#until he’s called out on his bullshit and forced to acknowledge and confront it all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mccoyyy · 4 years

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moving this to my new blog so I can pin it again lol

@stregoni-benefici you are completely correct but I just wanted to expand on this a little bit - also i’m putting this under a read more cause this got a lot longer than i originally thought it would be

sexism: smeyers treatment of female characters throughout the entire series is extremely problematic. like you don’t even need to read deep into the books to see that. the backstories of all her female characters all involve some form of trauma and are significantly more violent than the male vampires (Rosalie and Esme enduring physical/sexual assault meanwhile Edward dies of the flu and Emmett gets vibe checked by a bear).

she also creates the idea that a woman isn’t complete without children/being a mother. every female vampire in the series is desperate for children yet can’t, its mentioned in pretty much every book and extreme emphasis is placed on how tragic this is. a female character wanting children isn’t wrong or sexist at all but the way its written in twilight makes it seem like its something a woman has to do in order to be happy and smeyer pretty much cements this idea by making Bella suddenly desperate to have Renesmee despite showing no interest in children/audibly voicing her thoughts against having children in eclipse and the start of breaking dawn (i’m pretty sure Bella has a line of dialogue in the books where she says something like she didn’t realise it was something she wanted/needed until it happened bit I’m not sure I try not to read/think about breaking dawn)

there’s also the way she writes female characters, specifically Rosalie. its mentioned throughout the series that Rosalie has extreme mechanical skills and multiple degrees in STEM fields but its barely ever shown, and instead her characterisation focuses on being obsessed with her looks (first couple pages of this, written by smeyer for new moon), and being a ‘stereotypical bitch’. for the first three books most of her character/dialogue is based on being cold and rude to Bella. She is unnecessarily painted as the villain for having different views on Bella (quite literally) giving up her life and future to be with a man (which is a whole other can of worms). the same is done to the character of Leah in eclipse/breaking dawn. Leah is a woman in the Quileute Tribe, she has been severely affected by the Cullen’s presence in the area and is painted as a character that the reader is supposed to dislike simply because she doesn’t like Bella/the Cullen’s despite having extremely valid reasons not to

anti-Native - smeyers treatment of native tribes is horrendous. she has profited fr years off of of native american culture for years and has done so without any acknowledgements. furthermore, she also demonises native american teens (especially in new moon) by calling them wild, violent, dangerous and out of control and then uses these stereotypes to create a contrast between the self control and patience of the Cullen’s and make them seem more like the good guys, and the wolf pack being lesser. She does this again with the treatment of Jacobs character in new moon and especially eclipse.

Jacob starts off in new moon as Bella’s best friend. he helps Bella come out of a severe depression caused when Edward left at the start of the book. however in eclipse his character makes a complete flip and he becomes moody, temperamental, argumentative and disrespectful of Bella’s boundaries. his character becomes unrecognisable and despite smeyers claims of a love triangle, it is obvious what the outcome will be. I have seen countless instances of people on this site claiming they hate Jacob because he is a dick/disrespectful/just as unhealthy as Edward. this was done on purpose by smeyer as she uses Jacob to make Edward seem like the obvious and correct choice for Bella. if you need more proof of this, take the scene where Jacob kisses Bella without her consent and she breaks her hand when punching him, Edward swoops in and almost gets into a fight with Jacob for touching Bella without her consent. this is an obvious attempt to make Jacob seem like the villain and Edward the white saviour

there’s also the treatment of the native characters by the white characters in the books. multiple times in the series, the native characters are called/compared to dogs/brutes and have a distinct unpleasant smell. I don’t think I need to explain how this is racist. the pack also helps the Cullen’s/saves Bella’s lives and never receive any acknowledgement/are treated any better by the Cullen’s/anyone really. the pack are only ever used as a way to make the Cullen’s look better.

there’s also some pretty obvious similarities to colonisation with the Cullen’s entering Quiluete lands which then forces them to start phasing into wolves (and I’m pretty sure none of the pack actually want to start phasing). also, remember Leah? the only female member of the wolf pack? because of the change she effectively can’t have children? that has implications.

and to top it all off, after doing all that, smeyer has never once addressed this or even acknowledged the Quileute Tribe.

pedophilic - I mean even without mentioning breaking dawn its pretty awful. first of all you’ve got the blatant sexualisation of minors throughout the entire series. Edward is 17 throughout the series and smeyer is writing literal paragraphs about his chiselled abs. Jacob is 16/17 when she has him running about forks topless with a 6 pack. this is way more apparent in the movies but its still a huge issue in the books and lead to Taylor Lautner being confronted by adult fans trying to get him to sign their underwear, and being forced into being shirtless for most of the movies which made him extremely uncomfortable (Elizabeth Reaser (Esme) briefly talks about this in the ID10T podcast on spotify). and just as a reminder, Taylor was 16 when the first one was filmed and 17 for the second.

Breaking Dawn is a whole other can of worms. the glaringly obvious issue is Jacob imprinting on a literal newborn baby. now the concept of imprinting itself has racist elements to it, but its heavily implied in the series that imprinting will inevitably lead to a romantic relationship. Jacob imprinting on Renesmee and waiting until she is old enough to enter into a romantic relationship (never mind the fact that shes ‘old enough’ she will still technically be 5) is pretty much grooming. The same happens with Quil and his imprint, Claire (a two year old) where I’m pretty sure there’s a scene in breaking dawn where Jacob and Leah are watching Quil play with Claire and talking about how Quil isn’t going to date anyone because he and Claire are ‘pretty much inevitable’ (i might be wrong though, like I said I try not to read/think about breaking dawn)

smeyer has also written a spin off book (its like 250 odd pages) called the short second life of Bree Tanner (Bree is that newborn vampire killed after the battle in eclipse by the Volturi btw). In this book, Bree is 15 almost 16, and another character Diego is 18 which is definitely pushing the boundaries of ok. (also as a side note, funny how Bree and Jacob are literally the same age and smeyer states multiple times how Bree deserved better and is only a child (who straight up kills people), yet when it comes to Jacob he has to be a responsible adult and is vilified for every mistake he makes)

racist - smeyer refused to let Catherine Hardwicke (director of the first twilight) have a diverse cast because she ‘imagined them a certain way’ (white) and it was a fight to get Edi Gathegi cast as Laurent and had to compromise with smeyer to make Bella’s friend group more diverse. this woman straight up refused to hire more diverse actors and only agreed to when they were side characters/villains.

Also in the official companion book/guide to twilight, smeyer literally writes that vampire venom makes you white

‘the venom leeches all pigmentation from the skin into a more indestructable vampire form…regardless of original ethnicity a vampires skin will be exceptionally pale’ (official illustrated guide pg.69)

this is a whole lot of bullshit cause she is literally whitewashing characters, but when you pair this with the idea that vampires possess inhuman levels of beauty it becomes extremely problematic and implies that being pale/white is more beautiful than darker skin tones.

also, if we go back to Laurent’s character for a second. so Laurent is one of the only characters who isn’t described as white (in the books he is described as having a pale olive skin tone) and in the first book he comes across as pretty reasonable (warning carlisle about James/Victoria, travels up to Denali and tries out the veggie lifestyle) but in new moon, his characterisation pulls a 180° (sensing a theme here) and is suddenly trying to kill Bella as a favour to Victoria and is Evil™ despite in the first book he literally says to Carlisle he didn’t particularly like travelling with James/Victoria and was only really doing it for convenience. where did this undying loyalty come from? yet again, smeyer is completely disregarding established characterisation in POC characters specifically to villainise them.

and finally, we have Jasper. for some reason (that reason being that she is racist) smeyer decides to make Jasper a confederate soldier in his human life. if you don’t have a lot of knowledge on the american civil war, the confederacy were the side of the US that seceded from the union in order to keep their slaves. Jasper was a confederate soldier, and not just any soldier, but a major. Jasper was a major in an army that fought for 4 years to keep the existence of slavery (and don’t even try to say that slavery wasn’t the root cause of the civil war. states rights aye? states rights to do what). now there’s an argument out there made by certain fans that a lot of people joined the confederate army out of pride/were forced into it cause of conscription to try and head canon the racism away but like that doesn’t matter. there was literally no need to make jasper a confederate in the first place. if she was so desperate to have a civil war vampire then she could have made him a member of the union. its been common knowledge that the confederacy was racist for a long time now, smeyer has absolutely no excuses here.

a lot of these issues overlap and I have probably missed heaps of issues (so feel free to add on) but hope this helps explain why smeyer can *ahem* get tae absolute fuck

#smeyer deserves jail #writing this pissed me off so much brb im off to buy a dartboard and a coloured printer #twilight #anti-smeyer #twilight renaissance #twilight resurgance #twilight revival #dont fucking buy midnight sun #edward cullen #jacob black #bella swan #the cullens #wolf pack #jasper whitlock #jasper hale

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vanderlindemorgans · 3 years

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Mr. Perfectly Fine

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: Two weeks after breaking up with you, you're picking up the pieces of your heart that had been broken by your now ex-boyfriend Javier Peña. You want answers, a clear reason as to why things fell apart. The only problem is that Javier refuses to even acknowledge your existence

Warnings: A little bit of period-typical sexism, but not much, Javier being an asshole, mentions of prostitution, some low level typical Narcos themes

Authors Note: So this idea has been swimming around in my head ever since the song was released last week. I already had a Bad Breakup fic for Javi planned but I’ve decided to extend it into three parts! Also reader speaks in English bc I do not understand a word of Spanish other than that one line in Ultraviolence. None of this is beta read, so there’s bound to be a few mistakes - if I get anything really wrong then let me know.

Part 2 | MASTERLIST

The tension in the room was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. From the moment someone walked in they could feel it, the stifling air of awkwardness surrounding every single person in the room as they pretended to carry on with their work, averting their eyes to the spectacle presented in front of them, a war of agitation rife between two agents sitting across the room from each other as well as the unfortunate Steve Murphy who just happened to sit between you two. From your end it was simple silent fury, directed right across the room to where your partner, or rather, ex-partner, Javier Peña was seated at his own desk, casually leafing through mountains of paperwork and suspect photos as if you weren’t practically shooting daggers at him from across the way.

He wasn’t doing anything, and that was exactly the problem - you wanted him to do something, say something, anything, if only it would show that he even gave a damn about the situation at all. But he never did. Every morning when he walked into work carrying a black coffee in his hands, his top shirt buttons hanging loose as they always seemed to be and his hair mustled as if he hadn’t been sleeping properly, he said nothing. He walked past you as if you weren’t even there, ignoring your stares and crashing down at his desk, ready to continue the endless chase for Pablo Escobar. And it infuriated you. Oh lord, how it made you burn. With every refusal of acknowledgement he gave, you became even more tempted to march right over to him and strike him across his stupid handsome face. You never did, of course, and you never would. Physical confrontation just wasn’t your style. Nevertheless, the mere thought of such did bring you a small bit of joy to your broken little soul.

Things had been going like this for two weeks now. You hadn’t expected much on the first morning back in the office after what had happened between you. A part of you wanted him to come grovelling to you, insisting that he’d made a mistake and begging for you to take him back. That in itself was nothing more than a fantasy: Javier Peña was too proud to grovel. If anything, his behaviour shouldn’t have surprised you in the slightest. He was the one who broke up with you over a 27 second phone call, after all.

Despite taking that into consideration, you thought by now you would have heard something from him. He’d have to talk to you eventually since you two were working the same case. Apparently no, because it appeared that he went out of his way to deliver every piece of correspondence meant for you through to Murphy, letting him act as a sort of unwilling middle man between the two of you. You knew that Steve already felt awkward enough having to be in the same room with the two of you whilst this was all going on, so your sympathy for him deepened when he was thrust into the even more awkward position of messenger. Sometimes you swore he made up fake meetings with Messina to attend to or new leads to investigate just so he could get away from the suffocating air of hate around you and Javi. And really, who could blame him?

You felt your nose twitch in annoyance as you trained your eyes forward to him, periodically looking down at various files of intel to keep up the facade that you were indeed working, though you eyes were across the room for most of the time, searching for any sign of emotion on his face. Nothing, zilch, not a single trace, his expression only showcasing general indifference, as if nothing were wrong at all. You gripped your hand tightly around the edge of your pen, thinking of everything you wished you could say to him. How’s your heart after breaking mine, Javi? For your information, ever since you pulled that bullshit on the phone, I’ve been miserable as all fucking hell. Before all that happened, I wanted to try. I was even ready to try to forgive you after that stupid fight, but you just had to make that call. You know what? I’d actually hate you less if you just acted like you cared a little that we broke up. But noooo, you’re just Mr. Perfectly Fine, what with your ignoring me and your casual cruelty, your always showing up at just the right time, and your insincerity, and the way you think everything fucking revolves around you. Well, I’ll tell you something Javi - I’m done! Absolutely done with you and your shit. Jump off a cliff for all I care!

“I’ll be back later on, gonna go follow up on a few leads” your thoughts were cut off by Javier’s abrupt announcement, your eyes gracing themselves upwards to watch him hastily scoop his jacket off the back of his chair and skulk his way out of the office. Every bitter word you wanted to say to him burned on your tongue, though you only managed to settle on a simple yet seething glare while his eyes glazed over you, rushing himself out of the room as quickly as humanly possible. You noticed Murphy look over his shoulder like he was about to say something but it was too late - Javi was already long gone.

_______

Letting out a low groan of frustration, you slammed the door to your car shut and threw your head back against the seats headrest, the stress of the job and the emotional weight of the day combining to make you even more tired than you would usually be at the end of a long day. Javier hadn’t been back to the office since he left, leaving both you and Murphy to pick up all the work he’d left in his absence. If that wasn’t infuriating enough, the thought of him running around all of Bogotá just to avoid seeing you brought your anger to new unreachable heights. It was annoying - him not being around should have left your mind to be free to do some actual goddamn work but instead, just as before, every single moment he occupied your mind, living there permanently as if it were his right. How much more infuriating could that man get?

Thankfully, the drive home wasn’t any more of a nuisance than usual, since the apartment complex you shared with the others wasn’t that far from the embassy, so that was a small positive at the very least. Once you’d pulled up to the lot you were feeling a lot more level-headed than you did before, and were mainly looking forward to kicking back in pajamas and watching whatever was on TV with the leftover pizza from the night before. It wouldn’t do much to take your mind off everything with Javi, though, you knew that much. Still, a small bit of bliss was still bliss.

Your apartment was down the hall from Javier’s, which had made it easier for you two when you were together but now felt like another sore reminder of what had been. Sighing heavily to yourself, you kicked the door to your car shut and stuffed the keys into the pocket of your jeans. A minor annoyance, sure, nothing you couldn’t handle though. You wondered if he would even be back right now. He had to be, right? An idea started to creep into your head at that thought, taking root and festering until you had practically talked yourself into doing it already, descending up the stairs with a sense of purpose behind you. Maybe if you showed up on his doorstep you could force him to confront you, make him look you in the eye. Any sort of acknowledgement to what you two had would be nice at this point, and if you had to take action yourself to get him to do it, then so be it.

The closer you got to his door the more you felt you should turn back, a feeling of uneasiness beginning to form somewhere deep in your chest. This might be a bad idea. What if you two got into a fight again? As much as you wanted nothing more than to hurl some carefully crafted insults at Javi and his stupid gorgeous face, you weren’t exactly up for a full on battle that could result from it. Would it be better to simply go home and ignore your problems a little more?

Once you were only inches from the door was when you started to hear it. At first it sounded muffled, on account of the fact that there was a physical barrier between you and them, and you weren’t quite sure exactly what you heard at first but when you pressed yourself closer to the door you could hear it all clear as day - a woman moaning loudly on the other side, whimpering out Javi’s name and betraying exactly what was going on within the walls of the apartment. You felt your breath hitch in your chest, the world feeling like it was collapsing around you from the very second you realised why he had left early for the day. Unable to stop yourself, you tore yourself away from the apartment door and ran down the hall to your own place, tears falling at a rapid pace that refused to stop. You didn’t know if the woman in there was an informant, or a prostitute, or some random chick he’d picked up in a bar after ditching work for the day. In the end none of it mattered though. All that mattered is that it wasn’t you in there with him, like it used to be, like it should be, and that fact made you hurt all the more fiercely.

Fumbling with the keys to your apartment, you choked on a low sob working your way through the waterfall of tears in your eyes to try and wrestle the key into the lock. Through your haste, you accidentally let them fall loose from your palms and onto the ground, prompting a loud “fuck!” to ring out from your throat, loud enough for everyone in the neighboring apartments to hear. Not like you really cared about that, to be honest. With your hands shaking, you finally managed to throw the door to your apartment open, slamming it back closed with a thud and leaning back against it with your head in your hands, slowly descending to the ground to finally give in to the wave of sorrow threatening to claim you.

You’d known his reputation before you started seeing each other, that he slept with all his informants and chased every woman who crossed his path in Colombia. Actually, it had made you hesitant to get involved with him in the first place but once you two had bitten the bullet and finally admitted your damn feelings for each other, Javier had ceased with his wild ways, becoming solely dedicated to you and you alone. And sure, you two weren’t together anymore, there wasn’t anything stopping him from being with other women. It felt like a deeper twist of the knife though, what you’d heard from behind that door, and it practically confirmed the sickening feeling that had been building in you since the first day back in the office after your breakup, when Javi refused to even look you in the eye and acted as if you’d vanished off the face of the planet. He doesn’t care about me anymore.

Moving on had been that much easier for him. While it took everything in you to get up each day, he was doing absolutely ok. More than ok, if the sounds coming from his apartment were anything to go by. He was even already settling back into his old reputation. You should’ve known it was too good to be true - the manwhore of the DEA, Javier Peña actually wanting to settle down with one woman, actually caring about a girl beyond what she could be in bed. You remembered the raised eyebrows when you two had first gotten together: for most, it just seemed so out of nowhere. You’d ignored them all, remembering all the times you’d be tangled up with Javi on the couch, his head nestled into your neck while your heart raced a mile a minute, hearing every sweet nothing and praise he’d whisper to you. Stupid girl, you should’ve known.

_______

After such a huge revelation, you thought things might’ve changed. In what way they would, you didn’t really know. Maybe the change would be sudden, such as you finally working up enough of a resolve to actually go confront Javier on his shit. Or maybe you’d take a leaf out of his book and start trying to seem like nothing was wrong at all, maybe go out on a few dates with some other guys. One of the Search Bloc guys had been eyeing you up every time he came over with Carillo to talk strategy, maybe you could go out with him. Though you knew it wouldn’t help - unlike Javier, who was actually more than happy with where you two had left things, you weren’t, and acting like it was just to throw it in his face wasn’t really going to work if he didn’t care enough to look over at you in the first place. And even then, the idea of falling into bed with some random man that you didn’t care for all that much in the name of moving on didn’t seem right to you.

