’t have a deal.” You shook your head, moving away from him. Jungkook searched after your mouth, but your stupid Girl Scouts knots didn’t allow him to go much further. He collapsed back against the headboard with a frustrated groan. “You’re a terrible sub.”

“Maybe because I’m not a fucking sub— Shit.” All his thoughts were wiped clean when you slowly raised your hips, only leaving his engorged tip inside, before, finally, sitting back down. The drag of your velvety walls against his sensitive cock was driving Jungkook up the wall, his tied-up wrists mindlessly knocking against each other. “Fuck. I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” You pouted, repeating the movement. You watched as his jaw clenched, a sharp exhale leaving his nostrils as Jungkook both fought against and searched for his pleasure. “Sure you don’t wanna say it?” 

A deliciously slow roll of your hips got him gasping out. “I’m not gonna — fuck — not gonna say it.” 

You leaned your head to the side, stopping your movements. Jungkook’s abdomen was caving in with every small brush of your pussy around him, the illumination from the streets making the drops of sweat on his skin look like small diamonds. It was an erotic sight, from the falling of his dark hair over his hooded eyes, to the beautiful inked drawings on his arms. Unfortunately, you had other things to do other than to admire him endlessly. 

With a sigh, you got up from his lap. “Too bad.”

“Baby,” Jungkook whined — actually whined —  when he felt his cock slip out of your perfect heat, collapsing against his abdomen. The sensation got him flinching, made him bite his lip for a second in an attempt to compose himself. “Baby, don’t leave me like this, come on.”

You frowned, faking annoyance. “How can I not leave you like this, Jungkook?” Your palms slithered around his shoulders, pulling your body closer to his. “You’re being horrible right now.” 

“S-Sorry.” His breath caught in his throat when your mouth met the skin of his neck, tongue prodding out to lick a small trail up his skin. Your heat was unbearable, suffocating him and drowning out his thoughts to the point that he had really apologized for his poor demeanor. If your predictions were correct, it wouldn’t take long before he folded the way you wanted him to. “Just, come on, you can’t just— I’m just so hard right now.” 

You giggled, fingertips moving down on his chest until you found what you were looking for. “Aw. Poor thing,” you teased, feeling as he grew stiff when you started to play with his nipples. A few weeks back, you had made the wonderful and unexpected discovery that Jungkook was really sensitive there, but you never really had a chance to explore that side of him before he flipped you over and had you his way. But the universe always searched for balance, and that moment was the karmic payback you were looking for. “What’s the problem, Kook?” 

“Wanna cum.” He winced away from your faint caresses, but he really didn’t have anywhere else to go. A smirk curled up on your lips as you watched Jungkook fight against the knots, a frail, airy moan leaving his chest as you rolled his nipples between your fingers. He sounded so perfect: so needy and desperate that you could feel another gush of arousal accumulating between your folds. “Just wanna cum so bad, baby.” 

“I’m not gonna be mean and hold it off,” you told him, moving back so you could place a kiss against his pouty, swollen lips. Jungkook looked so beautifully messy, so on edge, that you almost cried out at the sight of it. “You just have to say it,” you told him, lowering your hips until you were straddling his cock. 

With a roll of your pussy against him, his cock brushed between your wet folds, tearing a broken sob from his throat. “Fuck,” Jungkook cursed. He was never in a position like that: edged for so long that he couldn’t even control the grunts that left his throat. “You’re so fucking evil.”

“You love it.” Another grind of your pussy had him throwing his head back, a loud moan ripping itself from his heaving chest. Jungkook was sensitive, responsive to the tiniest of your touches and, most of all: he was desperate, seconds away from cracking. “You know, if you say it, I’ll let you cum.” 

His cock throbbed against you when you finally stopped your movements, raising your hips so your center moved away from his. Jungkook complained at the lack of sensation, practically on the limit of throwing a tantrum, and his pelvis mindlessly buckling up in search of your warmth. Instead, he found nothing, and his member simply collapsed back against his abdomen, aching for its release. 

“This— This is torture,” he groaned. You giggled at his distress, taking one hand to brush away the sweaty hair from his forehead. Jungkook leaned into your touch. “Please, baby, just fuck me.”

Your ears perked up at that, a pool of arousal starting to grow between your legs. That sounded even better than you had predicted. “Sorry, what was that?” You teased. 

Jungkook closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. “Don’t make me say it again.” 

Slowly, you lowered your hips again, pressing your pussy against his cock. Jungkook reacted instantly, taking in a sharp inhale. “Didn’t hear you,” you said. 

“God, baby, just fuck me, please,” he finally broke down, his dazed-out gaze seemed to have some trouble focusing on your face. Desperation was plastered all over him, staring at you like a beautiful, shimmering trophy. “Please, just let me cum. Please.” 

You hummed, leaning away so you could sit on his thighs, facing his erection. You were a woman of your word: you said you wouldn’t hold it back, and you wouldn’t. “Since you asked so nicely…” you trailed off, one hand wrapping around his base, pumping him a few times. Jungkook throbbed in your hands, his abdomen sinking as your thumb grazed his sensitive crown. “Where do you wanna cum?” 

It looked like you had truly broken the poor boy down because, for the first time in his life, Jungkook didn’t have any idea on how to answer that question. “I- I don’t know,” he struggled to speak when your hand was still caressing his member: just enough for him to feel something, but too slow and light for him to actually cum. “Anywhere. Just wanna cum.” 

You pouted, letting his cock go. It bounced on his pelvis, tore a painful cry from his throat as he felt his pleasure wash away once again. “I need an answer, Kook.” 

And he said the first thing that came into his mind. “Your pussy, baby, please.” 

A smile tugged on your lips — it seemed as if that word wasn’t so hard to say anymore. “Of course, you’ve been so good.” You moved around until you were sinking down on him, feeling that fantastic stretch all over again, and earning a shaky moan from his part. You only spoke up again after you were sure he couldn’t go any deeper. “Kook?” You called. His pleading eyes shot up at you. “Wanna fuck me?” 

He breathed out, just a tremulous gush of air that he could barely get ahold of. “Y-Yes, yes, please.” 

You hummed, wiggling your ass around just so you could watch his face contort in despair, crumbling under the delicious drag of your plump walls around his cock. Jungkook almost looked cute, you dared to think, even if you were sure he would fold you in half the second that he got those ropes off. It was like teasing a tiger in a zoo: people only felt brave enough to do it because there was a thick glass between them. “You better do it, then,” you told him. 

After everything you had put him through, Jungkook seemed almost hesitant to do so. “C-Can I move?” He asked, just to be sure. Last thing he needed was to do something wrong and have you walking out on him. His cock was so hard, leaking inside you, and he didn’t believe that he could handle being left like that. 

“Of course,” you told him, the tenderness of your voice so different from what you sounded like all night. Jungkook was still on the palm of your hand, but your victory when it came to making him beg had already been achieved. So you could relax and let him do the heavy lifting for once. Being active was exhausting sometimes. “Come on, Kook,” you egged him on, leaning forward so you could find support on his chest. You knew what was coming. “Fuck me.” 

That seemed to be the last spark he needed to ignite his fire because, soon enough, he was placing both feet on the mattress and thrusting upwards, your body collapsing forward under the force of his movements. Jungkook barely gave you any time to breathe: he fucked you fast and deep, helped by the gravity of your weight above him; shallow breaths and noisy whines leaving his mouth in a beautiful cacophony of sounds. It wasn’t long before he was making you bounce on his cock, pretty moans melting upon your lips as you fought to keep your balance over him. 

“B-Baby,” Jungkook stammered, an airy, high-pitched moan sounding from his parted mouth. His brain was utterly bewildered by the movement of your body above his own, the bouncing of your breasts and the wild fluttering of your eyelashes. And those moans, those gorgeous, ethereal little sounds that you reserved just for him. “S-So perfect. All mine.” 

“All yours,” you said promptly, struggling to meet his gaze. No matter how much you tried, you could not follow the speed of his thrusts, so you simply kept your body in place as he used it as he pleased. “Is this what you wanted?” 

He nodded, mouth falling open. His lips were pouty and swollen, slightly red from the way he had bitten them before. “Wanna cum,” he breathed out, “inside you.” 

No pretty please, you realized. Perhaps it wasn’t your best call to ask him to fuck you, because it dawned on you that you had just handed Jungkook his esteemed control back on a silver platter. That started simply as a doubt in the corners of your mind, however, you were sure that you had lost that battle once his needy whimpers started to wash away, instead replaced by the guttural, rough groans that he usually presented to you. 

Not that you truly cared about it: you had already proven your point. 

His head leaned to the side, pressing against his elevated arm. Jungkook was hypnotized by the way that your bodies met, the way you held yourself up so he could fuck himself inside you. You were always so good for him. “Your pussy feels so fucking amazing, baby,” Jungkook moaned out, hips snapping up against yours. A hiss dripped from his mouth when he felt you clench around him, signaling that you were close once again. “Look so pretty. Made for my cock.” 

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, head falling back. You could feel that familiar tingling at the bottom of your stomach, your orgasm ready to snap once more. Jungkook always fucked you so well, even when his hands were tied up, always left your brain scrambling after the most basic of words. “I’m c-close.” 

Jungkook tried once more to pull at his restraints, but it simply wouldn’t bulge. The contrast between the red ropes and the dark ink decorating his skin was beautiful, the veins of his hands getting thicker as tugged again and again. Jungkook was beyond the realms of reason by that point, struggling like a caged animal because there was nothing else in the world that he wanted more than to touch; to suck your breasts and to fuck you the way he wanted to. “Gonna cum too, baby,” his voice was almost a roar, deep and frustrated. It shot straight up to your core, made you tip over the edge and come down spasming around his cock, your high washing over you. “That’s it, cream my cock,” he praised. In the background of your overwhelmed state, you could feel as his member throbbed inside you, ready to release. “Take everything for me, alright? Wanna fill you up.”  

You barely had any time to nod before he was spilling himself inside you, a long, throaty moan dripping like sin from his lips. Jungkook tried to keep his movements up for a bit longer, delighting himself in the way you winced at the feeling, but even he had grown too tired to continue it. So, at last, he collapsed back against the mattress, sweaty hair falling over his eyes. 

“Get up,” he commanded, breathless. “Let me see it.” 

With shaky movements, you did as he requested, planting one hand on his thigh so you could raise your body. His cock slipped out at the motion, already softening, but his gaze was stuck on the gradual dripping of his cum between your pussy lips. As much as you were used to that specific request, it always made your legs weak when you looked at him during that part — no matter what happened before, Jungkook always had that maniac expression plastered all over his face, like the mere image of his cum slipping out of you was enough to send him into a frenzy all over again. And, most times, it was. 

“Good girl,” his dark stare slowly navigated towards your eyes. His arms were surprisingly still, no longer battling against the ropes, and there was something ominous about that. “Push it back in.” 

Because you didn’t want to anger him any further, you agreed. It was almost impressive how quickly Jungkook was able to take back his control: even with him being immobilized, you were still folding and following his wishes like it was your second nature. “Like this?” You asked, using two of your fingers to stuff his cum back inside. 

“Yeah, just like that.” He breathed out, the final seconds of his exhale morphing into a low growl. “Now, ___,” he called, eyes still glued to your pussy. “Untie me.” 

You almost wanted to go against that, given the way he was about to break you in half, but that wasn’t probably the brightest of ideas. A bit nervous, you moved off his lap and sat down next to him, hands flying to undo the knots. “Hang on,” you requested. From the corners of his vision, you could see Jungkook staring you down, his piercing eyes focused on your face, silently watching you through the curtain of his black hair. At last, you managed to undo the ropes, the thick material falling beside you as Jungkook lowered his arms and started to massage his wrists. “How are your hands? I hope it wasn’t—“

“Lay down.” He interrupted, dry. Your mouth fell shut — none of your usual sarcastic remarks finding their way past the lump in your throat. 

The softness of the pillow was a welcomed sensation, but your body could not relax, not when Jungkook was still looking at the pink marks on his inked skin, thinking about what he was going to do to you. You waited for what seemed like hours until he finally moved around, arms on either side of your head and chest pressed flush against yours. Jungkook’s heat was asphyxiating, his nose bumping against yours as he placed a small, tender kiss on your lips. He was being too calm, you noticed that instantly; still waters with sharks swimming underneath. 

“Silly girl,” he mumbled against your mouth, fingers pressing on either side of your jaw. Jungkook pulled your mouth open, thumb caressing your lower lip as he stared down at you like an arrogant monarch. You felt terribly small, shrinking under his presence. “It’s not my hands that you should be worrying about.” He smirked, and his thumb paused its tender motions on your lip. He sighed. “Now that you had your fun, I’m gonna have mine.” 

~ 

Jungkook was right: his wrists were red the next day. He naively thought that no one would be able to see it through his tattoos, but Taehyung, even in his hungover stupor, had his detective eye ready and noticed the marks right away. There was absolutely no way all his crime documentaries made him such an expert, Jungkook thought, but couldn’t really be sure of it. 

“You know… things like this only make me more curious,” Taehyung said after Jungkook had refused to tell him who had come over the previous night. He was munching on his sandwich like his life depended on it, brows furrowed into a perfect picture of concentration. There was jelly all over his mouth, pulling up the corners of his lips and making Taehyung look like a terrible, discount copy of the joker. “Like, a chick tied you up? Come on, I have to meet someone like that. It’s a matter of, like, survival, some alpha wolf bullshit—“

“Fuck off,” Jungkook cut him short, burying his face on his hands. He was too tired to deal with any of that. “I never want to hear about you or your wolves ever again.”

~

check out the rest of the bad influence collection! 

taglist > @minyoongiboongi  @bvrrym0re @marcoazam2 @shojotae @youurkryptonite @fan-ati--c @btstrasht @crazy4myself @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky @imluckybitches @gyukult @jinsalpaca @0901-1230 @we8joon​ @gamerkooks​

[biisexualemma]

beating pt.3. bucky barnes

word count: 3.2k

warnings: blood, violence, injury

requested: not really, i just wrote this cuz all i can think about is bucky barnes in tfatws and this is my only way of dealing with all those thoughts

plot: you, sam and bucky take the shield

a/n: ok so this is part 3 to the winter soldier series i've been writing lol this is set in episode 5 with you involved in that insane fight scene with sam, bucky and walker! also! finally watched tfatws finale last night and i was so overwhelmed, i am so grateful to marvel for giving us the masterpiece that was wandavision, and then following it flawlessly with tfatws. i'm just in awe! anyway! hope you like this! i am enjoying writing this series!

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.4 / masterlist

"walker," sam's voice echoed through the warehouse you had followed walker into, approaching the man with the shield with caution. you were still trying to process everything that had happened in the last few hours, everything you'd seen. you couldn't look at walker the same way after watching him repeatedly plunge steve's shield into that soldiers chest. you could still hear the mans screams for mercy ringing in your ears. you had never taken to walker, but this had shifted your dislike of him into a deep, disgusted hatred. all three of you knew what needed to be done without having to communicate it. you had to take the shield.

"you guys should see a medic, you don't look so good," his eyes trailed over the three of you, meeting you from across the room. his eyes lingered on you, your eyes boring into his, eyebrows slightly furrowed, a crease forming between them. he pulled away, turning his back to you. you gulped, watching him pace around in circles. it was unsettling, he was visibly agitated. you wondered, very briefly, whether he regretted his actions, underneath all that rage. you had seen something when he locked eyes with you, you just weren't sure what it was.

"stop. walker," sam intervened, bringing walkers pacing to a halt.

"what?" suddenly he was defensive, like he had been waiting for the judgement to be thrown at him. his voice raised slightly. "you saw what happened. you know what i had to do."

you shook your head lightly, your eyes locked on the imposter, traipsing around with that shield, dipped in blood. it made you feel sick. he turned his attention to you again, noticing your silent disapproval. he took a step towards you, letting his emotions get the better of him for a split second. "i killed him because i had to! he killed lemar!"

you swallowed the lump in your throat, clenching your fists together at your sides. you didn't take kindly to him taking his anger out on you, you would rather have him just own up to what he did instead of trying to pass the blame.

bucky shifted, unsettled with walker even looking at you for too long after everything that had happened. he wasn't taking any chances with you. his jaw clenched, he took a subtle step closer to you and held out a hand to halt walker from coming any closer.

"he didn't kill lemar, john," bucky's voice was almost the tiniest bit understanding, despite his standoffish manner. walker scoffed, not even taking notice of how much closer bucky was standing to you now, he was too caught up in his own thoughts. he continued pacing back and forth. you proceeded to watch his every move, anticipating a reaction from him. you were waiting for him to explode again. "don't go down that road. believe me, it doesn't end well."

your eyes flickered towards bucky, the last thing you had expected was for him to show any kind of sincerity towards john walker. but, then, there was a lot to bucky that you didn't yet understand. you understood sam was trying to avoid another fight by talking walker down, bucky must've been following his lead by trying to relate to walkers situation.

walker, however, didn't seem the slightest bit comforted by bucky's words, in fact, he almost looked embarrassed by the comparison between bucky and himself.

"i'm not like you," your eyebrows twitched into a frown when he spat the words at bucky. instinctively you took a step forwards, tilting your head slightly, suddenly feeling the urge to hit walker. bucky's hand grazed yours, like he knew exactly what you were thinking, and silently willing you to not hit him. yet, at least. you settled for gritting your teeth and holding your tongue.

"listen, it was the heat of the battle. okay?" sam ignored the sharpness in walkers tone, continuing his attempt to talk him down. if anyone was going to get through to this man, it was sam. he had a knack for that kind of thing. "if you explain what happened, they may consider your record," this felt like bullshit. what happened had happened. you knew, first hand, that the government wasn't exactly forgiving, especially when you kill a man in broad daylight with captain america's shield. "we don't want anyone else to get hurt."

you glanced at the shield in his hand one more time, your stomach twisting as you did. everything about that shield being in that mans arm felt wrong, and the blood coating the lower half of the shield was disturbing, to put it lightly. you often wondered how this whole mission would have gone down if steve were here, instead of walker. walker had managed to make a mess of every aspect of this mission, he had gone out of his way to make your jobs harder, without even realising he was doing it. you couldn't let yourself think about it for too long without your heart aching from the loss of your friend, and the sight in front of you taking his place.

"john," sam spoke again after a brief moment of silence. "you gotta' give me the shield, man," you knew as soon as the words were spoken that this wasn't going to go down well.

walker lifted his head from the shield, his eyes locking with sam's, along to bucky's, and then yours. bucky grabbed your wrist to stop you from jumping walker preemptively. walkers eyes lingered on where bucky clutched onto you, choking out a breathy laugh, with not the slightest hint of amusement. you closed your eyes for a second, taking a deep breath, anticipating the fight that had been long overdue to break out.

"oh," he breathed. "so that's what this is," his stare hardened, his eyes not leaving sam's now. you wanted to snatch the shield out of his hand and run before this became something far too messy. if it wasn't for bucky's grip, you were sure you would have at least tried to. "you almost got me."

