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powerosewaterpuff · 3 years

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yo ,i remember a post about sort of reverse batfam , between jason and dick , can you do the headcanons about under the red hood please

yes yes yes yes yes and another yes to top it all off. i really really love the idea, and i love under the red hood in general so thank u so much for suggesting this :) like i spent all day brainstorming (probs shoulda been studying but shhhhh) diff headcanons so i’m pretty excited to write it out. also so the timeline with this is a little tight ig?? i really wanted to include tim as bruce’s new sidekick with dick in the middle of his fallout with bruce but again a lil too tight so we’re just gonna have rebellious dick for now and i also haven’t watched death in the family so i’m basing this purely off of under the red hood :) (oh and fuck dick’s hair in the movie oh my god i’m ignoring that it even exists i’m so sorry)

dick is 17 on the cusp of hitting 18 and he’s so fucking sick of batman. every conversation of theirs was leading to a screaming match where each one tries to push their opinion as fact. it was getting messy and soul crushing at this point, and dick hated it. the rising action of it all was dick getting fired from robin, a role he hadn’t even been formally granted by batman yet he felt it in his power to strip him of it. he felt like a pawn in a chess game that gambled his identity and being off of the mind numbing mantra of be better. do better. faster. punch harder. follow orders. be better be better better. and dick was sick of it, so he shed the robin uniform. swallowing it like a bitter pill because he was forced to do so. but nightwing was giving him clarity as of late. the sheer rush, brilliance and exuberance of it all reminded him of when flying was a much simpler task.

however, dick had an annoyingly unwavering loyalty to protecting bruce’s (less batman then bruce. bruce was his father. batman was not. yet nowadays the man himself was forgetting who exactly was the secret identity and who the real person was.) safety and well-being, even if it meant risking another shouting round. so, once dick catches wind of batman’s whereabouts for the night, he decides to help him with Amazo etc., and dick cant help but realize how well they still mesh together when it comes to fighting. the talking part however, did not come naturally anymore. (it used to. it used to be so much easier)

now bruce, is attempting his best to keep dick out of the loop. he knows dick will furious. and dick’s temper is something not many can tame, but bruce would take the risk. he’d rather dick spit on his memory then be dead in his arms (just like jason was, blown to bits when he should’ve been in his room. safe. sleeping after studying for some test not fighting crime with him in the underbelly of Gotham city, or getting dragged along bruce’s self induced fight with the world.)

dick, of course, does not appreciate this and can very easily tell the bruce is trying to get him off the case. dick doesn’t appreciate that in the slightest, and it only makes him want to push more. to fight bruce on every detail and demand he be apart of this because that’s the only way he can get anywhere with him. it was fair to say, that the interrogation with the joker he had to force bruce into taking him too, wasn’t exactly pleasant. he watches, leaning back against the wall as batman has joker by the neck. some part of him hates himself for not being upset about this, like he’s failing his moral code in some way. but he ignores that half, and tries not to feel angry as bruce doesn’t choke joker out like the rat he is. dick wished, in the darkest parts of his mind, that he could burn joker alive, just to watch in vengeful satisfaction that the man who stole his brothers breath wither in pain. ( and watch that fucking laugh die out)

now, the confrontation goes quite similar. except dick is noticing these little things that resemble jason too much it be a coincidence. too much. he knows how jason fights, he’s sparred with him for years and used to spend countless nights in his room trying to emulate his older brothers swift and hard hitting movements in front of his mirror. he always wished he could hit as hard as jason, as dicks strength at the time was his inhuman flexiblity and professional acrobatic skills. now, when he and batman are against the red hood, fuck it doesn’t feel right to dick. it’s all too similar. it wasn’t even the bigger moves that caught his attention but the little moves in stance that screamed at him that it was his brother. he kept shutting the idea down, because if it was possible dick would have made it happen. he would’ve.

dick gets hurt in the aftermath, but bruce must be a fucking comedian if he thinks it’s going to stop him. they get into another argument, bruce talking him down to nothing and dick frustrated that bruce couldn’t see that he’s been doing this for too long to be lectured on it, and that bruce wasn’t atlas. he wasn’t responsible for the world being held up between his two hands. it simmers down to loud silence, like it always does and dick hobbles out. leaning slightly on alfred.

bruce’s hunch is eating him alive. devouring his soul and heart with a satisfying crunch, not sparing crumb. with the revelation that his son could be alive, and the Red Hood of all people, one of the first thoughts that run through his mind is that he could not tell dick. dick could never know, and will never know. it was a hushed promise, one kept inside his chest, locked like all of his unspoken words. it would crush dick, just like it was crushing bruce now. (or maybe it was because if bruce was on the fence about breaking his moral agenda, he knows that dick would hurdle over that fence. he hates that he knows this but he does. dick wears a bleeding heart on his sleeve for his family, especially for jason. this is the same boy that was set on killing zucco all those years ago before jason and him had stopped it.)

