#i'm gonna do it. i'm gonna try to get an appointment for the fucking. psychological center or whatnot they gave me

[anaalnathrakhs]

mental health facilities looooove to only have inpatient available when it would make things worse

[idesofrevolution]

The Journey of Dr. Santana Fabrega

There's nothing quite like your bro slobberin' over your sweaty feet while tokin' on a hookah. Let me just tell you- everybody's happy. I'm stoked to be stoned and minty fresh, and he's happy to taste my ripe size 12's. Who isn't the happiest? The folks. Sure, I dropped out of college, sure I started focusing one hundred percent on my art, sure I have a parade of guys out of my little basement lair... but I never got why they had to be such fuckin' buzzkills.

Ever since they joined that church when I was at uni, my parents have been sucked into the Evangelical cult. Not the whole lifting your hands up to Jesus & speaking in tongues sort of church, by the way. Man, they're out there with picket signs at sex clinics, bannin' books at the high school, all that crazy fuckin' Christian Nation bullshit. They're my parents, so I love 'em and whatever. But fuck, those psychos really fucked 'em up. So now, their crusade is "curing" me of my gayness. Didn't really matter that I'm pan, they don't really know the difference. They don't really care about the difference, though. Not straight, not right.

So when they caught me the other day with Sam cleanin' my dick in the basement, it was World War 3. Man, a Nuclear Bomb would have less energy than my mom's hysterical shrieking. It's Florida, so it's nothing the neighbors haven't heard before. But, shit. I thought my eardrums were gonna pop. They stomped off upstairs, bein' all 'we are going to talk about this later, Santiago.' So, I let Sammy finish up, I pulled on some shorts and I went upstairs to face the fire while he snuck out the basement window. Fuck, I wished I were him.

The 'family meeting' went about as well as you'd expect. Threats of burning in hell for all eternity, demands that I find the Lord, etc. Apparently he doesn't like a lot of things about me: my weed, my tattoos, my sexuality, my piercings, my hair for some reason? I don't know man, I just tuned out after a while. What I did catch, though, they were sending me to substance abuse counseling. Couldn't help but laugh, and that sent dad through the fuckin' roof.

"Doctor Fabrega is going to teach you some manners, young man. Make you a Godly man, like you should be." Yada yada yada. He should have known better than to give me the doc's name. After the ass reaming, I made my way back downstairs to the computer. It took five minutes of research to find this Doctor Fabrega. Turns out he's a Christian Therapist, but that wasn't what was most interesting. Down in his specializations, buried beneath substance abuse & cognitive behavioral therapy was a word that caught my eye: licensed Hypnotherapist.

I knew exactly what kind of bullshit they were tryin' to pull on me. But when I was enrolled at U Miami, my major was Psychology. Not only that, but I still happened to have access to the university library. Oops.

I texted Sammy, knowing I was gonna be up all night doing research, and that my dick would need some appropriate attention under the desk. I was gonna show this motherfucker just how sick it really is to be like me.

---

The waiting room was bullshit. Cold white walls, bright wood floors... It looked straight out of an IKEA ad. I'd already been there for like 20 minutes past my appointment time, giving me just enough time to scroll through the last chapter on my phone. I hear the receptionist call out my name, and I head toward the office. Just as bullshit as the waiting room. It's like the guy wants to live in a psych ward- no color anywhere. At least get a blacklight or something.

"Santiago Rivera. Welcome, I'm Dr. Fabrega." The guy was hot as fuck, not gonna lie. Looked like he was straight out of Sao Paulo- even with the fancy suit you can't hide muscle like that. "Please, sit. It's so good to meet you." His voice was so weird. Speaking every word with like, perfect diction. You know those AI voices that talk that way? That's what it was like, as if he were trying so hard to hide an accent underneath.

"Just call me Santi, doc." I plopped down on the leather chair, might have put my feet up on his coffee table (don't recall), and he just looked at me like he was looking in a microscope. No idea what the deal was. He walked over to the couch and sat down with my file and started to drone on.

"Alright, Santi, it says here that your parents are pretty concerned about your behavior lately. You're 23 years old and a college dropout, you take illicit drugs, you have no job, and you're having unnatural thoughts. That's quite the list, bud." He was so fuckin smug, that sort of punchable glibness that only comes from a particular kind of self righteousness. Like Jesus himself came down and kissed them.

"So, first off. I did drop out of college, because I couldn't afford it. Second, I sure the fuck do smoke green because it's a) fun, and b) prescribed to me by my real doctor. Third, I do have a job. I do graphic design and graffiti art and I pay my own bills with it. And last off, yup: I fucked him." He sat there, somehow shocked that I told him how it was right off the bat. I'm not playing his little game, and that made him angry.

"I see. So you have no remorse for any of this? I believe your parents are very right to be concerned about where your life is headed."

"Fascinating, considering I'm moving out at the end of the month and they won't need to deal with my life. So. You married?" He was thrown off by that, just as I'd hoped. Right out of the blue. Knocks them off kilter for a second. An easy question to answer, so they usually do.

"Uh, well, no I'm not married. Is that your concern in all this?" Man, I couldn't help but laugh. He's trying to be sarcastic?

"Where did ya go to school for... whatever this is." This made him close my file, he even put it on the table and crossed his arms.

"I went to Liberty University, top of my class in their Doctor of Psychology program. You, it seems didn't make it that far, so you might not know what 'this' is." Oooh, he's big mad. I thought, let's push it. I did what most of my guys love, but would piss him off, I kicked off the Vans. Made sure I wore my skating shoes that day, the super ripe ones with the same damp socks. When they came off, those puppies let their presence be known.

"Sounds boring. Boring then, boring now. I got accepted into the Art Institute in Savannah, so I'll be headed that way soon. Be legit soon, then you wouldn't have anything to say. How's your sex life?" He thought he was so tough, not flinching at the musk, nor my question. But I knew both hit him right where I wanted. The question to make him mad, the stink to get him hot.

"Santiago, I think we should continue with our session. You can put your shoes back on and we can try some exercises to help you think a bit more clearly." I crossed my ankles, wriggling my toes a bit.

"I think they need some air. Are you gonna try and hypnotize me now? Or is that the last ditch effort when everything else fails?" He leaned back in his seat, the grimace growing stronger. "That stuff is not that hard to master. A couple days really and you got it down."

"Is that so?" He ground his teeth as he spat out his words. "It seems you know all there is to know, then." Time to hit it home.

"You know what, let's put money on it, doc. Hundred bucks says I can put you under." I got him, his eyebrow shifted just enough for me to see.

"This isn't a casino, Santiago. I don't bet money on client's health." I couldn't help but smirk. He left an opening I couldn't pass up.

"Aight, no money then. If I put you under, I get the bragging rights. If I don't, I'll play your stupid games. Win-win for you, nothing to lose but your dignity." Hook, line and sinker; he leaned in, grabbing the remote on the table next to him. He tapped a button, and the shades started to come down.

"Well then, Mr. Rivera. I wish you luck."

The room got dark. Really fuckin' dark. Fabrega hit another button on the remote, and a cool blue washed over the room. Gotta say, tight LED system. I kicked my shoes off the table, and scooted my chair forward. Showtime.

"Alright, Santana, I want you to just take deep breaths." He squirmed at my use of his first name, one last dig before I brain fucked him. He took his deep breaths one at a time, slowly getting deeper and deeper. "As I count down from one to ten, each number will bring you closer and closer to relaxation. Picture a long tunnel, at the end, a bright white light. With every number, you take a step forward to the light, do you understand?"

He nodded, it was an induction I'd made up this morning. I started from 10, telling him his first step he could feel the tingling relaxation in the tips of his fingers, slowly crawling up his hands and forearms. 9. Another step, the tingling creeps up his big muscly arms and shoulders. 8. One more step, the tingling is pushing up his neck and throat, reaching his tongue and teeth. 7. The tingling bursts into his head, a paradoxical rush of relaxation, a fog of dissonance washes over his brain as thoughts collide and crash about. 6. The tingling washes down his spine, flowing through his nerves into every part of his body. His body feels electric, a painless jolt running throughout him. I watched as he tensed up, his big muscles contracting and bunching him up. It was working.

We get to 5, starting at the crown of his head, the volts decrease, turning lugubrious and liquified like molasses sloshing about in his head. 4. The light is so close he can feel the heat, but his body is cooled as the syrupy fluid flows down over him like a waterfall, pooling in his big feet as it fills every crevice. 3. It feels as if he's trudging through mud toward the light, his legs feeling wobbly and gelatinous. 2. So close, his whole body feels like a massless blob, inching toward the final drop into the cavernous light. 1. He crawls toward the ledge, plummeting down into the endless void of bright white light. There, he will sit as I have a little bit of fun.

"Alright, Santana. Can you hear me in there?" Fabrega nods, expressionless. Fuck, that was maybe a 80/20 chance I was gonna fuck this shit up so bad. But I guess God really is on my side here. "Whenever I ask a question, you will answer truthfully. Whatever I say you will incorporate into your life. Now, Santana, what do you do when you're not at work?" His lips moved slowly and replied in monotone.

"I go to the gym, I go to the golf course, I hire my date, and I go home." Ooooh shit. He's giving my friends on the corners a decent living, good for him. Hardly a Godly thing to do. Either way, it was a perfect place to start.

"You love going to the gym, don't you, Santana?" He nodded. "You love gettin' all sweaty don't you?" His head began to shake, his expression furrowing a bit in disgust. "No, Santana. You love getting all sweaty. The feeling of those cool droplets on your hot muscles during a hard workout? Doesn't it feel good?" He pauses, before reluctantly nodding. Ahh I love gettin my fingers in his brain, never ceases to please. "You love that funk that comes off your sweat, Santana. You love sniffin your pits, your big feet, your balls... That musk means you're workin' hard. Keeping in shape. Staying virile. Isn't that right?" He nodded, squirming in the chair. I watched his body try to reject the instructions, try to rebel, but just one repetition had his back to stillness.

"You don't even like golf, do you?" He nodded, I didn't even need to manipulate him. "You much prefer hitting the beach, don't you? Seein' all the guys and gals starin' at your glorious bod... You love it, don't you?" He nodded, the side of his lip curling ever so slightly. "You love bringing out the speedo, letting the goods hang low, letting the buns bulge... you know they all wanna see it anyway..." He nodded again, it was like taking candy from a baby. The guy had the mental fortitude of a frog.

"You like fucking, too. You can have any girl or guy on the street with a single wink." He nodded, and I couldn't help but watch as his groin started to bulge. "Yeah, boy. You love taking that horse cock and plowing it into some ass... plowing it into some pussy... fucking their pretty little mouths..." Drool started to drip from the corner of his lip, and a little wet spot quickly appeared on his pants. "You're a freak, aren't you, Santana? You like fuckin' in the car, in the sauna, at the gym, under the desk... gushing gallons into them while you shove your sneaker on their face." He was moaning, slowly grinding against the open air. Can't lie, I was gropin' myself a bit just watching him.