"you made a mistake," you wished you could be as forgiving as sam, but you had too much anger, and too much hatred for this man.

"you don't wanna' do this," walker warned, and in someways he was right. none of you wanted to do this. you didn't necessarily want to get into a battle with an unhinged, super soldier with no concern for whether you lived or died. but you couldn't leave without that shield. so it had to happen.

"yeah, we do," you spoke harshly, catching walkers attention, you yanked your wrist out of bucky's grip.

bucky was the first to move, and suddenly everything was moving very quickly. bucky's arm connecting with the vibranium shield, sam kicked back onto the floor with force. you had swung your leg at walker, only to have him duck, catch your ankle and throw you backwards, your back hitting into a metal beam. the impact made you hurl over on the floor with a groan.

with a grunt, bucky continued to fight walker, struggling to snatch the shield out of his arm. walker's elbow collided with bucky's nose, knocking him backwards before throwing another punch and bringing him down to his knees. you scrambled onto all fours, pushing yourself back onto your feet, sam following suit across from you. your eyebrows knitted, as walker heaved the shield over his head, about to strike bucky when you swung another kick to his head, catching him this time. the hit caught him off guard, allowing sam to use his wings to strike another blow.

all three of you were on him now, bucky back to his feet, as each of you threw one blow after the next at this man, and he caught every single one. after beating sam and winding him, and striking bucky in the face so sharply with the shield that he fell back, he caught your wrist and twisted it with an uncomfortable level of ease until something cracked. you let out a loud cry feeling your wrist fall limp, walkers foot immediately slamming into your ribs while you were distracted, knocking you to the ground with a thud.

bucky eyes moved up to where you lay on the floor, walker with his shield ready to take another crack at you while you were down. bucky intervened, his fist slamming into the shield repeatedly, pushing walker further and further back. fists were flung around, the sheer force behind the blows seemed to not make the slightest difference to either of them. walker flung himself at sam, his foot colliding with his face before swinging the shield back and letting to fly out of his hand, his full force behind it, hitting bucky square in the chest.

your breathing hitched in your throat, watching bucky's body fly across the room with the shield and land with a loud crash. your chest tightened, scrambling onto your feet, numb to any pain searing through your body at this point, as sam came up behind you and grabbed your arm to help you up.

"why are you making me do this?!" walkers voice boomed from across the room. your eyes widened with shear panic, your heart in your mouth when walker heaved bucky off the ground and flung his body across the room, slamming into one of the metal beams. you couldn't stop yourself from crying out his name as he collapsed against the hard floor, body limp and his left arm glitching next to him.

you hadn't noticed sam had left your side, soaring across the room to return to his attack on walker. you were solely focused on bucky and the way his body lay unmoving. sam preoccupied walker, allowing you to run over to your boyfriend, dropping to your knees and rolling him onto his back.

"buck," you gulped back the lump in your throat, your hands trembling slightly as they hovered over his face. he wasn't fully conscious, his eyes rolled, arm twitching every couple of seconds. you glanced over your shoulder, sam was manoeuvring around walker, managing to hold him on his own for now. you turned back, your unsteady hands touching his cheek, grazing the skin that was now bruised and bloody. your heart beating out of your chest, you didn't often see bucky like this, it was disturbing. "bucky-- please--"

your words caught in your throat when a hand clasped around your throat, tightening and yanking you away from bucky. you gasped for air as your supply became limited, your feet dragging against the floor. before walker could haul your across the room, sam blocked his path, holding out a cautious hand. your eyes watered the tighter he clenched his fist around your neck, both your hands desperately trying to release his strong grip.

"this isn't you, john," sam spoke with urgency, his eyes darting to where you were struggling desperately.

walker glanced down at you, your face turning pale the longer you tried to catch a breath. he gritted his teeth before letting you drop at his feet. you frantically gasped for air, feeling your lungs fill up again, your chest straining from your deep breaths.

"we could've been a team," he spat harshly.

bucky had regained his consciousness in this time, managing to force himself onto his feet again. he met you at your side, one hand resting against the small of your back, the other grabbing your forearm and helping you up. your vision blurred slightly at the sides, scrunching your eyes closed and reopening them, you saw walker ahead of you, on top of sam, physically restraining him. the deranged look in his eyes sent shivers down your spine.

"i am captain america!" he bellowed, echoing through the empty warehouse. bucky, whose attention had solely been on you up until this point, dragged his eyes over to sam and walker. both of you froze watching as walker ripped sam's wings clean off. your mouth hung open, hesitating for a second in shock. but when you saw him lift that damn shield again, you stumbled out of bucky's grip, as fast as your legs would carry you, snatching the knife out of your holder and flinging it at him. the knife sliced his fingers, he let out a yelp and faltered, giving bucky enough time to tackle walker off of sam.

the pair went flying across the room, both quickly gathering themselves up again. walker looked like hell, his face dirtied and bloodied, his eyes wide and crazed as he and bucky met again. fists flew back and forth as they beat each other with as much force as they had in them, walker was the one in the end to grab a fistful of bucky's hair, pulling the shield back and slamming it into bucky's face. you couldn't stand back and watch, the shield now pushed up against bucky's arms as he desperately tried to stop the shield from coming into contact with him again.

you caught walker off guard, swinging in from his blind side and connecting your fist with his jaw as hard as you could, giving bucky enough leeway to regain himself. he held walkers arm in place and you grabbed the shield. sam came up behind you, gripping the shield and pulling with you as hard as you could. bucky was face to face with walker, their hatred for one another in that moment was unparalleled.

sam switched his thrusters to high, walker let out a torturous cry, his arm breaking out of shape as the shield slipped off, both you and sam flying backwards. you groaned, the shield landing on top of your chest as you lay against the cold floor. your head was pulsating, blood soaking your hair and your shirt. you could feel every wound you'd pushed aside before, now worse than ever. you rolled onto your side, gasping as the pain surged through your chest, blood dripping from your mouth when it fell open.

you winced, using your last bit of strength to push yourself upright onto your hands, letting the shield fall with the clunk beside you. bucky was already back onto his feet, his first instinct was to reach you, but before he could get close enough, walker's voice echoed from over his shoulder.

"it's mine," you heard him spit, his eyes locked onto where you lay, the shield beside you. only bucky stood in between you and walker. this guy really didn't know when to quit.

your eyes shifted up to where sam stood over you now. "it's over, john."

"it's mine," he growled, swinging at bucky who caught his fist before he could get anywhere near you. bucky threw a forceful punch to his jaw and threw walker over his shoulder before he could regain himself. you grabbed the shield, lifting it so sam could take ahold of it. bucky had swung walkers entire body over him like he weighed nothing, letting sam and the shield collide with his body. you cringed watching walkers body fall heavily to the ground, sam and bucky collapsing around the shield.

you let out deep, laboured breaths, your hand now clutched to your ribs that were searing with pain. everything was surging through you all at once, your brows furrowed and your tongue between your teeth. the metallic taste was swimming in your mouth, you felt wounded and entirely exhausted.

bucky dropped the shield next to sam, his eyes boring into his for a split second before his attention was turned to your body hurled on its side. he kneeled beside you, his metal hand touching the side of your face, his fingers running through your hair and tilting your face up so you could meet his stare. his eyes were soft and tired, his eyebrows knitted together tightly as his eyes moved over your bloodied face. his thumb grazed over your bottom lip, dragging it down, blood transferring onto his skin from yours. his expression was hard and unnerving. he didn't have the energy in him to ask if you were okay, he just looked at you, his heart cracked wide open as he did.

you nodded faintly, answering the question he couldn't will himself to ask. you lifted your uninjured hand to where his palm touched your cheek, grazing your fingers over his skin. your eyes shifted to where his skin split open across the bridge of his nose, where walker had ploughed the shield into his face, and over to the bruise growing against his cheekbone. you gulped down on the lump sitting in your throat, and found your eyebrows knitting together. you knew he would heal quicker than most, but he was wounded in more ways than one after this fight, you could tell by the look in his eyes, he couldn't take much more.

this felt like a knock on the chin, everything that had happened felt heavier somehow. you had the shield but at what cost? what did it mean for you guys now? how did you move forward?

bucky gave you a stiff nod, his jaw clenching as he moved his hand away from your face, your own hand falling back to your side. you, unfortunately, did not have super soldier serum running through your veins, so you felt the impact of your injuries a lot more than bucky did. you lifted your right arm with caution, expecting bucky to take it and pull you onto your feet, but he didn't. he pushed himself back onto his feet, his hard stare moving away from yours.

you tilted your head, trying to understand what was going through his head, but that had never been an easy task with bucky. "buck," you mumbled, your voice hoarse. you watched his hand clench into a fist and unclench again.

he sniffed, taking a deep breath before glancing over to sam who was keeled over the shield. their eyes met for a second before bucky spoke. "look after her. i need to take care of something."

your eyebrows knitted tighter together, knowing you couldn't push yourself up and chase after him. he knew that too. "bucky," your tone was harsher this time. you hissed, hand flying to your ribcage where a searing pain worked its way through your abdomen after trying to shift yourself off the ground and over to him. you knew why he didn't want you to go with him, you knew where he was going and you couldn't let him do it. you had done everything on this mission together.

"would that be zemo you're taking care of?" sam voiced exactly what you were thinking, his tone cold.

he turned his back on sam, his eyes trailing over you. "go with sam," he spoke through gritted teeth. "i won't be gone long."

your frown deepened, you shook your head faintly. "buck-- don't," his eyes locked with yours for second, his eyelids fluttering like they did when he was tired. you wanted to be enough to stop him, but his mind was set.

"i have to," he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to walk away from you before you could talk him out of it.

[ravennm84]

Serafina II

Part 1     Part 3

The 2nd installment of the “Marinette’s Haunted Doll” series. I was seriously shocked by how much response I got from part one, so I hope this lives up to your expectations. Blood, gore, and death are coming, along with some mental freak-outs. You have been warned. 

Part II

Despite wanting to stay with Marinette to comfort the girl after the tearful apologies by Mylene and Ivan, Serafina couldn’t return until her work was finished. There was still much to do and people to punish. 

She arrived early with Mylene, which allowed her to observe the others that entered the classroom. Kim had returned to school that day in a wheelchair. The cast on his leg went up to his waist and the one on his arm went up to his bicep. His face and exposed skin were covered in bruises and his right eye looked like it had blood in it. 

“How are you feeling, dude?” Nino asked him as he entered alongside Adrien.

“Really sore,” the boy admitted. “Doctors had to reset my leg at the knee and said that my arm was a three piece offset fracture, so they had to use screws to put it back in place. Other than that; had a concussion, a lot of bruises, and a couple cuts; but no internal bleeding or ruptured organs. They said after a few months and some physical therapy, I should be as good as new.”

Nino gave him a solemn nod. “Glad to hear you’re going to be okay, dude.”

Kim’s expression dropped a bit. “I heard about Alya, I’m really sorry, man.”

The boy lowered his head while Adrien patted his back. “I really… I can’t believe she’s gone because of some freak accident. It makes no sense!” Nino jumped to his feet and started pacing as more students filed in. “I mean, she wasn’t supposed to die like that! Getting caught up in an akuma battle, childhood disease, there would be a reason for that! But that was just pointless!”

Mme. Bustier did attempt to calm him down, but her kind words fell on deaf ears before he grabbed his bag and left the room. No one could blame him, and only Adrien followed to make sure he would be alright, and to make sure he wasn’t akumatized.

Lila came in not long after with a curious bag in her hands. Serafina watched the liar as she looked around the room. She had a feeling that the liar would try something after her last attempt to frame Marinette had failed. When the girl tried speaking to Mylene, the doll was proud to see the girl refuse to acknowledge her as she continued to speak with Rose and Juleka. When it was clear that she was being ignored, she tried speaking to Ivan, only for him to give her a harsh glare that had her shuffling backwards. With Max and Alix still at the hospital and Adrien not in the room, that left her with Sabrina. The redhead had been sitting alone at the front of the room since Chloe had transferred schools after the Miracle Queen incident.

“Hi Sabrina, how are you doing?”

The girl smiled up at the italian, glad to still have a friend. “I’m doing okay, at least a lot better than a lot of our class. I heard Max lost sight in his one eye from the chemicals and Alix might have to have cosmetic surgery to get her face back to normal. At least Kim might be back to normal in a few months after going through physical therapy. But Alya…”

Lila faked her tears at the mention of her lost follower. She was really more annoyed than sad, Alya was easily manipulated, went along with everything she said, and Lila had been able to use her blog to build up her popularity. And the girl had been a decent attack dog, just point her at someone and off she went. Now that she was dead, maybe she could turn Sabrina into her new lead follower, she was already partially trained and it wasn’t like the blonde bitch was around anymore.

“I know, it’s so terrible. She was my first friend when I moved here, it’ll be so hard without her,” she faked a few more tears. And just like that, Sabrina took her hand in comfort and said a bunch of soothing words while she continued to fake cry. 

After a moment, Lila placed the bag she’d been holding on the desk and pushed it away from her, making sure the action caught Sabrina’s attention. “What’s that?”

Lila fake sobbed even harder, hiding her face in her hands. “Ma-Marinette, she-she said it was m-my fault that Alya’s dead. She practically threw that bag at me and said to use it,” she said before breaking down in more fake sobs.

Carefully opening the bag, she gasped when she saw it was full of razor blades and a couple of kitchen knives. Sure, she knew that Marinette didn’t get along with Lila, but to actually give this to her and tell her to ‘use it’? How could she be so cruel?

Serafina scowled as the red head hugged the liar and promised her that she would take care of it. Her anger erupted as Sabrina stood from her desk with the bag in hand, and began walking towards Mme. Bustier’s desk. The girl didn't take two steps before tripping over nothing and falling onto her side. Luckily, she did not land on the bag. Unluckily, she gripped it too tight and the impact forced the knives and razors through the bag and deep into her hands.

The girl screamed and cried as blood rushed out of the wounds and down into her sleeves. She begged Lila to help her, but the italian backed away from the girl in shock. Mme. Bustier gripped her head between her hands and began saying “not again, not again” before running out of the room. The only ones that helped her were Juleka, Rose and Ivan; the smaller girl sprinting off to alert the nurse and the principal, while Juleka and Ivan got Sabrina to her feet. Ivan kept the girl upright and moving out the door while Juleka held the girl’s hands above the level of her heart to keep her from bleeding too much.

Those left in the classroom were in shock as they stared at either the door or at the blood staining the floor. No one said anything for a long time, not even Lila. She hadn’t thought anyone would get hurt. She just thought she would get Marinette suspended and everyone would be on her side again. Adrien returned before the others, completely shocked when he saw the blood and Kim explained to him what had happened. The blonde sent a scathing look at Lila but said nothing.

It was a while later before Rose, Ivan, and Juleka returned to class, along with M. Rupere. He informed them that their classes were cancelled for today. “After everything that has occurred this week, I’ve decided that all of you will be meeting with the counselor today. He will decide if more sessions are necessary and for who, but his door and mine are open if you need to talk. M. Deveraux will come to speak with you one at a time. Kim Le Chien, he had requested to speak with you first. Mlle. Rossi,” he looked sternly at the girl, “would you please follow me, we need to talk about the incident with Sabrina Raincomprix.”

Serafina smiled as the liar trudged out of the room after the man. She was satisfied with Sabrina’s punishment and doubted if Mme. Bustier would last another day before having a total mental breakdown. She also knew that Lila would be in even more trouble after M. Rupere looked into the girl a bit more. But just to make sure, Serafina touched her on the way out. To most people, that would do nothing; but to someone like Lila, it would cause her to become more and more unhinged until she did something drastic. Very soon, Lila would be out of the picture and those deserving of punishment will have paid their debts.

~oOo~

It was more difficult sneaking home with Adrien than she had expected, especially with the tiny god of Chaos and Destruction in his bag. Plagg was his name, and he was very defensive of his kitten and had threatened to cataclysm her. Serafina told him that she would not purposefully harm his ‘kitten’, but there was something she had to take care of at the Agreste Mansion. The doll had long suspected that Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth and she was going to find out tonight if it was true. Plagg was reluctant to agree since it would hurt Adrien; but if it was true, they had to put an end to it.

After arriving at the mansion, Plagg easily convinced the boy to sneak out and check on Nino. After he left, Serafina sensed something on Adrien’s desk. Being an enchanted/haunted object, she could sense other objects like herself… such as Miraculous jewels. And right there on the desk was a pin shaped like a peacock, one of the jewels that had been missing and used by Mayura. If there had been any doubts before about who had been terrorizing Marinette, they were gone. 

Tucking the pin into her small outfit, she began to search the building, starting with Gabriel’s office. She had expected the man to be present, but he was missing. And given that Hawkmoth was a very active user, she had no doubt that he kept his jewel on him at all times. So, she waited.

It was about an hour later that Gabriel Agrest entered the room, and not from the door Serafina had expected. The man had a secret entry in the floor in front of a portrait of a woman. He was muttering on knowing better than to use Bubbler again, but that the negative emotions had been too strong to ignore. She also saw the purple kwami hovering over his shoulder, but the creature stopped when it sensed her. Gabriel strode out of the room, barely noticing that Nooroo had stayed behind and flew over to the doll hiding behind the desk.

“What are you doing here? If the Master finds you, he will destroy you.” The kwami said with worry.

The doll conveyed that she knew that his master was Hawkmoth, just as her human was Ladybug. She was here to protect her and return the butterfly and peacock miraculous to their rightful place. Also knowing that Gabriel had become too corrupted for his miraculous.

“I’ve tried to tell him that the wish would be dangerous,” Nooroo told her with downcast eyes. “He wants to make a wish to revive his wife, but he doesn’t realize that the cost would be to put Adrien, someone he loves equally as much as Emilie, into the same state of death. She isn’t even truly alive anymore, her body only lives because of the machine she is in.”

An idea spawned in Serafina’s thoughts and she barely kept herself from smiling. She asked Nooroo to help her activate the secret passage so she could get to his wife, but the little kwami shook his head. “Even if I could get you down there, the motion sensors would trip and he would attack you.”

Smiling this time, Serafina promised the little god that Gabriel would not attack her. That she would make sure that Adrien would be safe and the two kwami’s would go to their rightful place. All he had to do was help her open the door. Although reluctant and slightly scared, the little god opened the door, hoping that the nightmare would finally end. 

Down in the lair, the doll saw the mechanical coffin placed in the center of the room and went to it. The motion sensors caught her quickly, but she had been planning on moving fast anyway. Opening the coffin, she settled herself into the woman’s arms. Nooroo had been right, Serafina could sense that the woman’s soul had departed from her body a while ago and it was only the machine that was keeping her body alive. With no other soul to contend with, this would make what she was about to do next all the easier.

Nathalie had called to alert him the moment the alarms went off in the lair while she and Simone were out on an errand. He was moving faster than he could remember with Nooroo following close behind. Gabriel transformed on the way down, prepared to attack whoever had stumbled in, but his breath caught in his throat halfway down when he got a good view of the room. 

The coffin was empty.