(jason’s tasting bitter green as he mulls over why the fuck dick was there. that little idiot was supposed to be at home. safe. not carrying out bruce’s destructive agenda of self proclaimed justice. he didn’t know whether to be mad at bruce or dick. because of course bruce encouraged this shit, eager to force another child soldier into the suit and send him out to die. but God, did it hurt that dick had taken bruce’s side over his even if he didn’t know it was jason. and that stung like a motherfucker. his little brother, whose fond memories were becoming hazed in a cloud of viridecent smoke, had picked bruce’s side. a little part of himself though, shy and hesitant, whispered that he had hurt dick. he had hurt his little brother and he couldn’t justify it no matter how vengeful he was. but he shoved that part aside, trying to ignore its desperate murmurs as they told him that every time he looked at nightwing or whatever the fuck his new name was, he saw his eight year old little brother smiling up at him).

dick knows that bruce thinks he’s covering his tracks well. he is but dick knows bruce, better then bruce thinks he does. so dick is slowly beginning to formulate a hunch of his own, as he spends countless nights rubbing his formerly injured leg and wondering if he really did everything he could’ve to save jason. if there was something he missed. it’s starting to gnaw away at him, until realization settles into his chest after snooping through bruce’s files. then, he’s dashing to get into uniform, giving a breathless and hasty apology to alfred. itsjasonitsjasonitsjasongogogorunrunrun

batman. red hood. bruce. jason. father. son. bruce cannot stomach the vigor in jason’s words and jason’s heart is giving out at the fact that his father won’t do this for him. to end that pathetic excuse of a fucking life, one that’s stolen from so many people, but it still wasn’t up to his moral standards limit. was jason not enough to warrant a sacrifice for the greater good. (was jason’s desperate need to feel safe of that walking nightmare not worthy to overtake any mission)

it happens in a rush. dick is swinging up to the building, the blood pumping through his ears drowning out the screams of his chest. the joker tackles batman as the timer tick tick tick’s away numbingly. suddenly, dick has kicked the joker off and has one hand over his neck while the other smothers itself over his mouth and nose. why didn’t he do this before? why didn’t he kill the thing before? it didn’t even deserve to be called human, so why would any moral standards apply to a human based code. if batman wanted to be the whole representer of pure justice, fine. he could do that. dick wasn’t though. he was going this kill piece of shit then never let go of jason as long as he lived.

suddenly, there’s a pull at the back of dick’s uniform and at the corner of his eye he catches sight of jason being pulled by bruce as well and he’s just about to call out for him when the next thing he knows a blast rockets through his ears and the world goes black.

jason was no where to be found. and bruce ends up having to shove dick into the batmobile before he lunged after the joker, after realizing jason was missing and that the joker was still alive and kicking. the argument that insues? isn’t pretty. in fact it’s their worst. dick had spun around and asked bruce, ‘who are you? batman or bruce? because im not talking to batman, i want to hear why bruce couldn’t do the one thing his son needed! i want to know why bruce thought it was going to be beneficial not to fucking tell me that my brother-Bruce, he’s my brother! that he was alive, because you thought I was gonna pull shit like this? look at that! the exact thing you tried to avoid happened, you know why? because you cannot trust me, and it blew up in your face!’

it goes on. and on. and on. there’s no resolution, or admittance to what happened. bruce simply shuts himself down, stating this wasn’t changing anything. there was a then and a now, one in which bruce harbours enough guilt to crush his shoulders.

there’s a stony resolution in dick’s voice after bruce tells him to get out with more finality to it then he’s ever said it before, when he says, “fine. batman.”

(jason replays it over and over again in his head. the batarang. bruce turning his back to him. the jokers screechy laugh eating at his mind. eruptions of pain from the crowbar. again. again. again. and dick. smothering the joker. a steely resolve in his brothers eyes he never wanted to see but was secretly glad for. it replays like a broken film in his head, cutting and chopping but creaking out the same tune.)