"Now, Santana. I'm going to bring you back to your office, but when I do, you are going to be super laid back and chill with Santi during your sessions. If he says the word 'sniff' you will return to this space, return to an open mind, just as we have done here today. Do you understand?" He nodded one final time before I began his emergence. Counting back from one to ten, I watched as he slowly came back to the real world, and with one snap, he blinked his eyes and wiped his brow.

"Well, doc. I got the bragging rights." Fabrega pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he had a headache. Time to see if it had all paid off.

"Uhh... yeah... Santi. You got me there..." Perfect. He pulled his hand away from his nose, clicking the shades back up to their little hole. It didn't take long until he saw the wet patch on his bulbous package. He chuckled under his breath. "You'll have to excuse the mess, Santi... I have hyperspermia, so sometimes it all just flows out." Hot- and totally unprofessional. Just how I like 'em. I leaned back in my chair, smirkin' the whole way.

"Damn, doc. Firehose down there. Gonna have to show me sometime." He smirked and waved me off.

"I don't fraternize with clients, Santi. Oh, look at the time. I'm late for my 5:30. Alright, I'll see you next week." He stood up, extending his hand, his whole demeanor entirely changed. I slipped my Vans back on, spitting on my hand before gripping his. He shuddered a bit, sure. But we were gonna get real close, real quick.

---

The next few days flew by. My folks were so excited to see that I was looking forward to seeing Dr. Fabrega, and I loved knowing what they didn't. I was excited to see if Dr. Fabrega was gonna be Santana. So when I finally got back in for my appointment, I didn't need to wait long at all. Only five minutes and the door swung open, the receptionist completely flustered. The anticipation was killing me. She sat down behind her computer with tunnel vision and I walked into the office.

At first, I thought it was empty. He wasn't sitting at his desk, on the couch... but as I heard huffing from the balcony, I knew where to find him. I walked up to the sliding glass door, and turned outside to see one hell of a sight.

It was Santana. Nothing on but his whitie-tighties and his damp socks doing pushups on the bench. Fuck, those muscles were glistening in the light, his underwear with damp patches on his ass and bulge. His clothes sat in a pile near his head: jeans, a Miami Heat jersey, some sick dunks I wanted to steal... far from the stuffy suit he had on just the week before. He finally noticed me, and smiled.

"Santi! Hey! Just finishing up my lunch workout. Thought I'd get a session in today on the balcony. Damn, the fresh air is good for exercise!" I smirked. It was night and day. So far, gone was the bible thumping hypocrite, and here was what was underneath. If anything I was doing him a service.

"Shit, Santana! You're looking prime today. You gonna funk out our session today, or?" I punched him in the shoulder, and he giggled like a kid.

"It's eau naturale, my friend. Natural water. That's what it smells like." He slipped on his jeans and his big fuckin' sneakers, tossing the jersey over his head while we walked in. He trailed some deliciously ripe musk, and I couldn't help but savor a bit of it. We plopped down on our seats, and just started shootin' shit. I bitched about the parents, he bitched about his receptionist, I told him about Sammy suckin' my dick clean, and he told me about the threesome with a gym bro and his girlfriend. He was coming along beautifully. Though, I thought to myself, how's about a round two?

"Dude, by the way, those kicks are fuckin' tight." I pointed to the dunks, which he smugly kicked up onto the coffee table, showing them off.

"Thanks, man. They're the lifting shoes. My work boots, heh." I reached out, grabbing ahold of his foot, and yanked it off. He chuckled like a fuckin' idiot while I looked at 'em. Size 13, nice and big- and the smell wafting out of there... Fuck, man.

"Damn, dude you never wash your socks? These stink!" I playfully tossed the shoe at him, and just as he started to brush off the comment, I said my magic word. "Sniff it." Like a flipped lightswitch, his expression turned numb, slowly bringing the shoe to his nose and inhaling his own musk. I clapped my hands, rubbing them together: let's do a little more programming.

"Santana, You're a pretty chill guy, you know that?" He nodded. "You smoke, don't you? You know, the good shit?" Deep in his mind, he had to know it was me talking at this point, so I was talking to him like a bro. Establishes trust, ya know? He shook his head no. "Ahh, come on man. You love kickin' back and toking on that reefer after a long workout." Santana chuckled a bit, before nodding, still nose deep in his sneaker. "Yeah, you love smokin' out your bros, your babes... when you're not shootin' tequila!" He full out laughed on that one, nodding along. The sneaker slowly dropped from his hand, and he laid back in his chair.

"How old are you, Santana?"

"28." Shit, he was only a few years older than me. I mean, he looked young. But hell, you wouldn't have known it from the way he acted.

"Where are you from?" "Rio de Janeiro." Interesting. I clocked the accent. I was pretty proud of myself.

"Why do you try so hard to hide it? The way you talk, the way you dress, the way you act... You act like you're from Ohio." Another chuckle, I should have had a Netflix special. "You're gonna embrace that Brazilian pride, bro. Don't hide it for some mayo drinking buzzkills!" He furrowed his brow, nodding intently. This one was for his own fuckin' good. Be proud of that shit! "You should get some ink to really embrace it. Nothin' sexier than a tatted up stud, am I right?" He nodded again, his bulge once more springing to life. I smirked, simply wanting to know a little something somethin'.

"Do you think Santi is hot?" He sat there for a second, before slowly smiling and nodding. I didn't even need to program that one. Aww, big old himbo. "You're not afraid to let him know, are ya? I mean if you tell his crazy fuckin' parents that he's cured... He wouldn't be your patient anymore... Right?" His bulge twitched again, and he smirked devilishly as he nodded. "You like it when he's all up in your brain, don't you? You like it when he gets his dick deep in there and mind fucks you into a chill, laid back stud. Don't ya?" The dampness grew and his breath got heavy. He nodded, drooling down the sides of his cheeks. "Yeah, you wanna let him in completely, don't ya? Make you like him?" Moans grew, and his thrusting in the air quickened pace. "You wanna be best bros with him, don't ya? Bros with benefits... hangin' out, smokin' weed, hittin' the clubs, swappin' spit... swappin' cum... swappin' subs..." He started fuckin' howl. He was beggin' to splurge. "When I tell you, you will cum. And when you do, everything we talked about will be your truth. Now... Cum."

His eyes opened, still moaning loudly. He gripped onto his jeans, pulling down the waistband and underwear, that big old uncut donkey dick flopping out before shooting his load all over himself. Volley after volley. He wasn't kidding about the hyperspermia: maybe four double shots of his spunk sprayed like a geyser into the air. The 8th Natural Wonder of the World. He laid back and chuckled, throwing his arms behind his head.

"Fuck, brother!" The thickest accent flowed of those lips, deliciously thick. "After today, that'll be down your throat, cara." He pointed at me, hopping to his feet and shoving his python back into his pants. "So, I'll write your discharge papers, it'll get the pais off your back. Act the part until you're out, and just go live." Fuck yeah, we high fived, and I ruffled that sweaty mullet of his. "Hey, come over tonight. I got some friends comin' over... if you and Sammy wanna join." He winked and slapped my back. Damn, I did good.

"I'll be there, man! You save me a round so I can show you how to clean this dick." I groped my bulge, smirking as his bit his lip and winked. I've created a monster.

---

"Ei, sexy! Come get a toke before it's gone!" Such a demanding little bitch, I love him. I slipped his filled condom off my cock, the kinky fucker insisted, and I happily complied. If I'm being real, this psycho has taught me things! I flushed it down the toilet, and swung the bathroom door open to see him lounging on his bed, toking away at the blunt I packed.

"Hey you fuckin' hog, don't you smoke it all!" He chuckled dumbly, reaching over to hand me the blunt, taking the opportunity to snatch my wrist and pull me forward into a kiss. Fuck those lips were so good, pressed against mine or around my cock. "Isn't Carrie coming over soon? You gonna be able to get off so quick?" I pushed away, taking my puff.

"Ahh, plenty to go around, eh?" He groped that musky bulge that I had a feeling Sammy would be huffing later. "Ey, bring me my pants. We can go get a shot before she gets here." Heh, the last month or so crashing with him has been fuckin' sick. The folks think I'm rooming with some guy from the church, when really I'm gooning with my therapist every night in his bed. Savannah is letting me take online courses, I'll have my B.A. in a couple of years, and I'm already getting some gallery hits. Santana is gonna be my armcandy for the opening, and I told him to forget his deodorant. Fuck he’s perfect. But a thought had crept in my head the other day. One last program, one final idea planted in his head... Though, at this point, there was no need to put him under. I'd just ask him.

"Hey, so I gotta go to Georgia to finish up some paperwork at the school. It got me thinking... I'm followin' my dream. What about you?" I tossed him his pants and passed the blunt, taking a deep whiff of those ripe dunks before throwing them his way too.

"I could go back to the practice, though I think the bible thumpers would lose their minds, heh."

"Well... What we did for eachother... What if you did it for others?" I slowly got down to my knees, a smirk crawling across my face. "What if you could help those poor... misguided young men change their lives?" I crawled toward him, spreading his legs wide as I tossed his legs over my shoulders. "Wouldn't that be so... so... fun?" I slowly pulled down his musky briefs, releasing his monstrous cock again, the musky hooded beast slapping me on my cheek. "Then, we could have so... many... new.. friends..." I pulled down his slimy hood and wrapped my lips around his tip. I should have known better. His hand grabbed the back of my head, slamming it down onto his spear, my nose buried in his bush as he thrust back and forth into my mouth.

"Unff... Yeah, brother... Oh yeah... That sounds like a good... unhhhhh... good idea." Grunting, slapping, moaning, slurping... it all rang out in his room, until he gushed another thick load down my throat. "You wanna join me?" And in that moment, I smiled. It was the best idea he'd had yet.

[eternallyanxiousandstressed]

Major Tea Update

Okay, I need you all to be prepared to be absolutely pissed off. I mean, filled with rage levels of pissed off, because that's where I'm at, even if I have to also continue being totally and completely pleasant.

So, some time after Ratboy allowed me to have Luke by myself, unsupervised for the time I was driving with him, Ratboy filed a protection order AND a CPS case against me.

Ratboy says my suicide "threats" (me telling him I was going to kill myself and actually meaning it) were coercive control, which is considered domestic violence. Gamers, this is my state's definition of coercive control: "Coercive control" means a pattern of behavior that is used to cause another to suffer physical, emotional, or psychological harm, and in purpose or effect unreasonably interferes with a person's free will and personal liberty. In determining whether the interference is unreasonable, the court shall consider the context and impact of the pattern of behavior from the perspective of a similarly situated person. 