Rushing forward, he began frantically searching the room for his wife, calling her name. He turned to rush back upstairs and froze. Standing behind him, looking dazed, was his wife. Her eyes were unfocused and her arms were hugging her middle, but it was her. Dropping his transformation, Gabriel cautiously approached her and she flinched back from him. It took a few minutes and a lot of gentle coaxing before he was able to wrap an arm around her shoulders and lead her to the elevator. When they got to his office, he watched her carefully as she began walking around the room. He wanted her to sit down and rest, but he was still in shock that she was awake and standing in front of him.

Eventually, her green eyes met his. “Where’s Adrien?”

“I… I don’t know, he should be up in his room.”

Emilie’s head tilted slightly, her eyes searching his. “What have you done? Did you make the wish?”

“No, my love. I was going to when I got the jewels, but Ladybug and Chat Noir evaded me.”

Tears grew in her eyes as she continued to stare at him. “You tried to make the wish? Knowing that it would have cost our son’s life?” 

Gabriel froze. He hadn’t known that wishing Emilie to come back would cost Adrien’s… but Nooroo had tried to tell him. He remembered the kwami trying to tell him about the cost and he had forced him to not speak. “I’m sorry, Emilie. I didn’t-”

“You knew,” she interrupted, her voice lacking any emotion as she continued to stare at him. “You knew from the beginning that what you were doing was wrong, evil. You chose to ignore what it would cost.”

“Emilie, my love, please don’t say such things,” Gabriel begged as he rushed forward to wrap his arms around her. “All I have wanted since the day I lost you, was to hold you in my arms again and hear your voice. I was lost without you and was willing to go to the ends of the earth to bring you back. Is that so wrong?”

He had just barely met her eyes when he felt the twin pains in his arms. Jumping back, he looked down to see both wrists had been cut deeply with a pair of his fabric cutting scissors. Blood was draining from the wounds at an alarming rate. His hands were shaking and he was already feeling light headed as he grabbed a handful for fabric from his work table in an attempt to slow the blood. He wanted to call out for help, but they were alone. 

His eyes grew hazed as he looked to Emilie, surprised that she was staring at him with such contempt. “I know what you’ve been doing while I was in that coffin. Tormenting the city and people I love, isolating our son and treating him like a burden. If you had ever succeeded in getting the Cat and Ladybug miraculous, it would have destroyed Paris. But you didn’t care. As you said, all you cared about was hearing my voice and holding me in your arms. Congratulations, your wish came true, and you will be the one to pay the price. Not Adrien.”

His legs gave out from under him as the fabrics dripped from the excess blood. He couldn’t understand how this had happened, Emilie would have never done something like this… but was this really her? With his vision fading, he took a hard look at his wife, only now noticing the dullness of her eyes, the greying pallor of her skin, and the fact that she only seemed to breathe when she spoke… “Who are you?”

Her head tilted again, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. “Serafina. Quite astute of you to figure that out in your state. Your wife’s soul passed on a long time ago, all you have been doing is preserving a corpse. And I was telling the truth; even if you had made the wish, it would have cost Adrien his life.” Her hand shot forward, removing the butterfly miraculous before he could stop her. “Your actions have hurt someone close to me and I could no longer stand back and allow it to happen.”

She stood, walking to his desk to pull out a piece of paper and writing something down before neatly folding it and leaving it on his desk.

“Wh… What…”

“You just wrote a letter to Adrien; admitting what happened to his mother, that you were Hawkmoth, and the reason why you did what you did.” She said calmly before looking back at him. “Whether he tells the rest of the world is up to him. As for the miraculous, I will give him a chance at redemption. Though if he should fail, you may be seeing him sooner rather than later. Either way, they will soon be back where they belong, with the guardian. And you, good sir, have just committed suicide after bringing your wife’s body upstairs, so you would be able to hold her in your arms as you died.”

Unable to sit upright anymore, Gabriel barely felt his body collapse to the floor. He was hardly aware of Emilie lifting one of his arms to tuck her body to his side. The last thing he was aware of was something that he swore would haunt him in the afterlife; a porcelain doll emerging from the folds of her clothes and standing beside them. It stood there on its own, watching him until he could no longer keep his eyes open and he took his final breath.

Taglist (even longer):

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[prettywordsyouleft]

To Be Continued - Part 9

Summary: As an author, you had created Brian Kang for your current trilogy series to represent the ultimate man that everyone would love, along with Charli Evers - your female protagonist. What you hadn’t expected was for him to find a way out of the story and begin shaping up your world instead

Pairing: Brian Kang x female writer (ft. Park Sungjin)

Genre: writer au / romance / fantasy

Warnings: fictional characters coming to life / a bit of angst here and there / Sungjin as a cop (or does that only affect me?) >_>

The angst that arrived last time is now amplified.

Word count: 2326

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Epilogue

Months went by in a blur. If you weren’t at your desk slaving over the story, you were sleeping or had finally remembered to eat. You excluded yourself from everything in your world, aside from ensuring Binks had everything he needed to survive, just to finish the story as quickly as you could.

Of course, this was at a rate where you wouldn’t substitute the quality of your words either. Despite your constant heartache and yearning for Brian, this was possibly the best piece of work you had ever written to date. The emotions between Charli and Brian’s hardships felt raw and more relatable than ever. You cried when Charli did, and you felt frustrated alongside Brian. You poured all your emotions into this final story, along with every shred of creativity you possessed.

After ten long months, you were now staring at what felt to be the ending scene of Eternity, and this world. You had completed this part in the trilogy faster than the year each it took for the other two respectively, and it was the longest story out of the three.

Shaking as you reread your final line, you took in a deep breath and nodded. “It’s done. It’s finally done.”

And just as your fingers went to type the usual The End into the document, you froze, realising just what time in your life you had reached now. It wasn’t just the satisfaction of finishing the book, and effectively the series too, that consumed you now.

It was the sheer hope that after all your hard work, you could finally see the man you loved again.

“Brian,” you called out whilst staring at the screen. “Brian!”

Nothing happened, and you hesitated before typing the two words onto the document, peering closely to see if he would change them to the words you had become to love from him.

You wanted your story to be continued now. You craved his arms, his smell, his voice. Living vicariously through Charli over the last ten months has barely satiated your need for Brian. Quite often, you would lay awake for hours in bed at night, thinking of him, talking to him. And when you grew desperate, you left your laptop turned on, with the document open, hoping for a reprieve from this maddening loneliness.

Just as fast as your love had bloomed, it had shrivelled away, grounding you into a pot of despair. You didn’t want to get to the end of this story and find yourself alone for good.

And yet, the minutes went by and Brian still didn’t appear.

Jarringly, you clambered to your feet and stumbled to the kitchen, trying to make yourself a cup of tea to calm your nerves.

Maybe Brian just needed time to wrap up the loose ends on his side. Even with the story now complete, you hadn’t delivered them a life that guaranteed they wouldn’t face hardships along the way again. In fact, you believed that to be Charli and Brian’s strength – love through their battles. And life was just like that. Whilst they were now together with no further opposition from her family or his past, you knew that every couple faced trials and tribulations. Sure, they had their fair share, and you had assured the reader they would be blessed with happiness together, but you wanted them to remain realistic too.

As you sipped on your tea, your mind started to unravel, your eyes glued to the doorway leading towards your office. Every second Brian didn’t come through it, you began to believe in the doubts plaguing you.

There had to be a chance, somewhere in among your writing of this final piece, that Brian truly began to feel the love you penned for him towards Charli. Whilst he was adamant he loved you when he was here, he didn’t resist the progression of your story at all in that aspect.

Did Brian fall in love with Charli properly this time?

Had you done such a good job at convincing him of her worth at his side?

Was he back where he truly belonged?

Your knees shook, and you clasped onto the countertop, putting down your mug hastily as you felt yourself sink towards the tiles. And there you proceeded to clutch at your shirt, sobbing until you felt numb and overwhelmed.

You had finished their world off and now there was a chance that had ended yours with Brian as well.

Days turned into weeks, and you found yourself on autopilot. The grief continued, much did the constant begging at your screen and desperation for his return.

Anger settled in after all your efforts felt as if they had gone to waste, and he had left you alone in this cruel world. You cursed him out, only to be wishing for his return a moment later.

Your mental state was a complete mess, and you didn’t know how to pick up the pieces.

You had been convinced that writing the story was the only way to get back to Brian. You had served your time, poured out the words until there were no more. With the story submitted to Lily, and the editor now finalising the work you had done, it wouldn’t be long until it was sent through the process of publication. Fans of Brian and Charli would be reading about their love story by mid next year.

What about your love story with Brian, however?

No one was going to read about you both. No one, aside from Lily, who had long stopped asking you about where he had gone, knew of it to begin with. To Sungjin, he was a cousin’s friend, and when he contacted you, you had mentioned that Brian had gone back home.

This was never his place to begin with.

Your mother, whilst trying ever so hard to placate your mood swings, couldn’t figure out how to help you, because you couldn’t bring the words up to anyone.

You had fallen in love with a figment of your imagination and his existence in your world was so fleeting, that you wondered if those who met Brian had somehow seen a ghost, or something similar. It would make the most sense to you that he actually hadn’t been here and you had simply been possessed by your muse of him.

Yet you knew he had existed here and couldn’t deny it. The clothes remained that you had bought together, his scent slowly fading away from each garment you held onto. Binks often pushed his way into the spare room and sat in the chair Brian wrote in a small book each evening as you worked.

You hadn’t known of the book’s contents until his departure, finding it in among his belongings when you were searching for ways to ease your pain. When you discovered it, however, it made you crumble.

The words he wrote were all about you.

He documented your dramatic ways, the endearing moments you shared, and the feelings he had for you each day. He spoke of how easily provoked he got over Sungjin and later wondered if he was a better fit for you when he knew he was close to leaving. He wrote down goals, some of which he had already achieved with you, and of the nights where he held you close, whispering sweet nothings into your hair as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

The book, the only piece of writing of your story together, felt too difficult for you to read often. The words were already cemented in your mind though, reminding you whenever you doubted your love that it existed.

It was the only thing that kept you going.

Sitting at your desk in the middle of the afternoon, you stared at the document for Eternity for some time before you raised your fingers.

And then you began to type.

It wasn’t your first time trying to message Brian and you were certain it wouldn’t be your last. Still, today had been difficult. It was exactly a year from your first meeting with him, the day he had come out of the laptop and you had fainted upon holding his hand. You longed for it to happen all over again, telling him of your pain from spending an entire year knowing of his existence outside of the story. That the happy days you had shared together felt so lost now with all the time apart.

And how much you loved and missed him.

Once done, you stared at the screen, waiting to see the words go away. That was what happened the first time, and you surmised it meant they went to find him. You willed your words to find their owner, clasping your hands together against your chest and praying internally for something to happen.

They remained, the cursor simply flashing at the end of your paragraph, waiting for your next command of the document.

Slamming the laptop screen closed, you shifted back in your chair, reeling from the feeling of being mocked.

“I can’t keep doing this anymore,” you spoke out into the universe, tears coursing down your cheeks. “I’m going mad. Maybe I was mad to begin with.”

Your phone rang then, and you peered at it, wondering who would be calling you right now. Picking it up, you sighed when you saw the name that crossed over the screen.

“Sungjin.”

“I know this sounds weird, but I had this feeling you needed me,” he spoke into the receiver, and you didn’t respond, the tears still streaming down your face. “Do you?”

“Not in the way you hope for,” you managed to say. “I’m sorry.”

“As a friend, Y/N. I long ago accepted that our initial liking of one another had changed when Brian came into your world.”

“You remember him?!” you asked desperately, gripping onto your phone. “Please tell me you remember him!”

“Has he gone somewhere, Y/N?” Sungjin asked, and you stared at your laptop, slowly opening the screen again.

Somehow, when you shut it, the force had been too much. There across the screen was a single crack, and it was enough to unhinge you completely.

“I’m coming over,” Sungjin spoke suddenly, and the line went dead as you looked at the broken computer.

You had destroyed the only chance Brian had left at coming back to you, and it felt so final that when Sungjin arrived, he found you on the floor in your office hysterically crying.

You knew it was wrong, his arms weren’t the ones you had craved all this time. Yet when Sungjin scooped you up and held you firmly against him, you relished in the feeling. He made you feel secure, protected, and this started to relax you. Clinging onto the man, your mind slowly came down from the irrational state it was in, and eventually, your tears stopped.

“You okay?” Sungjin asked, and you shook your head, before nodding. He smiled gently, understanding what you meant and got up.

Your hand shot up to hold onto his. “It’s selfish, but can you stay?”

“I was just going to get you a drink. I think we need to have a talk, don’t you? About that long story of yours.”

Now seated out at the dining table holding an unbearably hot mug within your sensitive hands, Sungjin watched you silently. And then he cleared his throat. “That night never sat well with me.”

“The awkward dinner?” you asked, partially because you knew that was what he referred to, but mostly because you wanted Sungjin to confirm it happened. Whilst you knew Brian had existed, you craved hearing that he had from others now too.

Sungjin nodded, chuckling a little. “You lied about him being a cousin’s friend.”

“There was no bug infestation,” you replied, looking over at Sungjin. “And Brian isn’t a friend of any of my cousins. They don’t know he even exists.”

“Call it part of the job description, but I looked into Brian more. Of course, I didn’t find much in a logical sense. There was no identification or security number. He had no job listing or even existed on the electoral roll.”

You smiled sadly. “No, he wouldn’t have been on any of that.”

“What you don’t know is that I grabbed a sample of his fingerprint that night. I took a napkin he used which had his print on it from the sauce of the pizza. And I ran it through the system. It matched the one of your intruder.”

Blinking with surprise, you leaned across towards the police officer. “It did? You found a match?!”

“I remembered the messages were signed with a B, and that made me curious when you mentioned his name was Brian. And then I came to your house and found him here, which at first, I didn’t understand. But he was there all along, somehow, wasn’t he?”

“He was the intruder.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sungjin wondered, and you bit at your lip. “Because the truth made no sense, right?”

“It’s a long story,” you said out of habit and then cringed when you realised.

Sungjin nodded. “A story you wrote, right?”

“You--”

“I felt compelled to figure the mystery out. I went onto your website and read over the synopsis for Encounter. I found it intriguing the main protagonist was also called Brian Kang. Believe me, I was annoyed at first. I truly thought you had played me and wasted police hours when this man was in your house all along. But your despair was genuine back then, much as it is now. Y/N, I started to read the novel. Brian Kang is the Brian we know, right?”

You nodded, your tears slipping down your cheeks once more. “I sent him back into the story so I could finish it. And now that I have, I think he’s gone for good.”

_________________

Part 10

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

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[therenlover]

Gimme Swayze (Part 4.5 of Till Forever Falls Apart, A Peter Maximoff/Reader Series)

Synopsis: Now that the issue of Y/N leaving is out of the way, and Peter has finally kissed her, he falls into the motions of learning how to love someone for the first time. It’s easier than he thought it would be.

Tags: Fluff, Dancing, Gratuitous Dirty Dancing References, Love Confessions, Insecure!Reader, Minor Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild Language

Word Count: 2600~

This has been cross posted as the first chapter of the fic Cry To Me on my Ao3!

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“Dance with me, Peter?”

Y/N stood in the middle of the floor holding her hand out to him, hair mussed and wild with cheeks still streaked from tears shed earlier in the night. There, in the lamplight, she looked ethereal. Peter could imagine her as she was then in some grand Viennese ballroom. Every man, woman, and child would want to be seen on her arm, fully disregarding her casual clothes and the unhinged fire in her eyes, but she was choosing him. Something in his heart told him she always would.

With a smile and a groan, he pushed up off the creaky old plush couch and stretched his arms. “Are you gonna put on some music or are we gonna have to make our own?”

Peter didn’t miss the way Y/N’s breath hitched as she rushed over to the record player near the window. Her fingers skimmed over the knee-high stack of records at the base of the machine, searching through for something specific. After a moment she let out a small victorious noise. She pulled out the item she was looking for, a plastic-wrapped vinyl sheath, before holding it out towards Peter with a grin. Outside, the rain had slowed to a gentle pitter-patter on the concrete.

The paper cover was plain white, but it had a large title scrawled across the front in black magic marker: Y/N’s Ultimate Romance Mixtape.

“You put a mixtape… on a record? How much did this thing cost you?” Peter asked, walking to Y/N’s side to give the vinyl a closer look.

“Not just any mixtape,” she groaned, motioning for him to flip it over, “Our mixtape!” There on the back of the record, just as she promised, was a tracklist. Upon first viewing, by any average person, it would look pretty normal. To Peter, though, it was like looking down at a list of the top hits of his life. Time In A Bottle, Strange Magic, Born to Run, Sweet Dreams ...

“How did you-”

“I just started finding the songs I saw you listening to more than once, one day,” Y/N replied. She was staring at the floor again, wringing her hands. Was she… embarrassed? “I know it’s kinda weird and creepy… okay, it’s really weird and creepy, but I didn’t have anything else to do. It was just me in the Paris apartment back then and I still technically wasn’t a real person in the eyes of the government so I couldn’t work. What I’m trying to say is it was a nice way to pass the time, waiting for the newest song on the list to release, sitting patiently in the record shops hoping to hear a snippet of a melody I heard you humming along to in a vision...”

As she spoke, Y/N’s eyes seemed to glaze over. By the time her stream of consciousness had turned into less of a pour and more of a drip she looked halfway caught between the world and a dream. Peter could only imagine that when you’d lived as long as she had sometimes the past could seem like a dream. He’d been around for about 31 years, 67 if you included the years he lost between dimensions, and even he found himself looking back on parts of his childhood as if they were someone else’s. What would it be like in 10 more years? 20? 30? 100 didn’t even seem plausible.

Peter was only snapped from his internal monologue when Y/N snatched the record out of his hands and held it to her chest protectively. Her dreamy look was gone, replaced with one much more defensive.

“What?”

“If you’re just gonna gawk at it, I’m not gonna show you,” she said, carefully setting the record down on top of the closed player before turning her attention back to Peter, “I know it’s a little odd-”

“It’s cute!” Peter was quick to respond. He held up his hands, giving a small gesture of goodwill, before moving in to wrap her in his arms. She accepted, however stiffly. “Really, babe, it’s cute! I promise,”

With what seemed like a great amount of effort, Y/N relaxed into his touch. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just a little nervous… I’ve never done this before,”

“Oh, come on,” Peter’s mouth was almost against her skin now. His hot breath tickled the sensitive curve of her ear as he rocked their bodies back and forth on the balls of his feet, half calming and half comedic. “You don’t have to be nervous, Y/N. It’s just me,”

“That’s the problem!” Y/N was floundering in earnest now, her little heart pounding hard enough that Peter could feel it against his own chest. “With other guys it was easy! I knew they weren’t the end goal, and I knew… well, I thought they’d die long before you ever came into the picture, but now you’re here, and you’re you, and I’m so fucking terrified of messing everything up,”

Peter moved his hands to loosely grip her arms, rubbing calming circles into her flesh. “Babe, newsflash, I really like you. Like, stupidly like you. Head-over-heels type shit,” he paused to laugh, “and hey, I’m not the one who sees the future or anything, but I don’t see this going bad anytime soon. So take a deep breath, put on our mixtape, and just… let go,”

Y/N let her eyes find Peter’s, peering up through heavy lashes. “What if I fall?”