AHHH OK SO i def wanted to do so much more with this ugh but i really wanted it done td so excuse just how unpolished it is, i might go back with some new ideas in it, but i like where i ended it off. this is more or less the ‘detachment’ phase in dick’s relationship with bruce, as hes nearing the end of high school and cannot do this with bruce anymore (oh college is a whooole other ordeal hehe) but i think dick would be better to tim then what he canonically was to jason. (also because dick is totally not on a mission to get his brother back at all costs and fix this family, nope. not at all.), and i think dick just has a lot more anger in this too? and bitterness here ig? just because he had lost his parents, then his brother essentially, and had to deal with being the emotional support to bruce who was falling apart. it’s a heavy load, and dick is absolutely still himself, just when it comes to jason and the joker as well as his family in general, i think he has a lot more anger as well as less control yk? (oh also i have him less in blüdhaven in this lil thing just bc like he’s still in highschool and is in this weird phase with bruce that hes fired etc., but is now yk fully going into the, ‘i’m not speaking to you anymore’ part. SOO THATS IT FOR THAT THANK YALL SO SOOOO MUCH FOR READING UR KINDA ALL THE BEST TBH AND TYSM FOR THE SUGGESTION AGAIN THIS WAS HELLA FUN :)!!

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carryonmywaywardwriters · 5 years

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Heathens - Soulless Reader x Demon Dean (Short Series)

A/N: Yes, I’m alive. I just don’t particularly want to discuss it in depth. For now? Have this. I have some stuff lined up to be posted, already. So, there’ll be some more over this next week that way. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Warnings: Harley/Joker kinda relationship. Unhealthy. Power driven. Implied/Upcoming smut. Etc. Each chapter will have individual warnings.

Word Count: Roughly 2,800

“Y/N?” Dean Winchester. A deep, gravelly voice you hadn't heard since Bobby died echoed around you. A voice that should have meant something. Instead, it made you turn slowly, a brow raised. Waiting for the consequences with a blank face.

He hadn't been sure it was you. Darkness covered you. But, that wasn't enough. The actions he'd witnessed too fundamentally wrong to be from the woman he'd known. Y/N wouldn't ever kill in cold blood. Wouldn't off someone simply for attempting to mug her.

But you had. Without even blinking. You simply took out your gun from the back of your jeans. Shot twice, causing the kid to fall to the ground. Picking up the bag, you slung it over your shoulders. Another bullet was slung, this time to the skull, before you walked away. Tucking the gun away. Only to find yourself stopped by Dean in the alley.

The Y/N he knew always cried after a hunt. After any kind of kill. His lifestyle had been necessary to you at the time, but taking a life had never come natural. If anyone had known that, it was Dean. You'd turned to him from the beginning. All the way until the day he'd shoved you away. Trying to protect you. Failing miserably from the look of things.

“Well, well, well.” Your head tilted to the side. Inspecting him as though he were a bug. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?” Your lips kicked up humorlessly. “One of the great Winchester Duo paying little ole me mind again. What an honor.” The sarcasm might have made him flinch in his original state, but he was able to withhold in his newer form- barely.

“Happened to be walking this way, on a job.” He wasn't lying. Not completely, anyway.

Crowley had directed him that way. Promising that he'd have a kill ready for Dean. A means to keep the Mark under control. Even as a demon, the need to shed blood was fixed into his very being thanks to the raised scar etched into this forearm.

Once, you'd been repulsed, and even scared, of how easily Dean had lifted the gun and fired. He had gotten to the point where he barely blinked as a human, much less as a Knight of Hell. And yet, he couldn't help but to wonder what had taken the light out of your eyes. The guilt out of your head. What had turned you into him.

“I see you found her.” Crowley's low voice called out, in a way that should have sent chills up your spine. Instead, your lips pulled up even wider.

“You're working with the King of Hell?” You chuckled darkly. Losing what bit of tension there'd been in your shoulders. “Man, I've missed out on a lot. When did you become his bitch, Dean?”

“I'm not his bitch,” He bit out. His eyes flashing black under the alley light. Expecting you to shiver in revulsion.

“Even better.” Your smile fell a bit, but your face didn't lose that off feel to it. As if you were possessed. Or, maybe even under a spell. “You became his slave, instead.”

“I'm no one's slave, Y/N.” His words echoed another past memory.

“I'm scared, Dean.” You'd swallowed tightly, looking into his green eyes. Scared wasn't enough to cover it. You were petrified. A dead man could see it.

“Why?” If he was able, he'd fight off every one of your fears. Kill them before they could even begin to form.

“Because you're changing.” You whispered brokenly. The sound ripped at his chest. “You're becoming a...a slave. To this life. The guilt. Your fear... And I can't do anything...just sit by and watch.”

“I'm not a slave to anyone.” He'd bit out. Pride winning out against the urge to protect. “Or, anything. We'll be fine, Y/N. We always are.”