Now, suicide threats or attempts are considered examples of coercive control, but see, it has to be used to cause him to suffer physical, emotional, or psychological harm. Um... Mine were legitimate actual mental health crises. I have messages with a crisis text line showing that for some of these, I was actively in a mental health crisis. I have psychiatry appointments talking about my suicidal ideation. I went inpatient to a psych hospital multiple times. Mine were not "used to cause another harm". Therefore it doesn't fucking count. Whatever, that'll be easy to prove with my texts to the crisis line as well as my medical records from my psychiatrist throughout that entire time.

Now the CPS case? He claims that I threatened to kill Luke. I have never once threatened to kill Luke, ever. In fact, I've straight up told Ratboy that I'd cut my own hand off before I hurt Luke. During my postpartum depression did I have thoughts of hurting Luke? Yes. But I was seeing a psychiatrist about them and actively working with her on it. And I haven't had those thoughts since, well, I was no longer in emotional distress because of Ratboy. Anyways, this will also probably be easy to throw out with the simple fact that, if he was concerned that I was a danger to our son, why did he allow me an unsupervised visit with him? Because, if he was actually concerned I would hurt or kill Oliver, letting him go with me unsupervised would be negligent on his part and well... That won't look good for him.

Anyways, CPS, without interviewing me or my family or even contacting me at all, has made the recommendation of no unsupervised visits, which pisses me off. How about you actually interview the person accused to figure out the whole story before you just side with the people accusing. Especially right in the middle of a custody battle.

But, if he wants to play dirty and lie, how about I play dirty and tell the truth. Ratboy was a neglectful father for the entire time I was taking care of Luke. Up to the point where my own brother watched Ratboy ignore Luke while he was screaming to play video games. My brother's exact words (just with names changed): Yeah while we were packing he was "taking care of Luke" while he played his games and Luke was just having a meltdown

I can also bring up all the times he refused to help me with Luke while I was so exhausted my legs tried to give out. And when he did, I didn't actually get to sleep because Luke started screaming and would just scream for 10 minutes straight and Ratboy didn't do anything. Not even when I suggested he feed him. I go out and I feed him and guess what? Luke calmed down!

Anyways, meeting with my lawyer on Monday to discuss where to go from here. She said she wasn't worried and that we could handle it so I'm going to try not to stress about it. I'm just gonna be completely and totally pissed off that he's stooping to completely lying now.

[alirhi]

This is oddly fun lol

Let's see how many of these I can churn out before I get distracted or need a break! (pff. like I need an excuse to watch the show again. Despite its flaws, I really, really love TFATWS, guys)

Without further ado, let's get down to it!

Episode 2: The Star-Spangled Man

I'm pretty sure I'm on record when it comes to my undying hate for John Walker, yes? So obviously, Bucky's grumpiness 100% stays 😂

I'm not really a fan of how much emphasis they put on the shield. I can see it as a catalyst for Bucky to go confront Sam, yes, but he wouldn't keep going "shield shield shield" like a broken record. Bucky has consistently been shown to be an empathetic man. I can't believe for a second that he'd be barking at Sam about having no right to give up the shield; he'd ask why. Sam's got shit to do, so he'd get impatient and not answer.

"Why'd you give up so easily? If you were overwhelmed, I could've helped you-" "You've been ignoring me. Like now, how you're ignoring me walking away from you." "Well, you weren't texting me about this." "You think I needed your permission?!" "No, but I was right there with Steve while he was learning what it meant to be Cap. I wouldn't mind helping you get used to-" "Then go teach him." A vague gesture toward the "Cap is back" posters. Bucky makes a face. "Steve passed the mantle to you. You fought with him. You earned it. That little shit didn't." "What do you want me to do about it?" "Just tell me why, Sam. I mean it. I just wanna understand." "Not now, Buck. I've got shit to do. You see me heading for a plane right now, right?" "This is important!" "So is this." Sam tells him about the Flag Smashers, we get our silly Big Three/Gandalf conversation.

I'm sorry, but that whole jumping from the plane scene is funny as hell, and I love all the nods they added in to jokes from the press tours that brought us this show in the first place (like ripping the sleeve off his jacket lol). I don't think I'd change a single thing from the Big Three convo to Bucky joining Sam in the warehouse.

"You're doing the staring thing again." "You're staring at your watch," Bucky points out. He knows it's linked to Redwing, he's just pointing out how dumb that line is in that situation. They're there for recon lol. They're meant to be looking around.

I don't...particularly care about the other common gripe here? Meaning, "Bucky's a civilian, so why is he allowed to randomly jump in on a military mission?" Bucky's also known in this universe as an Avenger, just like Sam, so I don't think anyone would really bat an eye at him joining. Also, I have my own agenda related to Bucky's apparent freedom to walk in and out of military/government things.

What does bug me (as funny as it is) is Bucky's animosity toward Redwing. Again... Bucky is a certified nerd. Always has been. If anything, he'd be fascinated by Redwing and Sam would constantly have to slap him away because he's leaning in too close trying to see the tiny watch monitor. "I don't trust Redwing" is just old man griping "I don't trust your newfangled technology" and that... that's not Bucky.

And that "we're not assassins" dig, and then laughing when Bucky gets upset? That's not Sam. Both of these men have shown a remarkable amount of empathy, and Sam has a background in helping traumatized vets. If he cared enough about Bucky to be texting him after Steve left, he'd care enough not to make callous jokes about his time as The Winter Soldier, whether he knows the full story or not.

The fight on top of moving trucks looks cool, but makes no logical sense. I keep trying to think of a way to explain this from a story perspective, rather than a lazy "it looks cool!" filmmaking one, and I'm coming up blank. Anyone with half a brain would have pulled over, had the fight, and then taken off. It was a fun sequence, though... Eh. I'll leave it.

When Karli breaks Redwing, Bucky doesn't say "I always wanted to do that." Again, it's funny - I love the jabs about that stupid robo bird XD - but not Bucky. In my version, he smirks and says "You're so gonna regret that."

"You were kinda getting your asses kicked before we got there." Is immediately followed by Bucky staring him down and asking, "And... how did that fight end for you?" Sam adds, "I don't see them in custody. Are-are they following in a van?" He looks around, sarcastically searching for another vehicle. Walker and Hoskins grimace at each other, grudgingly conceding that point.

credit to @dailycelebs

Seeing Walker, and having to listen to his stupid pro-government rhetoric, makes Bucky think about Steve. When we cut from the Flag Smashers back to Bucky and Sam and the closeup of Bucky's pensive face, we hear 1940s Steve angrily telling 1940s Bucky about how the higher ups in the army had already written off the POWs and were going to leave them to die. "I love our country, Buck," he laments, "but what do I do when I'm not too sure anymore about the people who run it?"

"What you always do," is young Bucky's answer, "stand for what's right, not who's in power."

Perfect lead-in to the conversation about handling things themselves.

When Sam meets Isaiah, and hears his story, not only is he horrified and heartsick for him, but he also begins to see Bucky in a new light. He's seeing Bucky's face, the way he tries to hide his emotions and not make this conversation about him, and he's putting things together. He's still upset at being out of the loop, but he's seeing more of the situation than just "omg black super soldier". When Bucky says "he'd already been through enough," Sam asks quietly, "like you?"

The racist cop comes back before Bucky can answer, to arrest him for missing his appointment with Raynor.

ngl guys, I was so moved by the difference in how that cop treated Sam (before knowing he's Important) vs how he treated Bucky (knowing that the government views him as a violent, if pardoned, criminal). He approaches Sam with his hand on his gun, eager to defend Bucky; "is this guy bothering you?" Just because they're having a heated conversation. Then, when he sees that there's a warrant for Bucky, he approaches timidly, apologizes, treats him gently and politely. By "moved," btw, I don't mean "it was so sweet." I mean "this is fucking sick, and very, very realistic." White cops see a white guy and treat him with respect regardless of his actual criminal record, while being openly hostile towards an innocent black man without even knowing who he is, just because he's black. Moments like this made me applaud Spellman.

"You, too, Sam - That wasn't a request" is Sam's first sign that there's something off about Raynor.

Look, again... The couples therapy banter is funny because Sebastian and Anthony are funny, but that scene, from a storytelling and a mental health standpoint, is atrocious. Without some underlying reason behind her actions, Raynor is just a pointlessly terrible therapist.

Rather than insulting Bucky from the outset, Sam is angry with Raynor for violating Bucky's privacy by not only introducing herself as his therapist, but forcing a "couples" session without her patient's consent. With his background pre-Avenging, he knows this shit shouldn't fly. He immediately points out how unprofessional she's being.

Raynor doesn't bother listening - the fuck does she care, really? She shrugs and casually admits it's "slightly unprofessional" but proceeds anyway.

"Whatever's eating at him?" Sam scoffs. "Did you really just say that to a WWII veteran and the world's longest-serving POW with complex PTSD? Did I hear that right? I've had, maybe, like five conversations with this man since we met, and even I know he's been through some shit and-" "Sam," Bucky tries to interrupt, looking uncomfortable. With his crushing guilt, he has an easier time dealing with insults than someone coming to his defense. "No," Sam snaps. "If the HIPAA Slayer over here wants to drag me into this, she's damn well gonna hear what I have to say!" He turns back to Raynor and demands, "Is this how you've been treating him this whole time? Downplaying what he's been through and making a grown-ass man sound like a sulking teenager?" Raynor keeps her cool, but barely. Visibly frustrated and annoyed, she ignores Sam's tirade and tries to force the conversation back onto the track she wants it on. Bucky's embarrassed and doesn't know how to react to any of this, so he still makes that little "he would talk less" jab. Sam, seeing that he's not going to get anywhere with him until they're away from this bitch, glowers and plays along. We get our silly/angry banter.

After their argument with Walker, Sam finally confronts Bucky about what really happened to him.

"He meant HYDRA; HYDRA used to be my people." "Were they?" Sam asks, stopping him and looking him in the eye, not letting him look away or deflect. "Steve was under the impression that they were your captors. I was under the impression that the Wakandans spent two years deprogramming you so no one could use you the way HYDRA did ever again." "I-" Startled, not expecting that, Bucky stutters a little and admits, "Yeah, I... That's true, I guess." "You guess?" "Does it matter? Sam rolls his eyes. "I dunno, does it matter that you were a slave for most of the 20th century?" "I doubt it matters much to my victims." "HYDRA's victims," Sam corrects firmly. "Just like you." Bucky fidgets; he doesn't know what to do or say. No one since Steve has even so much as insinuated that Bucky wasn't 100% culpable for what he did while under HYDRA control. "Look," Sam sighs, "I don't particularly like you. I don't hate you, but I'm not your biggest fan." "...Thanks?" "I just need you to know where I stand-" "Yeah, got it-" "-So you know I'm not biased like Steve when I say you had no choice. I don't know your story, but I know no one flips on a dime from docile and plagued with guilt to an unstoppable killing machine and back without some serious psychological damage behind that. I'm not saying you're an innocent little bunny, but I don't think you're a monster." "Thanks," Bucky croaks, more sincerely this time, and a bit choked up. He clears his throat and looks distinctly uncomfortable as he grumbles, "but to catch these guys, we may need to talk to a monster." Sam cringes. "I was afraid you'd say that."

[myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants]

This is my first collab fic and I could not be more excited! I'm so thankful that I can be part of the group!

The AU for this month was Sex Work. The Masterlist for this collab can be found here. Please take some time to check out everyone's contributions! There are other fics and amazing art!

That being said here is my fic, big BIG shout out to @doinmybesthere for being an amazing beta reader and sweet angel bb. ily Emme!

Please please please read the warnings. They are there for a reason!

Warnings: consensual noncon, mentions of being burnt, stabbing and blood; no prep penetration, disrespectful use of the word "whore", blackmail, psychological abuse?, Mineta (nuff said) he gets what's comin to him

You’re in the doctor’s office getting a regular checkup when you overhear the nurses in the station next to you talking.

“Look! They posted the new hero rankings today.”

“I forgot those were today, too bad they can’t have the conference during the pandemic. I miss seeing Deku all cute and blushing.”

“FUCK” In your brief moment of panic you forgot where you were. You cringe and look at the nurses, trying your best not to look like you were gonna be sick. “Sorry ladies, didn’t mean to yell.” No point in offering an explanation. You wouldn’t be able to tell them anything anyway.

As you very impatiently wait for your blood results to come back you check the tacky red cell phone you have to keep with you at all times. You had put it on silent since you were in the doctor’s office and you were glad you did. Taking a quick look at your screen had your stomach dropping into your ass.

M.M: Gonna move my appointment up to today.

M.M: You better get ready. I’m not happy.

M.M: I’m sure you saw the postings. Number 36.

M.M: I made sure to pay for any accidents in advance.

M.M: I’ll see you tonight.

Why does he have to be so fucking horrible? Accidents my ass.

The messages make your skin crawl, you should have figured the hero rankings would piss him off but honestly you never paid enough attention. With a heavy sigh you opened up your web browser and pull up the list.

“Number 36...number 36…. Number 36…” When you finally reached the hero you were looking for, you let out a sigh.

Hero Ranking Number 36: The Rainy Season Hero Froppy

Well at least you had her outfit already, for some reason she was one your client asked for a lot. Not that you wanted to ask him why, not with the way his black eyes looked whenever he saw you dressed up like her.

I don’t know if I should feel glad that he isn’t actually taking this out on her. Or upset that I’ve had to deal with this for months.

“L/N, Y/N?” The doctor walks up holding their clipboard and closing the privacy screen. Your file almost too much for the metal clip at the top. “Your test results came back negative and your burns seem to have healed very well. I would tell you that any strenuous activity should be avoided but we both know you can’t do that.”

Their poor attempt at humor had your stomach rolling. “Haha anyways Doc, I think I’m gonna need another medkit to take home today. I can schedule my next appointment online, right?”

You can’t handle the thinly veiled pity in their eyes and look down, reaching over to your side to grab your purse. You hear them moving around and a dark blue plastic box is put on your lap.

“If I remember correctly this is your favorite color, right? You are able schedule an appointment online but if you would like I can schedule it for you. How about in two days? Afternoon work for you?”

You look up after clutching the kit to your chest, you know they are just trying to be nice. All of the nurses are especially nice to you and as endearing as it might be to some people, to you it just feels dirty.

“Afternoon is perfect, thanks Doc.” You get up and walk towards the privacy screen. Before leaving you stop for a moment “Blue ismy favorite color.”

As you make your way back to your living quarters you scroll through the internet looking at every picture of the Pro-Hero Froppy you can find. Your quirk can project a person’s desires onto your body by reading them in their eyes. It’s easier when the person has a clear view of what or who they want. However, your client’s desires are such a jumbled mess that it’s easier if you know what it is beforehand.

Hopefully, I can act like her enough that I don’t have to look at his desires this time. I can’t stand how disgusting they make me feel.

You pass by a few familiar faces on your way back to your rooms but don’t pay them any mind. They in turn leave you alone, most of them knowing that when you have that look on your face you were in a mood.When you first were offered a position at the brothel you thought it would be easy money. You had been stripping for several years, known for how you looked different to everyone who saw your dancing. The beautiful, enchanting, flexible Erised. You had built up your quirks ability to be able to project almost a full clubs worth of desires. Sure, it caused extreme fatigue and chronic migraines but the money you raked in was well worth it.

A few months ago

After an especially successful night a patron walks up to you after you leave the stage.

“I have a job opportunity for you, courtesy of my employer.” He hands you a card you read “Heroes Consulting Agency” in bold silver letters.

“I’m a stripper hun, not sure I can do the type of consulting you’re looking for.” You go to hand it back, but they put their hand up.

“I’m afraid I must insist, why don’t we treat you to lunch and you can listen to our proposal?”

You put your hand back down and study them. They are dressed in a white button up with a vest, definitely out of place in a strip club. You would look in their eyes, but they didn’t really have any, their whole body seemed to be made of dark smoke. You don’t work in the nicest of places so someone with their kind of full body quirk isn’t unusual.

“Alright, I give. I’m not really one to pass up free food.” The rational side of your brain is telling you that you have more than enough money to buy your own food but the stingy part telling you to take it while you can is a little louder.

“Excellent choice Miss Erised. Someone will meet you at the address on that card tomorrow at around 5pm? Should give you enough time to recover from the side effects of your quirk.” They give a slight bow and walk off towards the exit, a large something getting up from a seat and following closely behind.

Sam, one of the waitresses walks up to you with a tray filled with drinks. Her normally short stature elevated with high heeled leather boots. “Did you know that person Y/N?”

Oh man, I do not have the energy for this.

You turn to her and survey the tray before grabbing something that looked like a fruity cocktail. “No, but they offered me a job. Gonna go have lunch with them tomorrow.” Sipping from the glass you tuck the card into your bra, making sure to not show it to the girl.

“That’s weird, don’t they know you’re a stripper? What is someone dressed that nicely want to hire you for? Also did that person look familiar to you or is that just me?” Any normal person wouldn’t be able to keep up with her unending questions, but you had known her for years. The tray in her hands tips dangerously to the left but she balances it out without a second thought.

Guess she does have to be quick on her toes to be a waitress at a strip club.

“They were here for my dance so yes they do know, either way I’m getting free food so…”

She huffs, aware of your attitude for anything “free”.

You finish the drink and place the empty glass back taking a couple bills from your bag and tucking them into her apron.

“Thanks for the drink Sam, but I gotta leave before my headache hits.” You walk off before she can say anything further. You really wanna be nice to her but her endless energy really gets on your nerves sometimes.

By the time you make it to your modest apartment, you can feel the pain starting behind your eyes. You drop your stuff by the door without turning on any lights and walk to the box safe hidden in the kitchen. After you make sure all the money is secure you grab a glass of water and head to the bedroom. The bottle of pain killers already set out on your nightstand. You should really take a shower but for now, you strip down, take a few pills, drink the whole glass of water, and lay down. It takes a while for the pills to kick in but once they do you finally fall asleep.

When you finally wake up the next morning your headache is gone, and you have to piss like no one’s business. You grumble as you stretch your tight sore muscles and get up to go to the bathroom. After taking care of business, you get into some light clothes and walk into the kitchen to make some food. Thankfully, you had some leftover rice and spam in the fridge, so you pop that in the microwave. You put the kettle on for some green tea and down another glass of water as it heats up.

Remembering the offer from yesterday and the promise of free food you pad over to your pile of things by the door and grab their card. It’s sleek looking with a plain black background and silver lettering. The address isn’t something you recognize right away so you look it up on your phone.

“What the fuck?” Why is this place in a business park?

You scroll down and check the street view; the building is a high rise surrounded by a mostly empty parking lot. The entrance of the building is blurred, probably to keep the privacy of anyone entering or exiting.

“Well, I guess it’s a nice gig. Better dress the part.” Or maybe you’re gonna get murdered.

“Wow, I really have to stop watching all those true crime shows.” You put the card in your wallet and head back to the kitchen. The microwave beeps and the kettle whistles shortly after. When you’re done eating you put the dishes in the sink to soak and head to the bathroom to finally take a shower.

By the time you have finished showering the whole bathroom is filled with steam and your body has a pink flush to it. You open the door to air it out and finish cleaning up for the day. Your outfit consists of your nicest jeans with ankle boots, a long sleeve blouse and a dark cardigan. You grab one of your smaller over the shoulder purses and leave your apartment.

One of the things you allowed yourself to really splurge on was a car. Public transportation was not as reliable as it could be and with your hours not the safest either.

By the time you make it to the building the sun is starting to set, giving the sky beautiful pink to blue coloring. As you park and get out of your car a young woman walks up to you.

“Welcome Miss Erised! Please follow me and I will escort you through the building.” The woman’s blonde hair is in two messy buns, her face childlike. Her voice was high pitched enough to grate on your nerves a bit, but you ignored it.

As you follow the person through the lobby you take a glance around. Looks like a high-end hotel lobby. There is a front desk area with a marble counter top, women that are dressed in matching button ups with their hair up in buns or ponytails. Random potted plants and small trees dot the area, and a nice chandelier hangs in the middle of the ceiling. No one besides the women at the front desk are in the area.

“Doesn’t seem to be busy right now.” You didn’t even really mean for her to hear you, but she did, and you sounded like an asshole.

They turn their head slightly with a knowing smirk. “It would seem that way wouldn’t it?”

Conversation halts while you stand in the elevator which you were thankful for. They had chosen a floor close to the middle of the building, which gave you just enough time to rethink your life choices.

By the time you got to your floor you are tired of the silence. Normally you hate small talk, but you figured you would give it a shot. “Do you like your job?”

The woman turns to you and smiles, here canines peeking out a bit while shrugging her shoulders. “It keeps me busy, plus I get to make so many friends.” The gleam in her eyes flashes menacingly for a quick second, you decide to pretend you didn’t see it.

As you get to the end of the hall, she opens a door and gestures you inside, closing it behind you. There is a nice desk to the left of the door, other than that the room is sparce. The person sitting in the chair has quite an eclectic look about him. Grey hair parted to the side, shrew eyes behind circular wire rimmed glasses, a gold chain peeks out from the slightly open white button up with a purple blazer. He reeks of cigarette smoke the evidence of his habit tossed into the half-filled ash tray on the desk.