Nevertheless, you expected some form of change to happen the morning after when you came into work to see Javier sitting at his desk, on the phone to someone you couldn’t care less about. But nope. Nothing had changed. You sat down and stared across the room at him, just like you’d done every day for the past two weeks, and he ignored your stare to continue with writing something down on his notepad, just like usual.

Maybe the change would be gradual, you thought, staring back over at the man in the midst of your ire with one of your coldest glares. And sure enough, around midday Steve had come up to you asking to retrieve something from the evidence room for him. Apparently he needed to look over something but was too busy with his own work to go fetch it - you knew on some level that his excuse was bullshit as it had been a pretty slow day for all of you but sure, whatever, if it got you out of that room and away from Javi for at least a few blissful moments that was fine by you.

Reaching out for the door to the evidence room, you pushed it open and admitted yourself into the crowded space, twisting around to slam the door shut firmly behind you. Before you were rows of shelves containing every bit of evidence the DEA had accumulated against Escobar - there wasn’t as much as there probably should have been due to the fire that had broken out at the Palace of Justice years before yet the amount contained in that small room was still impressive in size. Moving between the shelves, you scanned the rows of boxes looking for the one Steve had asked for in particular, taking your time with it as there was a small sense of serenity to being in that room. For once it felt like you could breathe. You didn’t have to sit at a desk across from your ex, you didn’t have to go home to your apartment that was literally across the hall from his, you could be alone and not feel suffocated by his ever-present shadow over your life. Though, in some way you supposed, your own memories could still prove just as suffocating as Javier’s own godforsaken presence.

As if by thinking of him you’d magically summoned him, the man himself strode through the door to the evidence room, appearing to be in quite a hurry however once he noticed you were there he stopped, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before returning to their usual stoic glare. You could barely contain your own disappointment at his sudden appearance, letting your face twist into a low scowl as you watched him walk down the aisle you were standing in, his eyes dashing from row to row searching for any place to look so they could avoid landing on you. Anger bubbled within you, a thousand different sarcastic or otherwise snarky remarks coming to mind that you could throw out at him, every one of them becoming increasingly more scathing the more you thought about it. Letting out a small sigh, you forced yourself to push all those delightful insults to the back of your mind, not wanting to become caught up in any more personal drama than you had to. Get the box and go. It’s that simple. There doesn’t need to be anymore to this.

A minute later your eyes landed on the fabled box you’d been searching for, shoved into a corner and so out of the way you almost missed it completely. You thought of asking Steve what was in the box that he needed so bad when out of nowhere you heard a familiar voice speak up from behind you.

“Listen, I...about what happened on the phone a few weeks ago-”.

So, it seems Mr. Perfectly Fine has finally decided to break his silence. In an instant you twisted yourself around to face him, quickly taking in his serious expression and stiff stature before your eyes met for the first time in two weeks.“Oh, so you’ve finally decided to speak to me now? That’s a first. I thought you were steadfast gonna ignore me for the rest of my life” you spat, not allowing him any form of politeness or decorum in your reply. Why should you? He’d ignored you for weeks. He deserved this.

You watched as Javier tensed at your words, clearly not expecting the bite back that you had given to him. There was some part of his expression that almost looked sheepish in a way, as if he wasn’t quite sure if he really wanted this conversation to happen at all. “I wasn’t ignoring you, I was just-” he started with you rolling your eyes and cutting in almost immediately. “Save it for someone who actually gives a shit. Shouldn’t be hard since you don’t seem to care all too much yourself” you snarled, an action which only made him even more tense.

“I do care, and I kind of always have fucking cared so if you could calm down a little and stop getting yourself worked up we can actually talk about what happened. Can you do that for me at the bare minimum?” he retorted, a harsh edge appearing in his tone that indicated he was already becoming frustrated with your attitude. You knew Javi’s emotions like the back of your hand - he wasn’t a patient man, and he had no time for snark or sarcasm, though only if it was directed at him. When it came to himself, he was more than happy to indulge in a small bit of pettiness. You didn’t much care at that moment though: as far as you were concerned, he lost the right to a civilised discussion when he broke up with you over the phone and then pretended you were invisible for weeks. It’s not like things can get any worse than they are now, right?

“Oh, sure, sure, we can totally talk. How about I start then?” you fired back, every word simmering with venom and dripping raw with sarcastic edge. Crossing your arms, you leaned back against the shelf to take him in, from the creases in his tie to his tired eyes staring straight into you. Wait, tired? You didn’t realise it until then but he had been looking pretty tired lately, almost like he hadn’t been getting enough sleep. Then again, his sleep schedule had never been quite stellar, so that wasn’t totally out of the ordinary. And he was probably up all night with that woman I heard him with, you reminded yourself bitterly. “Look at you, so dignified in your well pressed suit, so smug and self-involved, so far above me in every way, so far above that you won’t even look me in the eye or acknowledge my presence. Tell me, Javier, has it really been that easy to forget about me?” you taunted. “Though I supposed when you’re seducing every whore in Colombia into your bed it would be easy, wouldn’t it?”.

Javier was caught off guard by your remark, not anticipating that you would go so far as to accuse him of returning to his old ways. “First of all, she was an informant, and I had to leave yesterday to go meet up with her. Things ran into overtime and that’s the reason I wasn’t back. I thought you of all people understood that gathering intel is a vital part to the fight against Escobar?” he replied, that last line at the end being delivered with only a little more underlying snip than the rest yet it was more than enough for you to feel around thirty percent more pissed at him.

You scoffed at his lies, your lip curling into a snarl at his attempt at patronising you. “Don’t patronise me. I’m well aware of the ins and outs of this job, in case you’ve forgotten I’ve been working with the DEA for eight years now, which is why I’m calling bullshit on your pathetic excuse for a lie. You do realise we live in the same building right? I know you were doing more than having a friendly discussion with her in there, in fact, I quite literally heard you two through the goddamn walls on my way back home. And before you try to spin some shit about how it was necessary for the case, you and I both know that fucking the informant isn’t a standard part of procedure. You don’t see Murphy bedding any of his sources of intel, do you?”.

“Murphy’s married, princesa” he deadpanned, throwing in that little nickname he had for you that two weeks ago would have made your heart flutter but at this time and in the context he used it only soured your mood further. “That’s besides the point. You’ve been acting like I never even mattered to you at all, and it’s honestly making me wonder if I ever did? Especially since I apparently didn’t deserve the dignity of a proper breakup and got a 27 second phone call instead. Tell me, when did you change your mind? I thought I was supposed to be the one you were waiting for all your life. Guess that was pretty easy to change, wasn’t it?” you snapped.

“Hermosa, can you just fucking listen for one minute?! God, you’re impossible sometimes” Javier shouted, that infamous temper of his rising towards the surface at a rapid rate. It was only a matter of time before he spat something out that he would no doubt regret. In your own haze of anger though, that fact didn’t register with you at all - you only saw red. If you had to scream back at him to finally pull some answers out of the man, then so fucking be it.

“No, how about you listen for once! I know we had that big fight but we could have just talked. The next day when you called me up I was ready to forgive you for being a complete ass. And what did I get instead? ‘I’m sorry, I think we should stop seeing each other’ and a dead dial tone after that. I can tell the only reason you’re apologising today is just so you don’t have to feel like the bad guy in all of this. So what’s the truth? Why were you so ready to throw away a whole relationship over one night of terse words?” you screamed, not caring that you two were at work and anyone could pass by outside and hear you two argue. With the way you both were shouting, you wouldn’t be surprised if the entire building could hear your screaming match with Javier. None of that mattered to you though. The only thing that mattered was the truth.

You weren’t the only one refusing to hold back in any of this: any lingering spark of politeness had vanished in Javi, his eyes turning dark with searing anger you had only seen in him a couple of times before. “You want to know why? You want to fucking know why? It’s because you’re a fucking pain to deal with. You may be a fantastic agent but god you can be so stupid sometimes. You’re too reckless, you throw yourself into danger too willingly with no consideration for anyone else. Did you ever stop to think what would happen to the people who cared about you if you died? Do you even give a shit about the people trying to protect you?” he confessed, fury burning with every word that came out of his mouth, his admittance making you flinch. It was just like he said during your last fight, the one that led to him dumping you in the first place.

Everything he said from that night came rushing back to you, remembering how furious he’d been at you for what had happened during your last raid together. You could see that underneath it all he was concerned for your safety, a gesture that was usually sweet but frustrated you that night as you felt something more akin to a porcelain doll than a capable agent in his eyes. Just because I’m your girlfriend, doesn’t mean you can treat me like I need to be protected. I can handle myself just fine. That was what you’d said to him that night, which should have been the end of it but somehow as the argument went on things got more and more heated that by the time he’d stormed out of your apartment neither of you could remember what had started it all.

What took you by surprise was that apparently he was still stewing about this, for some reason not wanting to believe in your capabilities as an agent and that alone made you more pissed at him. “I don’t need to be protected, Javier. I’m a woman, a DEA agent for crying out loud, not a flower! I’m more than capable of handling myself, I was literally trained for this! Nobody else here seems to have a problem with how I approach things so maybe the issue isn’t my method of attack but the fact that you’re a paranoid asshole?”.

He raised a single eyebrow back at you, looking somewhat skeptical of your claim but more so angry that somehow you two had managed to circle back around to the very thing that had started this whole mess.“Really? Because our last raid you were throwing yourself into the fray as if it were a suicide mission. It was a miracle you only ended up with a minor sprain to the wrist. Those men, the sicario’s, they don’t fucking hold back, one wrong mistake means the difference between life and death” he snapped.“And you know what? After constantly stressing over your safety every minute I was done. If you wanna end up with a bullet between your eyes, be my guest”.

The second those words slipped from his lips, he knew he’d fucked up. As the tears started to form in your eyes you could see him freeze up, his burning temper that had caused him to be so hateful before starting to slowly seep back, replaced with remorse and a hint of panic if you squinted. Although that didn’t matter much right now - his venomous words were rattling around in your brain, acting as a metaphorical hammer that took the final swing towards your damaged heart. Apparently what you heard through the walls the night before hadn’t been enough to break you completely, since there was still enough left of your heart for the rest of it to be shattered by his callous cruelty.

Forcefully swallowing down your cries, you wanted so badly to disappear from the room. You wanted to melt into the floor, to run away and go find one of Escobar’s men and gloat about all you’d done to try to stop him so you could feel the mercy of a fatal gunshot wound to the head. All the pain you had felt previously paled in comparison to the knife that cut you then, the tight feeling of your throat closing with every word you forced out. “So you were lying. You don’t care about me at all. You...you think I’m stupid. And reckless. And...not able to handle being here…”.

“Shit, princesa, that’s not what I meant, I-” Javier started, desperately scrambling to fix the mess he’d caused, however, you weren’t going to let him. He’d made his bed, now he had to lie in it. Any hope he might have had of making things right was now thrown straight out the window. No more chances. Not anymore.

“I think that’s exactly what you meant, Javi. Well, you got your wish I guess. I’ll get out of your life for good” your voice wobbled as you spoke, the next few minutes becoming a blur from when you’d pushed past him and ran out of the evidence room, hearing him call your name behind and not bothering to turn back to face him, running through the halls past different agents and members of the DEA, your hand shielding yourself in a pathetic attempt to save face. Somehow you’d managed to make it out to your car, throwing yourself into the driver's seat and jamming the keys into the ignition, your mind going in a million different directions. Your first thought was to go back home, though you knew that you’d have to hear Javi come back later, probably with yet another woman he picked up. You didn’t exactly have any friends in Colombia - with your line of work there hadn’t been exactly a lot of time to sit around and mingle with people, and truth be told you wanted to avoid people at all costs right then. Without any idea as to where you might be going, or what you were going to do, you pulled your car out of the parking lot and slammed on the gas to get you out of there, the world surrounding you not registering to you anymore and every sound becoming a rush against your ears that you paid no mind to.

One thing was for sure - you weren’t going to give Javier a single drop more of you. Your time, your mind, your energy, your tears, nothing. He’d already proved himself to be a lying sack of shit who didn’t care about you, so as it stood, you wouldn’t care about him either. Like the end of a tragic tale, everything had crashed and burned, and now that you thought about it more, maybe that was how things needed to be.

Goodbye, Mr Perfectly Fine. I’ve been Miss Misery for the last time.

Permanent tag list (if you wanna be added shoot me a message):

@greeneyedblondie44

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #narcos #narcos fanfic #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 3 years

Text

Hey, Little Songbird

Chapter 16 - Ao3

Felix could only hope his mother would pardon him for thinking such harsh words, but he felt as though the situation merited it. Because this? Was bullshit.

He could understand, to a degree, where Marinette was coming from. Felix wasn’t a good person; ergo, put Felix in situations where he would be forced to do good to make him confront the benefits of kindness and charity and hugging snot-nosed orphans or whatnot. He could understand becoming a force for good; his family had the money and the influence to improve the live of the less fortunate, and he’d understood that ever since his mother enlisted his help with choosing Graham Films annual donations. He could stand losing some of his own money just to hear Marinette gush about the charity he chose, and how that money would be used (all information he knew, of course; you don’t donate without knowing exactly where your money is going).

What he could not stand is having all his time with Marinette interrupted by Cesaire.

Marinette’s reasoning was that she wanted her two friends to get along, but Felix suspected she just liked to see him suffer. Sure, he did Cesaire a favor once, that doesn’t mean they like each other! In fact, he would go out on a limb and say that Cesaire definitely hated him. Why? …He wasn’t sure. If it had been a few weeks ago, he would have said she was jealous he had been Marinette’s friend while she had been led astray, but now that he’d gotten to—bleck—know Cesaire, he was certain it wasn’t in the girl’s character.

He took the opportunity to ask Cesaire the next time Marinette forced them to work together on a project—this time, cleaning up the content of the Ladyblog. Apparently Felix’s demeanor would help push the blog in a more professional direction.

Cesaire’s fingers paused on the keyboard at his question. Even Marinette, who had been working on a separate project, stopped to listen in. “I don’t hate you,” she lied.

“Yes, you do,” Felix corrected. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, before your near suspension and after. You hate me, and I’d like to know why.”

“Felix, she doesn’t hate you—” Marinette tried, but Cesaire stopped her.

“Marinette, I appreciate you trying to mediate, but you don’t have to right now”—She flashed a smile at Marinette—“Felix, I don’t hate you. I just don’t like you.”

“Okay. Why?”

She drew back, shock crossing her face before she shut the emotion down. “Felix, the first time we met, I was an akuma. An akuma you caused. I still don’t know why you impersonated Adrien, but since you supported Marinette when I didn’t, I’m willing to tolerate you despite that.”

Oh. “I had forgotten that,” he admitted, looking away.

“You… forgot?” She didn’t believe him, it was clear in her voice.

“Yes. I was having quite the bad day myself.”

Cesaire looked ready to say something, but Marinette placed a hand on her shoulder. “Felix, I’ve been meaning to ask you… Why did you impersonate Adrien that day? Knowing you now… it doesn’t seem like something you would do without a reason.”

Felix pursed his lips. True, what he did that day had been… poorly thought out. He would even say that he’d acted rashly, but to be honest, he had planned it from the beginning. The entire time his father was on his death bed, the entire time Felix watched him die, Adrien was calling and emailing him, talking about his friends and modeling and school like Felix hadn’t begged him and Uncle Gabriel to come over and visit, to support them in their time of need like his family had done when Aunt Emilie went missing. Perhaps it was cruel that he and Mother tried to take back their family rings on the anniversary of Aunt Emilie’s disappearance, but it was cruel that they didn’t come to his father’s funeral because… because of a fashion show!

So Felix told them. Despite himself, he told the girls about his father and how much he loved him, and how it broke his heart to see the strongest man he’d ever met waste away in front of his eyes. How his mother cried for months as she sat at his bedside. How their company suffered with the CEO dying and his mother beside herself with grief, how Felix was forced to delegate power to those loyal to his father and their family, trying to keep their business afloat and still in their name.

“Adrien… is very cruel in his ignorance,” Felix said. “He’s more than happy to ignore other people’s problems until they affect him, then he’ll do whatever he can to solve the problem. And I… wanted him to be affected.” He shook his head, picking at Marinette’s bedspread. “I thought that if I caused him to lose all his friends… Well, that plan backfired, so there’s no need to go into detail. I should feel lucky that I got at least one of the rings back.”

“Rings?”

Felix showed off the one he’d stolen from Gabriel, the silver band glinting in the sunlight. The metal seemed to hum against the warmth of his fingers. “The wedding bands of Gabriel and Emilie Agreste were originally family heirlooms of the Graham de Vanily estate. Originally, they were supposed to be used when the eldest child, my mother, got married. Unfortunately, that was impossible.”

“Wait, your mom is a Graham de Vanily?” Cesaire asked. “So, your dad married into the family?”

“That’s correct; Grandfather arranged it back when Father was a mere director in our company.” Felix shook his head. “Mother and Father were supposed to wear these on their wedding day. But Aunt Emilie stole them for her own marriage.”

Marinette gasped. “No! Why would she do that!?”

“I have no idea; if Aunt Emilie ever said why, Mother certainly has never mentioned it. My grandparents disowned her for the theft—though, to be honest, they were already on the edge because Aunt Emilie was marrying someone they didn’t approve of—and it was only Mother’s intervention that kept them from reporting her to the police.” He twisted the ring around his finger. “These rings mean a lot to my family, to my mother… I know it hurt her that she and Father never wore them, even if Father created near replicas for their 3rd anniversary. She never wore hers though… I think she thought that if she did, it would be acknowledging that the rings would never come home.”

“What’s so special about these rings, anyway?” Cesaire asked, moving closer to look at, but thankfully not touch, his ring. “It’s plain silver.”

“Honestly, I have no idea. They’ve been in the family for centuries, and Mother said that you could only understand how precious they are until you and your love both wear them, but…”

“It’s not the value of the rings,” Marinette finished. “It’s what they represent.”

“Precisely. Aunt Emilie stole them to begin with. Now that she’s gone—and honestly, I’m not entirely convinced she didn’t just leave Uncle Gabriel—the rings should come home, no matter how sentimental Uncle is about them. He has made it very clear that he doesn’t consider us family, so there’s no need to keep family heirlooms.” Felix clenched his fist. “I already stole one of the rings; I can steal the other one too.”

Marinette was shaken, but Cesaire immediately nodded her head in agreement. “Go for it.”

“Alya!”

“What? If they were stolen to begin with, then there’s no problem with him stealing them back. Besides, it’s not like Gabriel can report him to the police. There is evidence that the rings were originally your family’s, right? Like, pictures of your grandparents wearing them, or even official documentation?”

Huh. It seems Cesaire is more than she first appeared. “That’s correct, we have both.”