“Funny.” You snorted. Drawing him back to the present. “I've heard that before,” Your mind had traveled to the same place. “And, yet, here we are.”

“Yes,” Crowley had been watching the exchange curiously, “here we are. Eloquent words, darling.”

“I try,” Tilting your head mockingly, you got to the meat of the situation. Clearly not wanting to be bothered. Particularly by them. “What do you want with me?”

“It would seem that you're part of a contract that went wrong-”

“Oh, yeah.” A false, heavy sigh left your lips. “I almost forgot about that.” Dean's gaze turned back to his fellow demon for a moment. Attempting to piece together what was happening. “Thanks, by the way. Really loved having a hell hound come after me.” You pinched your index finger to your thumb in an approving gesture. “It only got better with the small hoard of demons you sent on my ass.”

“Such sass-”

“I was nicer before I lost my soul. Forgive me for my lack of manners. I seem to have trouble feeling these days.” Coldness seeped from your lips. A weapon honed by the attacks.

“You're soulless?” Understanding swam through him. Why, although you were so different, you were still so familiar.

The way you moved. How you detached. An empty eeriness clung to your features. It was completely unnatural. As if you were his brother when he'd come back from hell. Broken. Missing a large part of what made you, you.

“It's not as awful as it sounds.” You ran your tongue over your teeth as you glared at the superior demon in front of you. “Actually, I like it. A lot.” Your fingers twitched back to your weapon, “which is why I don't want it back. The only thing I want is to be left alone.”

“The contract isn't complete-”

“It wasn't my contract.” You cut him off, sneering. The tension lining your body. Prepared to fight to keep yourself destitute. “So, not my problem.”

“But, it is ours.” The shorter man hissed while snapping his fingers. Sending your body flying through the air until it connected against the brick. Your skull cracked with enough force to knock you out. But, you'd live. After all, you were there for a reason. “All yours.” Crowley motioned at Dean. Signaling that you'd be his kill.

“Why her?” Dean narrowed his eyes. Taking in the shameless king in front of him. Resisting the desire to step between him and your lifeless body.

When he'd turned, he hadn't become the usual demon. Bits that hadn't quite died off when Metatron stabbed a blade into Dean's body made themselves known on a regular basis. Killing Lester rather than the wife had only been the most recent offense.

The king of the underworld not only needed the job finished, but he needed that almost human part of Dean gone. Wanted the obstinate side of him to crumble. If Dean killed you? The woman he'd loved at one point- if not always...the problematic demon would morph. He'd be the perfect side kick.

“I believe that you already know the answer to that question, Dean-o.” Crowley quipped, following the movement of the green that had reappeared. Seeing the hesitation, and the connection being made. “You're almost to your full potential. There's just a smidge that needs fixed to get you there. This will make everything right.” His eyes were slightly crazed, as if he needed this. “It feels good, right? To continue to be a demon. To not be riddled with those pesky emotions. Fear. Guilt. Love. To do what you want, when you want, without being held back. Without consequence.”

“You're right.” Dean's jaw clenched lightly. The first blade came out of his denim jacket, and into his hand. “I am a demon.” His lips pulled up into a twisted smile of his own. Growing confident in his decision. “I feel nothing. I can do what I want, when I want.” Crowley backed away as Dean stepped between you two. His back facing your body. “And, I'll kill you before I kill her.”

–

“Dean?” Your head should have hurt far worse than the dull ache given the amount of blood you could see smeared onto the pillow and sheets in the mirror above the bed as you squinted up. But, that was nothing new. You'd been that way for weeks. “Where the hell are we?”

He'd been pacing by the window when you'd woken up. Completely ignorant to your eyes opening. You turned his way, watching the way he moved.

His hand wrecked his hair over and over again. The jacket was gone, thrown onto the table with a blade made from a large jaw bone resting atop of it. Red flannel was tossed over a black t-shirt. Even as a demon, he had to layer up. If you could have felt amused, you would have.

“I'm not telling you.” His eyes flashed back in warning. As if that would matter to you. “You're a problem for me, Y/N. Always have been. Now? You fucked this up, too.”

“Oh, yes... Let's blame the soulless girl who's been back into the equation for five minutes.” Your eyes rolled heavily as you got to your feet to stretch. “Your problems came from your own hands, Winchester. The minute you sold yourself for Sam, it was over. I was the one unwillingly pulled into the fray.”

“Watch it.” The green was gone for a longer period this time. His anger showing in another snarl. “Go too far? That blade will land in your throat.”