“So nice of you to join me Miss Y/N. Why don’t you have a seat, we can talk about your new position.” He gestures to the only other chair a smirk on his face that shows of his missing tooth.

“I haven’t accepted the job yet Giran, and I thought I told you I don’t want to work for you.” You aren’t used to seeing him in this type of place. But you do know him so there is no need to put on a show. You lean back in the chair and cross your arms.

“How rude of me, you won’t be working for me, but I have been given authority to hire for this company.”

You don’t bat an eye; most large companies use outside help for hiring. “What is this position you would like offer me?”

“This company provides heroes with a way to alleviate their… desires in a safe and discrete way.”

“So, you hire prostitutes for heroes to have sex without worrying about anyone telling the press about it.”

“That is correct.”

“I don’t know if your just stupid or if you forgot but I’m a stripper not a hooker.” You sit up in your chair fully ready to leave the room.

“They would provide you with a fully furnished apartment, medical coverage with 24/7 access to their fully trained medical staff. Any cash given to you by your clients you can keep, however they would take a percentage out of the money they initially pay for your services.”

“Let’s say I’m a little interested, how much is the initial pay for my services?” You want to deny the offer, nothing wrong with having sex for money but it isn’t really your thing.

Giran doesn’t answer right away, instead putting out what is left of his cigarette only to pull another one out of his blazer and lighting it up. “The starting hourly rate is $2,500 an hour, they would take 30 percent from that.”

Holy shit, that’s as much as I make in a day and I would be making it an hour? You keep your face neutral but something in your eyes must have tipped him off.

“You would start tomorrow; most clients keep a contract with their favorite employee and we actually have someone lined up for you already. He has extremely specific tastes and you are the perfect person to fill in.”

“I’ll have to talk to the club owner; would it be possible to start later?” You don’t want to seem to eager, especially not in front of him.

“I don’t see that as a problem, they can give you one week but that’s it.”

You stay silent, making it look like you’re thinking about it. After a moment you lean forward in your chair and stick your hand out. “Sounds like a deal to me.”

Giran grabs you hand and gives it a firm shake. “If you ever need help or have any questions call the number on the card. Now I believe you were offered dinner, let me take you to one of my favorite places.”

You let his hand go and rise from the chair. As Giran comes around the desk and walks towards the door, he stops for a moment and turns to you. “Welcome to the team.”

Dinner was actually genuinely nice; the food was good, and you were able to have a comfortable conversation with Giran. Of course, he didn’t tell you anything about himself, but you had no problems with that, you didn’t wanna share anything to personal about yourself either. He dropped you back off at your car after dinner and shook your hand again before driving off.

By the time you got home you had decided what you were gonna tell the club owner and mentally packed your apartment. Not wanting to take all of your things you moved most of it to a secure storage facility. Having had it for a few years already in order to store the overabundance of clothes you owned.

After the week was up you had quit your job and packed all of your belongings. You realize you don’t know where you are supposed to go so you pull out the card and call the number.

“Hello, how can I assist you?”

“Giran never told me where I would be moving my stuff to. Could you give me the address?” You pick at your nails while waiting for him to answer.

“Of course, Miss Erised. Will you be needing any assistance for your move?”

He sounds so polite; I wonder if he is always like this.

“No, I’ll be fine on my own thank you.”

He gives you the address and let you know that you can call if you need any additional information.

“Good luck Miss Erised.”

When you get back to your apartment you immediately go into the shower and wash up, using the tea tree oil that Froppy had said she uses in an interview.

I don’t understand how people can like this stuff, but he gets easier to handle if I smell like those women.

When you are done you towel dry your hair and make sure to lotion your whole body. When your hair is dry enough you straighten it and leave it down. He likes it better when its down.

You go to your closet and rifle through until finding the very skimpy version of Froppys hero costume. All it really has in common with the original is the tan harness and the green with black and yellow stripes. Otherwise, it is a one-piece bikini without a crotch. You grab your black leather over the knee boots and get dressed. After checking the time, you give yourself a moment to mentally prepare.

I hate this, I hate him. Disgusting filthy little bug. A false hero, a plague. I can’t wait to leave this place.

Standing in the middle of your room you close your eyes and take deep breaths, allowing your consciousness to drift. You have found that the best way to endure these sessions is to detach yourself from the situation. Only focusing on the absolute necessary and maintaining the effects of your quirk. Giving yourself another minute to get into character you walk to the door joining your apartment to the “service room”.

Thankfully, he hasn’t shown up yet, you shut the door hearing the lock click into place, the door seamlessly vanishing into the wall. Sitting on the edge of the bed you face the door that Mineta will walk through and wait.

No matter how many times we do this I never lose the feeling of wanting to vomit while bathing in bleach.

When he walks in you see that he is wearing his hero costume, as atrocious as it is. He never really deviated from the original design. You immediately start your performance.

“Mineta? What am I doing here? kero” You clasp your hands together in front of your chest and look around frightfully.

“Hello Tsu, what a pleasant surprise to see you here.” He walks up, taking off his gloves and throwing them to the side.

“I don’t understand, do you know where- “Your sentence is cut off, pain in your cheek sharp and hot.

“I don’t believe I gave you permission to talk Miss thirty sixth hero.” He stands there with his hand still up as you cup your cheek and look up at him, the tears in your eyes real. He pulls his hand back again as if to slap you and you flinch.

“Good girl, now finish taking off my outfit for me.” Mineta walks back a few steps and holds his arms out. Your fingers are clumsy as you take it of piece by piece.

Mineta abruptly grabs a fist full of your hair and yanks your head back. You grab his hand with both of yours trying to ease his grip.

“Do you think if you do it slow enough, I’ll get bored and go away?” He pulls harder. “Huh? You really think you’re gonna get out of this don’t you.” He tosses you towards the bed and you scramble to get back on your feet.

The tears in your eyes have started to spill over and you start babbling. “Please let me go Mineta, I don’t know what I did but please pleasejust forgive me kero. I won’t tell anyone about this just please don’t hurt me kero.”

He doesn’t answer you, just finishes taking off his outfit before he is walking towards you again, a vicious gleam in his beady eyes.

You back up until the back of your legs hits the bed. You open your mouth to speak but before you can utter a single word, he slaps you again.

“I told you not to speak unless I told you to once already. Now I’m gonna have to punish you, aren’t I?” He shoves you onto the bed and follows, using his knees to push your legs open he sits up and gives himself a few pumps.” No need to prep you, I want this to hurt.”

You are sobbing at this point, your hands covering your face when you feel him push into you. A scream rips out of your throat and you reach forward to push him away.

“You know Tsu, these meetups have been the best. I’m thinking next time I will find the REAL you and have even more fun.” He closes his eyes a leans his head back, fully immersed in only getting himself off.

To engrossed in his own world, he doesn’t realize that you have gone still. Your tears have stopped, and you have pulled your hands back from him.

DISGUSTING

“Find the real me?”

VILE

You break character, bringing your full consciousness back. You voice is just a whisper at first, so he doesn’t hear you, doesn’t stop thrusting.

FALSE HERO

“Find the REAL me?!” You are screaming at him now.

He finally stops, hearing you the second time. For a second you see fear in his eyes before they fill with rage.

MONSTER

“Hey! You better start doing the job I paid you for, I don’t come here for you to question me.” He lifts his hand up, as if to slap you again. Before his hand comes down you grab it, squeezing until he yelps in pain.

This job is over, he isn’t worth keeping around anymore.

“You think I give a shit about a little piss ant like you?!” As you sit up, he yanks his arm away and pulls out of you. Stumbling back, he starts shaking a finger in your direction.

“You can’t talk to me like that! You’re just a whore!”

You dart forward before he can put more distance between you and grab him by the neck. As you pick him up you snarl and let your quirk fade away.

“I may be a whore but I not a monster like you. You are just a fake hero, a plague on this world and I will get rid of every single one of you.” You throw him onto the ground still holding on to his neck and squeeze.

“In other news, Minoru Mineta also known as the pro hero Grape Juice has gone missing after several videos of him have gone viral. He was last seen leaving a brothel that has requested to remain nameless. The videos contain triggering scenes of the pro hero having relations with a prostitute while she is dressed in various hero suits the resemble his old female classmates. He even refers to them by name. The videos contain triggering images, and it is recommended to not seek them out. The original videos have since been taken down but are reuploaded onto the internet on several other sites. The prostitute shown in the videos has also gone missing. Any information on the whereabouts- “

The T.V. turns off, the voice of the news anchor no longer filling the dimly lit bar. The people present remain silent for a moment before a man with burns all over his body starts to laugh.

“You could have really fucked that up Doll. Good thing we got enough evidence.” You sneer at him, making sure you change your appearance to match your own desire. He flinches when he sees his own face.

“I wish you had cut him! There wasn’t enough blood to keep his appearance up for awfully long!” The young woman with two messy blond buns in her hair twirls a knife around.

“I’m terribly sorry Toga, but I didn’t have anything sharp with me.” You pick at your nails and look over at Kurogiri, who is busy pouring a glass of whiskey for Dabi. “Do I get a break after this one or do you and boss man have another gig for me?”

[outrunningthedark]

Hey T, I'm sorry for coming at you with this lol but I'm just... struggling a little. All my life has been a battle and like been on and off of meds and in and out of therapy and I just think "I just need the suffering to ease sometimes" day to day but I fight to do everything 'normally' still. And like, at this point I've been on these antidepressants for like 3 years, every day, and there's always comments. Sometimes from doctors, sometimes from friends, or family. And it's always like "still?" And "are they really necessary" and like, since finishing high school I've tried a bunch of things, but I've never succeeded. I always end up unable to get out of bed, crying myself to sleep every day and having debilitating nightmares, and just, unable to move and do things bc of my anxiety and depression.

And now for the first time, I have been managing a thing for a whole year. It's gonna be another year and a half till I finish the training and it's like yeah, I still struggle a lot but somehow I'm managing. And doctors have been giving me additional medications now for my sleeping problems (finally- after me fighting with insomnia and staying asleep and nightmares literally all my life) and sure, some of them do nothing, but even a 'friend' who has been inpatient in a clinic with me is like "you know no pills will help you, bc you know it's all psychological and you need to start dealing with your problems" and it's just frustrating.

How no one ever believes how much you're struggling and when you reveal it, they roll your eyes at you like "wtf you don't need any medications"

Even just taking allergy pills and a cortisone nasal spray every day which has stopped my chronic infections - they flinch when they hear that, while I'm like... I finally am not running around for months with debilitating headaches and high body temp and all that.