“Then he can’t do much. At worst, he can try to pass them off as a different set of jewelry since the ring is so generic, but that would just draw out the investigation and bring more evidence against him to light. Even claiming that you were the one to steal the ring could be difficult to prove unless he got it on camera.” She frowned. “Getting to the other ring will be difficult though, since Gabriel will likely protect it.”

“Plus, if he knows you stole it, he’s not going to let you into the house,” agreed Marinette. Both he and Cesaire exchanged at look at her abetting. “What? You act like I’ve never stolen anything before!”

“But you… haven’t?”

A cat-like grin stretched across Cesaire’s face. “Oh? She hasn’t told you that story yet?”

A groan. “Alya, no!”

A smirk twitched across his lips despite himself. Perhaps working with Cesaire wouldn’t be so bad after all…

Taglist: @graduatedmelon @novicevoice @dur55 @kris-pines04 @18-fandoms-unite-08 @moonlightstar64 @bee-a-garbage-shipper @sol-o-shade @kittyotakunoir666 @tinyterror333 @allieoftheenemy @marichat00 @xgxmxtx @two-faced-biatch @feliciakainzofspades @evil-cricket @emilytopaz @spicybelladonna @chocolateherringtacofan @user00000003 @wannajointhecrabcult @happymonster-pants @duquesapincarrasca @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @sxltinette @kittydemon9000 @thetrashypanda423

#hey little songbird #felinette #felix graham de vanily #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #alya sugar #adrien salt #ml salt #miraculous ladybug #mlb #Alya: You can have a little crime... as justice.

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bnha-imagines-and-oneshots · 4 years

Text

You Being the U.A. Traitor

Type: Headcanon

Words: 1283

Gender Neutral Reader

You were fairly sociable, which naturally made it more difficult for your classmates to suspect you. You were apart of their little “family” after all.

Of course, this also benefited you. You got close to many of the students in class 1-A and decently acquainted with the rest. You even learned about 1-B (and some of the support courses through a friendship with Mei Hatsume.)

As surprising as it may sound, you encouraged Shigaraki not to go through with the USJ attack. You had a bad feeling that this wouldn’t end in your sides favor, and it made you uneasy. Shigaraki blew off your concerns though and attacked your class.

When you found out that morning that All Might wasn’t going to be there, you didn’t know how to react. A small part of you filled with fear at the thought of already having been found out, and being thwarted so soon. It would truly be a shame if you were arrested before completing your first plan in this project.

For whatever reason All Might wasn’t present, you still had to let Shigaraki know of the change of plans. You pushed down your anxiety and got out your phone, but Aizawa put a stop to that quickly.

With your phone being confiscated until the end of the school day, you had no way to contact Shigaraki.

Well, the USJ attack played out about as well as you had expected. All Might ended up saving the day with a late entrance and your poor Nomu was rocketed into the upper stratosphere.

And now 1-A was stronger.

You were a bit peeved at Shigaraki, especially when he acted like he was younger than you and threw a tantrum on the floor.

You ended up talking to Kurogiri to calm down a bit, and it honestly worked. Kurogiri had a very calming, almost parent-like presence. Something you lacked during your childhood.

The Sports Festival earned you an internship with some random hero you didn’t really care about. You pretended to be flattered every time she praised you and called your quirk strong, but it disgusted you how she complimented your power rather than how you used it. Classic heroes.

During the internships Iida, Todoroki, and Midoriya encountered the Hero Killer Stain.

...and got him arrested.

You were infuriated. You didn’t really care about whoever this Hero Killer guy was as a person but he was helping you out by getting rid of those damned pro’s. Now you had to go console your classmates and act like you were proud of their bravery.

Luckily, with Stain’s arrest came the entrance of new villains. When Shigaraki introduced Toga and Dabi into what he was now calling “The League of Villains,” Toga seemed most interested in you.

“This guy’s been a jerk ever since we started walking! Who are you? I’m Toga. Do you like blood? You’re so cute. You’d look so pretty if you were just a little bit bloodier~!”

And that’s how you got yourself a psychotic best friend. Well, you weren’t one to talk actually. Though debatable, you could also be deemed psychotic.

More villains joined the L.O.V. in a steady flow, and a rank system developed itself.

All For One, of course, was the boss. He was in charge of everybody and oversaw everything that happened.

Shigaraki was the first so-called “member” of the L.O.V. and A.F.O.’s unofficial kinda sorta son, so he was sort of like second in command. Technically, he was the boss and A.F.O. was like the master.

Kurogiri had been the second to join, two years before you. He didn’t seem to get the recognition he deserved, being treated as more of a “league slave” than an actual member. Still, he had more power than most of the members.

Except for you. Kurogiri answered to Shigaraki first, but you were a close second. You were like the leader of everybody else and a little less than equal to Shigaraki. Everybody else pretty much ended up taking on a lackey role.

When you were let in on the plan to convert Bakugou to villainy and capture him from 1-A’s trip to camp, you were given a decision.

You could either stay in hiding, or reveal yourself as the traitor to try to and help convince Bakugou.

The choice didn’t seem to be yours after all though, as everybody in the league seemed to encourage you to reveal yourself to gain the extra ally. (Other than A.F.O., who stayed out of your business.)

Bakugou’s shock to seeing you was immeasurable. The thought of there being a traitor at U.A. hadn’t hit him yet, so you standing free with the L.O.V. made his heart drop.

“You’re a... villain.” The blonde could barely bring himself to say the word, a knot forming in his stomach that made him nauseous with every growing second.

You walked over to your restrained classmate and hummed in acknowledgment. “Yeah, that’s what society calls us. Don’t you think that’s unfair though?”

“The fuck’re you talking about?” Bakugou muttered, eyes wide.

“Well, think about it. It’s really not as black and white as you picture it. The heroes are always going out and rescuing people who are in danger, but are they saving everybody who’s in trouble?”

The blonde stayed silent, so you continued.

“Heroes ignore people who need help everyday, simply because it’s not as visible as somebody being attacked, mugged, or kidnapped. Heroes abandon you if your problems aren’t deemed worthy enough for them to care about. So who saves us then? The pathetic justice system?”

Bakugou looked at your expression, no longer finding the warmth or joy in it. All familiarity dissipated; your smile empty and your eyes dark.

“Heroes call us villains because they don’t want to admit they gave up on us. Once upon a time, villains needed saving too. So tell me, who’s really the evil one here? Doesn’t it make you upset? You want justice, don’t you? That’s what we want too.”

“You could join us, Katsuki.”

Bakugou wasn’t completely convinced. He was hesitant, but accepted your offer on the condition you’d tell him why you became a villain. You agreed.

All of you were interrupted before you could tell him, with heroes breaking in.

You dragged Bakugou with you and out of sight until both of you and a few allies could be transported into the open.

All Might wasn’t pleased when Bakugou confronted him, head held high but different than before.

“If the heroes are constantly working to save everybody in need...”

“...then why are there so many villains?”

All Might cleared his throat. “Well, because they didn’t want to be saved.”

You scoffed, stepping out from behind Dabi’s tall frame.

“Bullshit.”

“Young (L/N)?..”

You glared at the hero bitterly, your words laced with venom as you spoke.

“Heroes are the ones who corrupted society! They ignored and abandoned those who needed help, opting for what was easier for them! Villains exist not because we want to, but because we have no other choice! It is the heroes who try to quiet our voices and manipulate the media, creating propaganda and avoiding the truth! I may be a villain, but heroes are villainous!”

The heroes were forced to retreat when A.F.O. stepped in and battled All Might. Due to your speech and Bakugou’s change of heart being caught by a news reporter, villain attacks were reported to be 20% higher in surrounding areas.

You and Bakugou stopped showing up for classes at U.A. knowing full well you’d overstayed your welcome.

One day, society will return to normal. Until then, you’re fine being the villain.

#bnha imagines #mha #villain #reader insert #villain bakugou #traitors #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #bnha headcanons #bnha headcanon #mha x y/n

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softhourtxt · 4 years

Text

needed silence | beomgyu

× pairing: choi beomgyu x reader × genre: angst but,,, happy ending / enemies to lovers au × warnings: swearing, bad habits (smoking, alcohol) × word count: 1,5k × a/n: yes, this is me revising an old fic from my old blog where i originally wrote this for a bts member... hope you still enjoy ~

➳

“you know what? no one wants you here. in fact no one fucking likes you.”

he looked taken a back by your sudden burst of confidence. he was too used to you ignoring him that you had managed to catch him off guard. he raised his eyebrows at you.

“tsk. is this the alcohol talking? you too scared to speak without the help of a couple margaritas?”

this is what you were used to hearing from him. you did something unexpected, but he was still using the same old tricks. in all honesty, it gave you the upper hand.

“maybe it’s because i’m too nice when i’m sober. i’m done with that. get out of my sight.”

your friends who were beside you are either sending him dirty looks or hollering at your remarks. it was them in the first place who encouraged you to drink up and have him hear what you’ve been wanting to let out all this time. and because of the ultimate provocation you finally agreed. it was about time you said something harsh back.

with your drunken friends backing you up, beomgyu decided it was better for him to back off. so with a chuckle and a shake of his head, he turned on his heel and exited through the back door. you had won. for the first time in your life it was beomgyu who was the first to walk out. you had more than clearly won, but why did you still not feel satisfied?

instead of going to find your brother who had initially invited him to the party, beomgyu went outside alone. he had been waiting for the day you’d snap and call him out on his bullshit, but never in a million years did he think it would happen so soon. and most importantly, never in a million years would he have thought he’d feel so hurt.

ever since the two of you met you had been bickering. in a way it should have been expected. after all, you were his best friends sister, you were never meant to be close. as time passed the bickering soon turned into arguing, hurt and tears.

of course the two of you avoided any contact with each other whenever your brother soobin was around as not to concern him. how would the two of you even have explained your situation to him? “hyung, every time i see your sister we end up shouting at each other until the other one leaves to go cry somewhere, but it’s fine we tolerate each other for you~” and the worst thing being, it was you who usually left first.

you never cried in front of beomgyu, but he knew. he had seen the tear stains on your cheeks when you’d come to the kitchen to grab a glass of water while him and your brother were sipping coffee at the table. he felt terrible, of course. he had promised himself countless of times to try and act nicer around you, but ended up breaking that promise every single time that he saw you. you just knew how to press his buttons and voila, the beast inside of him was out. so yes, it was about damn time you said something harsh back.

after a couple minutes of sitting on the porch step, beomgyu stood up, leaned his back against soobin’s pick up truck and watched as his exhale came out in a fog against the cold air. he shoved his hand in the pocket of his leather jacket and brought out a pack of cigarettes, taking one out and placing it between his lips. just as he lit up the cigarette, the volume of the music coming from inside the house was turned louder. it seemed like you were finally celebrating your victory in establishing dominance over him. you were happy now that he was out, beomgyu thought.

as beomgyu took his first big inhale of the toxin he felt his tense muscles relax a bit. the cold air was already nibbling at his skin and he slightly shivered at the uncomfortable sensation. just then the door in front of him swung open a little too harsh and hit the wall beside it with a loud thump, the person stumbling out obviously not meaning to use so much force.

“shit.” you mumbled as you drunkenly examined the wall for possible damage. beomgyu didn’t say anything, just watched in amusement and waited for you to notice him standing there. and you did.

“oh. you’re still here.” your face dropped to the floor when your eyes finally focused on him.

beomgyu took the cigarette from his mouth between his fingers and blew out the smoke. “yeah. didn’t expect you to come here.”

surprisingly, you gave him a weak smile then swayed your way over to lean against the truck as well, right beside him.

“well, i’m not really a big fan of crowds and loud spaces. i came for some fresh air.”

beomgyu huffed at you when you took in a dramatic breath of air.

for a few seconds the two of you stood there in silence. it felt like words didn’t need to be exchanged and maybe it was better that way. maybe silence is what your relationship needed.

after a while you turned to look at him and came to notice he was smoking. beomgyu felt your gaze burning the side of his head so he turned to see what you were staring at. you gestured towards his cigarette and beomgyu furrowed his brows.

“can i have one?” you casually proposed. he was taken a back, but dug out another cigarette nevertheless, offering it to you. you gingerly took the toxin from him and placed it between your lips just like he had done mere minutes ago. he then took out his lighter as you were already leaning closer for him to light up.

“thanks.”

beomgyu nodded back in acknowledgement. “i didn’t know you smoked.”

“only when i’ve been drinking.” you were quick to point out. “that’s why you didn’t know.” you grinned at him. beomgyu found your smile a surprisingly pleasant sight, something he didn’t see too often.

“beomgyu?” you suddenly initiated conversation.

“hmm?”

“why are you always such an asshole towards me?”

it must have been the nth time that night that you caught him off guard. not knowing the reason himself, beomgyu blatantly shrugged and cast his eyes down. “i don’t know.”

“is there something wrong with me? is there something you don’t like about me?”

it was obvious your confidence to ask such questions was due to the alcohol in your system. maybe you had been dying to ask these questions from him, beomgyu thought.

“no. there’s nothing wrong with you.”

you looked at him quizzically, trying to understand his seeming hatred towards you. “there’s something wrong with me.” he continued.

“i really can’t understand you, choi beomgyu. i’m trying really hard, but i can’t.”

“i don’t really understand myself either. you just irritate me for some fucking reason even i can’t understand.”

you blew out the smoke from your lungs in a deep sigh and leaned your head back in frustration. after another moment of silence you decided to break it again.

“look,” you threw your cigarette to the ground and stomped on it “i need to try this one thing.”

beomgyu watched you closely as you took an intimidating step toward him. you then placed your hand on his cheek and when it seemed like he was allowing it, you leaned in and kissed his lips.

his lips felt cold against yours, even with the alcohol evident in your blood stream. you would have never in your life attempted something like this sober, but you had already confronted him once for the evening so you decided to just fuck it.

he responded to your kiss almost immediately, lips surprisingly hungry for yours as his hands wound against your waist to pull you flat against him. he tasted like mint, booze and cigarettes, a combination that only made you feel like you were on cloud nine. by now his hands were stroking your sides up and down meanwhile your thumb was caressing his cold cheek. this was the satisfaction you were craving, the ultimate victory in your battle.

sooner than the both of you would have wanted, you pulled back from the kiss, breathless. beomgyu didn’t let go of you and neither did you. and almost as intensely as your kiss was, you stared at each other in a bliss.

“what the fuck was that?” you laughed as you leaned your head against beomgyu’s chest.

“that was one hell of a “thing”, (y/n).” he chuckled back.

“what are we doing, beomgyu?” you looked up to ask him, but instead of a vocal reply, your question was answered by his lips colliding with yours.

“just shut up and let it happen.” he mumbled against your lips. you giggled, but tangled your hands in his hair nevertheless. and you couldn’t believe silence was all you needed.

#txt #beomgyu #tomorrow x together #txt imagines #txtwritersnetwork #beomgyu imagines #choi beomgyu #txt angst #beomgyu angst #tomorrow x together scenarios #tomorrow x together imagines #txt beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #beomgyu scenarios #txt scenarios #txt fanfic #lol angsthourtxt

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elsewhereuniversity · 4 years

Text

About Face

“Do you have any questions about your prescriptions today, uh…m-miss?” The pharmacist’s question is laced with assumptions about who you are. It’s not great, of course, but it’s also not worth your time to fight about today.

“No, I’m good,” your smile and voice are sugary-sweet, but your eyes are daggers as you take the bag and turn back towards the door. The heat and humidity are already staggering at 8 am and you are immediately made sticky by the brief walk to your car. As you start it up, there’s a brief chime of email-receiving from your phone, but you ignore it. Then there’s another ding, this time your lab-mate, Valerie, texting you.

Hey, u almost in? In like 30min. had to stop by pharmacy

K. Jill was looking for u. Also ugh that paper for tomorrow, I’m not even a birdsong person lol

Lol get over it, I had to read one of your fancy neuro papers last time. Did jill say what she needed me for?

Whatever lol. She didn’t say.

Ughhhhhhh

Jill, Dr. Dominguez, is your advisor, and you know you need to get her some figures and sections of your thesis soon, but these damn stats…well. There’s a reason you prefer spending your time traipsing off-trail through the wilderness over sitting in front of a computer all day. Not that this part isn’t interesting and important too, but come on.

Traffic is moving at a sluggish pace, of course, so you’re lost in contemplation and dread of the analyses you need to attempt running today, and the inevitable conversation with Dr. Dominguez that will have to happen at some point. As the traffic finally begins to move, you grit your teeth. Maybe it’s time to consider actually asking for help. I have no fucking clue how to do multivariate shit…You stare ahead as you inch forward, before a frustrating, jolting stop at a red light. Your eye is drawn to a kid crossing the road, wearing a grey hoodie. They look forlorn, for some reason you can’t entirely enumerate, and you glance back at them as the light finally turns.

The sun isn’t very high yet, so there are still some odd shadows stretching across the sidewalk, but you could’ve sworn that the kid had no face.

****

You manage to put the pharmacist and your grandma and the obviously-just-a-trick-of-the-light-I-mean-how-else-could-that-be faceless kid out of your mind for the rest of the morning and actually get some results you can work with from the analyses you’d been worried about. And when Dr. Dominguez pops into lab to talk to you, she is actually impressed at both the pace and quality of work you’ve delivered thus far. In fact, you’re feeling pretty damn good about everything, despite the earlier unpleasantness, so you decide to grab some lunch and hang out with some of the other grad students and lab techs.

Lunch-special sushi in hand, you plop yourself down at one of the rundown old tables in the work room. Valerie is there, along with Raul, one of the grad students from a micro lab down the hall, and Jackson, one of the general lab techs. Everyone says hi, but you’re only vaguely following the conversation as you dig into your spicy tuna roll. Something something TA stipends being cut. Which is such bullshit, of course, but nothing new. You’re just about to jump into the discussion when you get a Facebook notification. It’s your cousin, who tagged you in a post. You stare for a good five seconds at your phone.

Just remembering the good times with my cousin before he decided to be a transsexual.

And then a picture from when you were 14, a picture you’d thought you’d deleted from every conceivable online location. A picture that highlights pretty much every single aspect of your body that made staying in the closet completely untenable. Everything just always happens at once, huh.

“Fucking asshole,” you mutter, and are surprised to feel the hot prick of tears in your eyes.

“Becca, you alright?” Valerie asks, and you belatedly realize that everyone at the table heard you and is now staring. They think you were talking about one of them, or responding to something they said.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Just something my cousin posted. She’s—she can be such a jerk. Don’t worry about it,” you say as you hastily wipe away the tears.

“What’d she do?” Jackson asks. Valerie glares at him so fiercely that he rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, “Just, like, if you wanna talk about it.”