“If you were going to do it, you would have already.” That devilish smirk crossed your lips. So certain now that emotion didn't rule you. “I've been out of your life for years, Dean. It should have been simple. Especially since you're sporting the Mark of Caine.” Your eyes landed on the reddened flesh. Too well versed to not recognize the symbol. “Take it this is the first blade?” You walked over to the weapon. Dried blood coated the yellowed, aged, bone. “You actually cut Crowley with this? To get me out of there?” Your brows rose as the weapon twisted in your hands. Mind churning as you inspected the rusted flakes clinging to it. “How sweet... I suppose you want paid back... the usual good enough?” Dean liked sex. That was no secret. He'd accepted more than his fair share from women he'd saved back in the day. His full lips pulled down into a deadly frown at your words. No doubt second guessing the decision to keep you alive. “Oh, lighten up.” Your eyes rolled at his grumpiness.

He'd be lying if he said that the offer wasn't appealing. Demonhood hadn't diminished his sexual appetites. If anything, they'd only grown stronger. Everything carnal expanding inside of him. However, he had bigger things to focus on. He'd nearly offed the King of Hell. Other demons would be on his ass sooner than later.

“You have any idea how you ended up in a contract?” Finding out who'd asked for your soul to get collected was the first step. That was about as far as he'd gotten.

“No clue.” Your finger was pricked by the point of the knife before you set it down. You sucked at the irony liquid out of habit. Grinning lightly at the way Dean's eyes followed the action. “I don't even really think one exists.” You finally stated, licking your lip clean of the rust flavored spot that had landed on it.

“You think he was trying to manipulate me?” He didn't seem surprised. Furious enough to have ignored the dart of your tongue.

It should have seemed odd to you. Dean with black eyes. The Winchester embracing the bad rather than the good. Not attempting to fight it anymore. But, you took it in stride. It was amazing how simple of a task it was when you didn't have any worries left.

“Tell me it doesn't make sense.” He couldn't. You knew it. “And you're just going to take that laying down?”

“He has an army of demons at his disposal. I just have me.” You looked at him expectantly while pointing to yourself. A grunt of acknowledgment left him. “And, you. But, that'll only last as long as he holds onto your soul.”

“Good point.” You pursed your lips. It was your turn to pace. Self preservation being the only thing you had left. “So, what're you planning to do about it?”

“You think I'm going to run.” He heard it in your voice. His pride hadn't been damaged by death. It rose its venomous head as you shrugged, pretending that wasn't what you were thinking. “So, what do you think I should do? After all, you seem to have it all figured out..” He plopped to the bed, looking at you expectantly. Daring you to come up with a better idea. Mocking you with his words. Still so similar to the man he'd been.

A low hum left you. Your eyes turned out to the window. Gazing at the world beyond as you moved. When it finally came together, you turned your head his way.

“You stopped the Apocalypse. You destroyed the Leviathans. And who knows what else since I've been gone.” Your pacing turned into more of a prowl until your hands rested on his shoulder. His eyes turned black immediately, again. You weren't sure if it was in response to your touch, or out of distrust. But, neither stopped you. “That was as a human. As a demon? I think you could take over Hell, and take all of the power for yourself.”

That caught his interest, “Yeah?”

“Let's face it, Dean.” Your lips brushed against his ear as you sat down on his lap. Drawing forth a low shiver. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you got to work. “Most demons know your name. They fear it.” Your hand brushed over the hair by his ear as you leaned back to look into his eyes. Staring into the bleakness. “You could have killed Crowley today. Easily.” He was too well trained not to be able to. “I know it. You know it. And, I'm sure he does.” Your lips curled up deviously. Setting the bait. “You've earned the crown, already.”

“And what's in it for you?” His eyes narrowed distrustfully. Knowing there was a catch. That no one, even those without a soul, came without a price.

“Besides you? And protection?” You shrugged nonchalantly. As if it meant nothing, “I rule by your side.”

“And here I thought demons were the power hungry ones.” His blackened eyes searched yours as you leaned forward.

“We soulless people have drives, too.” Your lips brushed against his lightly as you talked, making his breath hitch. “I want to live. I want to be safe. Unchallenged. I want to feel powerful for once in my pathetic life.” Your tongue wet your lips, grazing against his in the process. “And, this? This is how I can get all of that. You and your body are just a hell of a perk.”

“And your soul?” The million dollar question.

“I want it locked away.” There wasn't a moment of hesitation. “I meant what I said earlier. I don't want it back.” The almost empty E/C eyes searched his warily. The next question would determine everything. “And, your demonism?”