He kissed her softly on the forehead before he answered, “Baby, I have super speed. You can’t fall faster than I can catch you,”

The softest of smiles graced Y/N’s face before she pulled away, turning back to the record player and grabbing the record off the top as she opened it. She paused for a second, pensive, and Peter thought he might have to bolster her again before she turned back to him.

“Side A or Side B?”

Peter shrugged. “Whatever side you like the most,”

“Side B it is…” she smirked as she set the record on the table and got it spinning, dropping the needle gently onto the edge of the vinyl with a practiced hand, “That’s my side,” Under the sounds of the gentle rain and the city, the opening notes to a song halfway familiar began to ring out through the old bones of the apartment. The ancient wood seemed to creak its own melody under Y/N’s feet while she started to sway. Peter tried to follow along as best he could.

“I hope you know I can’t dance,” He mumbled, swinging his hips to and fro as Y/N giggled at him.

“Oh, I know,”

“Then why did you ask me to?”

“Just because you’re bad at dancing doesn’t mean I don’t wanna dance with you,”

“That’s so cheeeeesy, Y/N!”

She threw her head back as she shimmed into Peter’s arms across the floor. “And you love it,”

When she was finally in his arms again, they swayed loosely to the tune. There was no real rhythm to it, all clumsy feet and breathless laughter as they bumped their way through Y/N’s greatest hits, but it came from the heart. There were no doomsday clocks ticking in the background, no expectations of what to was to come. It was just the music around them and the rain in the street and the jerky unnatural movements of Peter Maximoff doing his best to internalize the beat as The Mamas and the Papas slowly drifted into Solomon Burke. Y/N hummed thoughtfully, pulling away from Peter’s arms as it began, bringing her arms up above her head as she shook her hips. Peter just groaned.

“You actually put the song from Dirty Dancing on the mixtape?”

Y/N didn’t respond, instead bopping her head along with the beat.

“I can’t believe it. You’re not even gonna answer me,”

She gave a wink and continued on.

“Really? The silent treatment?”

“I’m not saying another word until you embrace the Swayze, Peter,”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep inhale, and then stared daggers into Y/N’s eyes as he shrugged his shoulders. “You want Swayze, baby? You really want Swayze?”

“Oh, I wanna see some Swayze, Peter,”

“How’s this for Swayze?”

With a burst of superhuman speed, Peter raced across the floor, snatched Y/N up by her midriff, and lifted her above his head, delighting in her giggles and shrieks while he spun her. He may not have been the best dancer or the best mover, but Peter was good at a few things; things like utilizing his surprising strength and speed.

He kept Y/N aloft for a moment before gently returning her to the floor. There she stood, slightly dazed, as she got her bearings back, gripping the sleeve of Peter’s t-shirt for balance. To put it simply she was a giggling mess.

Peter loved watching her like this, carefree and loose, unbound from the tethers of trauma and time for a few brief moments. It made his heart soar higher to know that he made her like this. He was the one who threatened to toss her in with the seals at Central Park, which made her laugh so hard she almost yakked up her hotdog. It was him who sat with her on the couch throwing popcorn at the fuzzy TV screen whenever she suddenly froze up at the sound of a scream, distracting her enough that she could enjoy the movie till the end. His hands were the ones she grabbed whenever she saw a cute dog on the street and wanted to get close fast enough to pet it. He was a part of her joy, a minuscule blip on her radar making waves in her life for the better. Peter didn’t know if there was anything else he wanted to be in life that could mean more than that.

When Y/N finally got her giggles under control, she looked up at him with wet eyes and whispered. “That was pretty Swayze, babe,”

The second it left her lips she was in stitches again, her knees buckling as she collapsed to the floor, whole body wracked with her laughter. Peter joined her this time, settling himself down by her side and allowing the hysteria to wash over him like a pleasant wave. Once all was said and done, he and Y/N laid shoulder to shoulder on the antique sitting-room rug, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes and soft smiles. The record, all spun out, sat forgotten on the turntable.

“I know I’ve told you this already,” Y/N said, eyes glued to the rotating fan above her, “but I love you, Peter. I love you and I love who I am when I’m with you. You don’t have to say it back, I mean, I know this has all been ridiculously fast, but… I dunno. Even without the whole fated to cross paths thing, I think I’d love you now anyways, you know?” She bit her bottom lip, groaning, “Sorry, sorry, I know things are moving way too quick-”

Peter shushed her gently, rolling onto his side to look her in the eye. “Babe, you’re talking to the fastest man alive. Quick is literally in my name. Don’t worry about it,”

“Yeah. I guess it is, huh?”

“And for the record,” he took a deep breath, steeling himself, “I love you too, Y/N. I have for a while now. It has to have been since… well all the way back when Dr. Strange had me tied up at your work. I was so sure that I had screwed everything up with you, that you were gonna let him drag me to superhero prison and wash your hands of me, but you didn’t. You came in there guns blazing, even when you knew I had fucked up big time and accidentally tried to steal some real spooky shit, and from that second on I never once felt like you would ever be willing to get rid of me just because I’m annoying,”

She nudged him with her shoulder. Not hard, just enough to jostle him. “You’re not annoying,”

“Have you met me? Annoying is literally my middle name,”

“No,” Y/N’s voice got soft, “No, your middle name is Django. Your favorite color is blue, but specifically bright teal-ish blue like the blue moon ice cream your mom used to buy you on vacation back when you were a little kid. You can’t dance but you have surprisingly good rhythm, and even if you’re not proud of your voice you should be because if you weren’t the world’s fastest man you could be touring as a singer with your guitar. You always sleep on the right side of the bed, your favorite season is the weird limbo between summer and fall, you can’t stand the James Bond movies, and if anybody asked you’d say your favorite food is Twinkies but it’s not. Your favorite food is pierogies, specifically the cheese and potato kind from Nana Dudek’s in Polish town because they remind you of your Nana the few times you remember going to see her. All of that is true, and so is the fact that you love me,”

She went quiet, eyes watching the blades of the ceiling fan in their lazy rotations. Slowly, she reached out her hand, interlocking her pinkie with Peter’s own without even having to look down and find it.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that,” Peter whispered.

Y/N let a huff of air out of her nose, a silent laugh at a joke only she knew.

“You’re not supposed to say anything. I just wanted you to know,”

“Know what?”

“Know that even if you can never build up the courage to tell me you love me again, I’ll be just fine, because I know, and you know, and that’s all that matters,”

Something in Peter’s heart, however small, shattered at just how vulnerable Y/N sounded.

Both of them were jaded in their own ways. They had seen bloodshed and torment and the roots of human suffering. It wasn’t always as simple as saying ‘I love you’. Sometimes the world left you a broken pulp with little faith and saying three little magic words just wasn’t possible. There’s no place for love in the heart of a person at war, nor is there any guarantee that they’ll ever be able to express that forbidden weakness again. It’s a commodity, like hope, that came in rare supply to people like Peter and Y/N. That being said, in the safety and warmth of the sitting room with the cozy couch and the antique rug and the ceiling fan and the record player, neither of them were at war, and Peter would be a damn fool if he didn’t take advantage of that.

He rolled onto his side once again, waiting there in silence until Y/N rolled onto her side to greet him, and then, with all of the feelings he had hidden in his heart since the moment he ran at top speed for the first time he kissed her.

Without hesitation, she kissed him back.

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a/n: Sorry this took so long to get out! It’s short, but I wanted it to be long enough to be it’s own mini chapter, so our minor friends can enjoy the sweetness without having to lose any of the story in the spicy bit. That being said, the spicy bit comes next lol. My shift bar is being fussy, and I need to sleep, so I’m signing off for the night, but thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, let me know!

Please do not post my work to any other sites, thank you ! <3

[stardustkenobi]

Razbliuto

Kylo Ren x Reader

Warnings: canonic typical violence, angst, mention of loss 

A/N: Hello everyone! This might be a series, it might not be, but i just wanted to write some Kylo fic okay? Okay. Cool. This takes place somewhere between The Last Jedi and The Rise of Skywalker!

Razbliuto [ros-blee-OO-toe] – noun. The feeling a person has for someone he or she once loved but now does not.

“You still call me Ben in your mind.”

His voice was steady, perhaps even uninterested behind that Godforsaken mask as he swept into the prison hold you had been situated in for approximately five days now.

You narrowed your eyes up at the man who was once your best friend, your partner in crime, before standing up. The one that would make goofy faces over Master Skywalker’s shoulder after you had been scolded for, once again, letting yourself center your focus on your anxieties rather than simply letting go.

“I figured my mind was a safe space for me to retreat away from the ridiculous amount of interrogation that you and your watch dogs have put me through over the past few days.” Despite your…predicament, you found yourself to be just as capable of confronting Kylo Ren with a tone as chillingly calm as his own. Dripping with disinterest, trying so desperately to disguise the fact that you were almost trembling.

He stopped in front of you, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Not when you’re calling his name out like that in your mind.”

The fall of the Temple, albeit years ago now, was not something you were likely to ever forget. The putrid smell of smoke and burning flesh still filled your nose as you woke from nightmares now and again – it was only magnified here, what with the sterile walls and complete and utter silence between grueling interrogation sessions.

“Your name.” You said simply, trying to push him as far as you could. Maybe you’d make him angry enough to let you go, or even end it all for you. Maybe he’d wipe your mind and try to take you on as a student, like he tried to so many years ago. You had no way of knowing if you had been compromised and were almost positive that even though you ranked high in the chain of command with the Resistance, there would be no attempt to rescue you. No attempt to make a prisoner exchange. You weren’t even sure if they would take you back if you somehow managed to escape and you prayed that they would put you on an escape pod with no coordinates and let you float through space. It seemed like the best punishment for letting yourself succumb to the torture you had been subjected to – you’d never see your friends again and you’d have to live with your guilt until you finally met your end.

His hands came up to the mask, unhinging it with a mechanic hiss that felt as cold as his demeanor toward you. He lifted it up, then tucked it under his arm. “Is this what you wanted?” He asked, deep brown eyes so uncharacteristically cold. So unlike they had been the last time you had seen his face, on your knees and begging him not to leave with Snoke and the others he had managed to convince to come with him.

You steeled your jaw as you tried your very best to not let him on to the fact that seeing his face was the worst form of torture he could have inflicted on you. “Yes.” You growled, voice cracking despite your efforts to make the simple word drip with acid.

A knowing smirk traced his lips and it was enough to bring you to your knees for him all over again. “Ben Solo is dead.” He said simply, his posture not changing in the slightest. “He was gone the minute I left the ruins of the temple.”

His voice in all of its unmodulated glory and his eyes on yours brought back memories of running through the fields of Naboo on excursions that your master allowed every once and awhile. Your first kiss in the cockpit of his father’s beloved ship, the one that you had spent hours on after he and his wife came to save you and Luke from the carnage their son had inflicted on what was everything to the two of you.

“It doesn’t have to end the way it did last time.” He continued, taking advantage of your uncharacteristic silence. “You don’t have to walk away. You can stay and be with me and we can build something together, like we used to talk about.”

All you could see was the inside of that very same cockpit – how Han and Chewbacca sat rigidly silent at the helm of the ship. How Leia held you as she cried silently. How Luke had found a blanket for you and wrapped you in it before leaving to sit in the gunner’s seat, despite the fact that there was no imminent threat. He couldn’t bring himself to watch his sister cry, to watch you cry as you stared out into hyperspace with complete and total numbness. To watch the man he considered to be a brother white knuckle the controls of his Falcon, at a loss for words because the ship felt a little lighter with the notable absence of his only son.

“It still kills her, you know.” You growled suddenly, trying your hardest to ignore the part of you that screamed to run into his arms and kiss him with the force of a thousand suns. “I see a part of her die each and every day she wakes up and goes to the bridge, knowing that it’ll be another day that you won’t return to her.”

His jaw tightened at the mention of his mother, the one thing from his old life that could still make him keel over with the force of that pull to the light. It had dulled since Han Solo had died, but the reoccurring dreams of the last time his mother had looked over his face with the knowledge from his former master that there was a conflict in his heart, that look that could convince the most closed off of people that she saw into their hearts and knew and understood everything they felt? That was enough to make him question everything.

It was your turn to take advantage of the silence that ebbed from both his lips and his mind. “It kills her that she has lost everything, everything because you made the worst decision you could have. You are the reason that her husband and brother are dead and she clings to me, the closest thing she’s had to a daughter, like it’s her last chance at breathing in clean air.” She snapped, eyes hard. “She’s probably searching for me right now, has probably sent her best pilot –“

You were silenced when you surged backwards into the bench you had slept on ever since arriving on the First Order controlled ship. He wouldn’t ever hit you, or try to hurt you in any way, shape, or form, you told yourself. Pushing you back was his way of putting you in your place without raising a hand to you. “The best pilot,” He sneered, looking down at you with total disdain. “You’re talking about isn’t all he’s cracked up to be. I snapped him like a toothpick and I know for a fact that General Organa wouldn’t ever dare send her pet back this way. Too great of a risk, even to save you.”

It wasn’t his words about Poe that cut you to the core, or even the insinuation that Leia would rather keep him safe over you. It was the fact that he was now looking at you like he looked at every other Resistance prisoner, as if you were nothing but the dirt beneath his boots that some unlucky bastard had the honor of scrubbing clear before he went to grovel at the feet of his master. You, who had once been the subject of his praises and sweet nothings and promises of his forever after you had both passed the trials? You were now just another piece of rebel scum. Nothing. Not when you turned him away and pushed him further and further toward the anger that made him bend toward the dark in the first place.

The thing was, Kylo Ren almost hoped that you would be the one to push him back the other way. To drive him back into his mother’s embrace because deep down he was so, so sorry for every single misstep he had taken since the moment he was born. For the disgrace he had brought to his family and for the disappointment that he knew lived in Leia’s heart and would continue to for the rest of her life if he never came back.

The desire kept him awake at night and he did his damned best to keep it from Snoke during the most invasive of probs from his master, the puppeteer pulling all of his strings. He was sure as hell scrambling with all of his might to hide it from you now as you sat before him for the first time in years. Same eyes, just broken and hardened with all of the carnage you had seen because of him.

“You know there’s only one way this ends up favorable for you.” He finally said, voice taught. He was teetering again and you were starting to become aware of it as you reached out to him with the Force, trying desperately to grasp for any fraction of the man he once was.

You shook your head. “I would rather die –“

He scoffed, tossing his helmet to the floor with a clang. “You and I both know that I wouldn’t let you die.” He said, leading you to believe that there was definitely a possibility that he was teetering on his allegiances. “You can either stay here or go.”

You opened your mouth to say that you would be more than willing to leave, but were interrupted before the words left your mouth.

“If you leave, you will tell me the location of General Organa’s secret base.” He said simply, flicking an invisible piece of dust off of his tunic. “Then your mind will be wiped and you will be a spy for us. At the end of the war, if you do well, you will return to me and rule by my side.”

You scoffed this time, opening your mouth once more, only to be silenced by his words once more.

“If you stay and don’t submit, you’ll be tried for crimes against the New Republic and we will eventually pull the location of the base from your mind.” He said simply, leaning against the wall as if he was simply telling someone what he wanted for dinner that evening. “If you do…” He trailed off, licking his lips. “If you stay and you give yourself to me, it’ll be just like it used to be.” He was desperate now as he watched you. Definitely teetering. “We can train together, get stronger.”

“You could come back with me.” You breathed, shaking your head. “We don’t have to stay here. You know she’d take you back in the blink of an eye.”

“That part of me is gone.” He snarled, trying to convince himself more than you. “But I still love you, Y/N. That part of me never went anywhere. If you stay, I won’t ask you to give me the coordinates of the base anymore. I won’t ask you to send your friends to their demise. I won’t make you fight them if you so choose and I won’t bring them up. This can be a new start for you.”

The tears in your eyes threatened to betray you and you quickly dwindling resolve as you shook your head once more. “You never use to speak in clichés, Ben.”

His eyes hardened once more at your words. “Never call me that again.”

“No.” You snapped back, sitting up straighter. “If you really still love me, you have to know that I only love the man I knew before he destroyed the temple. I don’t know a damn thing about you except that you have taken everything so, if you really want me to stay and…And submit to you? You’ll have to cope with me calling you by your goddamn name because fuck, Ben, you took everything from me!” The tears you had tried so desperately to hold back were now flowing freely as you stood, marching up to stand right against his chest. You thrust a finger into his face accusingly, eyes hard. “You’re taking everything from me right now – the friends that have come to replace you and your father and uncle? You’re giving me the ultimatum to either lead them to their deaths or still give them a fighting chance, but never see them again. How can you say that you love me, but make me choose between you and them?”

Kylo Ren tightened his jaw once more, studying you over and over again as he remained silent. Part of him was trying not to tremble from your close proximity, part of him was trying not to snap and give you no other option but to stay and submit or to stay and have your mind wiped because all he knew is that he wanted you back. Preferably chosen on your own accord.

“I’ll expect your answer in the morning.” He said after a long silence, taking a step back and picking up his mask. His eyes never left you as you collapsed onto the floor, chest heaving from the exertion of pent up emotions. The minute he stepped over the door frame, the door slid shut, leaving you in darkness once more.

The only difference being that now your nightmares would be plagued by a set of once warm brown eyes, dimples, and beauty marks dappled across a face that you used to kiss over and over again until your face and his were rosy.

[dontmindthefangirling]

The Heartbreak Prince {p.p.}

chapter 2

gif by @tomhollandnet

Bad Boy!Peter Parker x Reader AU

Summary: The heart is fragile. Easily broken, difficult to build back up, and Peter Parker knows that. Maybe his own heart is fractured and that’s why he goes around breaking others. Will you let him break yours?

Warnings: angst, angst, angst, enemies to lovers, suggestive conversations, language, violence, both reader and Peter are 18+

chapter 1 | series masterlist

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Peter crouched on top of the Empire State Building knowing he wouldn’t be seen with his mask off all the way up there. He closed his eyes, letting the cool autumn air blow through his curls, just listening to the traffic below that had become so comforting. 

His hands were shaking and he clutched his mask staring at it and feeling like an impostor. He didn’t deserve to be in this suit, at least not anymore. He wondered how disappointed Tony would be...

He shook his head, not letting his mind wander to how angry Tony would be with him for how he was acting. If he were to dwell on that he would go out of his mind...more so than he already was. He stared up at the bright moon that seemed so close to his grasp, hoping that his shaking would stop. 

But of course it wouldn’t. 

Tonight was the first night he had put the suit back on since...

Stop. 

He tried to think of anything but the last time he wore this fucking suit, and somehow that brought his thoughts to you. 

You intrigued him. You were new to Midtown and seemed like you were new to the city as well. That meant you didn’t know him and you didn’t know his past, you didn’t know his secrets. That comforted him. Knowing that at least one person in that school didn’t know him for who he really fucking was. 