You sigh. You’re not precisely going stealth, but you also don’t just talk to everyone about being trans. Have you actually come out to Jackson? Valerie knows, and Raul, but you don’t think you’ve ever directly talked to Jackson about it.

“It’s—it’s fine. Just, she posted a picture of me from before I came out, and I really hate thinking about any of it.” You speak with a bit more force than you intend.

“Why is that a big deal?” Jackson asks, taking a bite of his pasta. Valerie glares at him again and Raul just shakes his head.

“It’s just…it took me a long time to figure it out, and I don’t particularly like being reminded of that. And it’s not great for dysphoria, either.” You say this distractedly as you go to the post and untag yourself.

“That’s really rough,” Raul says, frowning.

“Sorry, what’s that word?” Jackson asks with a raised eyebrow, “I guess I just don’t get it? It’s just a kid picture of you, what’s it matter?”

And that does it. You stand abruptly, “I need to get back to the lab.” You hear Valerie and Raul berating Jackson as you walk away, but you’re just so very done. You toss the empty sushi container in the trash at the corner of the hallway, near one of the windows overlooking the main walkway through campus. And you nearly trip over your own feet as you swivel to double check something down below. A gray hoodie. A child with no face looking over their shoulder as they turn a corner.

****

You don’t mean to take the wrong street. It’s already been far too long a day between all of the inanity with your extended family and Jackson. And everything you tried to run after lunch was a bust, making you feel like Dr. Dominguez’s praise earlier was completely undeserved. Given all of that, you decided to get takeout again, even though you really should be cooking, so you’re walking to pick up your order. It is early evening, the shadows having elongated to embrace nearly everything, and while debating whether it’s even worth confronting your cousin about the jab, your feet simply take you the wrong way. You don’t even notice, until you’re standing in front of an empty park that’s three blocks over from where you should be. Or, wait.

Not empty. One lone figure, sitting quietly on one of the swings, wreathed in shadow.

You’ve been walking quite quickly, but over the course of a few steps have come almost to a stop. With a shiver, you glance around the area, but no parents or adults are in sight, and the figure looks young, even from a distance. 12, maybe? Maybe the kid lives in one of the nearby houses? Probably. Should you call someone? Who? Not the cops. They’d just as soon arrest or hurt the kid as help them. It isn’t that late, leaving the kid be is probably the most prudent course of action.

But. The kid feels…familiar. Even from a hundred meters, you can see that their shoulders are hunched, their hands are tight on the chains of the swing. The gentle creaking as those chains move with the slight shifts of the kid’s body is despondent in a way that is known to you, somehow. So, against your better judgement, you leave the sidewalk and walk across the damp grass to the edge of the playground. When you step onto the sand, the kid’s head jerks up and their shoulders tense further, raising almost to their ears. You stop walking and from the new angle a streetlight throws the kid’s grey hoodie into stark relief.

“Are-are you okay?” you have to clear your throat to get the words out and your voice sounds weak and tinny in the still, silent park.

The shoulders shrug. The kid is also wearing jean cutoffs, their scuffed sneakers unlaced.

“Do you need me to call someone?”

A sharp shake of the head, and then their hands release the chains and fall into their lap.

“Don’t need anything,” the kid’s voice is low, you can barely hear what they’re saying. Gingerly, you take the last few steps to the swing set and awkwardly settle into one of the worn rubber seats. Only after you have already done this do you think to question why you are so compelled to talk to this child who—maybe? how?—has been dogging you all day.

“I said I don’t need anything,” the kid says in an emotionless voice. Their face is still completely shadowed by their hood and shaggy hair.

“I just—look, kid, I think I’ve been where you are, and—”

The kid cuts across you, “I tried to tell them today. But I…couldn’t, I didn’t know how to, so I just ended up saying I like girly shoes and wanted some or whatever.”

Oh. So you were right. You know exactly what’s going on. In fact, you’re pretty sure you had that precise conversation, once.

“That’s tough,” you acknowledge, slowly pushing back in the swing, which creaks beneath you, “It took me a long time too.”

There’s silence. Then:

“That’s what I was worried about.”

You start and quickly glance over at the kid, who has finally turned to face you.

She doesn’t have a face, which, you suppose, really shouldn’t be a surprise. You weren’t seeing things, earlier. There’s just a smooth expanse of dark olive skin. The featureless head tilts to one side and she speaks again.

“I thought you might recognize me.” The voice is plaintive. With every word, you feel a sense of vertigo, like there is a mouth, somewhere, that is making those sounds, that it’s right in front of you, but you cannot perceive it.

You are breathing very rapidly, “I thought—how do you know me? What’s, I mean—”

“This?” the kid gestures at her face, “I don’t know, I can see but I can’t see myself, I dunno what’s going on. All I know is I was walking to the park and then I was here, or I mean, on the road this morning and saw you and I followed you and I just want to go home or just sleep or just melt away but I can’t, okay? There’s just nothing.”

Without noticing, you have sprung to your feet and are backing away from the faceless girl, the faceless girl who can’t tell her parents who she is. Who you are.

“I didn’t want to think about it,” you whisper. Why are you even responding to this? This is a hallucination, or a dream. You’re just reacting to the whole bullshit situation with your cousin and Jackson and that fucking pharmacy tech. Did you fall asleep back in the lab, is that it? You pinch yourself, but no luck, “I came out and that was what I needed. Okay? Why dwell on, on, on all of that shi—stuff that happened before?”

The girl is still sitting placidly in the swing, though her hands are once again clenched around the chains.

“I knew you were me, I guess. So I followed. I don’t think anyone else notices me either, not that that’s anything new,” The note of bitterness in her voice cuts you to the bone, “I thought maybe you—me, future me, whatever—would be able to…fix me? But nothing’s changed, has it?”

You’re backed up to the slide now, “Why are you doing this? What even are you?”

You slump against the side of slide, your knees suddenly weak, “This cannot—this is bullshit, I don’t know how you’re doing this, but—”

The faceless girl is in front of you now, hands jammed into the front pocket of her hoodie. She stands there, contemplating her future self, “I just want to understand,”

The kid, proto-Becca, or whatever or whoever she is, sure sounds like a kid desperately trying to make sense of something, and not some ghoulish nightmare creature.

“Just stop,” you say in a hoarse voice, “I just don’t want to think about it, I shouldn’t have to think about it, I just want to move forward.”

“Yeah,” proto-Becca abruptly falls to her knees, and draws them up to her chest. It takes a few seconds for you to understand the sounds that the kid is making are sobs.

You hug your own knees and contemplate getting up and running away and just forgetting about all of it: this faceless phantom of your childhood self, your relatives’ inability to accept your reality, the absurd, useless, pointless stats and analyses. You’re crying too, desperately trying to refocus on the here and now, instead of being drawn down into the rabbit hole of loneliness and regret and fear that always consumes you when you think too hard about those years in which it felt like your whole body was turning against you and you couldn’t find any satisfactory explanations for what you were feeling.

But the sounds of proto-Becca, of proto-you, sobbing into her knobbly knees bring you back to the present. Ironic, that. No matter what else, however she got here, whatever happened to her face, she’s a kid. She’s a kid. She’s. A. Kid. You were a kid.

You furiously wipe your eyes and nose and sit up, scooting a bit closer to proto-Becca.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” you say in as steady a voice as you can manage, “I was scared, and, and, and I lashed out. It’s not your fault, kid.”

She doesn’t lift her head, but the sobs are quieter.

“I mean, kid, no offense, but you don’t have a face. And somehow you’re me, right?” Okay, that came out meaner than you meant it to, “The truth is that I’ve done my best to forget pretty much everything that happened back when I was…you, I guess. But I can’t.”

She sniffles, “I’m trying to tell them, I am. But the boys at school, every time I try to talk to Mom or Dad I see those boys laughing and yelling and coming at me and I can’t, I don’t—know how I ended up here, or what to do about this or anything. I just want things to be normal.”

And, finally, you get it. Not why she’s here, or how, or what any of this means, but, at least, what to do. You’ve tried to help kids who were like you before. You’d never have told them that they needed to keep their feelings concealed, that they needed to not do anything so as to avoid reminding you of your own past. So why, then, are you doing it to yourself?

“Is it okay if I come sit next to you, maybe give you a hug?” you ask, as gently as you can.

You get a glimpse of the faceless face from behind the curtain of hair, “I—I think so?”

You get to your feet, a task far more laborious than you feel it should be, and cross to her. When you plop down by her side, she twitches, but it’s toward you. Slowly and carefully, you wrap an arm around her narrow shoulders, and hold her close. She’s still crying, and the hood has slipped from her dark curls.

“It’s okay that it’s taking time,” you say, “It’s really, really hard. I meant that. There’s…nothing out there. No one to explain to you, to, uh, us, what these feelings mean, really. I remember. I remember how much it feels like you’re just stuck in the same looped computer program. Endlessly completing the same actions with no idea why, only feeling like something isn’t right. And so scared of what happens if you do anything that breaks that loop.”

“That’s pretty much it,” she says with a note of wait, that wasn’t completely in my head???, “I don’t see how I can explain to anyone, especially Mom and Dad.”

“I think all you can do is be honest. There are some resources out there, although maybe they aren’t published yet,” you glance sideways at her, “But if you just…elucidate those feelings you’ve been sitting on, it at least opens the door to them comprehending.”

“I guess so,” she sighs, and then giggles, “But also, like, no offense, that was, like, a really freakin’ pretentious way to say that.”

You snort and ruffle her hair, “Whatever. Something for you to look forward to, then.”

She’s quiet for a bit and then, quick like a bird, she wraps her arms around you too, “So I’m gonna tell them, then?”

You shrug, “When you’re ready. Whenever that is. And I promise, you are no lesser if it takes a while. Okay?”

“But you’re still going to hate thinking about me, right? I mean, about how long it took me, you, to finally do it?” her head tilts.

You sigh, “I don’t know. It’s hard, I won’t pretend it isn’t. But I think I can at least say that it’s okay. That it’s not my, or your, fault.”

When you look up, her face appears. Smile first. Broad and full of braces, her quick and nervous brown eyes darting to your face and then back to her knees.

“You’ll be fine,” you say, giving her one last squeeze, “I’m the living proof, right?”

Her laugh lingers in the air as she fades away.

#transroadwarrior #stories #long post #about face #body horror #of the faceless variety #trans #transphobia #briefly #becca #proto becca #submission

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disgruntledspacedad · 4 years

Text

in defense of Din’s subdued reaction to losing the kid...

gif by @quantam-widow

I know we were all thinking it. We got a 2 second reaction shot to the destruction of the Razor Crest (may she forever rest in peace), but then, Grogu gets taken, and... nothing?

What the fuck, Din? we all protest. That’s your baby on that ship! Don’t you care? Scream, curse, kick a rock, cry, make a fist, something!!

I will acknowledge that so far, the show has been excellent with giving us emotional payoff, am I right? I mean, just today we got Din laughing, twice. Twice in a row. I honestly never thought we’d see that. There have been so many excellent, precious soft!Din moments this season, and they all feel deliciously earned.

So, from a meta POV, I guess I’m saying that I have faith in the writers to get it right, and in Pedro to deliver. Duh.

In universe, though, I think it’s fair to point out the obvious - that Din is a pretty reserved guy. He’s much more of a thinker than a feeler. He’s used to keeping things bottled up, and I would even argue that his life often depends on his ability to dissociate from his emotions. Din’s entire journey so far has been about how one little baby yodito shakes his worldview to its very foundations. He’s getting there, but it’s a slow process.

And also, consider this - we haven’t seen Din alone yet, not since Grogu was taken. For a guy who lives a guarded life literally encased in fucking armor, any display of emotion is going to be carefully protected until he’s in private.

But anyway, Din is detached, rational, a little emotionally constipated, and definitely comfortable in a stressful situation. A true ISTP if you ask me (yeah, I know you didn’t, but whatever). Often, it seems that these cool headed, logical types who have never ruffled a feather over anything in their lives are the least adept at handling genuine fear. In other words, when panic does strike, it strikes them hard.

And guys, Din was definitely panicking during this episode.

He’s clearly unsettled from the jump - that outburst of “dank farrik!” in the cockpit sells it, and his distress only becomes more obvious from there. Talking out loud, trying to convince himself that the best thing for Grogu is for him to be trained as a Jedi. Reminding himself of the creed. His overt caution as they approach the seeing stone. His impatience, “Are you seeing anything??”

Then there’s the effects of long term stress. Sure, a bounty hunter in the outer rim doesn’t exactly live an easy life, but Din is definitely used to the drama being on his terms. Compare Din’s body language in the opening scene of season one to when Boba confronts him in chapter fourteen. You can just feel the anxiety, the weariness, the frustration. Din has been on the run for months now, constantly looking over his shoulder, sleeping with one eye open. Notice how he even startles at Fennec’s voice? Season one Din would never have given that much away, regardless of the situation. Long term stress has clearly taken a toll on him.

So we have unsettled, stressed out Din in an emotionally charged situation. He’s exhausted, he’s scared, he’s desperate. This scenario is a recipe for even the most level-headed of adrenaline junkies to loose their cool, and that’s exactly what happens to Din. He panics, and he makes some pretty big fuckups because of it. Leaving Grogu unprotected, twice. Trying three different times to break through that “force field,” even when he knew he couldn’t. Dropping that jetpack and then just forgetting about it (I know we were all screaming about that one, or at least, I was).

So, fear is a positive feedback loop. Those neurotransmitters that do us good in a bad situation - raising heart rate, narrowing focus, shunting blood to the muscles - can also be detrimental if we get too high of a dose - tachypnea and tachycardia, inability to think critically and see the big picture, lack of blood and oxygen to the brain. Epinephrine, in particular, even inhibits the laying down of new memory pathways. In other words, stress leads to poor performance, and poor performance leads to more stress, which leads to... you get the idea.

Then, in the middle of all this chaos, they fucking blast the Razor Crest.

More epinephrine, more cortisol, more stress.

By the end of it all, Din is a fucking shitstorm of stress hormones and pent up emotions. Notice how he seems to be on autopilot in the immediate aftermath, robotically scanning the ashes of the Crest for anything that might be left intact. Notice how empty his voice is when he says, “the child is gone.” This is a dead man walking. Din has nothing left. His whole life has just gone up in smoke, and he can do nothing about it.

Guys, Din is holding onto his sanity by a fucking thread in this scene. “The child is gone,” he says, like he’s reminding himself, grounding himself in his shitty reality. He’s stunned.

And helpless. There’s literally nothing he can do for Grogu. He has no ship, no credits, no resources, nothing to bargain with, nothing to offer. Din literally cannot allow himself the luxury of feelings right now. He’s just got to focus on surviving this very shitty day.

Then, Boba Fett upholds his end of the deal, and suddenly, Din has something to hold onto. An ally, a badass friend, some hope. I don’t think Boba shows Din that chain code in order to verify his claim on the armor - he’s already wearing it, for godssake. I think Boba shows him the code in order to catch Din’s attention - hey friend, I know you’re hurting, but I’m a man of my word. When I make a vow, I keep it. Let’s regroup and go find your kid.

And Din would totally latch onto that. A fighting chance? Din fucking leaps at it. There’s a job to do. A kid to save. All of those stress hormones are going to keep on stewing, because Din has never really come down from his adrenaline high.

It’s like this in real life, too. There isn’t time to be afraid. There isn’t time to be sad, or second-guess, or say, oh how terrible, or wonder what if it doesn’t work? There’s just you and the job, and if you are the only thing standing between life and death, you will put everything else aside and do what you have to do, for as long as you have to do it.

And that’s where Din is at this moment. He’s running on the fumes of his adrenaline, all tempered focus, all strategy and no bullshit.

Emotional shock, my therapist buddy calls it. Apparently, it’s normal. Expected, even.

But guys, the fallout of this kind of crazy ass adrenaline high is insanely intense. I’m talking collapse to the floor, legs won't hold you, trembling, crying so hard you sling snot, shuddering breaths, stare dead-eyed and spent at the ceiling because you’re just too wiped out to even sleep kind of intense.

And then, after the breakdown comes the angst. The detailed thinking. The oh god, what if this had happened, or, should I have done that instead? It seems like every emotion that gets put on the back burner in the moment comes back to bite you with twofold intensity when all is said and done.

In other words, Din is definitely going to feels some things .A lot of very intense things. A reckoning is coming, my dudes. Trust me. It’s just not quite here yet.

That being said, here’s what I can expect from Din going forward:

Just like he’s is slow to acknowledge his growing parental feelings for Grogu, I think Din’s going to be slow at processing his grief at Grogu’s loss. In the next episode, he’s got plenty to distract him - getting together his hit team to take back the kid and coordinating an attack on the empire.

However, I do think we’ll get a slow moment with Din, probably sometime at the beginning of next week’s episode if the pattern holds. I doubt it’s the full-blown breakdown that we’re all needing, but I’m willing to bet money that we’ll see Din grappling with the fact that his kid is gone. I also think that badass beskar murder machine Din from chapter three will resurface. Stress and desperation make us do irrational things, and anger is one of the stages of grief that Din will inevitably have to work through (I think he’s flickering between denial and bargaining for now).

But then, after Din gets Grogu back? I think that’s we’ll have our big, dearly earned emotional payoff.

For one thing, Din won’t be able to deny his feelings anymore. He wants to keep this kid, it’s so very obvious. Losing him just forces it all to the forefront.

And then the relief/joy/regret/guilt that Din is going to feel once he’s got Grogu back? Not to mention the physical exhaustion? All of the fear/terror/angst/grief that he ignored in favor of just going pedal to the metal, guns blazing, get the kid or die trying? That shit’s going to crash into him with all the subtly of a fucking tsunami. I guarantee you, we’re going to get some sort of confession, or adoption vow, or face revel, or other sort of profound softness from Dad!Din in the falling action of this season (At least, I hope we get it at the end this season but I wouldn’t put it past them to kick it into the premier of season three, just for pacing reasons, but then again, I obviously have trust issues).

Personally, I would love to see Din grappling with the long-term fallout of losing Grogu - night terrors, guilt, paranoia, etc. That’s probably the stuff of fanfiction - mandalorians don't have nightmares on screen, surely - but still, some lingering effects Grogu’s kidnapping would be realistic, and I would absolutely live for it.

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katsuflossy · 4 years

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Can I request headcanons for Bakugou, Shinsou and Deku where they like someone who can be very honest and blunt so sometimes their comments might come off as an accidental roast or maybe they didn't read the room and didn't sugarcoat something they said? It was never out of malice, but they don't have a filter if you know what I mean?

Their Blunt S/o

Pairings: Bakugo x reader, Izuku x reader, Shinso x reader

Warnings: a lil’ obscenities, one la ganja joke.

A/n: Sorry for the long wait. I myself is quite blunt but I didn’t want the reader to be completely mean 😭 I hope you like it!!