“It's me.” He answered gruffly. As if it was insulting you'd bothered to ask. “I don't want cured. I don't want to go back.” His dark smile made your lips kick back up. “I love this disease.”

“So, we have a deal?” Your grin grew. It was oddly chilling to Dean, even in his form. But, that didn't stop him from nodding. “Where you're a demon, does that mean we kiss on it?”

“Something this big, it takes a lot more than a kiss to seal it.” His raspy tone made your body break out in goosebumps. Your emotions may not have been there, but his words alone felt like a caress to your skin. As if your senses were amplified in those regards.

“Better get to work then,” Your lips met his as he pulled you down onto the bed. Signing over everything to you.

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger

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nicolewoo · 4 years

Text

First night on the road

Pairing: Finn Balor x Reader

Scenario: It’s the reader’s first night backstage at RAW and meeting the good brothers.

Warnings: A little cursing

I'd only been in the arena for a few minutes before I heard a delighted scream. “YYYY/NNNNNNN” Ettore was running straight for me. He wrapped me in a huge hug, picking me up off my feet and spinning me around. “I heard you were coming to work with us!!!” Kofi and Austin followed close behind wrapping me in a giant group hug.

“Who's here?” Kofi asked jokingly, and all three members of The New Day began chanting “Who?” “Who?” “Who?”

“Y/N! That's who!” Ettore said.

I couldn't help the laughter that escaped me. I felt a pair of hands wrap around my waist and pull me back from the pack of jokers. “Easy now fellas. T'is one's mine.” Fergal joked as he pulled me against his chest.

“So the rumors are all true?” Austin asked.

All three of them looked to Fergal and I. I paused for effect but smiled big and said “Yes.”

“You're really working for RAW?” Kofi asked.

“No.” I corrected. “I'm working for the WWE, but for NXT.” I informed them.

“But you're on the road with us?” Ettore questioned.

“Yep.” I grinned at them all.

At that, Fergal and I were wrapped in a giant group hug again.

“Seriously though,” Austin said after a second. “We are so glad everything worked out for you.” He paused before adding “Both of you.” He wiggled an eyebrow at Fergal. “But why are you traveling with RAW if you're working for NXT?”

“I can work anywhere, and they wanted to keep Fergal and I together, so here I am.” I explained hoping that they wouldn't ask more questions about what I do for the company.

Kofi asked, “So what are you doing for the WWE?” Figures.

I pondered a second before answering, “It's all technical social media stuff.” I tried to appease them, but they were having none of it. They stared at me expecting a little more information.

Austin was the one who spoke, “Go on. We're smart men. What type of technical social media stuff?”

Fergal stepped in now, “Guys, she's not allowed to talk about it. She has an NDA.”

That brought a couple of raised eyebrows. “So, you're like the WWE CIA or something?” Ettore joked.

“Something like that. A little more like MI6 actually.” I laughed, grateful for both Ferg and Ettore for allowing me an easy way to end the questions.

“Now young lady,” Kofi wrapped an arm over my shoulders. “You're gonna have dinner with us, right?”

“Guys, it's her first night....” Fergal was going to say something else, but Ettore cut her off.

“Then she's lucky to have friends to eat dinner with. You can't hide her away from us Ferg. You can come to dinner too.” Kofi said.

I knew Fergal didn't like to eat at catering. He preferred to grab his food and go eat alone or with the good brothers, so I knew a compromise was in order. “Gentlemen,” I butted in. “How about we all eat together tomorrow? I promise. I just want to get familiar with everything today.” I smiled warmly, and they smiled back.

“Tomorrow then.” Austin ceded.

“I'm gonna get her settled in, guys. We'll have dinner tomorrow.” Fergal promised. I got hugs from each of them before we left.

Walking through the halls I got a LOT of odd looks. Some seemed confused, some seemed unhappy. No matter how they looked, everyone noticed Fergal and I walking in together. I heard whispers behind us after we passed. Fergal squeezed my hand to reassure me. “Give t'em time. T'ey'll love you once t'ey get ta know ya.” He gave me a warm smile and ran his thumb over my knuckles. “Here we are.” Ferg knocked on the door that had a piece of paper taped to it reading BALOR CLUB. He ducked his head in checking to make sure everyone was decent.

“I haven't been this nervous since I first met you.” I admitted.

Fergal grabbed my hand, “No reason to be nervous. T'ey're gonna luv ya.” Ferg looked down at me, “No reason to be nervous. Trust me, luv.” He placed a quick kiss on my forehead then opened the door.