A stray tear rolled down his cheek as he shut his eyes tightly. He hadn’t cried about it in so long and he didn’t want to start now. He knew that Tony would say he shouldn’t keep his emotions bottled up, but his emotions were the reason he was in this position in the first place. 

He angrily wiped away the tear, put his mask back on, and swung back towards Queens. 

-

“So Spider-Man saved me last night,” you said casually as you walked with Ned to calculus. You expected Ned to be surprised, but when he dropped all his books in the middle of the hallway, causing quite a commotion, you were taken back. 

His jaw looked like it had become unhinged as he stared at you with wide eyes and annoyed teenagers shuffled around him. 

“Ned?” you said curiously as you bent down to pick up his books that he didn’t seem to care about. When he finally shook himself out of his trance, he bent down to help you, muttering a quick ‘thanks’ when he took his books back. 

“Are you like a Spider-Man superfan or something?” you chuckled as you continued walking. 

Ned swallowed thickly and laughing nervously, as if he were trying to convince you that were true. 

“Yeah, right,” he chuckled. “Um...no it’s just that...well Spider-Man hasn’t been seen in a year.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Really? I thought he was all over the news.”

“He was,” Ned grumbled. “Up until a year ago. Then he just like...disappeared.”

You wanted to press Ned for more information, but Betty came up and gave Ned a kiss on his cheek. 

“Hey you two,” she said, smiling at you both. You smiled back, still thinking back on last night and how Spider-Man saved you from the unthinkable. Ned and Betty began talking about something but you had tuned them out, until you spotted Peter at the end of the hallway. He had his arm slung around some girl’s shoulders, and he was talking in her ear, making her giggle. You rolled your eyes and followed Ned into class.

“Wait...I was so caught up on Spider-Man coming back that I didn’t even ask what he saved you from,” Ned whispered once you both sat in your seats. 

“It was nothing,” you lied, not wanting to go back into details, but that seemed to be enough for Ned because he was so shocked about Spider-Man.

“Are you okay, though?” he asked. 

You nodded. “I’m good. Are you good?”

You noticed Ned’s face had gone pale, and he had started drumming his fingers across his desk, something you had picked up on when he got nervous. Ned hummed some sort of response, but suddenly he was deep in thought.

Before you could ask if he was really okay, your teacher began class and you were left alone in your own thoughts.

-

You had PE with Betty later that day, which you only had every other day according to your schedule. You walked with her down to the gym, not particularly excited about having to wear gym uniforms and do actual physical activity during the day. There was something about going back to class sweaty that just made your skin crawl. 

After changing in the girls’ locker room in lovely blue and gold shorts, you met with the rest of your class in the gym. You glanced around, noticing a few familiar faces from your other classes. You were beginning to realize that Midtown wasn’t a very large school. And then you saw Peter. 

He was standing with his friends, and they were laughing and pretending to punch each other while Peter stood by them with his arms crossed and a permanent scowl on his face. He glanced towards you and you looked away immediately when your eyes met. 

“Alright listen up!” the coach yelled. “We’re going to spend the first half of the year working on strength training!”

A few people groaned, including Betty, but some of Peter’s friends ‘whooped’ earning a glare from the coach. 

“So get in pairs and start doing some sit-ups!” 

Betty turned to you, annoyance obviously written on her face. “Partners?” 

You nodded as you headed over to one of the mats laid out for your class and began doing sit-ups with Betty holding your feet. About halfway through, you noticed some commotion at the other end of the gym. You realized that your coach had left the gym for some unknown reason, and you spotted Peter’s friends teasing one of the smaller boys in your class for how he was struggling with sit-ups. 

Peter was flirting with a different girl from this morning, with his back to the commotion, and your blood boiled. He seemed to be the ring leader in his little group and if he was going to let that continue, you’d be more than happy to put an end to it. 

“I’ll be right back,” you said to Betty, standing abruptly. 

“(Y/N)-”

“Hey!” you snapped, earning the attention of Peter’s friends. “Leave him alone, you fucks!” 

One of them scoffed, approaching you and looking down at you. 

“What are you gonna do about it, new girl?” he sneered. 

You glared back up at him, feeling the anger run through every fiber in your body. Nothing irritated you more than bullying and you’d have none of it. You were ready to knee this asshole in the goods when someone spoke up. 

“(Y/N)’s right,” Peter said, surprising not only you, but all of his friends. “Leave him alone.”

“Parker,” the same guy who approached you almost laughed. “You’re gonna agree with this bitch?” 

“What did you just call me?” you demanded. 

Peter approached his friend, narrowing his eyes, and you had to admit, he looked scary. As much as you disliked him, you would not want to be on the receiving end of whatever rage was hiding under his skin. 

“Back off, Jed,” Peter scowled. 

“You’re going soft, Parker,” the guy, Jed laughed. “You’re just agreeing with her because you want to fuck her.”

Suddenly, Peter’s fist was flying, crashing with Jed’s nose and making a loud CRUNCH!

Jed began wailing in pain, clutching his face as blood dripped from his nostrils. The gym was silent, everyone breathing heavily as Jed slowly looked at his fingers that were now covered in blood. It was like everyone held their breath as he looked towards Peter with a new fire in his eyes. 

And then the brawl started. 

Jed tackled Peter to the ground, and as soon as that began, his other friends seemed to immediately pick sides, some of them pulling Jed off of Peter, and others yelling at him to bash his head into the ground. 

You watched, almost numbly as Peter flipped Jed effortlessly, and pinned him to the ground, his fists flying. Some of the boys pulled Peter off of Jed, who was now a bloodied mess, and Peter was shouting profanities that rang throughout the gym. 

“You’re a bitch, Parker!” Jed shouted, spitting blood onto the gym floor. 

“Hey! Hey! What the hell is going on!” your coach yelled, running back in to see two of his students screaming at each other and covered in blood. You glanced at Peter and realized he didn’t have a scratch on him. How was that possible?

Your coach stood in between the boys, looking ready to explode with anger. 

“Parker! Davenport! My office! Now!” your coach yelled. 

You watched with wide eyes as Peter and Jed walked on either side of the coach, and disappeared out the doors. As soon as they were gone, commotion erupted in the gym, as students began immediately pulling out their phones and texting everyone in the contacts what had happened. 

“(Y/N)!” Betty gasped, jogging over to you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you sighed, looking over to where Jed’s blood was. Peter looked fine and you had no idea how. Jed hit him pretty hard. 

“That was pretty badass how you stood up to Jed though,” a boy said, approaching you. “He’s even more of a dick than Parker.”

You shrugged. “I could’ve taken him.”

The boy laughed. “I’d love to see that one day. I’m Flash by the way.”

“(Y/N).”

“Oh I know. And so will the rest of the school after that,” Flash said with a grin. You frowned. 

“What do you mean?”

“Anyone who stands up to Jed is worth knowing, and I can guarantee everyone else feels the same,” Flash said. “You’re gonna be a celebrity by the morning!” 

Betty rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to him. But that was pretty awesome of you.”

You glanced over to the boy that they were harassing and saw him standing with his friends who were comforting him. He looked over his shoulder at you and offered you a small smile of gratitude. 

That made it all worth it.

-

You swung your backpack over your shoulder as you left the girls’ locker room and started heading to your next class. You passed the nurse’s office when you spotted Peter sitting outside on one of the benches, dabbing his nose with an alcohol pad. He looked up when you got closer, and it took a lot for you to stop walking.

“I think you won that fight,” you said. 

Peter looked down at his lap and chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Are you okay?” you asked. 

Peter looked back up and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

The air suddenly felt heavy as you tried to push your pride down and maybe...thank him? You weren’t sure what to thank him for, but you felt like you should. Or maybe apologize? For assuming he was the worst person to ever walk the planet-

“Do you need something, or?” he suddenly snapped, instantly going back to the charming Peter you met the other day. 

You rolled your eyes, any thought of being civil with him was thrown out the window. 

“Nope. Have a great day, Parker.”

“Yeah whatever.”

You stormed away from him, shaking your head. You couldn’t believe you actually thought he was different from what he appeared to be. You almost laughed at yourself for almost thanking him. 

-

“I heard about what happened in gym class,” Ned said, walking up to you as the final bell rang, signaling that school was officially out of session. You scoffed. 

“Hasn’t everyone?”

Ned smiled. “You’re the talk of the school.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?” you said raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, I heard Jed got suspended and Peter got a weeks worth of in school suspension,” Ned chuckled.

You frowned. “Jed got suspended and Peter didn’t? Peter threw the first punch.”

Ned nodded. “I know, I heard. But Jed has a worse track record than Peter does so I guess they took that into consideration.”

You laughed bitterly. “How does Jed have a worse track record than Peter?”

Ned smiled, a sad glint in his eyes as he turned to you. “He, uh...he wasn’t always bad.”

“What-”

“Uh, Betty’s waiting for me, so I gotta run, but I’ll see you tomorrow!” Ned called, already starting to weave throughout the crowd of students rushing to get home. You frowned as you watched him. He and Peter obviously had some sort of history considering they used to be best friends, but you wondered why Ned always avoided talking about it. You were curious to know what had changed Peter. 

But then again, you didn’t really care. He was an ass. 

You huffed and began your journey home. 

-

After getting off the subway at your stop, you began shuffling through your songs, needing a change from what you were originally listening to, when you spotted the familiar leather jacket that belonged to Peter a few heads in front of you. He also had headphones in, so you just ignored him, staying behind so that you wouldn’t bump into him again. 

You began to become curious after a few blocks passed and you were still walking behind Peter. That was until he came to a stop in front of your apartment building. 

No, no, no, no do not let him live here, too.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” you grumbled when you watched Peter open the door and walk into the lobby. 

You reluctantly followed him, coming to a stop in the lobby as he had already pushed the elevator button. When he finally looked up from his phone and spotted you, he raised an eyebrow and took a headphone out. 

“Are you stalking me?” he asked, sounding actually serious. 

“No, dickhead. I live here.”

Peter laughed bitterly. “Of course you do.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Peter shook his head. “Nothing.”

You watched him as he looked back down at his phone. 

“Why are you such an ass?” you asked bluntly. Peter looked up at you and raised an eyebrow. 

“Like seriously dude, who hurt you?” you were almost joking, but when you saw the darkness flicker in front of Peter’s eyes, you realized you must have hit a nerve. 

“Why don’t you mind your fucking business?” Peter demanded. You stared at him, noticing the way his veins bulged in his neck like he was holding back so many emotions he was going to burst. 

“Sorry,” you grumbled turning away from him. You began to walk away when he called out after you.

“Elevator’s here,” he said, having at least that decency to tell you. You rolled your eyes. He seriously would go back and forth from seeing like a normal guy with at least some kind of heart, to the total dark black hole you saw a moment ago. 

“I’ll take the stairs.”

You let the door slam behind you.

-

chapter 3

awe peter’s dealing with some stuff obvi

hope you guys enjoyed!

taglist: @justanothercynicalgenzkid // @ ilytomholland // @ star-holland // @ludiclove // @clipopex-writing // @imboredandneedwritingprompts // @futuremrspeterparkerholland // @someinsanefangirl // @tiny-friggin-human // @toms-irish-girl // @santa-feigh // @parkeret // @spidreling // @awokenfandoms // @wizliar //

[juju-on-that-yeet]

Hollow

Prompt: Whumptober Day 14, Tear-stained

Summary: Yandereplier goes on a revenge-driven rampage against the people responsible for Dark's death, but it doesn't truly make him feel any better. Direct sequel to "The Business End."

Warnings: Death, gore, blood, violence

Tagging: @peribloke (ask to be tagged!)

Read on AO3 (Full Whumptober Series)

Enjoy!

~

The moment the bullet goes through Darkiplier’s skull, something snaps inside of Yandereplier.

All he knows is red, all he knows is killing. All he feels is blood pouring over him and the resistance of bone and muscle against his katana. He hears screaming, more gunshots, his own blood, still inside him, rushing past his ears. He doesn’t need to think about avoiding bullets or knives or fists, he just does. His feet dance over the deep maroon concrete floor, his katana cleaves off limbs, decapitates heads, splits open ribcages. He thinks of nothing but words in a loop. Kill. Kill. Kill. Make them pay. Make them bleed. Kill. Kill. Kill.

The gang boss, for all his talk, goes down so easy. He bleeds just like the rest of them. His henchmen are less than nothing. Yandere’s katana rips through their paper skin, shatters their glass bones. There’s so many of them, but it’s not a challenge, it only makes it more fun. Yandere, for all his rage, is a creative soul even now. A severed head can be a bludgeon. A rope of intestine can be a garrote. A rib, pointy-end first, can be a dagger. There’s endless possibilities.

Alas, there are not endless victims, and before long only Katashi is left, cowering across the room away from Yandere. His gun is out of bullets, his hourglass is nearly out of sand. Yandere approaches him, staggering under the weight of adrenaline, fury, and liters of blood in his clothes.

“G-Get away from me!!” Katashi screams. His voice is too deep to ever be shrill, but it’s as close as it can get.

“I’ve wanted to kill you since the moment we meant,” Yandere tells him, voice high-pitched and over-dripping sweetness to match his unhinged grin. “You insulted me to my face, acted like I was stupid and worthless. Yami told me I couldn’t hurt you, I had to hold my tongue so he could work with your boss. And look how that turned out.” His face breaks into anguish for a moment, but the look leaves him as he shakes his head with a sigh. “But I’ll thank you, because you decided to bring me here so I would have a reason to pay back every word you ever said about me.”

“Wh-What the hell are you?” Katashi gasps, scrabbling futilely against the wall as Yandere comes closer. “S-Some kind of onryō??”

Yandere laughs out loud at that, throwing his head back and cackling. He wipes away a tear, not minding that it smears the blood on his face.

“If I was an onryō I wouldn’t kill you. I’d let you live, but I’d curse you, haunt you, make sure you lose everyone you love and live a long life of suffering.” Yandere stares at Katashi as he nods eagerly at the chance to be spared. Yandere sneers, and when he speaks, his voice is oozing disgust. “Yowamushi,” he growls, “You have no honor. The days you’ve already lived are more than you deserve.” He raises his katana as Katashi freezes and goes pale. “Life is wasted on you.”

Katashi dies like the rest of them; squealing like a pig, swallowing his own blood as it pours out of his throat.

Yandere turns away from him, then, turns away from the piles of gore that used to be men and looks to where Dark still lies. His feet carry him there without him trying, slow and heavy. He stares down at Dark. He’s slumped over on his side, still handcuffed, hair obscuring his face. There’s a puddle of darkening blood surrounding him. Brain matter lies in a bridge from the huge, messy bullet hole to the floor, like a lumpy, pinkish-gray slug.

Everything rushes into Yandere at once. Fear. Despair. Anguish. Disbelief. Horror. Revulsion.

He turns away, vomits onto the blood-soaked floor, and screams, long and loud, until it morphs into a wail.

Gore never bothered him before now. Blood never bothered him. Even brain didn’t; he saw plenty of it tonight as he massacred the gang. But this is Dark, this is his love, his only, his senpai, the man he was created for, the reason he breathes, the reason he lives. His reason for living is dead. Dark is dead. Dark is dead. Dark is dead.

“It’s not gonna – it’s not forever!” Yandere screams at himself. “He’s not g-gone forever, he’ll, he’ll–” He whirls around to look at Dark again, staggers a step backwards. “Fuck! He’ll come back! He has to, you have to, Yami, you have to!! Fuck!!”

Yandere knows, deep down, that he will. He knows that Dark will come back. The fans will bring him back. That stupid worthless disgusting gang boss is only a stupid worthless disgusting human, and he has no power over Dark.

But Yandere remembers his and Dark’s first Valentine’s Day, remembers how it was ruined because Mark and the fans killed Dark without even trying. It took Dark a month to come back and Yandere almost hadn’t survived it. He remembers the madness, the loneliness, the terror, the despair and hopelessness lingering beneath the anguish. He never wanted to go through that again. He never wanted to go suffer that hell again. But it’s happening now, it’s here, and once again, Yandere couldn’t stop it.

He screams again through the tears, this time with unspent rage. He was there! He was right there, just across the room from Dark, and he couldn’t stop this. He couldn’t break out of the hold of the people restraining him, he couldn’t stop the gang boss from firing his gun into Dark’s head. He let Dark die. This is his fault. It’s his fault.

“I’m sorry,” Yandere sobs, falling to his knees and only barely feeling the dull pain of his knees hitting the concrete. “I’m sorry Yami, I failed you, I love you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He crawls to Dark, uses his katana to cut the handcuffs away from Dark’s wrists, and lies over him, weeping into his back.

Dark is cold, but he always is; he never had any warmth left in his borrowed body. His pulse is still, but it always is; Dark’s heart hasn’t beat once for as long as Yandere’s known him. But it’s different this time, the coldness and stillness are wrong, they’re terrible and quiet. Dark’s aura is practically nonexistent, merely a gray film around his body. There’s no sound of him breathing, no sound of him speaking or shifting on the ground. There’s no sound at all but Yandere’s weeping, no movement but his own chest heaving with sobs. He can hardly breathe, hardly think of anything but his grief. He feels like his heart might snap, break apart from the wails shaking it around his chest. His whole torso aches, burns with sobs. He can’t see any longer; the tears film over his vision and obscure everything around him.

The world does not exist. The world is only Dark’s lifeless body and Yandere holding onto him, moaning, wailing, screaming.

Yandere doesn’t know how long he stays like that, lying on Dark and bawling over him. He doesn’t care to know. It doesn’t matter. But eventually, a new sound enters the room: A pair of footsteps. Then, a low, impressed whistle. Finally, a voice, deep and familiar.

“You sure did a number on these guys, Yanny!” exclaims Wilford, “Just the right amount of mess, too. Just gratuitous enough.” His walking feet approach Yandere. “Oh, it’s alright, kiddo. You know Darky; he’ll bounce back in no time.”

“He didn’t after “A Date with Markiplier,”” Yandere snaps, and part of him feels bad for it, because that event hurt Wilford nearly as much. Yandere doesn’t look up, doesn’t know if Wilford’s expression changes, but fortunately his tone of voice doesn’t.

“Good point,” he admits, “But that was unusual. That was not the first time Dark’s kicked the bucket, believe you me.” Yandere flinches as Wilford’s hand touches his quivering shoulder. “I don’t think Dark would be too happy with us if he woke up on the floor of an old, dirty warehouse, do you?”

“No…” Yandere whimpers.

“Then come on, then! I’ll take us home.” Wilford lifts his hand from Yandere’s shoulder. “Let’s go to the clinic; the scar won’t be as bad if Doc can fix it up!”

Yandere doesn’t react. Wilford snaps his fingers and poofs them to the clinic’s waiting room anyway.

“Hey Doc!” Wilford barks into the clinic.

“I heard you come in,” Dr. Iplier calls back, “What did you do this time?”

“Why do you always blame me for everything?” Wilford whines.