Taglist: @goatsenpaiultimate @sunset-novice-writer

💥 Really loves how you smoke everyone with your blunt ass (huehuehue marijuana joke)

💥 He’s usually on the same wavelength as you; you two are both crude, poison-laced tongue individuals.

💥 But you don’t mean any harm at times while Katsuki does.

💥 The first time you guys met was when he was talking about how he’ll destroy Midoriya during the first quirk test of the class.

💥 The scene was taking up all the time in the day and you were hungry. So you intervened. “Just get on with it. You’re wasting everyone’s time here Atomic Blonde.”

💥 I made that joke already just leave me alone

💥 He turned around, ready to light your ass on fire however Aizawa wrapped him up like a mummy before he could reach you.

💥 Really despised you for a while. Mans is upset because you don’t care about what comes out your mouth and you’re always pointing out some flaws in his technique or personality.

💥 But the miracle happens that he saw how your comments actually pushed him to perform better in both school work and training.

💥 Thus you are integrated in the Bakusquad! 🥳

💥 He loves your presence, eyeing you while you both help the rest in the frequent study sessions, Laughing when you comment on Denki’s lame pick up lines and Kirishima’s clumsy ass.

💥 When it’s his turn, he goes all dramatic with it to keep your attention on him. Once your eyes land on him, he intends to keep them there by any means necessary. The usual strategy is to tease and start a roast session that becomes a staple in your everyday lives.

💥 He really appreciates how you treat him differently than everyone else.

💥 So when everyone was pitying him after his kidnap and the battle of All Might vs AFO. He was so frustrated.

💥 The day he arrived to school, everyone was willing to do everything for him: hold his bag, get him lunch and other offers that made him seem helpless.

💥 So the day when everyone was in the lounge room and Kirishima offered to take his suitcase upstairs, you decided to say a few words.

💥 “Why are you doing that? He’s not a fucking baby. Stop treating him like a limping wolf.” You then turned to Bakugo. “And you, we get it. Your backbone is strong and you hate being helpless but sometimes you need fucking help both physically and mentally so be an actual man and actually fucking talk instead of blabbering all this unphased bullshit.”

💥 Dead silence dissipated all the nonsensical talk in the room before Bakugo stormed off, a shadow casted over his brow as his fingers creaked under its own force to remain fisted.

💥 As soon as he left, Tsuyu turned to you criticising your approach even though it was true. But the truth hurts and you believe everyone should deal with the pain 🤷🏽‍♀️ cmon bad bitch

💥 Arrived at your door after the whole brawl with Midoriya, jaw puffed and red coordinating with a nasty gash on his arm. You dragged him in, berating his choices on releasing his emotions like a neanderthal. Among the constant scolds, he silenced you with a simple sentence.

💥 “I’m sorry. You were right and I need to talk to someone.”

💥 The night consisted of him talking about his life, insecurities and fears while attempting to compose his emotions. With a little push, all the feelings he kept where released to the wild, for the better.

💥 Now he has a whole new meaning for liking you.

🥦 Little baby boy can hardly withstand your bluntness

🥦 Attempts to be your translator if someone takes your words wrong.

🥦 Your critiques aren’t the nicest so Midoriya fills that gap in.

🥦 He’s always as flabbergasted as the receiver of your comments. His verdant eyes widened grandly and as he inhales a sharp gasp. After the shock he turns to the person with apprehension, letting your intentions be known in a softer version than it was given.

🥦 “Tenya, don’t ever try to make breakfast again. The eggs were shit like how did you even burn the water?” Midoriya quickly jumped in, waving his hands erratically to ensure no harm. “S-she meant that your eggs were—ehm— had a little saltiness to them and also to try keep the fire to—uh m-medium?”

🥦 Scared that someone will beat your ass over something you said but that isn’t no problem because that mouth comes with a good pair of hands.

🥦 But he really admires your sharp tongue and frank mind. Unlike hisself, you plough through all nervous talks and thoughts, making your thoughts as clear as day.

🥦 But he’s not excluded from any harsh comments.

🥦 After figuring out why he almost missed the talent show, you laid it on thick.

🥦”Are you completely nuts? Couldn’t you wait on Rappa or I don’t know call someone from up here to get security? You really just love to throw yourself in trouble, don’t you?”

🥦 Ngl, it did sting a little but whatever Izuku believed he did right, he will forever be proud of it. Aside from that, he is hurt that you thought his actions were irrational.

🥦 Noticing his frown and glossy eyes, you quickly apologised, not intending to ridicule his actions.

🥦 “Izuku, I...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I was just really worried and I care for you a lot.”

🥦 If he was close to crying from before he’s in tears now. His blush ignited his face as his mind mulled over your confession.

🥦 He accepted your apology and as his heart couldn’t take anymore blatant affection from a girl, you hugged him, hugged him.

🥦 And that’s how Midoriya fell even more hopelessly in love with you.

🎆 The tired baby boy

🎆 He is also blessed with the ability to be brash, although it is underhanded.

🎆 but he definitely noticed how brash you were when he confronted Class 1A before the sports festival.

🎆 The tension between Bakugo and the students outside palpable, the mixture of agitation and unease stifled the air everyone breathed until you trod to the door.

🎆 “Are you boys done with your little intimidation battle? Because I have an anime to binge watch and I’d rather not have it wait any longer.” You then turned to Shinso.

🎆 “By the way your hair is really cute.”

🎆 You left everyone gobsmacked as you passed through the crowd without fail, as if you didn’t even interrupt a brewing clash a second ago. But no one was as gobsmacked as Shinso who was blushing from the compliment.

🎆 Ever since, your bluntness has not wavered even after becoming friends with him through Kaminari and Sero.

🎆 You obviously showed you liked him. Your frank attitude included being downright honest in your attraction to him and others.

🎆 Exhaustion clouded his eyes heavily as he walked past your lunch table filled with Class 1A’s girls talking about their fears for the future. Mina’s almost drawn to tears about the upcoming math test as Uraraka consoled her worries.

🎆 Everyone was nervous, anxiety wore on their face and through the sounds of nail biting from Hagakure.

🎆 As soon as the mind control quirk wielder caught your eye, you couldn’t stop yourself from talking.

🎆 “Shinsou is so handsome. And he’s getting quite buff judging by how his shirt was constricting from before. Don’t you guys think?”

🎆 Your comment was loud enough to reach the by-passer, who blushed at the sudden compliment. His hand naturally travelled to the nape of his neck, soothing his own embarrassment as the table’s eyes, in particular yours, laid on him, waiting on his response.

🎆 “Why t-thank you, (Y/n)” He nodded in acknowledgment of your compliment and then walked briskly off to his own table.

🎆 Mina turned towards you as he was out of ear range. “Have you no shame?! I was crying about my grades before you suddenly wanted to say Shinso was hot.”

🎆 Everybody started saying how random and sudden you were before you shrugged your shoulders.

🎆 “A girl knows what she likes.”

🎆 Shinso eventually warms up to your sudden compliments and impartial bluntness

🎆 The two of you were eventually called a“pair of blunt knives” by Kaminari.

🎆 Doesn’t matter, it’s a cute couple name ☺️.

#bnha bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bnha izuku x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku #bnha midoriya #bnha shinso hitoshi #shinso x reader #shinso hitoshi #bnha shinsou #shinsou hitoshi headcanons #izuku midoryia headcanons #bakugou katsuki headcanons

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redrobin-detective · 4 years

Note

I still know nothing about Kaito Kid and Conan except what I see through you. BUT. The recent post about Conan not discovering Kaito Kid because he can—play? With Kid? Not in a manipulative way, but in a “I can genuinely just enjoy this, and not keep up a facade or worry about innocents dying.” It’s giving me Emotions. Does Kid reciprocate in a “this kid is brilliant, but not malicious“? Can he genuinely play a bit with Conan, or is his mission too important?

Yup! It’s one of the reason the dynamic between the two is so much fun (and is covered extensively in fanfiction). Both Shinichi and Kaito are very competitive, ridiculously high intelligent people who feel bored by every day life. It’s why Shinichi chases after murderers and Kaito does his death defying stunts. Though they’re on opposite sides of the law, they have a mutual respect for the other Kaito respects Conan’s intellect, boldness and tenacity while Conan in return respects Kid’s physical and mental abilities and his strict adherence to non-violence. Heists are a challenge for Kaito to outwit Conan while Conan gets a mental workout without worrying about bodies.

This ask made me go back in the manga and categorize some of their interactions so I’ll put that under the read more if anyone is interested!

This is from the first meeting, Conan initially dismissed a common thief but the complexity of Kid’s note intrigued him enough that he staked out a building to confront him. Look at how excited his stupid little face is.

(I just love this shot, look at that art) A legendary rivalry begins here! Kid is confident, not worried and Conan clearly has no idea what to make of this thief is bold white.

Kid’s still playful, confident but clearly this child is more than he appears. Kid gets away and, Conan, who hadn’t expected much out of him, now puts his brain into high gear which results in this delightful exchange a few days later when Kid stole the Black Star Pearl.

Here’s Conan finally acknowledging Kid’s skills as a thief and disguise artist (That’s Kid impersonating Ran, Conan’s unofficial big sister and Shinichi’s love interest. There’s a lovely line in the anime stating that Kid chose that disguise as his own challenge to Conan). Note that in their first meeting Conan is very determined to capture and jail the thief for his crimes. Kid is also forced to acknowledge Conan as a threat. Its stated at the end of the chapter that he had to swim to shore since Conan cut off his escape. Both thief and detective leave the encounter interested in their own way.

This is their second meeting. Kid’s clearly got his eye on Conan, waiting to see what he’ll do meanwhile Conan is actively looking for ways to unravel the trick and take in the thief. I made another post a while back about how much bolder Kaito, the second Kid is compared to his father, the first because Conan egged him on in a way.

but when he does figure out the trick! Look at that compliment of Kid’s talent for magic and misdirection. He’s still focused on capture but there’s a genuine respect building.

Kid makes his getaway but Conan tags along. They’ve progressed to the witty bantering stage of their rivalry. Conan is waiting for a good moment to tranquilize Kid but they’re able to playfully debate philosophy. Much different than even their last meeting. Also in some translations, Kid notes that he’d hoped Conan would come to this heist indicating that he too enjoys the thrill of the close chase. He’s so good that few people provide a good challenge, until Conan came along.

Next heist, Haibara calls Conan out for his open enthusiasm but you can clearly see how intrigued Conan is by Kid’s magic. Boy can’t wait to ruin his rival’s day and expose his trick on live TV.

Look at that smug smile

Kid used a stungun on Conan at this heist so Conan kicks a soccer ball at him which also tags him so the police can identify him. They’re both clearly having fun. It’s not just about the mission now, it’s a physical and mental chess match between two masters. Conan also acts less and less like a child around Kid, showing off his more serious, adult personality either out of trust or just losing himself to the game.

At the Ryoma Heist we start to see a slight shift in dynamic. Conan still unraveled the trick, chased after Kid but he’s able to talk casually and even lets the thief go without a fuss. He claims its because Kid helped uncover counterfeiters but that’s semantics. They’re slowly edging away from rivals and closer to friends. They also both give up a bit of personal information about their mothers despite how closely the two of them play their secrets close to their chest. Shinichi plays pretty fast and loose with his secret here but he knows Kid isn’t going to talk.

Kid even actively helps Conan keep Haibara safe from the Black Organization (the series big bads) risking his own life and identity. Look at them bicker, just like old friends. We see Conan again acknowledge Kid’s skills and Kid bitching at Conan for dragging him into his bullshit. This is the first time outside the Iron Tanuki affair where we see them on the same side and, you know, they make a pretty good team.

He lets Kid go at the Blush Mermaid Heist a few days later as thanks for the above bullshit though he steps aside when Sera (who’s face Kid stole for the disguise) high kicks him in the face which was some well deserved poetic justice. Conan doesn’t even pretend to apprehend Kid at this point.

They know each other by this point, Conan has something of a sixth sense when Kid is watching him.

Kid as well is able to read his favorite critic’s face and know that his brilliant mind is making deductions and getting closer to the truth. And he’s smirking about it, he calls Conan a “critic” in their first appearance but he clearly likes watching the boy work either out of respect for the skill or just because someone can finally keep up with him.

Look at how playful and casual this interaction is, a far cry from their first meeting. Conan is comfortable enough to all but reveal his identity of teen detective, Kudo Shinichi (his most closely guarded secret) and Kid is acknowledging that he too is on the hunt for a specific gem which he usually doesn’t advertise. Conan lets Kid go without issue and Kid is pretty upfront about what he’s doing. Their posture is relaxed and they have smiles on their faces, they could easily be old friends.

It’s not a normal relationship by any means but these aren’t normal boys. It makes me wonder how they would even interact outside of a heist since they’re both so open with each other and yet there’s so much in between them. I always say Detective Conan and Magic Kaito are two sides of the same coin. If only Gosho would stop teasing us with these interactions and have the two of them team up properly.

#dcmk #meta #this got out of hand #did i really go through every kid appearance for screenshots?#yes I did #it was very fun #awake-my-oceans

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guudak · 4 years

Text

andante, andante

pairing: jungkook / oc genre + tags: college au, f2l, alcohol, pining word count: 7,522 The aftermath of your best friend singing that ABBA song, clumsily flirting with you and then drunkenly professing his love to you multiple times in the same night.

“Is he ok? Namjoon, what’s he doing?”

“He’s severely hungover,” he explains to you, propping an arm on the windowsill. His hand gestures. “This is his remedy.”

You look out the window again, overseeing the frat’s backyard, and down below at the deck - is the person you sought. The gales shake the trees, you can hear it howl, and not to mention the downpour of rain that had you soaked to the skin through your jeans between your sprint from the bus stop to here. You look back at Namjoon, disbelieved. “What, sitting in a hot tub outside in the middle of a hale storm?”

“Erm, well, not the storm bit. That was just unfortunate. Sitting meditatively in a hot tub though, yeah. He does that a lot, moreso when he has something on his mind.” He peeps a discreet eye at you while you claim a seat on the ledge. Your arms cross, huddling your oversized cardigan over yourself as you glance back at the mop of matted black hair on the deck. Jungkook is sitting very still, laying back, eyes closed and his neck craning upwards towards the gloomy sky. A breath of air expels from your nose when you imagine how cold the rain must be.

“I really wanted to talk to him in person … I don’t know, do you think I should have waited a few days?” You turn to Namjoon who shakes his head.

“It’s good you came here. I think it would have left him to assume the worst and overthink otherwise, and you know what he’s like - better to confront him sooner than later. He’s been in a kind of sad, mopey daze since this morning.”

Your lips purse together as you mull this over. “I don’t necessarily want to confront him about it now, not if he doesn’t want to yet. I just want to see him and … make sure he’s ok. Because you know, that … overthinking thing he does.”

The upward lift of Namjoon’s lips is soft, the same kind of softness that’s perceptible in his eyes. The look reminds you of Jungkook’s own gentle demeanour. “I think seeing you here will disorient him a litte, but I think deep down he’ll be relieved. ”

He invites you to sit in the warmth of the lounge downstairs while you wait. The house of Beta Tau Sigma is cosy, and your favourite visits are always during the winter period when they’d decorate the interior, reminding you very much of the setting of a classic Christmas movie. Alas, however, it isn’t winter, and there are still strewn cups around and a broken lamp on the table in front of you; consequence of the party they hosted the previous night.

You’re surprised Jungkook remembers. He’d been so far-gone yesterday, yet you woke up this morning to four successive texts from him -

i’m sorry

im so so sorry.

can we talk

please

You’d thought over a tactful reply; taking into mind Jungkook: despite the calm, rational front he has - is emotional, an individual with a soul as sensitive as they come. You had to be careful with what you said, but soon after aborted all efforts when you’d found yourself backspacing each time. You prefer face-to-face conversation, and for something like this - you couldn’t possibly venture any other approach that would be befitting. For anyone else, perhaps. But Jungkook isn’t just someone else. He’s your best friend.

You check the text in reply that you’d left for him from two hours ago, which is still left unread.

hi jungkook i’d love to talk

are u ok

Sleeping it over had dulled the shock from the night before, as hearing it from him had been a double whammy for both your head and heart. You hadn’t known what to think, hadn’t known what to say.

In his tastefully tipsy state he’d been very happy. The chirpy go-lucky sort of happy that made you coo. Tipsy Jungkook is sweet and endearing, more affectionate and made it his mission to pull you with him to the karaoke machine. You’d been friends with him long enough to know that he could sing. He’s a soft singer; has a voice that could be lullaby to late sleepy evenings, it’s one you’d heard snippets of because he did it without conscious thought; he hummed in the car, while waiting in line - one of his many mannerisms that makes clear when he’s in his head.

“ABBA? Good choice,” you’d commented, after he jabbed the numbers on the remote. He budged over so you could sit beside him on the armchair. So cramped and close that you moved to drape your leg over one of his, and he welcomed it. “Not their most popular song, but definitely one of their most soulful. That’s a good one, it’s one of my favourites,” and then he stilled.

At the cease of his movements, you’d found your spine straightening just slightly, as if on guard, but for what you hadn’t been sure. You were about to ask him if he was ok, only to be taking the brunt of his bright puppy eyes that smile at you.

“Me too,” he’d said, with that characteristic gentleness shining in his orbs.

A few hours later, he’d morphed from sweet boy-next-door with the angel voice to himbo football jock slash and quote “pussy-whisperer,” courtesy and words verbatim of Park Jimin, who vibed with Jock Jungkook like a long lost brother.

The amount of girls that suddenly flocked to him and sat on his lap had you reeling in hysterics to the extent that you had to bury your face in Hoseok’s shoulder. Even when Jungkook’s on the football team, you’d never thought of him once as a jock. Didn’t they say all jocks are athletes, but not all athletes are jocks? He’d never lived up to the greasy college stereotype. Turned out maybe some alcohol was missing in the mix. Was this what you were missing? Who knew he had it in him?

“How many have you had, man?” Hoseok had asked, and Jungkook grinned, mouth lop-sided, before then thwacking him solidly on the back.

“I’m good, thanks for asking, man.”

“That wasn’t what I - ok,” Hoseok winced, clutching at his shoulder blade, and exchanging a bemused look at you.

You were alert to the sliding gaze of Jungkook on you. He slid into the chair close beside you, and you propped your elbow onto the counter. Head resting in your palm, you’d anticipated it.

“Hey, cutie.”

And there it was.

Your mouth twitched during your attempt to stifle your laugh, but you were eager to play along. You straightened, not shy to look him direct in the eyes, even when his own wandered to your midriff. “Hey.”

A moment’s pause, before he let out a wistful sigh.

“Holy shit, I love your boobs.”

Hoseok spat into his cup, a succession of coughs after.