It takes so long for doctors to listen to us sometimes, but then when we find one who does offer some kind of option/alternative, everyone shames us for trying it out. Like yeah, I know I'm fucked up and need a shit ton of therapy okay, but it takes a lot of fucking energy to find a therapist who doesn't judge me for things, like the fact that I can't cook for myself. That's the bar, alright. Everyone has got months of waiting lists and I go through so much anxiety and fight to get an appointment and get there and lay all my history on the table for them to judge me not being able to provide for myself. And that's where I am. Still expected to go out and have a job, and function like a normal person. But without getting to have anything. No therapy or meds, nothing to help me along the way.

And this whole rant just serves to kinda like- idk I came here to say that I got new meds to try out to help me not have bloody (literally) nightmares every night and I feel like I'm not allowed to try them out and it's kinda driving me crazy. It feels like the amount of pills I take daily is just growing and that's just plain not good, if you ask anyone, and I hate that I can't just allow myself to take them, that it's another struggle added to the list, when it's actually designed to help ease the suffering

And like- you don't even need to post this but I want to give you a huge THANK YOU for using your blog to speak out about disabilities and disorders and our struggles bc like my daily struggles are different from yours and yet, still, in some ways they are similar- we're both expected to get through life without as many crutches as we can, even when we have our diagnoses and scars

And like, I fought for my diagnoses, and now I'm stuck with one chronic, untreatable one so to speak, and I clutch onto this disorder like a fucking life line just so I won't be written off again like I've always been- and still I can barely allow myself to take another small medication bc "that's not how normal people function" and I'm mad lol

So yeah, rant over. My appreciation for your blog - I repeat myself but - over the moon. I didn't even know how much I needed someone like you in my life but now I'm in tears here in gratefulness and maybe I'm overreacting and being my dumb oversensitive self but yeah, you rock and you're not alone in this fight and thank you

If I could hug an ask, this would be the one I'd choose. My beautiful nonnie, First off, I know it's in our nature to make ourselves "smaller" in order to not be an inconvenience to somebody else, but you never, ever have to apologize for coming to me about whatever it is that's troubling you. The fact that you're reaching out at all tells me the bits and pieces of myself I've been sharing is helping others through their journey for self-acceptance, and that's the goal! Whatever minor detail you can pull from my story to help you realize you're not alone in this fight is there for you to take and hold onto. Your trials with finding a "good" antidepressant resonate strongly with me. I have been on and off medication since I was first diagnosed at sixteen (I have been taking a pill prescribed by my PCP since last March...probably the longest I've ever stuck with the same one?) I think most of us who seek help for our mental health decline go into it believing a diagnosis and a pill are going to solve everything. It's like getting a virus or infection, right? Take a pill for x amount of days and...look at that! Everything's fine again! Yeah...no. That's not how it works. When at the appropriate dosage and taken routinely, antidepressants do juuuust enough to make us functional. And that's hard to cope with, honestly, because we're faced with the reality that we're never going to be 100% "better" - this is a never-ending battle for us. Speaking for myself, accepting my depression and anxiety has been tough solely because I KNOW most of it (hell, maybe all of it) stems from my inability to overcome my condition(s). I’m always going to be in a chair. I’m always going to be dependent on other people. No amount of prayers or pills or surgeries is going to change that. So. I have two choices: stay in bed and wallow, or get myself up out of bed every single day and do the bare minimum to prove to myself I’m still worth it. Every time I shower, or change my clothes, or brush my teeth and hair, I tell myself I’m fighting back against that voice in my head that wants me to admit defeat. I refuse to let that voice win again. Maybe what I do to everyday isn’t as important as somebody who works or goes to school (”contributes to society”), but I’ll be damned if I let anybody tell me my life doesn’t have valuable because I’m not doing what they want me to.  Let me leave you with this: You are NOT a weak or bad person for using medications that ease your symptoms. You’re listening to your body and wanting to treat it with the care it deserves. You know why people like to criticize your decisions? They wish they loved themselves enough to ask for help instead of believing they deserve to suffer. They wish they had your courage, your strength. Keep fighting, babe. I’m right there with you. 

[smileyoongle]

Yours Insanely (Yandere! Jungkook)

Summary: Lovers can be the most dangerous people. You learned that a little too late.

Pairing: Yandere Killer! Jungkook×Reader

Mahogany. Smoke. Leather. 

That's exactly how the air smelled, even though it was suppressed by the stench of blood. You gazed at the scene before you with empty and defeated eyes, the lights from the siren illuminating your face in the dark forest. A yellow tape was secured around the crime scene, locking you within the perimeter, just metres away from the dead body. 

It was a woman around your age, her mouth wide open and eyes staring at the night sky. Her pale skin shone in the moonlight, her hands splayed out on either side of her cold body. You let out a shaky breath, your eyes moving down to her abdomen which wasn't quite...together. Her skin had been slashed open, her organs having been pulled out in heaps of bloody masses. Your stomach lurched, bile rising in your throat before you clamped your mouth shut and ran to the side, emptying the contents of your stomach beside a large tree that towered over you. You breathed heavily, wiping your mouth with the sleeve of your brown overcoat that shielded you against the cold wind. 

Four months and twenty three murders. 

Twenty three murders and not one piece of evidence.

For someone who had been a detective for seven years, you were doing a very shitty job. Every time you thought you were close to catching the killer, you found yourself back at the beginning. It was as if things were going round in circles, and this time you had fucked up. You were focusing on the wrong person, which ended in another woman being murdered ruthlessly. If only you had paid attention to the details….

You closed your eyes, leaning against the bark of the tree and rubbing your forehead with your fingers. The sound of camera shutters fell deaf to your ears as you groaned in frustration. 

All your fault.

"You okay?" You slowly looked up, Namjoon's concerned face being the sole focus of your vision. His eyes mirrored your emotions perfectly, the same amount of defeat and sorrow lacing his irises. For the first time in forever, you saw sympathy and softness in his eyes, all directed to you. You still remembered how Namjoon had stated his distaste when he had been paired with you for the case. Both of you were the best in whatever you did, that's why your seniors had decided that it would be best if you worked together. You didn't have any objections because the case seemed like that of a deranged killer, one whose psychological condition was beyond your understanding. Namjoon had a history of working as a forensic psychiatrist and that was definitely a good thing. Especially since you weren't in the right mind due to your breakup with Jungkook, your overbearing ex-lover.

"No. I'm- I'm not okay, Namjoon. If I had just listened to you, none of this would have happened." You tried to keep your voice steady but Namjoon could tell you were so close to breaking down. All hope had been lost, every all nighter that you pulled had been for nothing. No matter what anyone said, you were always gonna believe that it was your fault. 

"Agent Kim, I'm telling you, that psycho's a florist or something. All we found is a bouquet of withered lilacs." You pushed yourself to stand beside Namjoon as your department's forensic scientist nudged the bouquet towards you both. You glared at the dead flowers, a small red card peeking out from between the petals. You knew what was written on it because it was the same sentence every single time.

'You can stop this.

-Yours Insanely,

You'll find out someday.'

According to your research, the killer was some guy who had been rejected by his love and was now taking it all out on every woman he saw. The dead lilacs signified dead love and that was the only thing you and Namjoon knew confidently. Everything else was a mess, seeing as the killer had you running around in circles. You had truly given up, the lack of sleep finally catching up to you. 

"I'm gonna head back to the office. Detective Choi probably has a suspension order ready for me." You announced, rushing towards your car while Namjoon called after you. You didn't turn. You couldn't. His face was just gonna make you feel more guilty. He was right since the beginning. You weren't a good enough partner. The least you could do for him was convince Mr Choi that Namjoon didn't know anything about your theories. The leaves crunched under your feet as you unlocked your car. You could hear the faint noises of people from the crime scene, biting your lip harshly to hold yourself together. You entered your car and sat in silence, your head resting on the steering wheel as you stared at your lap in the darkness.

There was a sudden ding from your phone, your hand already fishing for it in the pocket of your coat. Your face lit up as you saw Jungkook's name on the screen.

Jungkook: Heard about what happened. Are you okay? 

This was a routine by now. You knew Jungkook was just looking for opportunities to text you since you told him off for begging you to come back. But you couldn't blame him. A relationship of three years would certainly take time to get over. You still thought of him everyday and you swore you'd probably be running back to him if it weren't for this case. Nobody had loved you like Jungkook. His love was consuming to the point of suffocation. Suffocation that felt sweet and desirable, until you figured out that he was becoming a little too possessive. Even though your relationship was over, you were still bind in his clutches. Because Jeon Jungkook knew you like the back of his hand. He understood.

He always understood.

____________________________________________

"You look like her."

He stated, dragging the edge of the axe across her arms, grinning in satisfaction upon seeing the scared look in her eyes. He didn't know who she was but all he knew was that this woman wanted him. The seductive smile on her red lips had told him that the second he had stepped into the club. 

Unfortunately for her, it made him angry. It made him angry that all the women he didn't care about, wanted him but the one he cared about, didn't even look at him.

She left him...like he meant nothing.

Jungkook yanked the woman's head up by pulling at her hair, the dirty rag around her mouth preventing her from screaming. For a second, Jungkook saw her face morphing into that of yours. But it was gone just as it came. 

"But you're not her." He seethed, gritting his teeth and pushing her back to the ground. Sure, this woman was dying before Jungkook's five day count but he was overwhelmed. He was growing restless with each passing day. 

Why weren't you coming back to him?

It was risky to put his name out there but he thought you'd understand. Did you forget about him already? No. That couldn't be. Not when Jungkook texted you almost everyday. Then why? 

Kim Namjoon….

Was that man holding you back?

Jungkook yelled in frustration, lifting the axe above his head and bringing it down. He watched the blade slash through the skin of her face, disfiguring it completely. His chest heaved as blood splattered onto his skin, his eyes wide and crazed. Jungkook's fingers loosened across the handle, his head tipping back to the ceiling as he closed his eyes.

___________________________________________

"Y/N, I think you need a break." You didn't react, your eyes fixed on the dark wooden table which stood inches away from you. It was late at night, the new addition to the victims list having taken away everyone's peace and calm. Not that there was any, considering the fact that there was a killer on the loose.

"I hope you know Namjoon had no idea what I was doing." You mumbled monotonously, receiving a sigh from Mr Choi. He lost count of how many times you had said that, but he couldn't bring himself to say much. His best officer had been destroyed completely. He never thought he'd see this day but maybe it was a sign of the times. You needed to be put off from this case.

"Yes, I do, Y/N. Another team of officers are on their way here. They have been appointed by the state and Namjoon will be working with them. You take good care of yourself." He replied, pushing the white envelope towards you. You didn't even have to open it to know that it was your suspension letter. All you wanted to do was go home and forget about this. Even though it wasn't possible. You pursed your lips and took the envelope in your hand, nodding at Mr Choi who was looking at you with sympathetic eyes. You mustered up a small smile, trying your best to show him that you were still strong. But who were you trying to fool? The man who pushed you up on your feet and stood by you during your struggles to become a detective? 