Yandere can imagine the dramatic expression on Wilford’s face if he tries, but he’s still crying too much to look up and see for himself. His tears are more silent now, more exhausted, aching, hollow. He still can’t stop. The tears still fall as hard as they’ve been falling all night. He can hear clearly Dr. Iplier’s approaching footsteps across the clinic tile.

“Because it’s always–” Dr. Iplier stops short with a gasp. “Oh, shit, what the hell happened!?”

It must be quite the sight; Yandere, weeping and drenched in blood, slumped over Dark’s corpse as Wilford looks on.

“I don’t know precisely,” Wilford admits, “I missed all the action, I’m afraid.”

“They killed him,” Yandere sobs, “They killed him, they killed him, I couldn’t stop them, they killed him–”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dr. Iplier murmurs. There’s a pause as he considers the situation. “Hey, Wilford?”

“Hmm?” Wilford answers, distracted. He’s probably twirling his moustache and staring into space.

“Listen to me, Wilford,” Dr. Iplier says, solemn, “You have to stay with Yandere, alright? I have to patch Dark up, you know he’ll be mad at me if he wakes up with a worse scar than there should be. But Yandere can’t be alone right now.” Yandere feels his presence draw closer, and then his hand is in Yandere’s hair, petting gently. “Are you injured, hon?”

“He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead,” Yandere repeats, droning. It’s all his brain can come up with.

“C’mon, kiddo, let’s go,” Wilford says, voice gentler than before, “Doc’s got a job to do, and you could probably use a nap.”

Yandere doesn’t budge. Wilford grabs Yandere’s shoulders and tries to pull him, but Yandere hangs on, beginning to cry harder again.

“I’m not leaving!” he screams savagely, clinging to Dark, “I’m not leaving him! You can’t make me!!”

Wilford sighs, put-upon but maybe a bit sad, too, and grabs Yandere again, using one strong yank to wrench him off Dark and into his arms. Yandere wails, struggling fiercely.

“Let me go, let me go!” he screeches, “I need him, I need him, don’t make me leave him!! Put me down! Kutabare!”

“Rude,” Wilford huffs, struggling to keep Yandere in his hold. “Doc, can you sedate him or something?”

“I’ll only put him under if I can monitor him while he’s out,” Dr. Iplier answers, “And I can’t do that if I’m fixing Dark’s head.”

Fortunately for them and less so for Yandere, Yandere is too exhausted to effectively fight against Wilford’s hold much longer. His muscles scream from the exertion of his earlier massacre, his chest hurts from sobbing, his throat is raw from screaming. The fight leaves him slowly, agonizingly, and soon enough, he slumps in Wilford’s arms.

“Kutabare, kutabare,” Yandere whimpers.

“Hey,” Dr. Iplier murmurs, walking to Yandere and cupping his face in his hands. Now that Yandere’s tears have slowed to a trickle, he can see Dr. Iplier before him, see the tears sparkling in his eyes to see his son so distraught. “I know you’re upset, sweetheart,” Dr. Iplier tells him, “Believe me, I know. Dark will come back, he’ll wake up in a week, probably less. I know you’re hurting so bad right now, but it’ll be okay, I promise.” He thumbs tears off Yandere’s cheeks. “I’m gonna fix up Dark so he doesn’t scar too bad when he wakes up, and you can see him when I’m done. In the meantime, for once Wilford’s right: You need a nap.” Yandere’s lips quirk; it’s almost a smile. Dr. Iplier smiles in return. “Can you stay with Wilford for me while I help Dark?”

Yandere knows he doesn’t have much choice. He’s too tired to offer up any protest. His eyes want to close.

“Okay,” he mumbles, sniffling.

“There’s my baby,” Dr. Iplier whispers tenderly, kissing Yandere’s forehead before releasing him. “Wilford, take care of him, I mean it.”

“I will,” Wilford says, serious but a little offended, as he sweeps Yandere into a bridal-style hold.

Yandere falls asleep in Wilford’s arms before they even leave the clinic, tears still sticky on his cheeks. He won’t remember his dreams, but Wilford will tell him that he cried in his sleep, adding fresh tears atop the old.

[sweetnestor]

this is not a dream #1 | no, something seems wrong

the real reason ethan was taken under the teamiplier wing | teamiplier/ego au

WARNINGS: suicide, murder, blood, self harm, drug abuse, alcoholism, sex addiction

AN: hey hi hello does anyone remember the one fic i posted in october, previously known as ‘entirely bonkers?’ yeah, well i rewrote it and now it’s this!! ive taken much more time with this fic and given it the attention it deserves, so pretty much all the chapters may be dramatically different from the original version. each chapter title is a line from a different song, which will be listed in the tags.

i have to warn you, this fic is very dark and very graphic. read at your own risk. but also enjoy!!

~October 2016

This was good news. Great news. The best news. This was going to change everything. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. Maybe that’s why Ethan couldn’t stop crying, losing it, unhinging for the thousandth time.

It had been on and off for the last few weeks, the tears. He didn’t know why, but it felt like every little thing made him burst. Not only did Ethan cry, but he also yelled and screamed. Most of all, he would break whatever was in sight. He’ll throw things, punch, kick… He’ll go out in the middle of the night and take a bat to an unsuspecting mailbox. He was usually aware when he did these things, meaning it wasn’t technically a blind rage that sent him into these episodes. He’s gone through several mugs, a few controllers, and he even had to buy a new camera one time. All because of these tears and weird destructive urges he couldn’t control.

He wanted to throw his phone just after this call. It was a good call, though. It was life changing. But he had to force himself to calmly set the device down on his desk and move away from it. Ethan got to his feet, sniffling and sobbing, and then he tore off some of the foam padding on the wall. Did it matter? No, he was moving at the end of the month. He could destroy a few more things.

Foam pads were strewn across the floor by the time he was done. But Ethan still felt… destructive. No, worse. He knew what he wanted to do. He just had the slightest worry that it would actually work this time. But he had to do it.

Blood was pounding in his ears as he pulled on his sweater and beanie. Before he knew it, he was in the car, driving to the location he had been to plenty of times before. He parked some distance away and walked the rest of the way.

In all honesty, he had no idea what led him to this the first time. It was like this feeling in chest and gut, like an impulse. Once it fell into his head, he had to do it immediately. There was no going back. Crying was one of those things he felt like he had to do. This, however… this was a lot darker.

A few cars passed as Ethan approached the bridge. None of them stopped. None of them ever did. He couldn’t help but appreciate that. He didn’t know what would happen if this got back to his family. He had quite a bit to lose, but he still boosted himself up on the railing. This was really stupid, he thought to himself as he looked down at the drop he’d seen many times before.

“Something’s wrong,” he spoke to himself before leaping off.

The cold, bitter air hitting his face was the most painful part, as strange as that was to admit. But what if it actually worked this time? He didn’t even say goodbye to his dad as he left the house. He’d never get to experience that job in Los Angeles. He’d never interact with his online community again. Would this be the one to do it?

“Nope,” Ethan mumbled once he was face down on the ground. Dirt was in his mouth, and his face was numb from the cold. He sat up and coughed, both relieved and disturbed that he didn’t die. Again.

Ethan sat back and brought his knees to his chest, shivering. Was it going to be like this once he moves? Would he be able to control it?

~

“He can’t help us, he’s a kid!” roared the booming voice of Darkiplier. It echoed around the spacious, black room, enough to make any mortal’s blood run cold.

“We need all the help we can get,” replied the soft and frighteningly serene voice of Peevils, who was sat on top of the desk across the room. “Besides, the younger they are, the more powerful they can be.”

Her pitch black eyes gazed down at the stoic mortal sat in the armchair. He was sat up straight, on the edge of his seat. His usual brown eyes had rolled back into his skull and his mouth was gaping open. Dark was was “stood” by the body, his suit clad form flickering with distortion. He was always in black and white, but a blue and red aura was always around him. The biggest thing that fascinated Peevils was that this man, her supposed lover, was impossible to touch. Well that, and she could hear him in her mind and he could speak to her personally, even when their mortals were present.

Peevils, on the other hand, was from a whole other galaxy. She couldn’t quite remember how she got to Earth, much less how she got in contact with her mortal. All she knew was that her mortal was very willing and complicit. Peevils had cool powers too, but she seldom used them on this planet. Her aura often mixed with the mortal’s, making it a weird greyish yellow.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have let your mortal make that decision,” spoke Stoneface in his deep, intimidating voice. No one knew where he came from, or what his true powers were, aside from killing people after intimate affairs. He had much paler skin compared to his mortal, and his eyes were greyer than concrete, while his aura was black. You couldn’t look into his eyes without feeling paralyzed to the spot.

Everything surrounding the trio was dark and dim. The atmosphere was that of another realm. No human would be able to stand with them for very long. No human, except one.

“The mortal needed him for his own desires, not ours,” Dark growled. “And he was coping at the time, so I couldn’t intervene. But… I felt something. It was like a whisper.”

“So we just wait til the boy arrives,” Peevils concluded. “I feel it won’t be a waste.”

“You feel a lot of things,” Stoneface said back.

Her face fell. She stared ahead wordlessly, and imagined what she wanted to happen, and then it was real.

Stoneface immediately started gasping for air, his relaxed composure turning into nothing but pain and panic. His body began to rise up from the couch and it contorted into unnatural folds.

“Mercy! Mercy!” he strained out just before his bones could snap.

Peevils lifted, a ghost of a smile on her face.

Then, the room lightened up. The walls went back to white as the door to the office opened, and the trio were back in the human world, thanks to the one human they all knew.

Kathryn walked in, carrying a brown paper bag. A tall, dark haired, skimpy dressed woman followed behind her, looking curiously around the room. Peevils quickly looked down, knowing her eyes were prone to cause panic, and Dark was nowhere to be seen. The human led the other human over to Stoneface, whose eyes suddenly went back to a humanistic hazel.

“Hi, I’m Tyler,” he greeted, and the woman smiled in returned. He offered his arm. “If you’ll follow me…” And the two were off into another room.

Then, Kathryn turned towards Peevils, but instead was met face to face with Dark, who did not look happy.

“We were having a meeting!” he snapped, trying to look threatening.

She rolled her eyes and moved her arm forward, making the image fade away. After that, she reached into the paper bag and pulled out a plastic ziplock bag that was contained with white powder. Kathryn waved it in the direction of Peevils.

The blonde’s eyes flickered once. Kathryn had her attention now, so she slowly bent down towards the coffee table, opened up the bag and poured out some of the contents onto the glass surface. In the blink of an eye, the alien was sat on the floor in front of the table, using an old business card to make her series of lines. She hunched over the table as she snorted to her heart’s content, and when she looked up, her eyes were not black, but brown and humanlike.

“Alright, Amy’s back,” Kathryn said in affirmation. Then she turned to her boss.

He still had that horrifying expression on his face, but at least the body wasn’t moved. The last thing Kathryn wanted to do today was to pry Dark and his mortal away from something illegal or fatal… not that he could die, anyway.

“Don’t you dare…” the hallucination spoke, appearing behind the armchair.

She didn’t even hesitate to straight up bitch slap the body across the face. The last aura was finally gone, and the body had, for lack of a better phrase, come back to life. He swore in pain and held his cheek.

“Mark?”

“Yeah, what the fuck?”

Kathryn nodded once and pulled the last item from the paper bag. A bottle of Jack Daniel’s. She shoved it into Mark’s hand and then crumpled up the bag, tossing it in the bin.

Mark just sat there for a moment, still coming back to himself. He felt that internal twitch, though, so he twisted the cap off the glass bottle and took a swig. Then he moved to the floor, next to his girlfriend, who was now baked like a fucking cake. Just another day in the office.

Now, Kathryn was able to get back to her actual work. She sat at one of the computers, but then paused as she thought of the newcomer they were expecting. Poor kid had no idea what he was walking into.

~November 2016

The team noticed something about their newest member. It wasn’t what was on the inside, no. Not the reason why they brought him over here.

Ethan was happy. Giddy. Very doe eyed. Upon arriving to the office on the first day, he thanked Mark many times for the opportunity. He was just… not what you would expect from someone like him. He almost seemed normal.

See, when you’re like Mark, Amy, and Tyler, you get this feeling, an instinct, even. They could sense each other’s demons, even when they were dormant. Amy and Tyler feel Darkiplier’s jitters when their Mark got rubbed the wrong way. That was probably because Peevils and Stoneface were so connected to Dark, and by extension, their mortals. They could all sense each other inside and out. In their logical, human eyes, the feeling of the three demons scheming in the background was seen as “impending doom.” The only human able to see past that was Kathryn, and none of them knew why.

But Ethan? He seemed like any ordinary human, and that was just weird. There was almost no impending doom vibes coming from him as the days went on. This wasn’t what they had been expecting.

“So…” Mark prompted one day, “how’ve you been? Y’know… since the move?”

“Fine,” Ethan mindlessly responded. He was on the computer, doing exactly what he was hired for.

The other four exchanged looks. Apart from Kathryn, they were experiencing withdrawals from their… coping. The plan was to get the other guys to meet Ethan’s other guy… just to see what would happen. The latter was proving to be difficult, given that there was no instinct or any indication that his bodily occupant wanted to come out, or that it was even there. Did that guy even have a name?

“You’re f-fine?” Amy repeated irritably, her voice shaking. “Y-You dropped everything, moved all the way here, and you’re just fine?”

Now Ethan caught onto the tension. He turned in his chair, only to feel deeply intimidated by the staring. Something was off, and it wasn’t just the stupid crying fit growing in his chest and throat.

“I’m just glad I’m here,” he said, but it didn’t feel like the right answer.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tyler blurted out.

“What?”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Kathryn sighed in annoyance as she buried her face in her hands.

“God, I’m sorry,” Tyler quickly said. “I didn’t mean that, fuck. I’m an asshole, I’m sorry.”

Mark could feel it, though. A cold chill went down his spine,  telling him that he was right to bring Ethan in. He felt a tightness in his throat, this feeling of dread sitting heavy on his shoulders. He hadn’t felt this with the other two, this had to be Ethan.

“You don’t miss what you left behind?” Mark asked as he got up from the couch, putting on a hard face. “I mean… you sacrificed your whole life for this, didn’t you?”

The dread only grew. Ethan shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Yeah, but I made that decision,” he timidly replied.

“Like the grown up you think you are?” Amy mocked.

It was there, right there. The four nearly gasped as Ethan’s eyes flickered to black once. But the boy quickly shook himself and stood up.

“I’ll be right back.”

The surge of emotions lifted as soon as he left the room. But then, the walls went black, and the three auras appeared. Meanwhile, Kathryn let out another annoyed groan.

Mark’s body froze where he stood, and his head fell back as Dark made his appearance. Tyler’s body paled, eyes turning grey. Amy appeared sat on top of the coffee table with her legs crossed, eyes black and empty.

“Hey doesn’t even know what he is!” Dark shouted, his image flickering angrily around the room.

“Of course not, he’s a kid,” Peevils shot back coolly. “And you’re not the one who asked him to come here. Why are you concerned now?”

Dark appeared in front of her, his face inches from hers. “I felt it! There is something there, but the boy isn’t letting him through! He’s powerful, and I am powerful. That’s why I could feel him!”

“Don’t make me slap your mortal,” Peevils threatened as she waved her hand through him.

“So what do we do?” Stoneface asked, getting the couple back on track. “Do we let the mortals handle it?”

“Provoking him did help a little bit,” Peevils pointed out.

“Yes,” Dark agreed. “They have to push him past his limits. Whatever it takes. If they have to destroy whatever humanity he has left in him, then so be it. He has to be disturbed, humiliated. Anything to get to what’s truly lying within.”

“So you guys are going to go silent, then?” Kathryn asked.

“It’s the only option,” Peevils confirmed.

That prompted the human to quickly flee the office. She had to make a big order.

~

Ethan managed to find a corner store down the road. The blind rage he went through caused him to break more things, and his knuckles were bleeding yet again. He also debated jumping off one of the high buildings, but this city was far too busy for anyone to not notice. Instead, he found another solution. He was sure his ‘friends/colleagues’ wouldn’t miss him for a few more minutes. Or at all.

Tear tracks were on his face as he went through the aisles. Look at him, a grown 20 year old, unable to control his crying. How did he get like this? He was never this emotional about anything! Sure, the group had ganged up on him, but things like that weren’t likely to make him burst into tears.

He calmed down some more when he found rubbing alcohol and bandages. However, there was only one box left of the latter, and it was pink and flowery. Reluctantly, he took the box and went into the next aisle. There were painkillers, vitamins, and sleep aids. For a second, a flash of lacing his friends’ drinks with pills went through his mind. It was short, but vivid. One by one, passing out around him.

He chuckled and kept walking. “Yeah right…” Then, he stopped in his tracks, went back and grabbed the biggest bottle of sleeping pills he could find.

After paying for his items (and getting some weird looks from the cashier), Ethan settled for sitting under the awning outside the store. He didn’t feel like going back to the office just yet, despite the fact that it was already getting dark. As he tended to his hand injury, he tried to forget all that he damaged. Several cars parked on the side of the road now had cracked windshields, and a few more mailboxes were wrecked. He could only hope that there weren’t any witnesses. He had only been in LA for about a week, he couldn’t get arrested now.

“Hey darlin’,” greeted a sickly sweet female voice.

He turned to find a red headed woman perching down next to him. She was wearing a rather revealing top under a fur coat along with a really short skirt. It rode up as she crouched down, making Ethan lose his words for a moment.

“H-Hi,” he replied, keeping his eyes on his injured hand.

“Did you get into a fight, honey?” the woman asked.

“Something like that…”

“Strong man, aren’t ya?”

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m putting on Hello Kitty bandaids.”

The woman giggled and moved closer to him. “Strong and cute.”

There was a feeling. Pinning her to the ground, a hand around her neck as the back of her head hitting the concrete. Slamming her head into the ground until she bled to death. Watching her green eyes lose their panic and fade into nothingness. Is it bad that it was nice to think about?

“Marsha!” called a familiar voice.

It was Kathryn. She approached the pair, her hood up and her hands in the pocket. Ethan was relieved to see her.

The redhead got to her feet. “You’re not here to send me to that friend of yours again, are you?”

“Why, do you have other plans?” she asked in return.

“Yes! I found a new friend!” Marsha pointed down at the boy with Hello Kitty bandaids.

Kathryn glanced down at him. “Yeah, not him. Can’t afford to have Tyler beat his ass right now.”

That was both confusing and not reassuring at all. Could Ethan down the whole bottle of pills without either woman noticing?

“Well, I’m not going. I’ll ask Sydney. She knows where to find you guys,” Marsha said in conclusion.

“Awesome. Ethan, get up.”

He didn’t need telling twice. Kathryn gestured for him to follow, and they walked back towards the office together.

“What’d you do?” she asked, nodding towards his hand.

“Don’t ask,” he said with a sigh. Not like he could properly explain it, anyway.

Luckily, she didn’t press the topic. When they approached the building, she stopped in her tracks and pulled a brown paper bag from under her sweater.

“I won’t ask questions,” she told Ethan. “But neither will you.”

____

next.