“No, I’m just saying, from a non-biased, impersonal point of view …” He made a vague, rounded motion in the air with his hands, “- they’re really nice. I’m saying this objectively.”

“Objectively,” Hoseok wheezed. You aimed a calculated kick at his ankle.

“Thanks! They’re not much but they’re cute, I grew them all by myself.”

Jungkook hummed in acknowledgement, a critical eye on you and his head bobbing solemnly. “You did a good job.”

“Oh my God,” Hoseok was crying; head ducked, full-blown tears of laughter, ears pink and slapping the countertop. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“Yours are pretty neat, too,” you told him.

He looked down at the outline of his chest. “You think so? I’ve been working out but they could do with a bit more volume.”

Hoseok was doubling over, desperate to leave but at the same time rooted to the spot, thumping his chest to stop himself from choking. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m gonna die if I stay any longer. See you, guys.”

He left, leaving you alone with Jungkook and a few others in the kitchen. “You alright?” you asked, and he nodded again, smiling tiredly and head lolling a little to the side.

“Did you like the song I sang for you earlier?”

“You sang it for me? How sweet of you,” you cooed, cuddling up to his side. “You know, if you wanted to touch my boobs, if you asked I think I’d be ok with that.”

He seemed hesitant. “You’re bullshitting.”

“Ok, maybe I am a little,” you chuckled, feeling the rumble resonating from his chest.

“Seriously,” he murmured, and for a millisecond, you swore you detected the tone of the Jungkook - not this Jungkook who was a confident force, but the one you were most familiar with, “I think I’d -”

Jimin’s voice boomed above the stereo, “Jungkook! It’s your turn! Get your ass back here!”

A heavy sigh was drawn out from him as he slid his chair back. Though, he waited for you to lift your head from his chest before doing so.

“See you.” He winked at you before following Jimin’s ongoing calls. Though, more of a wink and a half. He never could wink properly with just one eye, both had to be involved.

Then came the finale.

The most recent drunken Jungkook phase - one you’d never witnessed beforehand. If there was anything you could have concluded, it was that beyond his sober level-headed exterior, he must have a lot of pent up anger. Jungkook in drunken phase three transitioned between a three colour spectrum of moods and you’d barely caught up.

Exhibit one -

“The ocean is so important!” he cried, literally cried as he began bumbling about blue whales and the sheer plastic in the ocean, morosed how the first piece of plastic ever produced still hadn’t decomposed.

It was no help that Namjoon enthusiastically joined in - the fucking nerds, until Jungkook started bawling and knocked back the salt shaker on the countertop mistaking it for a shot of tequila.

You’d panicked and dragged him to the nearest bathroom to wash it out of his eyes. The seconds that followed afterwards, was you rubbing his back while he sobbed and puked the hearty contents of his stomach into the toilet.

Exhibit two -

“If any dude is giving you a hard time, chances are - you’re hotter than them. And on top of that, they made you cry, making you a better person than them!” he proclaimed. Once you’d helped him clean up, he’d bumped into Ola - a girl you recalled was in his media class, and was crying outside of the door of the bathroom you and Jungkook had been in.

She’d sniffled her way through a story about a boy she’d been talking to for six months, and Jungkook was as revved up as his ocean speech while he pep-talked her about how heartless the guy was; that he gave good guys a bad rep; and that she simply deserved better. Of course, you’d agreed with him. It sounded all too familiar to something you’d said in the past, though who could blame him for adopting your mannerism of speech when he’d spent so much time with you?

Exhibit three -

“Hey, Chad! Why the fuck do you hate poor people?!”

You were mortified. “Jungkook! Literally, where did you get that conclusion from?!”

“He plays lacrosse and owns a golf cart!”

You groaned, yanking at his arm away from Chad - captain of the boys’ lacrosse team, and who’d also fortunately passed out on the couch, otherwise Jungkook for sure would have had his face beat in. Though, you’d like to think that Jungkook would win, for sure, but you promised sober Jungkook that you’d take care of drunk Jungkook.

So that was that.

By now you’d contracted a stress-induced migraine, by which your own best friend was accountable for. And you thought - by God, did he have to deal with this every time you went to a party together while you’d run rampant? This had been an eye-opener, and you should definitely be considerate next time because drunk people were babies, and not in the cute way either.

And finally: exhibit four.

“Hey.”

You endured all the pet names, had endured being called the Apple of his Eye, Angel Face, and his Compass Star, because flirty Jungkook had been throwing pet names around all night. You’d seen and heard it yourself. But nothing would have prepared you for what he’d say next.

You glanced at him, just a second to look away from your phone screen. “Yeah?”

His eyes drooped, form slouched, and head atop his folded arms on the countertop. It was just after midnight, and the kitchen was a quiet lull, besides you and Jungkook who were sitting together; and then there was Jimin and Taehyung, and Seokjin by the sink in their own private conversation … and whatever it was that Taehyung was doing. Admittedly you hadn’t been paying much heed nor did you endeavour to find out.

Body curling into himself; Jungkook looked so much smaller than when he stood to his full stature.

“I’ve got it bad,” he mumbled, wistfully, “real bad. So bad - I’m doomed bad. End of the fucking world baaad.”

Your hands rubbed at his nape, tender fingers toying with the longer hairs there. He’d been growing it out, and he looked good. You tucked a tuft of hair behind his ear. “What makes you think that?”

Again - the glossy puppy eyes that gazed up, contemplating you like you’d fallen from heaven.

His smile was meek, as shy as the drawling voice that spoke, “I … I really think you’re my soulmate. I don’t like saying it too much but I … like, love love you, but we’re only best friends. Someday you’ll date for real - instead of flings, I’d have to accept it. I don’t think I’ll be ok, but I will be, jus’ will take time to get over you. Have done it a few times before. I’ll be ok.”

Your hand stilled, fingers still tangled in his locks.

Rendered motionless, like air had been punched out of you from the stomach, unable to bring yourself to salvage the words. Breathless, all you could bring yourself to do was to weakly call his name.

He hadn’t heard you, and he yawned, leaning into your touch. His body trembled with his giggles. “One time, you were sooo drunk. You were so drunk, don’t think you remembered - blacked out. You flirted with me that whole evening. After that … after that I became obsessed with you forever.”

It was with a sinking stomach when you’d realised that you couldn’t recall that night at all.

Gulping, you peered down at the mop of tangled hair on the countertop, wishing for nothing else but to properly see his face, but it was half-hidden where he’d snuggled into his arms.

“Jungkook?” you whispered, gently moving away the hair that flopped over his eyes. “Jungkook?’

No reply. Just steady, heavy breathing.

No reply, because he’d fallen asleep.

It’s a splitting headache that rouses Jungkook from heavy sleep. One of those slumbers where he wakes up groggy, as if he hasn’t rested at all despite it being hours since. He tries to get up, but to no avail. His limbs are leaden heavy, and he collapses back onto his bed within seconds of mustering the strength to hoist himself up.

There are a series of knocks on the door but what’s the point of knocking when Jimin barges in anyway. He snickers seeing Jungkook: a sad, spectacular heap on the bed with a bitching hangover to boot.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

“Shut up,” Jungkook drawls, barely recognising the cadence of his own voice. He throws an arm over his face, brow tightening as he shuts his eyes to recall anything that happened hours prior, but even that’s too much of a Herculean effort that his brain isn’t willing to commit to at nine in the morning. Hangovers are not worth the night before for this - this is a different kind of hell.

Jimin places a glass and a jug of water on his bedside table. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

“Thanks,” he replies. He at least has enough strength to reach for the glass. When he sits up a hand goes instantly to knock against his temple, as if it would stop whatever invisible vice it is that’s squeezing and hammering at his brain from all directions. He notices Jimin’s narrowing scrutiny on him.

“You remember anything from yesterday?”

“Honestly, not really. Just some bits here and there.”

“Blacked out, huh.” If Jimin hesitated it’s only for a split second, he stuffs a hand into his hoodie pocket for his phone. “There’s something I wanna show you. Not sure if you’re gonna like it much.”

“Can’t be that bad,” he says, but Jimin proffers a look, and Jungkook frowns. “... Right?”

Jimin licks his teeth in a way that makes Jungkook’s stomach drop just slightly.

“Famous last words, bud,” is all he replies.

The slide of the back doors from the kitchen is what jerks your head up, followed by the sound of feet pattering on tiles. Suddenly, there’s a rise of anxiousness. Until you drum into your head that, no , this is nothing for you to be anxious about. There are the natural nerves budding that stem from confrontation, and you think this may be it.

Towel around his shoulders and dampened hair swept back, Jungkook doesn’t notice you at first when he appears by the doorway. He walks, gazes ahead like his legs are functioning on autopilot - but when he does notice you, he could have skidded. The way he halts and how his body almost springs backwards into the kitchen as soon as he sees your form huddled on one end of the couch, and how Basil - the frat’s cat, is curled by your lap, peacefully asleep and indulging in the soft stroke of your knuckles on his head.

His expression mirrors a man who wants so desperately to sink into the floorboards. Or to dash back into the hale storm and fully immerse himself head to toe into the hot tub’s waters and never surface again.

The first few seconds of silence is heavy. As if you’re both still trying to process the presence of the other. It’s an uncomfortable silence you’re not accustomed to when with Jungkook. He’s always leaned more to the quiet side of the spectrum; introverted, introspective. But silences had always been comfortable, even when you two clashed.

You endeavour for eye contact but he’s suddenly so transfixed on a shadow upon the wood flooring.

“Hey,” you begin, quietly, like the walls are listening in on you. It’s enough gentle encouragement for him to peer up. He hides his hangover well but the mirth, the glint; the starry eyedness that reflected in his orbs from the night before is absent, and no amount of hot tub therapy could conceal the physical and mental exhaustion.

“Hey.” He sounds almost breathless, smothers the tremor in his voice with a cough. “You’re … you’re soaked.”

“So are you.” Your tone is apologetic, “Sorry I came on short notice, I messaged you but I don’t think you saw it.”

He winces. “Right - sorry. My phone died. Haven’t checked it since.”

You muster a small smile. “I thought as much.”

Another breath. Another nervous lilt in his voice. “I’m sorry. Not just the phone thing but everything I said to you last night.”

You sigh. “Don’t be. It’s just … I’m surprised you remember what you said.”

He takes a breath, bicep flexing when he rubs anxiously at his nape. “I don’t,” he admits. “Jimin told me. It’s in this video he took last night of Taehyung eating cake off the floor, you could hear my voice in the background.”

“Ah. That explains it.” Your lips pursed. “Did you mean what you said?”

His eyes round and flash to yours. He chews his lip, throws a glance at his feet. “... Yeah,” he whispers.

“Not just the alcohol talking?”

“No.”

You’re quiet, continuing to stroke Basil who’s still fast asleep beside you.

“Sor—“

“Stop apologising,” you snap. You didn’t mean to, but his shoulders tense, and it makes you wallow in guilt that only he out of everyone has been able to make you feel. You haven’t thought this through and now you’re here you’re saying all the wrong things and asking all the wrong questions. But you remember it’s him, and recollect yourself. “Jungkook - it’s just … it’s just a lot to unpack.”

You peer up, his nod is slow, but he gets it.

He’s tired, you see it clear as day. See it in the trudge of his walk, the dim in his eyes, and neither of you talk on the way up. Not until you reach his room.

Despite your protests, he insists you help yourself to his draws for a spare change of dry clothes. It’s with that thought when you realise you still have yet to return several shirts to him with the promise of them all being washed and folded; washed and folded they are, but you never have been great at remembering to give them back. Putting it into perspective - maybe it is a little weird. Weird for two people who fall under the label of best friends. But then again you borrowed clothes from your own roommates all the time to the point you sometimes forgot whose is whose. It isn’t weird. Right?

While Jungkook goes for a brisk shower, you peel off your soaked clothes, hang them over a spot on his clothes rack. His room is mostly devoid of personal touch, though there are a few photos of his high school football days and some of him and his friends pinned to a board. Otherwise, he’s never had much interest for interior decoration, but he likes his room clean and uncluttered.

There’s a knock on the door a few minutes later. “Are you …?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m done.”

The door cracks open, and Jungkook appears, adorned in another change of clothes. His hair is still damp, fluffed at the patches that have managed to dry and his cheeks are pink from the heat of the shower, but he’s less rugged than earlier. Still tired, though. So tired that you don’t question it when he makes a beeline for his unmade bed and collapses face-first into his pillow. You perch on the edge, pulling his duvet over him.

He wriggles closer to the wall, like he’s making more room for you to sit. You appreciate the gesture and shuffle closer. Outside, the wind still howls.

“You should dry your hair properly,” you murmur, fingers at the damp ends of his nape.

“Yeah … prob’ly should,” he sighs, muffled where his mouth is buried in his pillow.

You came here to talk about yesterday night, but maybe it’s a conversation for another time. You out of everyone should know how strenuous it is to have a heart-to-heart while being victim to a hangover that gives you the same capacity as someone half-dead.

You’re staring blankly at the wall, so occupied with the whistle of the winds, so lost in the strands between your fingertips - that when you peer down you’re met with half-open shining eyes, and a lazy blinking gaze directed upwards at your face.

“Yes?”

“Nothing,” he murmurs, like clockwork, and buries half his face again into the plush of his pillow. It’s enough time for you to catch the shy tilt of his lips before they hid again. It’s almost ironic, how you’re the one next to him while he nurses a hangover when it’s always been the other way round. Here, he’s so vulnerable. Your mind wanders to the possibility - what if it was the other way around? An alternate universe where it was you who serenaded Jungkook with karaoke and confessed.

In whatever reality, you imagine him to confront you in the way you did now. Perhaps approached it a little differently, would perhaps be a little gentler, but he would never give you the cold shoulder.

For now, you both pretend there’s been no drunken confession. Best friends, like how it’s always been, and you’ll discuss it all when the time comes.

At some point you’re lowering yourself next to him; your head on the same pillow, and your bodies beneath the same blanket. He’s warm.

And it’s peaceful, as comfortable as it always has been.

“Oh my God, where the hell’s your shirt? I haven’t seen you swim once so far,” you scoff, and Hoseok pulls a sour face.

“You’re talking big for being the one in the string bikini.”

You look at him in disbelief. “Yeah, but I actually used the pool?”

“Scooch over, babe.”

Your eyes roll skyward as he plops beside you on the loveseat. It’s another weekend, another frat, another party, another excuse for Hoseok to walk around without a shirt because there’s a pool. Correction: a further excuse for hoards of frat boys to walk around without a shirt, but at this point you’re desensitised to it.

The music booms, a dull vibration you feel through the ground.

Kappa Omega is infamous for their extravagant parties (at least, as extravagant as college parties can go). Compared to others it’s vastly over-the-top, with most of the guys getting in through connections just like how their college applications got past admissions, but it is what it is. They’re not all bad people, they hold parties for fundraisers but sometimes it can’t be helped not to feel sour when you see what they blow their money on. The Kappa Omega mansion is so big that you’d spent a good portion of the beginning of the night lost.

“Lucky bastards,” Hoseok mutters. He’s said that several times this evening. He’s only here for the booze and the cheese tray. He pops open another beer, chucks the bottle opener onto the low table in front of him, besides the cheese tray he stole from the kitchen. “Which frat party was it again when you blacked out and dived into the pool fully clothed? I can’t remember anymore.”

“We don’t talk about that, thanks,” you utter, wrapping your long cardigan tighter around your torso. “Have you by chance seen Jungkook around? I thought he’d be here by now.”

He looks up, mid-way from tipping back his beer. “Yeah, I saw him some time ago.”

“What, where?”

“Sat with some food by himself somewhere.” His arm gestures vaguely. “He looked a little sad. You know, in signature Jungkook fashion, you know how he gets sometimes.”

Your form slumps. “Right,” you murmur. It’s been over two weeks since the last time you saw him. Not that it’s unprecedented. He has football among other commitments that strung him away for days and sometimes weeks at a time, and you had your own as well.

Be that as it may, somehow it feels like the both of you are drawing the whole thing out. Not purposely, but definitely unnecessarily. Neither of you brought it up in your messages to each other either, and it hit you recently that, well - you miss him. You’ve seen him around campus, but never for too long. Nothing more than fleeting sightings of him and his disheveled hair in a half-pony while he rushes to class after football practice; a hand usually holding onto a snack while the other held onto the strap of his half-open duffel bag, but you only had time to exchange a wave and a look that held promise of your next meeting. The fact remains that you miss your best friend, and it would kill you for your friendship to be awkward because of what happened. You had every intention to talk to him tonight in person, and no dallying or delays this time.

Hoseok’s eyes squint your way. “What’s going on between you guys, anyway. You guys a thing or what?”

You sigh, “That’s the thing, I have no idea yet.”

“Yet.” His lips purse, contemplating you. “He really likes you, you know. So, like, go easy on him.”

Your eyes narrow. “How long have you known, then?”

“As if it was hard,” he scoffs, sitting back. “Guy wears his heart on his sleeve. You have to be thick as a brick not to notice.”

“Wow. Thanks,” you deadpan.

He stabs his fork into the blue cheese. “You know why him and Yerim broke up?”

“Oh no,” you morose, frowning, “don’t tell me it was because of me. I talked to her after they broke it off and she said it wasn’t.”

“Not entirely. But I think she was bending the truth a little so that you wouldn’t berate Jungkook about it. She’s a cool girl, really nice and a good sport. Knew you two were close and accepted that like a champ. But -” and he pauses for emphasis. A pause which is seconds too long, and then finally he puts his fork down, clutches one of your hands in both of his, and waits for you until you’re hanging on to his every breath while he chews and swallows the remaining in his mouth. He resumes, brightly, “it’s not my story to tell. So you better go and find him.”

You shove him. Harder this time - enough that he topples over, and he cackles obnoxiously.

“Prick,” you laugh, but rise to your feet. Your gaze spans the backyard, the pool. You spot a hot tub, but it’s filled with other students who are laughing and raucous.

“Ok, I’m going,” you announce, glancing at Hoseok who’s still very much captivated by the cheese tray before him. It does look really good. “See you in a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah, bye.”

The problem with knowing so many people, and having the same friends as those people - is that in situations where you try to pull yourself away from yet another drinking game you’re taken by the elbow by someone else. Having all of your mutual friends congregated in one domain that is the Kappa Omega House has made your search for the ever-elusive Jeon Jungkook a grand Pain in the Ass. He’s like gold dust. You’ve texted him but you’ve yet to receive a reply.

“Hey, have you seen Jungkook?”

“I saw him at the front porch a few minutes ago?”

“... Seriously? I’ve literally just been there.”

You even scrambled over a balcony and leaped over a hedge when you tried to get away from Chad’s third invitation to join the game of chicken fight in the pool (a parkour stunt that you like to think would put Peter Parker to shame). You give yourself a quiet moment to catch your breath.