Chad (Carl Anderson) and Andy (Luke Gallows) were both dressed in their ring gear. Both were taller than I thought; which only intimidated me more.

“There she is!” said Chad and he walked full speed to wrap me in a giant hug. I'm usually a hugger, but not before I've even met someone. A split second later, Andy joined the hug and pulled Fergal in too.

“Group hug!” he practically yelled.

“All right. All right.” Ferg said pushing the boys back. “Give her some room to breath.” He wrapped his arm around my waist. “You ok, luv?”

The combination of my anxiety and the crazy greeting had me laughing. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Enough mushy, Ferg.” Chad said. “She's gonna have to get used to us hugging her,” he smiled at me.

“Y/N these are t'e good brothers, Chad and Andy,” he introduced the duo properly. I noticed the smiles on their faces as they shook my hand.

“Good to meet the woman who put a permanent smile on Ferg here.” Andy said as he patted Ferg on the shoulder a bit too hard.

Chad and Andy had the first match of the night and Fergal had the second to last match, which meant I'd have someone with me at all times. It was a comforting thought. I knew the boys would be kind when in charge of me.

After Fergal got into his ring gear, we headed to a nearby room to watch the show with other talent. By the time we headed back to the dressing room, the boys were showered and dressed in street clothes.

“Do you want to watch Fergy's match?” Andy asked.

I nodded yes, “If you don't mind.” The three of us settled headed back into the common area to watch the match.

Watching Ferg wrestle before I met him was one thing. Now that we were together, I cringed at every hit he took. Andy took notice and patted my shoulder reassuringly. “You'll get used to it, Y/N.”

“He's the best, well, besides me. Nothing to worry about.” Chad said.

“You say that like he hasn't just returned from 7 months of recovery.” I said quietly.

“I know it's all a bit scary,” Andy said, “But once you get to know more about wrestling, you'll learn what can hurt a wrestler and what just looks dangerous.” His assurance didn't help, because I knew that any move could hurt someone if done wrong. Needless to say, I was happy when the match was over.

After the match, we went back to the locker room and talked while Fergal got showered and dressed.

“Ok, I'm starved. Let's get some food.” Chad said bluntly as Fergal finished dressing.

We all followed behind and climbed into the SUV the good brothers had rented for this leg of the journey. The boys started immediately asking about me. “How do you like it in the WWE?” “Tell us your hobbies.” “Favorite music.” Thankfully, it was a quick drive, because I was starting to feel like I was being interrogated.

Ferg squeezed my hand before we got out. I was finally getting used to the idea that I couldn't touch him in public. Andy opened my door, and helped me onto the sidewalk. Ferg came around the car and placed his hand on the small of my back. Andy then placed his hand higher on my back. I cocked my head a bit and looked to Fergal for an explanation. “Ah, t'e brothers.... actually t'e whole roster will help cover any PDAs. If I touch you, and someone else touches you, t'e press and fans won't assume you're dating anyone.... jus' t'at we're all friends. It's how everyone keeps their relationships secret.”

“That's genius.” I declared.

The restaurant was beautiful and posh. Low lights, candles, classical music, white tablecloths. We followed the maitre d to a side room just off the main dining room. We were still within view of the other patrons, but partially blocked. I could see the guys appreciated a bit of privacy. Just a bit.

We were joined by Benjamin Satterley (Neville) and Rami Sebei (Sami Zayn). Once we settled in, the conversation became all about wrestling. First, the wrestling here at the WWE. Story lines, who's the best heel, etc. Then came the old “embarrassing” stories from NJPW. Chad was dead set on telling me every crazy thing Fergal did while in Japan. Ferg was turning brighter shades of red with each story. Ben must have noticed, because he stopped Chad by turning the conversation to me.

We discussed my work history and what it was like to live just across the river from St. Louis. The guys were all excited for their next show in St. Louis because I agreed to show them the city. When the conversation turned to what my role was in the WWE, I panicked. The Non-disclosure-agreement loomed in my mind. “I'm working with creative.”

“Thank the heavens!” Ben said. “Maybe you can get the writers' heads out of their arses,” He started, but Fergal stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Guys, she's just started. She's not even working on the main roster. She's working with NXT.” He interjected.

“And actually,” I continued, “I'm working with the social media side of things,” I said shyly. I didn't want to disappoint them, but it was true. Of course, I didn't offer up that much of what I was doing.

Rami jumped in to calm the boys, “As long as you're happy and you're sticking around. I haven't seen this guy” He patted Ferg on the shoulder, “so happy in ages.” That made Ferg smile shyly.