[vivi-tran]

Problematic Disclaimers

I am incredibly biased towards David Fincher’s work, and that in itself comes with a few other more specific disclaimers we’ll get into later on in this review.

This is a largely historical piece, taking place during the 1970s-80s. If you’re looking for groundbreaking representation for POC/LGBT+/female characters, you may be disappointed.

This show famously deals with the analyses of behavioral science, specifically in dealing with serial killers. This kind of subject matter can be tricky: it’s one thing to be intellectually fascinated by the psychological aspects of these cases, and another thing entirely to sympathize or rationalize these murderers. Mindhunter, of course, makes this type of tightrope act the centerpiece of their story. However, real life serial killers are depicted and dramatized in the show. This could ultimately play into the kind of dangerous romanticizations the show attempts to subvert.

I encourage audiences who correctly assess the character of Holden (Jonathon Groff) as a pretentious shithead to watch till the end.

You could probably make the argument that this series is riddled with ableism. Given, again, the historical background of these analyses, however, mental illness is not something assumed to be well understood in this context. But how we should approach mental illness in storytelling such as this is not my area of expertise, and I am open to anyone bridging that gap for me if I’m being too tone deaf in that respect.

Trigger Warnings

The only instance of gore that you see actually happen in real time is in the first scene of the first episode.

This show is about researching serial killers. There is blunt and often irreverent discussion about murder, gore, torture, masturbation, incest, pedophilia, and sexual violence. 

Even protagonists who are regarded as the “good guys” in this show are expected to put on a front in order to coax information out of their serial killer interviewees. Lewd, inappropriate, and disrespectful language is used in these contexts.

Some nudity and sex scenes. 

Drawings and photography of violent images from serial killers’ case files are shown.

Final Verdict: I loved this show.

As to be expected with a story of this subject matter, there’s a lot of ground to cover with disclaimers and triggers. This is exactly the kind of taboo audiences love to indulge in at a distance, telling each other that it’s the psychology of examining a serial murderer that makes these sorts of films and shows so exciting. But these dark and horrendous accounts, interesting as they may be to so many viewers, have to come with a certain amount of responsibility.

This is something I realized with a cold flush while in vacation in Los Angeles, perusing the Museum of Death. I examined a series of figurines modeled after a number of real life serial killers such as Charles Manson and John Wayne Gacy. I tried to imagine what kind of mindset drives a person to buy these kinds of collectibles, much less manufacture them for purchase. 

Putting such a far distance from these murderers and placing our attractions in the same realm as a hobby takes away from the true horror of what these criminals have done. There’s a line between wanting to learn more and becoming part of a subculture that turns monsters into celebrities. 

Luckily for us, that is exactly what Mindhunter addresses.

The story begins with bright-eyed bushy-tailed young FBI agent, Holden Ford. Ford, initially specializing in hostage negotiation, is discouraged by a recent failed case. Behavioral science calls to him, and in pursuing this trade he joins forces with FBI agent Bill Tench (Holt McCallany) and psychologist Wendy Carr (Anna Torv). Together they pioneer a new wave of behavioral science methods in order to better understand the way these murderers think, and, ideally, find them before they can take any more victims.

As I said before, engrossment in this field of study is, as I have come to recognize it, not uncommon. The rise of a show like Criminal Minds, a prime time television series dedicated to the analysis and capture of fictional serial killers, is a strong indication of this. Most of us would find it difficult to wrap our heads around the idea of somebody with such perverse and twisted desires to be as mundane as you or me. We form this distance maybe to avoid the other side of this obsession that the living can afford: that it could have been us. Because it is far easier to gawk at a monstrous form of evil, than to imagine ourselves as their victim.

Mindhunter attacks this line of thinking at its origins and its source. Based on a book by the same name that details the true events of real FBI investigations, the show uses fictional stand-ins to perhaps convey more dramatic representation of these ideas. But I haven’t read the book, so this is just speculation. 

I mentioned in the disclaimers that our supposed hero of this tale, Holden Ford, explicitly presents himself as an utter jackass. Nothing drives the point home harder than Ford’s development which sees his confident rise and his perplexing downfall. Like many rookies in your stereotypical crime story, Ford wants results. He wants to make a difference, and he wants to see the fruits of his efforts now. He thinks that by acting on instinct and asserting himself, he can change everything around him to his favor. This kind of brazen naivety is nothing new and also not inherently wrong. It’s Ford’s intentions, however, that complicate things.

“Why are you here, Holden?” “I don’t know.”

What starts out as a justified practice meant to stop serial killers in their tracks becomes a battle of the minds where Holden Ford manages to put himself on top time and time again. And yet, even after outmaneuvering and coercing valuable information out of several different murderers, Ford’s life crumbles around him. His long-term girlfriend leaves him, he is formally reprimanded by his superiors for his actions, he confronts the consequences to his impulsiveness, and a tell-tale press release puts an almost complete halt to his investigations. 

The first season ends as Holden Ford hits rock bottom. We realize, seeing him fall this far from grace, that by jumping through all these intellectual hoops in order to get the information he so desperately craves, Ford has played right into the hands of some of the most notorious serial killers in history. He’s in too deep. In his hubris, he placed himself so far above these murderers in his own mind because he believes what he is doing is for the sake of justice, that he actually sunk down to their level.

It probably isn’t too difficult to see this progression throughout the first season. We, as the audience, start out rooting for Ford. Yes! We should study these serial killers and put clearer terms to their behavior in order to catch these criminals early on in the game. Horrid as their crimes are, they are actual human beings and as such we need to understand what went wrong as well as when and where. And then Ford’s behavior becomes deplorable, cringey both in and out of interviews. The show poses the question: is it worth it to stoop so low so as to gather this information?

And in reverberating response, the show also answers in the same breath: no.

In some instances, we are drawn to resent characters like Tench and Carr when their bureaucracy stands in the way of Ford’s justice. But, ultimately, Ford becomes unhinged as he learns that by trying to locomotive his way into success, he has shrunk that distance I had previously stressed and learns he has never been fully in control. 

The moral comes effortlessly enough. And while he isn’t the sole director or writer for Mindhunter, we see this kind of thing a lot in David Fincher’s work: well-intentioned men being crushed by a weight they did not take the time to fully grasp in scope, all under the guise of something thrilling and grisly. Fincher’s most famous work, Fight Club, is perhaps one of the most widely misinterpreted pieces of film in cinematic history thanks to every knee-jerk reaction-having male who came out of those theaters wanting to start their own fight club or project mayhem. Fincher himself has advised his own daughter from associating with young men who romanticize the movie. Fincher takes on these topics all the time. I’m having trouble finding the interview that cites this, and I’ll update this post if I find it, but there has been a point in his career where Fincher has been accused of producing torture porn. But this brings me to the meat of what I love about this series.

Mindhunter is told masterfully. The most disturbing and action-packed part of the show is at the very beginning of the first episode when Holden Ford is trying to talk down a man at the forefront of a hostage situation. But, even then, the way the situation is presented is crude and somewhat sad - you immediately understand there is an inherent problem with how criminals with complex mental faculties are treated and handled from this opening scene. After that? The most unnerving images are shown in photographs and drawings, but never played out for the audience. In fact, when was the last time you saw Fincher play out half the gore he alludes to in his films aside from Fight Club? And thus we can be certain this show was not made for the serial killers, but for us. This is a cautionary tale. There’s no reason to show the whole terrible ordeal - just the effects.

At no point did I feel this series was dragging on either. You forget that what you’re watching is mostly comprised of dialogue. There’s no compulsion to show exploitive material. The characters and their responses compel the story forward. You don’t need a SWAT team to break down an unsub’s door and catch the perpetrator mid-dynamic-action. You’re already amongst some of the most ruthless real-life villains in our country’s history. Anything more than that would be jarring. This is not a show for the serial killers. This is a show for how we react to such a tragic brand of evil, or how we should react. It needs to be said because it’s important that we tell the difference.

In the disclaimers, I also mentioned there being little to no ample representation for POC/LGBT+/female characters. While I don’t necessarily retract that statement, I do need to point out that we are given two supporting female characters in the series who play a significant role in both the story and Holden Ford’s life. The first we see is Debbie (Hannah Gross), Ford’s long term girlfriend. Debbie is a smart, independent woman who is able to banter intellectually with Ford and initially finds his thirst for knowledge to be charming. Gross does a wonderful job with this character, but I felt she wasn’t fully done the justice she deserved, especially when she abruptly displayed disloyalty that was never actually addressed in one of the episodes. Had it not been for this scene, it wouldn’t be as obvious that she was probably just a placeholder made to show all the aspects in which Ford’s life was falling apart. 

More prominent than Debbie is Wendy Carr, a well-established psychologist as well as a lesbian. Carr is perhaps the better-written of the two female figures, being decisively driven by her own moral compass and toting the kind of calculating patience that Ford could have afforded to learn from. Torv plays the kind of character we never question, that we trust, that we know is making the most diplomatic calls possible. And even here, I am left wanting more out of her story, out of where she found herself towards the end of the first season other than just a ghost of Ford’s consequences.

Maybe it is for personal reasons that I felt the need to praise this show for distinguishing the difference between feeding a killer’s ego and not losing sight of what is truly important under these investigations. Maybe I am just a fanatic for whatever Fincher touches. And to be sure, it certainly does have his trademark cinematic touch - from seamless and compelling editing to the intense portraits of its characters. But, in any case, this show far exceeded my expectations in its mindful storytelling and is an important piece in a society obsessed with the grotesque.

[lyraparadigm]

Troy Otto x OC One Shot Series Part #3

Hello my lovelies, as promised, here’s part 3!

Chapter 3

Arya didn’t like Troy. In fact, she despised him. His smug attitude and penchant for picking arguments with her pissed her off. It got worse after she had accidentally discovered his aroused state during one of their more heated arguments. Since then, Troy had bumped heads with Arya at every turn. He constantly forced her to interact with the soldiers at the base; have meals with them, drink with them and go on border patrol with them. He said she had to ‘participate’ in the community if she wanted to be a part of it. She had instantly pointed out that she never wanted to be a part of the community and that if he’d just let her go, she’d be on her way back to LA. He hadn’t liked that suggestion much, judging by the slamming of his office door.

It was awkward at first; for both the guys as well as Arya. The guys knew Troy had somewhat of a soft spot for Arya so they didn’t trouble her much. They tended to leave her alone but now that they were all having dinner together, neither one of them knew what to say. Troy’s men looked to him for guidance but their Leader’s eyes were fixated on the pretty girl with a scowl on her face.

Shrugging, Mike broke the silence as he asked Arya to pass the salt. She chucked it at him, which in turn made Charlie chuckle.

“Quite the swinging arm you got on you. You play any sport before all this?”

Arya’s brows furrowed in confusion at the man’s friendly eyes. Even his smile seemed sincere.

“Baseball in college.”

A round of hoots were heard before the men started talking about their favourite teams. Then the conversation digressed into them wondering where their favourite baseball players were right now - whether they were alive or dead…or worse. It was a surreal transgression for Arya to see. They had all been so joyous and then reality had hit about five minutes later, bringing their mood down again.

“So you’re from LA?” Charlie started again; his southern twang ever so prominent.

“Yes.” Arya chewed on her lip as she watched Charlie’s eyes widen in invitation. He wanted her to elaborate. Sighing internally, she mumbled, “Born and raised in Santa Monica.”

“What’s it like there? I’ve never left Texas.” James called out from one end of the table and Arya shot back, deadpanned, “Overrun with walkers.”

Silence took over before Mike coughed and stated encouragingly, “Bet you killed your fair share eh?” He then addressed the rest of the table, “Y’all seen her with them biters right? Absolute beast, this one.” The men started laughing and banging on the table; commending her and such. Arya felt a warm flush on her cheeks as rage coiled within her. How dare they act this way? She was fuming at their audacity. They would have sentenced her to death two weeks ago, for no good reason. Yet now, on their boss’ orders, they were acting like they were her best pals.

“Guess the group decision to not murder me paid off.” She spat as she slammed her plate on the table before stalking off.

Times like these, she wanted to hack a few walkers, simply to let off some steam. Unfortunately though, there were none on the base and she couldn’t just leave whenever she pleased. She needed Troy’s permission for that. Simply the thought of Troy made her want to scream and hurl anything and everything against a wall. She even dreamed of choking the man to death every night.

“You’ll have to get that bandaged up.”

She closed her eyes for a few moments. It helped her in pretending he wasn’t here. Troy had managed to catch her off guard again. Of course he did. She belatedly realised he was referring to the freshly formed cut across her palm. She had been clutching the biro in her hands hard enough to make it snap under pressure and the jagged pieces of broken plastic had sliced open her palm.

“What are you doing here?” She asked with a bitter tone. He had a tray of food with him.

“You left without eating.” He nodded as he set it down. She watched him move around her make shift office; opening drawers and cabinets to finally settle on pulling out a first aid kit. She rolled her eyes at his pretence as he walked closer to her. She attempted to snatch the box from his hands but after a short struggle and a furious glare from him, he won in keeping the box. Grabbing her hand, he started cleaning the blood with cotton pads.

“I understand why you felt the need to leave.” He spoke quietly, his eyes daring to gaze into hers, “But sooner or later you’ll have to forgive them”

“I don’t have to forgive anyone.” She spat out, attempting again to tug her hand away from his grasp. Casually leaning against the desk in front of her, he tugged her forcefully till she was close enough for their knees to knock.

“Why are you doing this?” She blurted out tactlessly. She was tired of playing games with him.

“Well I can’t let you walk around with an open wound-”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” She groused, her hands itching to cause some form of physical harm to him. He irked her. His very presence made her skin crawl and the fact that he was so tenderly wrapping her hand in bandages made her stomach churn with unease.

“What are you talking about then?” He asked with a coy smirk on his face.

“You want me to like it here. You want me to willingly participate and…and be friends with your men. You want me to like you”

She could feel him tense at her accusations, so she took it a step further. She liked rattling him as she called him out on his bullshit.

“You even pretend to understand me- like we’re kindred spirits or some such bullshit- but I’m nothing like you Troy. You don’t know anything about me.”

He was silent for a long moment, choosing to simply finish wrapping up her hand. Then his words pierced her like knives.

“I know you enjoy killing them. I’ve seen you on runs- you smile after a kill. You get high off the adrenaline and the blood. So I guess you’re just as sadistic as me.”

His words were punctuated by squeezes of her hand and tugs that brought her even closer to him. Too close.

“I know enough about you to know that you get it. You get how this world works now. You’re an asset to me and my men; they get that too now. So you’re staying here, whether you like it or not.”

Arya didn’t bother arguing with him. She was quick to see and seize opportunities when they appeared to her.

“That’s one part of it…but not all of it. You also want me to like being here. Now tell me, how that can ever happen, if I have no freedom?” She moved to stand between his legs, her stare brazen as she challenged him.

His smirk broadened at her bold move. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” She mocked as her fingers delicately traced a vein up his neck. He struggled to maintain composure. His hand gripped her wrist tightly, bringing it back down.

“Don’t lower yourself to that kind of cheap seduction. It’s pathetic.” He spat as his grip on her hands tightened. She felt a deep seed of humiliation take root within her. Cheeks colouring, she struggled to get out of his grasp. She elbowed him in the ribs and shoved his chest back as she grappled with him. He was taller, broader and stronger than her but she was resourceful. Managing to free one hand from his grasp midst struggle, her hand lunged at the scissors in the first aid kit. In an instant she had it pointed to his throat, pressing against his windpipe.

His grin was broad, perplexing her.

“There’s that fire.” His eyes sparkled as he appraised her.

“You can have all the freedom you want, doll.” He spoke softly.

Her brows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“You can have your knives back and we’ll give you guns too. You’ll be free to do what you want here.”

“But…?” She waited for the other shoe to drop.

Smacking her hand away from his throat, he stood to his full height. Towering over her, he bent his head to her level, “You’ll come back with me to the Ranch in a few days.”

-/-/-/-

 It turned out Troy’s men were as incessant pains in the asses as Troy himself was. A couple of them followed her around when she went on her walks; Charlie even started speaking to her like they were old friends. Mike would make stupid jokes that she tried ignoring at first but then they just kept getting worse to the point of somewhat making her smile. Then one morning, in the middle of doing a stock take, Arya watched Charlie trip over his untied laces and topple into Mike. A half open bag of flour that was in Mike’s hands then proceeded to fall over the both of them, making them look utterly ridiculous.

It was the first time in weeks that Arya laughed. It was abrupt and loud and contagious. She almost didn’t recognise her own laughter but once it had started, she couldn’t stop. She bent to her knees, unable to hold herself up from laughing so hard…and then it occurred to her that she might be crying too. Maybe she was just unhinged. Maybe all it took for her to snap was an ill placed bag of flour and two idiots. Then she saw Troy entering the garage. His eyes were wide with curiosity at first. Arya watched several emotions flicker through his eyes till he finally seemed to settle on irritation.

“Get back to work.” He groused, with a scowl on his face. Arya simply snorted and burst into another fit of giggles. Mike flung a handful of flour, colouring Troy’s hair white and then Arya was gone. One look at Troy and Arya was hopeless. She was lying on the floor with a stomach ache from all her laughter. Arya vaguely heard Mike and Charlie tell Troy something but she didn’t bother enough to catch it. She chose to lay there on the floor and chuckle at the complete ridiculousness of her situation. She was being held captive by a group of soldiers that were murdering people in the bathroom. She was also, slowly, starting to get comfortable around said murdering soldiers. The truly hilarious part however, was that Troy – who had all but forced her to interact with his men – was now jealous.

“Alright. You’ve had your fun.”

Arya sat up again, her back leaning against a rack of shelves, with her elbows resting on her bent knees. She had rubbed off the tear streaks down her cheeks but the redness in her eyes still remained. She bit her lip to hide her amusement as Troy crouched in front of her.

“I want you to go down to the bathroom. We have two new people”

Arya snorted again, “No.”

Troy’s eyes narrowed into slits but before he could speak, Arya interrupted. Her fingers rose to brush remnants of flour still left on his brow bone. He all but froze due to her actions.

“You said I could have my freedom. And guess what? Saying ‘no’ is a big part of it.”

“You still have to follow my orders.” He scowled, disliking the liberties she was taking.

“Hell no.” She chuckled, vexing him. “I ain’t no soldier and I’m certainly not a scientist.” She mocked. “I have no interest in your experiments on the living.” She stated with a smile on her face.

Troy seemed utterly perplexed at her behaviour. He had never seen her so unstable before. She was always so guarded and calculated; steady and calm. She would argue with him and she would scream but she would never outright disobey him. So why the change in behaviour now?

“You want me to get along with your men. You want me to like being here and you want me to like you. You also want me to murder people – honey you can’t have it all.” She leant closer to him; her eyes now narrowing to match his, “Make me go down there against my will and I will hate you with every fibre of my being.”

His eyes pierced hers as he debated whether to argue with her or not. “What makes you think I’d care if you hated me or not?” He baited her.

A slow smirk formed on her lips. Her fingers reached out to trace his cheekbone, just below his eye.