It’s then you realise you’re in a part of the backyard you swear you haven’t been in before. You can presuppose why. It’s dimly lit, less people, and the boom of the stereo is still loud, but is more of a distant noise in comparison to the other parts of the house you’ve been in. Like what the hell, how big is this place?

“Sooo, you’ve found him yet or what?”

You hear the voice before you see the face.

Unbelievable. So you cross paths with shirtless Hoseok for the third time and yet haven’t so much as had a hair’s glimpse of Jungkook.

“Nope,” you reply, quite miserably, hands stuffing into your cardigan’s large pockets. You feel for your phone. He still hasn’t seen your message. At this point you’re one teetering step away from letting go of the remaining wisps of your dignity and yell his name through a megaphone with a hope he'll come to you instead … you’ve probably done that while drunk before but you’re nowhere near tipsy now, and that’s besides the point.

Behind you, Hoseok hums, quite serene. When you look back you see he’s lowered his back onto the grass, his eyelids shut.

Eyes scanning this part of the backyard, it’s a different ambience to the atmosphere by the pool. More relaxed. There are students either sat or lying on the grass in small groups, their conversations a low murmur with the occasional twinkling sound of someone’s laughter rising above it. There’s a slabbed stone pathway that leads further up the grass, which then disappears behind a tall row of hedges, and with that you find yourself on your feet again.

“As much as it pains me to leave, there’s only so much of you I can take in one evening before I go crazy,” you tell Hoseok, who’s unbothered reply is no more than a lazy thumbs up from his spot on the grass.

It gets darker the further away you are from the house, but you’re led by the quiet warm-white glow of the lawn lights that highlight the path. It calms your mind to a lull that puts you at peace, something you desperately sought after your hopeless goose-chase just minutes prior.

The waters of a hot tub glow blue up ahead. You skid to a stop when you come closer and see someone’s in there; shoulders immersed and their head just above the water’s surface. What’s the phrase? When you stop looking for something, it finds you? That’s probably not how it goes, but it doesn’t matter. After futile searching, hedge jumping and greasy frat boy dodging, you finally found him. Of course he’d be in a place like this.

His eyes are dazed, mesmerised by the ripples in the water that his smallest movements create. He hasn’t yet noticed you coming.

You pad closer. “... Jungkook?” and like a switch, his spine straightens, goes rigid as a ramrod at your voice. He’s blinking, head shaking side to side as if to snap himself out of the trance that clouds his head.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” you exasperate.

He blinks. “You … you have?”

You scoff, amused at the way his brows knit. “Yeah,” you sigh, stopping so your forearms can lean on the sides of the tub. “May I join you?”

After a beat of hesitation - “Of course you can.”

You shrug your long oversized cardigan off of your shoulders, and double check that your phone is still in the pocket before you chuck it in a heap on the bench. You secure your footing on the step, eyes intercepting his own. His Adam's apple bobs when the rest of your body comes into view, and you shiver at the breeze but warmth engulfs you the second you’re in contact with the bubbling water.

“Feels good?” he asks, and you sigh contentedly, leaning back.

“Yeah.” If you really wanted to, you could fall asleep right here, right now. “What is it with you and hot tubs? Always knew you had a thing for them but never asked specifically why. Or does it just feel good?”

“Mainly that. The guys on my team use the excuse that it breaks up the lactic acid in your muscles after training, but it just feels good when you’re sore.”

“Huh.” When you crack an eye open, he’s already looking at you.

His lips purse. “Did you want to talk?” and when you nod he sighs, wearily. “I wanted to, honestly. But I … I guess I never felt ready to hear what you’re going to say.”

You frown. “What do you think I’m going to say?”

“I don’t know. That you don’t feel that way about me, which I’m fine with. I was never meant to let it slip, but I ended up saying all the things I didn’t want you to hear yet. And while I was drunk, of all things.”

You consider this, broach your tone carefully. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

His eyes avert to the water. “... Eventually. It would have been after graduation. No step three beyond telling you, no secret ploy to get you to fall in love with me, I only would have wanted you to know how I felt. I’d leave you alone and we’d finally move on with our lives. And what better timing than after graduation? But that’s not how it turned out, did it?” He laughs, but it’s with rueful discomfort.

“How long?”

He exhales. “A while.”

“I see.” You think hard for a second. “Even when you were with Yerim?”

He gnaws on his bottom lip, but you can tell he’s honest when he replies with, “Yeah. But I never pretended she was you.”

“Of course you didn’t, you’re not that type of person.”

At last, he does smile at that, and seeing the tilt of his mouth settles a warmth in your heart.

Part of you wants to ask what happened between him and Yerim, but you think perhaps it’s for the best you don’t know, at least now. It’s not your business nor his obligation to tell you.

Before you could dwell too much on your oncoming words, you continue barging forward or you’ll chicken out from what you’re going to say next.

“Jungkook,” you begin. “What if I said yes?”

A pause.

“What do you mean?”

“If you asked me out, and I said yes.”

He’s so bewildered he looks as if he’s just been slapped. Suddenly, something more serious shadows his features. “You know I’d never want you to date me just because. I’m fine with rejection, seriously, I’ll get over it. But I don’t want you to settle for less than what you want. You deserve someone you want, and if I’m not that person, that’s fine. You deserve -”

“Last time I checked, you don’t get a say on what it is that I do and don’t deserve. Who I deserve is for me to decide, so stop cutting yourself so short because you’re more decent than most of the guys I know.”

He shifts, looks away. “So what are you saying?”

“Should we try it?”

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then it doesn’t work out,” you say, simply.

“But then it’ll be awkward.”

“You telling me that you became obsessed with me after I flirted with you for one evening while I was drunk already made it awkward. Not like we have anything else to lose.”

A breath of air expels from his nose in a chuckle. “Oh, ouch.”

“Jungkook,” you sigh. “It’s so easy to be around you. If it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out, but how are we supposed to know how it’s going to turn out if we don’t even give it a chance? It’s going to be awkward either way but we’ll figure it out. Like with all the other crap we’ve gone through. I’ve been with enough guys to know that guys like you come far and few between, I trust you enough to want to do this. You’re one of those few guys I know I can trust, alongside Hoseok. Even though he can be a real bitch sometimes.”

Jungkook doesn’t rebuke you, but he laughs. It’s a sound you’ve never been more relieved to hear.

“So what do you think? I don’t want to force you into it. If you don’t want this, I’m fine with it. If you do, I’m fine with that too. Everything on my end is fine, so what about yours?”

If him confessing happened a year, or maybe two years earlier, you don’t think you would have confronted it in the way that you’d done now. You understand why Jungkook wanted to bide his time. You’re stubborn, fiery, and don’t think things through in the way that Jungkook does. If this happened two years ago, you can imagine you’d have yelled at him on impulse, asking him why, why he let it happen.

But there’s a very particular fondness you’ve honed for your best friend that has unfurled in the years of your friendship, to the point you couldn’t possibly imagine yourself putting blame on him for his feelings. It seems being friends with him has really mellowed you. While Hoseok is the friend you’re most similar to, your other pea-in-the-pod, Jungkook is the friend who balances you out. Someone so different to you, yet someone who still knows what makes you tick.

He’s a friend who doesn’t judge, but yet is always first to call you out whenever you’re out of line. A friend who waits until you’re inside of your dorm building before driving away. The type of guy who pays for dinner and doesn’t expect you to pay him back. A friend who makes sure you’re back home safely when you’re drunk, puts a glass of water next to you and watches over you to make sure you don’t choke on your vomit in your sleep.

Finally, after careful consideration, he nods. He nods, finally.

“So we’re doing this then.” You crack a smile, and he finds it difficult to suppress his own.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

With an unchanging temper, as still and as serene as waters below the turbulent surface - Jungkook is your anchor, he always has been. The anchor that tethers your feet to the earth when the elements threaten to topple you over.

In the blue glow, you shuffle closer forward on your knees.

“Can I kiss you?” you murmur, and he chokes on his saliva, spluttering. You smile sheepishly. “Sorry it’s weird, you don’t have to let me if that’s going too fast. I just … I want to see what it feels like.”

He hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

He mulls it over, but it doesn’t take much thinking. He stares at you, hard. But then you disrupt the stillness with a disarming smile, and unable to resist, he beckons you over. “Come here.”

It’s odd to straddle his lap at first. In the same way it is when you’re getting on a bike for the first time or any kind of first. He doesn’t make any first move, it’s you who he waits to initiate.

The path of your fingers trail slowly upwards, until they’re splayed against his chest. They remain there, and you detect the quick pattering of his heart, the rise of his chest. His breaths are deep but they’re controlled, and he feels sturdy beneath you.

Jungkook is stupid handsome, with the body to match. But that’s not what swells your heart. It’s not what pushes you to move further forward in his lap and finally press your mouth to the seam of his lips before you could think twice.

It’s how tenderly he gazes up at you. With the same sincerity and adoration he’d shown the night he’d confessed drunk. His eyes, an opening to his soul which is a whole other wonder.

When was the last time someone looked at you like that?

The kiss is soft. No sparks, no butterflies on your end - not yet, but somehow it still feels right. Like missing pieces that have finally fallen into place. Warmth and love spills from him. It saturates your body to the very tips of your ears, all the way down to your toes, like a slow, spreading glow. It feels good.

When shy pecks don’t become enough anymore, you get needy, touching and grasping for more of him. His palms press against your lower back, massaging the skin there, and eventually your mouth parts pliant for him.

“Oh,” he croaks, his head leaning forward so his cheek brushes yours. You can’t see his eyes, and you attempt to move but he curtains the planes of his face with his hair.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, having to strain to catch his whisper.

“I’m embarrassed.”

You chuckle, warmth spreading from the spot on your ear that his lips hover over. “How come?”

“Like, there are probably bricks softer than my dick right now. And … I really, really don’t wanna jizz my pants in a Kappa Omega hot tub. I would have hit my lowest point in life if I do.”

“Oh my God.” You’re almost crying, shoulders shaking with how hard you’re laughing.

“Please, I’m so serious right now. I’d never be able to redeem myself.”

“Would jizzing in an obscenely expensive hot tub be so bad?”

“Yes,” he emphasises. “Really bad, actually. Have you heard of that guy who ejaculated in a swimming pool and accidentally got twenty girls pregnant?”

“That sounds like fake news. There’s no way. Sperm aren’t homing torpedoes, Jungkook. They’d be unviable as soon as they’d be in the water. But if you want me to move back, I’ll move back.”

His face is taut, like he’s trying so hard. “Yes, please.” His eyes go stern, but there’s a nervous jitter you feel with the skin beneath your fingertips. “And just because I think it’s worth mentioning, I don’t think we should have sex straight away.”

“Oh. Right. I see,” you deadpan.

It’s his turn to cackle at the dead-set, disappointed look on your face. “What’s with that?”

Your eyes roll. “You know I’m kidding.” You brush the hair out from his eyes. “Jungkook, will you wait for me?”

His expression softens, and he hoists you until you’re pressed impossibly closer.

“Of course I will. However long it needs to be.”

a/n: when jk says you flirted with me the whole night and i became obsessed w you forever, yea that was from b99

originally posted on ao3! thx for reading!!! <33

#jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader

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gtgrandom · 4 years

Text

Beck and Jade: Toxicity

Alright kiddos. With the resurgence of Victorious, I’ve seen a lot of new and old viewers idolizing this relationship, and while I 100% support your decision to ship what you want to ship, we need to acknowledge some of the red flags in this relationship and talk about why it shouldn’t be #goals. I’ve seen too many teens talking about how realistic these two are (which is insane given the show’s comedic exaggeration) and how they want to embody everything Jade is as a woman, and my heart dies a bit.

I know how annoying it is to see false accusations of an “abusive” couple by a non-psychologist simply because someone doesn’t ship it. And yeah, I realize this is a kid’s show designed to entertain. But I also realize what impact television has on the youth and their expectations of love. So I want to set some things straight.

Hot take: You can still enjoy the show while recognizing what a healthy relationship looks like.

First, let’s talk about aspects that WERE healthy:

1. Open Communication

These two felt so “real” because they would confront each other directly about behavior they didn’t approve of, things that annoyed them, etc. Most of the time they were so direct, issues didn’t have enough time to fester and boil over. Honesty is key in a healthy relationship, and for them, teasing and arguing served as an acceptable avenue for this honesty.

2. They do learn to adapt to each other’s needs and grow together...sort of.

Being able to recognize your own shortcomings and value your partner for their ability to see past those flaws is essential. Fighting is okay if you can come together after it, understand why your partner was upset, and grow stronger from the experience. The earthquake should strengthen the bridge after the new changes and reinforcements are put in place, not weaken it...

But time apart requires you to reflect on yourself. When two people come back together and their means of apology is through kissing or sex...that tells you exactly what makes the relationship function.

Now...for the portrayal of toxic behavior and emotional abuse.

1. Ugly jealousy

Jade’s jealousy is a constant source of conflict for the two, OBVIOUSLY. While she might say what we’re all thinking, her possessiveness is unattractive - and had it been the trait for a male love interest on the show, fans would have attacked him for it. You’re not allowed to control who your boyfriend hangs out with and befriends. You have no right to do so. You can express to him, “hey, I feel insecure about our relationship when you hang out with this individual exclusively. Can I come with you this time and get to know her better so I can put my mind at ease?” If he doesn't take your concerns seriously, then you should leave the relationship.

And if the new girl (as unjustified as it was) makes out with your boyfriend, you take your issues up with your disloyal boyfriend. You don’t continue to bully the other girl.

There’s a difference between speaking your mind / sticking to your values, and being a total dick. Jade crosses this line every episode. She’s not iconic when she bullies her friends. It’s really not that funny.

2. Putting words in Beck’s mouth

A lot of the times this is used for comedic effect. Because you know how sensitive women are. You just can’t say anything as a man, lest she twist it around on you... :/ Regardless, it turns Jade into an instigator, an agitator, and a difficult person to reach a consensus with. Don’t put words in your loved one’s mouth. Listen to what they have to say. Process it. Come back after you’ve had a chance to walk it off and think rationally.

3. Fighting at high frequency and magnitude

It’s one of the “quirks” of this relationship. Teens like to call it “rocky” and “full of chemistry.” Nah. It’s just plain ol’ toxic fighting and hostility. Especially because it’s usually over something stupid and entirely irrelevant to their relationship. A passionate relationship doesn’t mean you argue and fight everyday. Your relationship should have more positive energy than negative. Otherwise, why bother?

If they wanted to show a realistic relationship and the struggles teens encounter, they could have taken a dozen different avenues. Like an episode where everything they say gets on each other’s nerves and they just need some space, but then at the end of the episode they can laugh about how they were arguing over something as silly as x,y,z.

Instead, they made Jade the classic toxic bad boy trope.

4. Emotional instability and manipulation

Many people call Beck the calm, grounding force who is the only one capable of “topping” Jade. That’s whack. No one should have to babysit their partner because they’re so emotionally jagged and explosive. Sure, it makes for good comedy, but these two could have just as easily been best friends who knew how to deal with one another. They even could have been a healthier pairing if the writers had made Jade treat Beck with more respect than everyone else. But in the end, Beck has to be her backboard and police officer more than he gets to be her boyfriend.

Jade has too many issues to work through (jealousy, insecurity, aggression, etc). She shouldn’t be in a relationship until she can properly channel that anger and resentment.

Otherwise, she needs someone who won’t put up with her bullshit the way Beck does. (He calls her out on it every now and again, but he also claims that he enjoys not having an easy relationship).

5. Disloyalty

I’m not about to say that Jade is jealous for no reason. Beck could be much better at showing her he only has eyes for his girlfriend. That he puts her at the same level as (or above) his platonic friendships and acting career. But this isn’t always the case, and Jade hates it.

Another reason to break it off. Don’t settle for a man who punishes your behavior by allowing the new girl to kiss him -- or who makes you feel inadequate in any way.

That’s the tea.

That’s all for today, kids. Ship the fictional pairing all you want, god knows I have my fair share of toxic ships (side-eyes Delena). Just please don’t call it realistic. And please know that real relationships take work (real love is a choice as much as it’s a feeling), but that doesn’t mean your relationships have to be this ugly. <3

#beck x jade #bade #victorious #beck oliver #jade west #toxic behavior #toxic relationship #fictional relationships

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sheerbeautyreigns · 4 years

Text

ONE NIGHT

Part 2

***

Excerpt from my longer story Desire. More smutty shenanigans with Drew / Roman (Joe) thanks to Joe's lover Paul Levesque with added Seth (Colby) angst. Enjoy!

***

Joe awoke to the ringing of his phone on the bedside. He picked it up bleary eyed to see Paul’s face. He sighed, rolling onto his back.

‘Hey baby.’ He sounded pretty chipper for 9:30am on a Saturday.

‘Morning,’ Joe said rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was so tired. Paul didn’t waste any time. ‘How was my surprise?’

‘I can’t believe it was Drew. You should have told me. I had a match with him. God knows what was going through his mind.’ Joe exclaimed. ‘Oh I know. I had a hard on watching it. You two work very well together.’

Joe rolled his eyes, propping himself up on the pillows. ‘I’m serious. I didn’t realise you and him…’ he trailed off. ‘Yeah a few years back, on and off. He’s a good guy. I trust him a lot. I would have asked nobody else for you and he seems to like you. How was it?’

‘He was great, nice guy…big,’ Joe started which caused Paul to chuckle. ‘Good! I’m glad. He left after didn’t he?’

‘Yeah, it just seemed to go fast.’ Joe shifted on the bed. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure he can visit again. Would you like that?’ Paul asked. Joe was silent for a moment. ‘I miss you.’

He could hear Paul sigh on the other end of the line. ‘I miss you too baby. I know this isn’t ideal but I’ll see you soon.’ Joe threw off the white covers and got out of the bed. He stopped and looked out the window.

‘I’ll arrange for Drew to see you again Monday night and I’ll see you Wednesday at mine. ‘ It wasn’t a suggestion, more of a statement. ‘I love you.’

‘Love you too.’ Paul ended the call. Joe sighed as he gripped the phone, taking on the view from his hotel window. This whole situation with Paul was starting to become a bit of a mess over the past couple of weeks and he didn’t know what to do about it. It had fucked up his relationship with Colby and now Drew was getting involved. Why did Paul have to be so complicated in his preferences?

The next couple of days were pretty uneventful until Joe got to the arena in Richmond, Virginia for Raw. He would be teaming up with Chris in a tag match against Drew and Jinder. He hadn’t seen Drew since Friday night and there had been no contact since they didn’t have each others numbers.