"I'll do that." You said, turning around and leaving his cabin, your eyes burning with the onslaught of tears. Your shoes clicked against the stairs as you stepped out of the building, the cold air fanning your face. The parking lot was empty but there were plenty of people running here and there. For once, you weren't involved in it. You didn't have to worry about it but your mind refused to relax. You were gonna spend sleepless nights even if you weren't working on the case anymore. 

You heard the crunching of gravel as a car pulled up in front of you, Namjoon's panicked face coming into your line of sight. His eyes frantically darted around the yard until they landed on you, a relieved expression settling down on his features. He slammed the car door shut, approaching you in a hurry.

"Y/N, what did you do?" He snapped, walking towards you with anger in his eyes. Your confusion grew deeper, your lips parting in question. Namjoon exhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring as he clenched his jaw. 

"You lied to him. This isn't how a partnership works. I am supposed to get that suspension with you!" He argued, your brows relaxing in understanding. Namjoon glanced at the building behind you, his hands resting on his hips as he looked back at you.

"You don't deserve this, Namjoon. You were against it and it was my idea to go ahead with the plan." You explained, glancing at your shoes. Namjoon was just being righteous, you thought. But it wasn't that. Namjoon's words had a deeper meaning to them. 

He was mad at you for doing this, of course. But he was even more mad at you for being so ...good. He didn't see this coming but you now held a soft spot in his heart. And once in a while, Namjoon found himself thinking, what it would be like if he wasn't just your colleague. Maybe if he hadn't been so harsh towards you since the start, he would have stood a chance. Especially since you didn't have an annoying boyfriend anymore.

"This..- I'm gonna talk to him about this." You immediately held his arm, Namjoon's heart rocketing to the sky upon feeling your warmth. He pursed his lips, looking into your eyes and seeing the pain. He wanted to hold you and tell you that you were gonna be okay but he couldn't. Too soon.

"Namjoon, please. Let me feel like I did something right in this entire ordeal." Your voice cracked, your fingers tightening their grasp on his arm. The night air was crisp, the smell of dead lilacs still alive in your senses. You swore it would be with you for the rest of your life. Or at least until this was over.

Namjoon nodded, his lips pressed against one another as he willed himself to look at you without having his eyes waver.

"I'll do everything I can to find him. For you." 

You saw it. You saw the flash of affection in Namjoon's eyes before he buried it deep inside. Your heart plummeted as you shamefully looked at the gravel, knowing that you would never be able to reciprocate what Namjoon felt. Because you were still in love. With a man you shouldn't even think of anymore.

You cleared your throat, covering up your saddened state with an encouraging smile. You pulled your hand away from Namjoon, taking a step towards your car and looking at him over your shoulder.

"I'll wait for that day."

___________________________________________

Jungkook had just put on his sweatpants when the bell rang, his eyes immediately falling on the wall clock. 1:50 AM. He frowned, tossing the towel on the bed before making his way towards the door. The cool air hit his bare chest, his damp hair falling over his forehead in soft curls. 

The day had been eventful. This was the first time he had committed two murders in a single day. The body of the second woman was still in his basement but he wanted to catch people off guard. He wanted to tell the world that he was getting angry and impatient. His insanity was reaching its peak and he needed you to break.

Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, pulling the door open, only to have his breath taken away. There you stood before him, eyes heavy and hands tucked into the pocket of your coat. Your lips were chapped as you licked them, glancing around nervously with red rimmed eyes. Jungkook could tell you had been crying, his heart aching on seeing what he had done to you. But you deserved it. 

You deserved it for breaking his heart. 

"Y/N…" he whispered, his lips begging to display the happiness that was coursing through him. You bit your lip, eyes glued to Jungkook who stood fresh out of the shower in front of you. You inhaled deeply, summoning back your confidence because this was Jungkook. You didn't have to worry about being a wreck before him. Without a word, you pushed your way inside his home, your shoulder brushing against his as the warmth of his house engulfed you. Jungkook stared at you in awe, praying for things to be okay again. Maybe you did break? Maybe you were back for him? 

He pulled himself out of his head and shut the door, watching you with his doe eyes as you hung your coat on the rack and rushed inside. He was quick to follow you into the living room, his gaze dancing around to look for anything he had left out. 

No. It's all in the basement.

With a nervous feeling in his chest, Jungkook leaned on a wall, his fingers fiddling with each other as you stood with your back facing him. Your hands rested on top of his mini bar counter, a heavy silence looming over you both. Jungkook opened his mouth to say something but he couldn't think of anything. Not unless you told him why you were there.

But you couldn't answer that question yourself. Not when you were wondering why you were there. His house was not even on the way to your house, so why were you there? Was it because your head was too free and now you wanted to see if Jungkook had changed? Was it because you wanted him to make you feel like you're worth all the trouble in the world? Hell, that was probably it. You felt so useless that there was nothing anyone could say to make you feel better.

"I got suspended." You blurted out, your voice piercing through the atmosphere. Jungkook's breath hitched, a little too loud for his liking. All this time, he had been thinking he was the puppeteer of this game. But he didn't see this coming. How could someone suspend you? Your voice had despair lacing it, Jungkook feeling guiltier with every passing second. He knew how important your job was to you. 

"I'm sorry to hear that. Are you...okay?" He asked cautiously, scared that he'd break you. He still didn't know why you were at his place in the middle of the night but it brought him a sense of relief that he was the one you confided in. You suddenly turned around, a tear falling down your cheek as you threw your hands up. 

"No. No, I'm not okay. In fact, I don't even know why I'm here. All I know is that I- I- fuck! I should go." You stammered, walking past him to leave. This was probably the most embarrassing thing that had happened between you and Jungkook. You were simply making a fool out of yourself. It was wrong to be wanting him when you were the one who left. But Jungkook, clearly didn't think that.

His hand shot out to hold your wrist, pulling you back towards him. Your hands rested on his chest as he cupped your cheek with one hand, holding your waist firmly with the other. Your heart was racing, your skin burning under his touch and you realized just how much you had missed him. It wasn't just about how he made you feel. It was also about the way your body ached for him to make you feel right. Jungkook's eyebrows were slightly furrowed, his eyes flickering between your lips and your widened orbs. 

"Don't walk out on me again. Not when we both still want each other." Jungkook begged, caressing your skin as he leaned down. Your nose brushed against his, lips only an inch away. No matter how much you wanted to pull away, you couldn't. It was a risk you were taking. You knew that Jungkook wouldn't change. He'd still come to pick you up from work. He'd still ask you to take days off again and again. He'd still ask you a million questions if you hid something from him. But you loved him. Underneath all of that, was the Jungkook you had first met and fallen for. 

You broke the ice by standing on your toes and pressing your lips firmly against Jungkook's. His reaction was immediate, hands tangling in your hair and pulling your body flush against him. His tongue glided across your lips, slipping in your mouth when you parted them. The muffled moan escaping your mouth was inevitable, especially with Jungkook's fingers coming up to wrap around your neck. He made you feel so... delicate at times. He made the world better, instilling the thought of needing to be protected in your mind. Your suspension may have something to do with your stupid decisions but you were simply acting upon your feelings. Those that you had suppressed for months. 

You gasped when Jungkook pushed you onto the couch, positioning himself between your thighs as he propped himself up on his hands. You were a sight for sore eyes, lips swollen and hair a mess. Chest heaving and eyes clouded with lust. There was nothing else Jungkook could ever ask for. His fingers grazed the skin of your thighs, your skirt riding up on its own. It felt so right, yet so wrong. Your body was on fire, aching for Jungkook to just have his way with you. 

"Jungkook, please. I want you…"

Your voice was needy and desperate, boosting Jungkook's pride. You did love him, then. You still loved him. He caught your lips with his own, rolling his hips against yours to let you feel what you were doing to him. You closed your eyes and arched your back, trying to create more friction before Jungkook harshly pushed your hips back on the couch. He nipped at your neck, enjoying the way you were squirming and whining beneath him. But you weren't gonna get it so easily, were you? Not after what you did to his poor heart.

"Oh, I know, baby. And I will fuck you hard. All night…" he trailed off, getting off of you and standing inches away from your laid out body. The sight of his body made your mouth water, your mind recalling all the times Jungkook and you spent in the bedroom. His hair was longer than you last saw and you were smitten with how he looked. You clenched your thighs shut, his eyes raking over your entire body. 

"..but only when you tell me you won't leave me again."

You stared at him with surprise written all over your face. It was a statement. A demand. If you didn't know any better, you'd think Jungkook was cruel for doing this. He was using your sexual needs to get you back in his arms, permanently. But there was also a chance of you regretting this night. That is if something ever did happen.

You didn't want that. You didn't want to wake up in the morning and hate yourself for this. 

Liar. This is the only thing you'd never regret.

At your lack of response, Jungkook leaned down to your eye level, his hand brushing your hair away from your face. "What's it gonna be, baby?" He purred, kissing your jaw. If you weren't so drenched in arousal, you would have pushed him away but for now, the smallest of touch was doing things to you. Jungkook's lips continued to pepper kisses on your skin, your neck craning to give him more access. Jungkook knew what he was doing, his smirk would have told you that if you had seen it.

"I'll never leave you." You breathed out, and for a second, it seemed as if you caught a whiff of that scent. The one from the forest. The one that had been holding you captive all these months. 

Dead lilacs.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Jungkook threw you over his shoulder, your heart pounding in excitement for what's to come. He took you up the stairs, the same old cherry wood greeting you until you were in his bedroom. You were laid on the bed gently, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as Jungkook's mouth latched onto your shoulder, his hands busy with taking off your shirt. "I'll remind you how big of a mistake it was to leave me. I own all of you, baby. You'll always come back to me. Always." 

You whimpered when he softly dug his teeth in your skin, sucking and leaving marks that you won't be able to cover up. 

___________________________________________

You were awake. Call it the unsettling feeling in your gut that was continuously nagging you, but you were awake. There was a sliver of light on the horizon, telling you that soon it was gonna be bright and early. You fingers played with Jungkook's hand that was on your stomach, his rhythmic breathing sounding like some sort of calm music. Unfortunately, you couldn't go back to sleep. Your thoughts were haunting you. You wanted to ask Namjoon if there were any new developments but you stopped yourself. You really should try and utilize your days of suspension productively. You sighed softly, lifting Jungkook's hand and placing it away from you. You glanced at his face as you stood up, noticing the way there was a hint of a smile on his lips. 

Because of you.

That made your heart flutter, your own lips stretching slightly as you picked up his t-shirt that lay on the chair in the corner of the room. You put it over your undergarments, walking out of the room and down into the living room. You needed updates, really. You took your phone that you had left on the counter a few hours ago, unlocking it to see a message from Namjoon.