“You’d care.” She stated aloofly. The serene confidence in her tone annoyed him further but before he could scowl and prove her wrong, she rose to her feet.

“Charlie and Mike were being idiots and for a second they reminded me of my brothers.” Her tone was clipped now and her expressions guarded again.

“So I laughed.” Brushing off her arms and thighs, she waited till he too was stood.

Eyes snapping to his, she finished, “Then you asked me to murder people and it brought me back to reality.” Her face was deadpanned; her words blunt. She didn’t wait for him to respond, she simply left the garage.

-/-/-/-

Arya was never good at ignoring problems. Sure, she’d run from them, but that still meant she was acknowledging their existence. As she lay in bed at night, tossing and turning, she felt conflicted about ignoring certain problems. Troy’s words repeated in her mind unrelentingly. He had brought two new people into the base and as much as she would like to, Arya couldn’t ignore that. Curiosity gnawed at her, constantly urging her to get up and go see for herself as to whom those people were and why Troy felt the need to mention them to her.

Her footsteps were quiet but they felt heavy, the closer she approached the bathroom. She had to hold her breath when the stench filled her nostrils again. She shivered as she remembered her brief moments in this place. She hadn’t even stayed long enough to remember the colour of the tiles on the floor but she remembered all their sneers. She remembered how each man in the room looked at her like she was a lamb and they were the butchers.

The door creaked as she opened it slowly. Willy and Tanner were on duty. Their heads snapped to her presence. She folded her arms defensively as her chin jutted out proudly. She walked in with no explanation, her eyes scouring the place for new faces. A boy with scraggly hair was sat on the floor and a girl with an open wound lay across his lap. Arya blinked, her mouth opening in disconcert as she watched the girl slowly dying. Tanned skin, dark hair, captive…Arya saw herself in this girl…or rather, she saw what could have been her fate had she not bargained with Troy. That thought chilled her to her very bones.

Her gaze drifted to each of the soldiers in the room as they chatted casually and even heckled and jeered as they joked. How could they simply sit and watch someone dying? How could they ignore it? Then her eyes met the boys and he started pleading with her, asking her to help the girl and before she could so much as step forwards, the boy had a rifle butt thwacked onto his head.

“William.” Arya growled, her glare full of fire, “Back the fuck off. Troy sent me here to patch up the girl.”

“No he didn’t” Willy scoffed. Arya marched forwards till she was close enough to strike him.

“Why don’t you go ask?” Her heartbeat picked up but her stare never wavered. Lying was something Arya was well versed in, especially lying to utter dicks.

“Move back man, the girl’s whining is giving me a headache.” Tanner tugged on Willy’s shoulder. Arya located the first aid kit in the room and crouched down to examine the girl. Her face paled when she realised the girl had been shot.

“Please, you need to help her.” They boy pleaded, his face worn from exhaustion and worry.

“I’ll try.” Arya choked out. “There’s an exit wound….that’s…that’s good. Best I can do for now is wrap up the wound. Here, put pressure on it.” She handed the boy some bandages as she disinfected the wound. Once she had finished wrapping it up, she stood unsteadily. “I’ll look for pain medication-”

“Now I know Troy wouldn’t have consented to that.” Willy spat out, “We can’t be wasting resources on dead people.”

“We’ve been wasting food on imbeciles haven’t we?” Arya spat as she rounded on him. Tanner coughed to hide his laugh which only seemed to anger Willy more.

“Just because you’re Troy’s new plaything-”

In an instant, Arya had a knife at his throat. Just as quick, Willy had his riffle digging into Arya’s abdomen.

“Try and finish that sentence, William. Go on.” Arya threatened.

“Darling, I’m the one with the gun.” Willy scoffed.

“And you’ll still be the one to die if you finish that sentence. Doesn’t matter if I die too.” She spoke with such conviction, it rattled him a little.

“You’re crazy.” He grumbled, pulling away from her. “Bat shit crazy.”

Ignoring him, Arya turned to the boy on the floor again. Arya’s eyes focused on the girl, now passed out. “What’s her name?”

“Luciana.” The boy gulped, “I’m Nick.”

“I can’t promise to save your life, Nick.” Arya stated bluntly, “But I promise to save hers.”

/-/-/-/-/

Arya thumped furiously against his door, unapologetic for the amount of noise she was making. He opened the door with force, his tshirt riding up to display an expanse of smooth, pale skin. Her brows furrowed for a second as she thought she noticed a raised scar on his side.

“What is it? Did something happen? Is there a breach?” He asked frantically as he gripped her arm and tugged her into his room.  In seconds he had a gun in his palm and he was pushing one into hers.

“Troy.” She growled, shoving him away.

“Arya.” He scowled but she threw the gun at his shoulder as she yelled, “I went down to the bathroom.”

He remained still for a second before his exhale caused his form to slouch. He was relaxed now, much to her irritation. “Is that all?” He rolled his eyes at her as he uncocked his gun and tucked it behind his trousers. His nonchalance angered her.

“What do you want?!” She seethed, “You sent me down there for a reason. What is it huh? You wanted me to see the brown Mexican girl dying on the floor…you wanted me to realise that could have been me? What, so now I should be grateful to you for keeping me caged?”

Her hands had a mind of their own as they repeatedly smacked his chest in attempts to shove him back as he kept reducing the distance between them. He had her backed against a wall by the time she had finished her rant.

“Stop it!” She demanded, her voice shrill, “Stop coming so close.” She smacked his jaw harder than she had anticipated. The resounding thwack made her breath catch. His retaliation came swift and hard as he gripped her wrists and forced them back against the wall. She could feel his laboured breath against the expanse of her neck. Her mind ran rampant with ways to get out of this situation. Her heart pounded and her head spun as his proximity to her decreased. Her breath began coming out in short spurts as nausea coiled in her stomach. Flashes of memories she had tried suppressing burst into her mind in vivid colour till she had no choice but the snap open her eyes and focus on something else. Anything else. She noticed another scar on his skin, this time on his bicep. It looked angry and raised; like it had been a recent bruise. Then his voice pushed through the fog in her brain, his words confusing her.

“I want you, on my side.”

Her mind screamed that this was another one of his ploys; that he’d rip the rug from under her feet the moment she believed his innocuous wants. He had her in his grasp, in the middle of the night, in his room. He could get away with anything. Hell, he could murder her and he would face no consequences. He could try to break her, if he wanted. He could even leverage her freedom for his needs…but he was doing none of that.

“I’m not a bad person.” He pushed, seemingly understanding her trail of thoughts. She didn’t want to argue; not when she herself wasn’t sure about the definitions of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ anymore. It wasn’t about that for her. It was about surviving and being able to live with yourself.

“Let her live and I’ll back you. I’ll be on your side.”

His brows furrowed at her ask. He hadn’t expected it. Arya didn’t care about the prisoners in the basement. She had been at the base for two weeks and they had seen enough bodies being carted out to know they were still pursuing on with their experiments but she had never once interfered.

“Why?” He thought he saw panic flash across her eyes for a moment but it dissipated just as quick.

“Please.” She blurted out, her mouth dry as her heart continued to hammer painfully in her heart. She couldn’t answer. Not now.

His eyes widened ever so slightly. Her behaviour was disconcerting to him. She had laughed today and then she had told him about her family. She was now limp in his arms and pleading with him to not kill someone she didn’t care for. He wanted to ask her what the hell was going on with her but instead, as his eyes roamed her weary features, he chose not to follow through. He nodded instead, his fingers pushing back strands of her hair behind her ear. They lingered there, brushing her ear lobes, curling to the crook of her neck.

“Ok.” He breathed out, “But she stays there.”

Arya released a heavy sigh as she slouched, her form now pressing against his. She hadn’t expected him to give in so easily. Then she realised he had let go of her wrists. His hands were now resting on her waist rather delicately…and she couldn’t ignore it any longer. She had to confront this nagging feeling in her brain, tugging at her to realise what this all meant.

She blinked as it hit her rather abruptly; this fool thought he liked her.

[khymer-vulture]

Ayy, finally done proofreading. I hope you guys like it.

Another side-story for the Our Bond series. (set in the middle of Last Chapters, so Caleb isn’t born yet.)

*Ray’s dreams become haunted by an old and familiar tormentor.

Life for Isaac and Rachel have been going beautifully during their times together. From being runaway fugitives to living in a home to call their own - and as man and wife, no less. Every day seemed like a new step to take, and a new discovery to be made for their soul mate. This was indeed the foundation of a perfect family she long desired, she had someone who viewed her life as precious and not a burden. For Zack, Rachel was his rock, she was what made him truly feel human again, and draw out the innocent pieces of him that remained hidden deep within his scarred soul. Each shattered piece of their past seemed to become an elaborate puzzle that the two of them dedicated their years piecing together into something that made them whole.

 They were whole.

 As time went by, and the two continued their plans on building their own family, Rachel seemed to feel a sense of dread, mostly in her sleep. She hasn’t had nightmares in the longest time thanks to the warm and secure embrace of her husband, but now it seemed the nightmares were back with a vengeance.

 Rachel fidgeted and squirmed from mental discomfort as her mind began to plague her with bits of her past, her parents belittling her as well as one another, pinning blame for their problems on everything but themselves, to even the physical trauma.

 No, not again. This was the past, and it should stay in the past. Rachel was a woman now, she had her own free will, she was building more self-confidence by the day, and she felt loved by…

 “A serial killer…how sad and pathetic…” a voice called out.

 In front of Ray was a blurred manifestation of her father, it had been so long that she had even forgotten what his own face looked like. Yet, his spiteful voice was something she couldn’t forget at all.

 “You really are some sort of psycho…” he spoke again, “the only people that you can associate with are other lunatics…especially a vicious murderer like him. You both seem to be made for each other, isn’t that right, you little hell spawn?”

 Rachel was feeling her childhood anxiety take hold, she wanted to prove this manifestation wrong, there was lots more to Zack than just his infamy. She could even feel herself shrink back into the broken little girl as her dreams took root.

 “You even gave your disgusting body to him, like the freaking Whore of Babylon…” the taunts continued, “just how vile can you get?”

 “Stop…” Rachel pleaded, her arms huddled around herself as a false security blanket. “I’m not disgusting, I’m not vile, I’m…”

 “Oh, enough bullshitting…a bloodthirsty killer like him is obviously enjoying the free ride you’re giving him…” the blurred vision of her father interrupted, “…you’ve even bred a little demon with him…pretty sure that little imp is going to be just as seriously fucked up as the two of you…hell, your ‘lover boy’ might hightail it out before your misery-bringing-self drags him down too...”

 Ray shook her head, she refused to believe every demeaning word that escaped her tormentor’s lips. The thought of the child growing inside her eventually becoming just as mad as their parents, or even the thought of Zack leaving her side was causing her anxiety to spike. Her heart raced as she felt her insides twist into a thousand knots, and her own head began attacking her with insecurities.

 “Ray…Ray!...Wake up!” a voice called out.

 Rachel’s eyes shot open as she gasped for air, she quickly sat up and gripped at the sides of her head, the woman was clearly still shaken up by her dream. Soon, came the feeling of large arms surrounding her into a comforting embrace, a familiar sensation of both love and safety. Zack gently nuzzled the top of Ray’s head to help calm her nerves, it had been a long while since she had nightmares for him to chase away.

 “Calm down, alright? Deep breaths…” Zack softly whispers.

 “Please keep talking…” the woman pleaded. “please…I…I just need to hear something…”

 Zack raised a brow, clearly something unhinged her very badly, but he complied. If nightmares were what frightened her, then maybe bringing up some good memories would help clear away the darkness. The man leaned closely to her ear and began to whisper the tender moments they shared throughout the years - their reunion, their first night together, watching Rachel blossom into a beautiful and steadfast woman, to even their first kiss.

 “Shit Ray…no matter how many times we locked lips, I still think our first one was always the best to remember…”

 Rachel was no longer a nervous wreck, she couldn’t help but smile to the memories, even hear her husband’s point of view with his colorful commentary. Soon, she was leaning against Zack and wrapped her arms around him, giving him a simple peck on the cheek to let him know that she was alright.

 “Thank you, Zack…that was all I needed…”

 “So, what happened? Shit, I haven’t seen you this freaked out in years…” Zack asked.

 Rachel faintly sighed as her hands began to slide down and bundle at the sheets piled at her knees, her eyes had a familiar look to them, that hollow and dead look. Zack grit his teeth that something as bad as a nightmare would make such an expression return.

 “Look…Ray…I don’t want to stress you out…” Zack said, “Whatever it was…I can tell it must’ve been some serious shit. It’s none of that execution nonsense like before, right?”

 Ray slowly shook her head, “No…it was much worse…I saw my parents again…especially my dad – at least, what I can remember much of him.”

 That answer surprised Zack a bit, a terrible old haunt, that explained the dulled look returning to her eyes.

 “I could hear his voice so clearly, like he was mocking me from beyond the grave. Disgusting, vile, and pathetic to only feel loved by a serial killer…” Rachel murmured, then began to let slip a sniffle.

 The woman was about to break down, Zack brought his arms to hold her close yet again.

 “Hey…enough…” Zack shushed, “Didn’t uh...didn’t one of your books say to not get stressed? It’s not good for you and the little pipsqueak…”

 Zack then lightly poked at Rachel’s belly, it was a little protruded from the growing child within.

 Rachel wiped a tear away, then faintly smiled to herself – serial killer or no, Zack was genuinely concerned for her health and the health of their unborn.

 “Yeah…it did say that…you’ve gotten better at reading, Zack,” she answered with a faint sniffle.

 Zack had a proud and humble grin on his face, but in all seriousness, the words Rachel’s supposed “father” said even irked him.

 “Yer’ dad was a cop, right?”

 Rachel lightly nodded.

 “Who in the fuck gave him the right to say that shit? That miserable bag of dicks is a man of the law and couldn’t even fucking practice what he preached. The real sad thing is that a serial killer does know how to love someone better than a god damn pig like him can…” Zack boldly stated, “If he shows up in your dream again, tell him straight up I said that.”

 “You won’t leave me, right?” Ray asked.

 “Did he say that shit too?” Zack growled. Then let out a huff of frustration, “The only way I’m leaving is with my last fucking breath, Ray. Until then, you’re stuck with me.”

 Zack then grabbed her by the hips in a slight pouncing manner, he made sure to be gentle with her, and heard her let out a surprised laugh as he playfully kissed and nibbled at her neck. It’s been a while since he did engage in a type of playful behavior, but hearing her laugh was damn worth it. His attempt at soothing her worries was indeed working like a charm.

 “No way in hell I’m gonna leave…” Zack said, “Hey…look, your shitty parents are gone. I don’t know what’s bringing those memories back. Just remember where you are now, you’re a grown woman – fucking beautiful, even. You’re living in a house, all neatly kept n’ shit. Hell, you got that garden you worked so damn hard on. Fuck, Ray…you’re living the dream. Not to mention, you got the fearsome Isaac Foster, and I’ll happily slaughter hundreds who dare to say otherwise…”

 Isaac had that predatory gleam in his golden eye, he truly did mean it - if he could jump into her dreams, he’d keep his word.

 The hollowed look from before was now gone, much to Zack’s relief, he leaned down to give her a small and tender kiss on the lips before letting her get back into a comfortable position to sleep.

 “Thank you, Zack…”

 “Get some good dreams this time,” Zack replied.

 Soon Zack wrapped his arms around his wife, their usual big spoon, little spoon position. The two eventually drifted off into the spell of sleep.

 The dreams returned, Rachel felt uneasy, but she mentally repeated the words Zack said. Before her, was the hazy image of her father again, Ray felt a small bit of determination to confront her inner demons.

 “Happy with your crazy family? Quit trying to sugar coat the truth to make yourself feel better…”

 Rachel clenched a fist, she refused to be swayed.

 Soon, came the blurred image of her mother, “A worthless thing like you should stop playing ‘make believe’. There is no happily ever after. It’ll only be a matter of time until he turns on you too…until you end up like us…”

 “A filthy girl like you can’t do anything right…” the voices chanted.

 Rachel felt the unease build stronger until she had enough, “I will hear no more! I am happy where I am, I don’t regret being with Zack. I know what kind of person he is, so what? He’s still a human being, he expresses emotions, he feels pain, and can admit his own faults! The both of you never shown a single sliver of that, all you ever did was fight, scream, and place blame instead of owning up to your own mistakes!”

 “Why you little…” the mother angrily growled, then began to raise a hand to strike at her.

 Rachel was there to catch it, she had an expression on her face that clearly said – I am not afraid.

 “If my current life counts as sugar coating, I don’t even want to know what you’d call that life back then. I’m a grown woman, I choose the paths I take in my life. I don’t need to hear the words of a couple dead-beat corpses to break me again.”

 Then her eyes directed over to the manifestation of her father, “It’s sadder that a cop like you was a poor excuse for a husband. Zack cares for me in every way, he cares for my health, my sanity, and my happiness. Despite your ‘moral differences’, a killer like him knows how to love someone compared to a drunk and downtrodden man of the law. Compared to you and mother, we’re truly a normal couple. There will be no more biased opinions coming from the two of you…you’re all just a bad dream, and nothing more.”

 Dream or no, she felt damn satisfied to finally stand up to her parents, even just a mere representation.

 The dark manifestations of her parents fizzled away like ashes, and she began to feel a huge sense of relief. Possibly stress and doubt had been building up unknowingly to allow her mind to concoct such a nasty illusion, if that were the case, she was glad that Zack enabled her to stand up to her old demons.

 Morning had risen, and Rachel slowly opened her eyes. She wasn’t surrounded by darkness, but in the comforts of a large bed shared by her spouse, she could feel their combined warmth wrap her up so safely and securely. Her happy life and not a troubling nightmare.

 Soon, she could hear the familiar and tired grumbles coming from Zack, he must be waking up as well. Normally, she’d just let him sleep in, but given the situation last night, he must still be worried.

 “Mmh? You’re up? Mornin’ Ray…” Zack mumbled as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

 “Morning Zack,” Ray replied with a smile.

 “Sleep better this time?” Zack asked, he leaned close to give her neck a couple kisses.

 “I did…I feel a lot better, I told my nightmares off,” Rachel said as she turned to face him, “I also told my dad what you said…”

 “Oh yeah?”

 Rachel lightly nodded, “It felt really damn good…”

 Zack couldn’t help but chuckle, then gave her a peck on the forehead, “Atta girl…take no bullshit!”

 The man then sat up on the bed, helping Ray up as well, “Come on, let’s go take a quick shower…”

 That sounded really nice right about now, a time to wash away all the worries before starting the new day, and with someone she was sharing her life with – even to the point of starting a new one with him.

 Whatever wanted to fill her with fear and doubt would have to fight harder, she wasn’t going to allow herself to break again, she wasn’t going to allow anything to tear her life with Zack apart by any means necessary and wouldn’t hesitate to confront any foe that would dare try. If that line of defense was broken, then they sure as hell had Isaac to deal with.

 If this kind of life wasn’t considered a happily ever after, then she’d refuse to believe what anything else was.