They had agreed to meet at 5pm to go over their spots. Joe could feel his stomach flip upon seeing Drew again. Luckily he seemed unphased, unless he was really good at hiding it. They were so used to going through the motions that it wasn’t long before they were done. Drew had disappeared off to catch up with Sheamus. Joe spent his time getting a hair and beard trimmed.

The match had gone well and Joe found himself alone in the locker room which was unusual. He went about putting his hair up in a bun and removing his vest when Colby walked in. He hadn’t seen him since their falling out in Atlanta the week prior. He wasn’t fighting tonight, just doing some promo work so he was just wearing a t-shirt and black jeans. Joe looked him in the face from across the room and it was clear to see that Colby was being his usual stubborn self, refusing to acknowledge him. He hated that they weren’t speaking. Joe set his vest aside.

‘So you’re just going to pretend that I don’t exist?’ Joe started, trying not to sound confrontational. He watched as Colby unlocked his locker and took out his belongings.

‘I don’t have anything to say to you.’ He said, refusing to look Joe in the eye.

‘Stubborn as always,’ Joe said in an annoyed tone as the door opened. In walked Drew, wearing nothing but his ring gear and a white towel over his shoulder. ‘Hey.’ He said with a smile. ‘See that. Had the crowd in the palm of our hands.’ He said approaching Joe and pulling him into a hug. ‘Was pretty cool huh,’ Joe forced a smile. This was awkward. Drew dug into his bag that he had set aside. ‘I’m gonna freshen up. What time will you be at the Hilton?’ Joe could see Colby turn his head. Their eyes met briefly before he answered Drew. ‘Uh could be there in an hour. I have a couple of things to do here and I still need to check in.’ He handed his mobile to Joe. ‘Put your number in.’ Drew headed off into the shower area while Joe keyed in his number. Colby stood from across the room looking at Joe, spreading his hands. ‘Lemme guess. Paul’s idea?’

‘It’s not like that.’ Joe defended, knowing exactly what Colby meant. He was right but he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Joe approached him so that Drew couldn’t hear them. ‘I miss you man. Can’t we just be friends?’

‘Not while you’re with Paul. He’ll do anything to tear us apart and you’re just willing to go with it.’ He started ‘No, that’s not true. You know there’s more-‘

‘Aah, don’t give me that bullshit. He’s got you messing around with Drew now and you just go with it. I know exactly what’s going on.’ He said, his voice becoming raised. ‘Will you keep it down!?’ Joe said glancing towards the shower area, hoping Drew wouldn’t hear. He couldn’t hear the water. ‘Don’t worry, I’m leaving.’ And just like that, Colby was gone again. Joe just couldn’t seem to catch a break with him anymore.

‘Everything OK with you two?’ Drew asked cautiously from the door frame, a towel wrapped around his waist. Joe turned around.

‘Yeah, he’s just being stubborn that’s all.’ Drew gave him a look that said he wasn’t really buying it. Joe wondered what Paul had told him about them, if he’d mentioned anything at all. He quickly changed the subject. ‘Right I need to shower and sort my shit.’ Drew smiled and disappeared to shower himself.

Since Joe had a few people to catch up with at the arena, Drew went on to the hotel and grabbed a drink at the bar. He got a text at 10:20pm from Joe to let him know his room number. Drew downed his beer and headed up to the 10th floor.

‘Hey,’ Joe greeted him with a smile. He had his hair in a neater bun this time and he was wearing loose fitting jogging bottoms and a black tank top. Drew smiled as he entered, already removing his leather jacket. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this all day.’

‘I don’t know what you heard in the locker room but…’ Joe started motioning for Drew to join him on the sofa to which he obliged ‘Did Paul tell you anything specific about what’s going on with me?’

‘He mainly said that he wants me to see you from time to time when he’s away.’ Drew answered.

‘Anything about Colby, what you can do, what you can’t do? I just wanna know.’ Joe searched his eyes hoping for some answers.

‘I am aware that you and Colby have a history and I think…no, I know that Paul isn’t too pleased about it. I’m sure he’s worried when you two spend time together. I mean, I’d be too if I were in his position.’ Drew tried to reason with him. ‘Its none of my business at the end of the day but he trusts me to do as I’m told and he knows I like you.’ Joe blushed hearing this. ‘I just want us to fuck. That’s all I want. I’m a simple guy. No dramas here.’ He continued, raising his hands trying to make light of the situation. Joe smiled. ‘So is it just a deal where you fuck me or what?’

‘Well, Paul’s given me free reign, obviously as long as you’re comfortable too.’ He suggested.

‘Like fucking you?’ Joe asked. Drew’s eyes lit up as those three words came out. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’ He could see Joe’s face light up. They wasted no time in getting undressed and moved to the bed. ‘On all fours.’ Joe instructed, grabbing the lube from the night stand, before kneeling behind Drew. The Scot winced at the sudden cool sensation on his opening. Joe was already hard at the prospect of fucking him. Whatever it was, when he was with Paul, he never got to fuck him. Paul was always on top. It had always been that way. The only other person he got to fuck was Colby but there was zero chances of that now. He decided to make the most of this opportunity. He took his time in fingering Drew’s hole, listening to his reactions, making him enjoy every moment. He withdrew his fingers and lined the tip of his cock up with the slightly gaping hole. Drew inhaled as he gently forced himself in, his muscles closing in around the hard shaft. It felt so good to Joe.

‘Christ,’ Drew growled at the feeling of fullness. ‘You good?’ Joe checked trailing his hands around to his pelvis. ‘So good.’ Drew responded urging Joe to begin fucking him. He started off slow, listening to Drew’s reactions and started picking up the pace. ‘Fucking hell,’ Drew let out as Joe fucked him harder now, not letting go of his pelvis, pummeling him into the mattress. He gripped the sheets below, trying to hold on, breathing heavily as Joe’s balls slammed against his ass. ‘I’m gonna come,’ Joe panted. ‘Do it,’ Drew growled, flipping his hair back, catching a glimpse of the intensity on Joe’s handsome face. He shuddered a few moments later as Joe’s seed filled him. The Samoan would not let go until he was completely drained. He withdrew eventually, falling to the bed on all fours, next to an exhausted Drew. ‘Fuck,’ Joe’s chest heaved up and down as he looked up at the ceiling. ‘Has that been building up for a while?’ Drew asked, rolling onto his side to face him. Joe’s head fell to the side. He nodded and smiled ‘You have no idea…’ There was a moment of silence as Drew’s eyes fixed on Joe’s. The Samoan tried to look away until Drew cupped his jaw in his hand and planted a kiss on his lips. Joe gently gripped his wrist and looked him in the eyes.

‘I thought kissing wasn’t allowed,’ he commented, licking his lips. ‘It’s not. I just can’t help myself.’ He leaned in and kissed him again, this time more passionate, their bodies becoming entangled on the bed. Once Drew had Joe on his back, he flipped him over and pulled his hips up towards him. Joe looked over his shoulder to see Drew with the lube in hand. ‘I’m gonna fuck you so hard after that.’ He warned with intensity in his blue eyes. Joe groaned into the sheets as Drew slid his fingers in. He was instantly hard again. He fingered him hard and deep, stretching him out. Joe barely had time to register what was going on until Drew was already sliding his thick cock in with a little help from the lube. ‘Aaaah fuck.’ Joe cried out, burying his head in his hands, his hair falling in front of him.

‘Time to teach you a lesson, you big fucking tease.’ Drew laughed arrogantly as he watched Joe squirm below him. ‘Pleeease,’ he moaned in between breaths, trying to relax his muscles around Drew’s cock. The Scot slapped him hard on the ass. Joe seethed, gritting his teeth knowing there was no way out of this. ‘Fuck,’ he grunted as Drew began to fuck him, rocking the bed with every thrust. Their moans and groans filled the room. Joe felt like he was in heaven and hell, his body writhing in the mix of pain and pleasure that Drew was dishing out. ‘You like that huh? He taunted, squeezing the ass cheek he had smacked moments ago. ‘Aowww fuck,’ Joe cried out again. When he thought he had had enough Drew slammed hard into him, his seed shooting into Joe’s hole. He grunted with each heavy thrust, sending Joe over the edge, caving into the mattress, a sweaty mess, hair everywhere.

When Drew had seen how limp he had become below, he withdrew immediately, lowering to the bed. He brushed his hair away from his face, seeing that his eyes were closed. Heavy, raspy breaths escaped him.

‘Joe, you OK?’ He tapped at his cheek. ‘Joe???’ he tapped faster this time before flipping him over on his back to help his breathing. Eventually his eyes fluttered open. He looked lost. ‘Joe, you OK?’ Drew said with panic, seeing how out of it that Joe looked. Drew came into his vision. ‘Sorry, sorry…’he apologised rubbing his eyes. ‘I was worried there. You were, like, gone.’ The Scot leaned over him making a fuss. ‘It’s OK, it’s happened before.’ Joe sat up in the bed and grabbed the bottle of water from the nightstand. He mouthed about half of the bottle. ‘Way to ruin the moment eh?’ Joe tried to make light of the situation in order to stop Drew from fussing.

‘You should get that checked out. It doesn’t seem normal.’ Drew looked concerned. ‘Don’t worry, it’s like some sort of euphoric high or something. Paul’s seen it before.’ Joe explained. ‘You were so intense.’

‘I can’t help it. I just wanted to fuck you senseless.’ Drew laughed, relieved he had come around. He looked at the clock. It was almost 12am.

‘Do you have to go?’ Joe asked, eyeing him. ‘Well, I’ve done my deed. I shouldn’t leave after you blacked out though.’

‘I’m totally fine now, don’t worry.’ Joe explained trying to brush it off. ‘I would though.’ Drew bit his lower lip and got up off the bed. Joe’s eyes followed him as he disappeared into the bathroom to take a piss. He emerged a few minutes later. Joe was still sat in the same position but now under the white covers.

‘I know I’m not supposed to stay but I don’t want to leave just yet.’ Drew said standing at the foot of the bed. ‘It’s completely up to you man. I won’t say a word.’ Joe advised. Gingerly, Drew walked around to the other side of the bed and crept in under the covers close to Joe who moved onto his side so he was spooning him now. Joe reached over and turned off the bedside lamp before pulling him close and kissing him goodnight.

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns #drew mcintyre fanfic #drew mcintyre #colby lopez #Seth rollins #paul levesque #fanfiction #Fic #wwe fanfiction #Smut #slash #Slash fic

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thecosmicjackalope · 4 years

Text

It’s probably not gonna happen but you know what would be amazing for next episode?

Kiteman leaves without saying anything to Harley or Ivy, who are then left comforting each other about the situation. Both feel like pieces of shit and both are confused about how to move on. Days pass. Weeks pass. As the city rebuilds itself, Kiteman is nowhere to be found and there’s a wall between Harley and Ivy. Everything between them is awkward now because Harley still wants to pursue Ivy but Ivy is riddled with guilt and is still confused about her feelings for Harley and for Kiteman. The crew suffers through the tension, moving between helping them get through their shit and trying to find Kiteman. Ivy wants to find him and so does Harley, but there is still an undercurrent of jealousy from Harley because Ivy’s focused on finding Kiteman and won’t even talk to her about the future and “what happens now.”

During all this, Gotham’s abuzz with gossip about what they have seen and everyone’s taking sides (like how we all are in the comments sections). There’s a good portion of the population that are hounding Harley and Ivy about their “new relationship”, some people are spitting on Harley and calling her a home wrecker (especially Kiteman’s parents, which would kind of be a nice little way to nod at the fact that despite being assholes they do still stand by him), Ivy has people who are talking about how glad they are that she’s dumped “that loser” which fills her with even more guilt, and everyone is laughing about Kiteman, with some wondering about where he is.

The scene shifts and we find Kiteman out of his costume, grounded, without his kite, blending in with everyone around him and succeeding because no one sans Ivy has seen him without his get up. He wanders from place to place, never really going anywhere, sometimes dropping by old spots where he and Ivy had some moments together. He’s not eating, he’s sleeping too much, living like he’s already dead. He walks by a wedding venue and sees the happy couple kiss and look into each other’s eyes lovingly.

He forces himself to look away.

Eventually he wanders into THE PIT or somewhere nearby, feeling low as dirt, lost, confused. He still hasn’t said a line since the episode started. He’s hanging out in the wreckage and the waste, he sees a kite, or perhaps a little harlequin doll, or something that reminds him of what he’s lost. And he snaps, and starts stomping on it and having a breakdown when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns to see that it’s Bane. Expecting Bane to attack him or do worse, Kiteman - or, “just Chuck” at this point - welcomes death. Bane refuses. In fact, he sits down with Kiteman and the camera and the audio pans and fades away respectively as they begin to have a long honest talk.

Back in the city of Gotham, Harley and Ivy have one big argument with a lot of their ugliest feelings bubbling up to the surface and bursting out. Very harsh words are exchanged. They separate, leaving behind the crew, lost, confused and hurt that three people they care about are suffering so much. Ivy goes to be alone in a place she loves, maybe an old greenhouse. Harley goes to a carnival or maybe some batting cages to practice her swing. Each of them respectively are confronted by different people who have something to say - Ivy is approached by Catwoman who “had a feeing she’d be at her usual spot” and Harley is confronted by Batgirl and Batman. They all talk.

Batman talks to Harley about relationships and responsibility and knowing what you want and listening to other people, going off of his own failed romances with Talia and Catwoman respectively, possibly even acknowledging a budding relationship with Wonder Woman or Superman (or both, as, in a hilarious twist, their incident with Ivy’s pheromones lead to them questioning their relationships with each other and trying to be a poly throuple). Batman closes the convo off with saying that Harley has to face the music for the people she’s hurt, but also says that he’ll be happy to see her with someone who treats her right and encourages her to listen to her heart. Harley admits that she feel like she doesn’t deserve love and Batgirl argues that yes she does. She thanks Harley for some of her good deeds, and especially for inspiring her to stand up for the person she loves (her dad) and be his hero, the hero that Gotham needed, while Batman was out. And she closes her end of the conversation by telling Harley that no matter what she chooses, she will stand by her decision. Harley smiles and hugs her, and humorously, Batman gets dragged into the hug and hates the whole experience.

In their own space, Catwoman and Ivy talk. Ivy vents to Catwoman about everything that’s gone down and all of her feelings and guilt and confusion about it, and for once, Catwoman listens, without fuss, without sarcasm, without a word at all. When Ivy admits that she thinks it’s over between them and that maybe it was doomed from the start, Catwoman talks about her romance with Batman, how she always expected it to be doomed, caused it to self destruct and how very deeply she regrets that she let him get away and didn’t try to actually fix the problems in their relationship. She admits that she’s lonely and that she lives her life alone and that she enjoys it, but that it doesn’t come without problems. It comes with regrets. It comes with emptiness. It comes with too heavy a price sometimes. And she encourages Ivy, in her own aloof, standoffish way, that if Ivy really feels like she has something special with Kiteman and Harley, she should pursue it. She should be honest with her feelings about both.

So Ivy and Harley run into each other, and they apologize and tell each other what they want. Harley wants Ivy, and also to take responsibility for how she did Kiteman dirty and wants to mend her friendship with him. Ivy admits she loves Harley and Kiteman both and wants to talk to them both to see if they can all pursue something together, namely, if Ivy is romantically with both, and if Kiteman and Harley are okay with that.

But first they have to apologize and take responsibility for what they’ve done.

At that moment, Kiteman enters the doorway. He’s wearing his uniform, he’s got his things. Ivy and Harley are relieved to see him, but somethings wrong. They can tell something is wrong. He walks past Harley like she’s not even there and he talks to Ivy and tells her that he’s leaving Gotham for another city, somewhere where he can start over, somewhere with lots of wind to soar majestically or something or other. Ivy asks him why and he finally finally lets out all his hurt feelings. Without yelling or raising his voice, he calls her out on all her bullshit, stating that if she had just respected and loved him enough to be honest, they could have worked through it. But she didn’t. And to him, that was unforgivable. He says something along the lines of “ive been a joke to everyone around me since the day I was born. But I thought, for once, I found someone who saw me for who and what I really was. A person. When I met you, I finally thought I found my match, my partner in crime who I could spend the rest of my life with, who would be with me no matter what. But I was wrong. In the end.... I was just a joke to you too.”

Ivy is hurt by this and tries to apologize but Kiteman says he’s made up his mind and he just came by for closure and to give her a proper goodbye. Harley tries to apologize, Kiteman ignores her but does tell the others he’s out of the crew and flies off.

He takes one last look behind him, but he doesn’t look at Ivy. He looks at Harley, not with hate, or anger, but bitter disappointment and betrayal. And it’s at this point that Harley truly realizes what she’s done.

Since You’ve Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson, aka Harley and Ivy’s trademark wedding song request, starts playing in the background as a sequence starts to play. Ivy and Harley drift apart. The rest of the crew - Frank, KS, Clayface and Sy - all struggle with the loss of Kiteman. If Harley was the brains of the group, Kiteman was the heart, and without him everything feels colder. Life in Gotham goes on. Villains fight heroes. People rebuild. College kids graduate, and Joker and his new girlfriend witness the kids perform at a school play, with all of his goons in the audience cheering them on. Bane continues helping others. Nora, Jennifer and Catwoman pay their respects to Dr Frieze and leave flowers on his grave before going out to dinner together as friends (and yes, they all have Cobb Squad tattoos on their arms). Riddler still does his riddles but has started teaching a class for cardio at a local gym and is deeply enjoying it. The only job Dr Psycho can get is running and operating a Ferris wheel ride at the local carnival, which, ironically, he’s good at and he actually kind of enjoys, if only because it’s easy money. He watches as a short little girl JUST misses the height test...and uses his powers to alter the sign so she can ride, just so she doesn’t know the crushing disappointment he felt when he was a kid. (Humorously, When she inevitably falls off the Ferris wheel later, he casually catches her with his powers and sets her back down on the ground without even looking up from the porn mag he’s browsing.) Batgirl and Gordon play videogames together until something comes onto the police radio, after which they race to the roof to meet Damien and Batman waiting for them in a jet. Damien shows a flicker of jealousy towards Barbara, but there’s clear implication that the two will form a strong sibling like bond. Batman smiles at Gordon and Gordon smiles at Batman.

Gotham rebuilds. Life goes on.

But in the very last scene, as the song comes to a close, the crew disbands, and Harley and Ivy separate, with heavy hearts and too much baggage between them for anything, even their friendship. King Shark goes back to the ocean, ready to throw himself into his loveless marriage. Clayface leaves for Hollywood, ever hopeful that maybe someday he can become a true thespian. Ivy takes Frank and Harley takes Sy. As Ivy and Frank look on with teary eyes, Harley gets into her car and drives off into the sunset, and leaves Gotham city limits while crying her heart out.

And that’s how the season ends.

#the harley quinn show #harley quinn #poison ivy #kiteman #spoilers #headcanons #harley quinn show

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