Namjoon: Hey, Y/N? Uh...I just wanted to let you know that we're keeping the new discovery away from the people. They are scared and we don't want them to think that we're doing nothing. So, I hope you didn't tell anyone. Cause no one knows about it. Feel free to call me anytime and...take care:-)

You cracked a smile at the addition of the little smiley at the end, shaking your head at how traditional Namjoon was. However, your smile didn't last long.

Jungkook….

Realization dawned on you like a ton of bricks before a beeping sound echoed through the house. You clutched your phone tightly, your head jerking towards the source of the sound that seemed to be coming from the basement. You narrowed your eyes, your feet taking you forward towards the door to the basement which was slightly open. There seemed to be no other noise from any other corner of the house, indicating that Jungkook hadn't heard this soft pitched beeping at all. You inhaled deeply, pulling open the door and slowly descending down into the darkness, your hand searching the wall for the light switch. Once you were sure that the steps had ended, you felt the switch on the wall, flicking it on to illuminate the room. 

The way your heart plummeted wasn't pleasing at all, your eyes wide as you gazed at the patch of soily land on the harsh gray floor in the corner, lights falling upon blooming buds of the flowers you recognized very well.

Lilacs.

Your blood ran cold, a faint smell of blood hitting your senses. With clammy hands, you gasped and leaned against a wall nearby, eyes fixed at the horror Jungkook was brewing in his basement. You breathed heavily, sweat beading on your forehead as you went over the possible reasons your ex ...no, boyfriend was growing lilacs.

The beeping sound was still alive, your gaze moving to the small clock that sat near a computer at the other side of the room. You closed your eyes, willing the negative thoughts to go away. No. There has to be another reason for this. Maybe he just happened to like lilacs a lot, lately.

Then why the basement?

Because he must have been scared! With the murders going on, he must have thought that he'd be blamed for it. That's a good enough reason, right?

Right?

Your detective instincts were kicking in, your eyes opening as you managed to calm yourself down. You glanced at the door of the basement, hoping Jungkook wasn't up yet. Your feet shakily dragged you to the alarm, shutting it off as your eyes darted around the room for anything else. Anything that could make him look like a murderer. Even the thought was bitter. Your Jungkook? A murderer? Unfortunately, you couldn't bring yourself to say that it was a crazy accusation. You knew very well what Jungkook was capable of. Right then, you saw the big white freezer at the side, the little trail of blood at it's edge sending you into a spiral of shock. But you were too scared to just stand and cry about the decisions you made. For instance, getting back with Jungkook.

Now it all made sense. 

'You can stop this.'

You somehow managed to open the door of the freezer, immediately regretting your choices upon seeing the bloody woman lying inside. Her face was absolutely unrecognisable, every inch of her skin covered in blood. The stench was stronger, your throat constricting with every breath you took. You inhaled sharply, your vision becoming blurry with the tears that found home in your eyes. You harshly wiped them away, narrowing your eyes to see the tally marks on the inside of the refrigerator door. Without a doubt, that was the number of women who had been found dead. You gritted your teeth, stumbling back and falling on the ground as you tried to stop your crying. You were sure you heard your heartbreak, a searing pain shooting through your head. Finally, you were facing the consequences of not getting enough sleep along with the new discoveries about your boyfriend.

Stupid Y/N.

"I knew I should have locked the door." 

Your emotions were heightened on hearing his voice, bouts of anger and fear pouring over you. You turned around, still finding it hard to stand as Jungkook loomed over you with an unreadable expression. You sniffled, crawling backwards and away from him.

From the murderer who stood before you.

You saw the look of pain in his eyes but all your love for him had been pushed away by the sympathetic feelings for those who lost their lives to him. All you saw was a cold blooded killer. No more a lover.

"Don't come closer. You know I can take you down." You threatened, your voice shaky but stern. You were trying your best to hold yourself together. The only thing you had to do was get to Namjoon. Jungkook cocked an eyebrow, his eyes moving over to the opened freezer door. He fixed a deadly glare on you and moved to close it with a bang, your body visibly flinching at his action. 

"I know you can. But tell me, Y/N, do you think this is my fault?" You frowned at his words, the tears on your cheeks now drying in the thick air of the basement. He sighed in distress, crouching down before you as you shifted further away from him. Jungkook pursed his lips, holding your gaze for a minute before speaking up again. "Remember how I had told you that this breakup will have consequences. This was it, baby. This was my message for you to come back."

Your head was spinning at this point, goosebumps rising on your skin as your brain processed all the information. All these months, you had been looking at the wrong place. Your killer was right in front of you but you let him get away. Knowing that you could have stopped everything was a heart wrenching thought. A sob escaped your mouth, your head buried in your hands as you let your frustration out. 

Jungkook didn't know how he felt, it was all a mess up there. He certainly wasn't enjoying the tears on your cheeks but he also loved seeing you so...ruined. Weirdly enough, it made him feel powerful. He cautiously reached out towards you, his fingers landing on your hair when you suddenly jolted away from him, a murderous look in your eyes.

"Don't touch me." 

Jungkook felt like his heart had been torn into pieces, his brows furrowing as he clenched his jaw. You breathed heavily, holding back your tears and glaring at him with sheer intensity. Your eyes fell onto your phone that lay behind Jungkook on the floor. When you had dropped it, you didn't remember. You really had to contact someone to tell them you had found the lilac killer, only if Jungkook wasn't in front of you. But Jungkook's patience was wearing thin. He waited for so long and killed so many people. He even had you back in his arms, only for this to happen?

No. Not this time.

Jungkook lunged at you, pushing you back on the floor and straddling you while pinning your hands above your head. You screamed for help, eyes clenched shut as you tried to get Jungkook off of you. 

"This is because of that detective, isn't it? You don't want me to touch you? But you let me do everything to you last night, baby. Don't fight me now." He growled, eyes narrowed to slits as he mocked you. His words only fuelled your anger, reminding you of last night and how you let him touch you. Every single thing about your life seemed to be a regret, at this moment. You really had to fix it. You took deep breaths before bringing your head up and hitting Jungkook in the nose. He let out a loud scream and clutched his nose, falling back on the floor as you scurried away from him. You caught a glimpse of blood on his face, a wave of satisfaction passing over you. With a hopeful exhale, you crawled towards the staircase, your knee scraping against the rocky floor. Just as you reached the last step, you felt a hand wrap around your ankle, yanking you back as your chin slammed against the broken wood. Your teeth dug into your tongue, drawing blood as your jaw went slack and you cried out loud. 

Jungkook gritted his teeth, pulling you back to him. There was nothing in this world that would convince him to let you go. You kept his sinister thoughts at bay. Or that's what he assumed. Jungkook grunted, your cries falling deaf to his ears as he dragged himself closer to your laid out form. 

You gasped for air, your lungs burning until you kicked Jungkook in the stomach with all the strength you could muster. When you saw him doubling over in pain, you pushed yourself into your feet and took off. You grabbed your coat from the rack and unlocked the door, crying and running outside into the dawn. Your hands reached out to unlock your car but you realized you didn't have the keys at all. Your eyes widened and you turned back to face the house, Jungkook's figure approaching the door with a gun in his hand. He raised it at you, showing you his pissed off expression as he held out his other hand. Your car keys dangled from his fingers, a broken sob escaping your mouth. 

Jungkook cocked his head back inside the house, clearly wanting you to come back. But you weren't gonna do that, were you? 

"Come back, Y/N. Or I promise I'll shoot you." He threatened, earning a shake of your head in response. You clenched your fists by your sides, your lips quivering as you struggled to form your words. "You won't. My Jungkook wouldn't shoot me." You stated firmly, watching his expression soften.

Jungkook's heart fluttered, your words clearly having left an impact on him. He fingers struggled to hold the gun, letting it fall as he stared at you longingly. Jungkook didn't wanna let you down. If you believed that your Jungkook wouldn't do this, then he was gonna live up to your fantasy. 

You were shocked when you saw him drop the gun to the floor, a hopeful feeling brewing in your heart. Maybe someday you'd get to see the Jungkook you always knew. But for now, you couldn't stay. You needed to tell someone. You needed to fix your lover. 

Jungkook stood still, his eyes watering as he watched you turn on your feet and leave. He watched you run away onto the asphalt, your body turning to enter the forest. He knew where you were going. You were afraid of him. You believed that he'd come for you. 

And you weren't wrong there.

So I'm actually alive. I was finally able to write something. Things haven't been great lately so be patient. I'm working on come back home, hopefully I'll update it tomorrow. Also, this is a Jungkook birthday special, if you can't tell already. Hope you liked it.

-XX

[blair-chan17]

T.W. VENT

It's been a lot of time since I've done a personal post

Like a lot

And this is like d e e p? I guess?? So if you "reader" don't like stuff that is rant and then venting don't read this and then be like "oOoh but that's b a d meh meh meh" because there's a warning,this paragraph and the vent is all small with a line over it so fuck you <3

I'm just really lazy,tired,and in a serious need of a medical appointment since 1 my leg "tics" have been getting worse 2 my back is killing me even more even though I'm loosing weight 3 my eye twitches worse than before and I look like a psycho 4 I need my wisdom teeth checked cause they starting to hurt as f u c k. I need a phycologists cause for fucks sake I think sometimes I get random panic attacks while studying or just thinking,I can't focus on shit,I act in a strange way,my anger is getting worst day by day and I'm falling back into a depressive state which is n o t gonna be good. I just wanna lay on my bed all day,crying and listening to music. I can't manage to be happy while talking to others.

Everything is fake,an illusion,I A M an illusion to others,like the mirror you would love,that makes you see the best things ever. I act like they want,just so that I don't feel alone. Am I still left behind? Yeah. Does it happen a bit less because I act like the perfect friend for them? Yes. I just wish that I looked like what they like. So that everyone would love me,call me pretty, people would actually have a crush on me. Everyone's like "oh come on don't say that about yourself! You look good!" Hell no I don't! They say it for pity,I just insult myself to cope with it,you know laugh about the fact that I looked and still look like a fucking whale! How funny. At least I'm creative. I'm not even smart,well,I'm not "school smart" for sure,I just find it too hard but every time I try to tell my parents they're just like "You were always smart! You just don't apply anymore!" I fucking do actually,I just can't manage to remember shit that's why I need to get checked up and not by a woman who just fucks around and doesn't tell me what she thinks it's wrong and yet manages to talk shit to my parents,but by someone who takes me seriously and can tell me why the fuck I feel like this and if they think that my tics are from psychological problem or not!! I fucking hate this place I just want some help but they don't believe I have problems,even after last experiences they still d o n ' t

Wow that was long af for my standards rn