“Wait.” Ben started, “You're working on NXT, and you're on the road with RAW? That makes no sense.” He looked to me for answers, but I didn't have any that I could say aloud. My eyes shot to Fergal who promptly changed the subject. “Guys, it's boring.... trust me.” Well THAT wasn't the response I wanted. I elbowed Ferg in the ribs. “I just mean, that none of us would want to do it. Sitting at a computer all day isn't our idea of fun.”

“You're not out of the dog-house yet,” I teased.

Fergal snaked an arm around my waist, and to cover the PDA, Rami wrapped his arm around my shoulder. Both of them leaned in to kiss my cheek. “The other patrons are going to think I'm a slut.” I joked nodding my head to the other dining room.

Just then, the food arrived breaking up the whole thing. Chad and Andy insisted I sit between them; Ferg across from me. I almost protested, but it really was the smartest move to keep our relationship a secret from the public. At least this way, I got to enjoy the salacious looks Ferg shot at me and the warm smile as he talked to his friends. He really was too beautiful. I said a thankful prayer in my head.

Dinner was eaten, jokes were told, stories were re-lived, laughter and joy all around.

When the plates were cleared, the conversation turned to Fergal's injury and the time off. I could see a hint of pity on all of the guys faces when talking about the 7 months off, but Ferg smiled the whole time.

“I neva woulda met t'is wonderful lass if it wasn't for t'e injury.” He beamed at me, and my heart swelled with joy. I hoped he meant it.

“Here's to bad circumstances that bring us joy,” Rami raised a glass to toast, and we did.

We were then interrupted once by a young boy about 8 years old. He'd spotted the superstars from the main dining room. He knocked on the door jamb with father in tow and asked for autographs. His dad apologized for interrupting our night, but the boys were happy to put a smile on the kid's face. The father explained that his son was obsessed with wrestling and wanted to become a wrestler. Ben made sure to tell the boy, “Find me when you graduate from school. I might need a tag team partner then.” It was really sweet.

By the time we climbed back into the SUV to go back to the hotel, I was exhausted. I snuggled up close to Fergal and rested my head on his shoulder. Chad and Andy were shockingly quiet, and I was nearly asleep by the time we arrived.

“Let's get ya inside.” Ferg whispered as he helped me out of the car and up to our hotel room. “Did ya have a good first day on t'e road?” He asked as we got ready for sleep.

I nodded yes. “Good but tiring.” I admitted as I crawled under the covers and Ferg crawled in behind me pulling me against his chest and wrapping his arm around me.

#finn balor fergal devitt wwe raw

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sparklyjojos · 6 years

Text

400 pages into Cosmic, the plot picked up rather fast so here’s a short (’short’) recap of what’s been happening

As a foreword: the JDC books have weird chronology, so while Cosmic was released first, it takes place in January 1994. That’s two months after Tsukumo Juku solved the Geneijo case in Joker (solved it on the day of his 20th birthday, no less: 31.10.1993), and fourteen years after Ajiro Souji and 6-year-old Juku solved The Saimon Family Murder Case. (This chronological mess actually causes Seiryoin to spoil the other books in this. Which I understand, because the tragedy that was Geneijo influenced a lot of character development of the detectives.) After Geneijo, in December 1993, Juku traveled to England to help with the case of Jack the Ripper’s copycat, ‘Jackie the Ripper’, and since he’s still caught up in that case when Cosmic starts, he can’t (yet) go back to Japan to help Ajiro with the Locked Room Lord case. (The real reason is probably that Tsukumo Juku is like Son Goku, if you don’t carefully keep him away from the plot he’ll solve it in five minutes and there goes your tension)

---

So, the second part of the book starts with that thing I quoted about an unnamed mysterious androgynous stranger in a non-disclosed location sending a package with non-disclosed contents to JDC. (Hm, who can that be?)

Then we mostly follow Ajiro Souji, the JDC representative and a telephone detective, who’s having a very bad time. As if the initial murders and Pyramid Mizuno dying wasn’t enough, there’s also the thing where a guy they suspected to be the Locked Room Lord died in the locked room no. 20, and his place had evidence that he knew about the victims beforehand (but how?...). And then one of the newest victims of the Locked Room Lord is just a kid, murdered nowhere else but in Geneijo. That coincidence (or is it?...) spooks everyone in JDC, especially given that Souya -- Ajiro Souji’s son and the assistant of Ryuuguu Jounosuke -- was murdered there during the case just months earlier, and the wounds are still fresh.

(So basically, in 1980 Ajiro solved the Saimon Family Murder Case that had claimed Juku’s family including his birth parents, and then in 1993 Juku solved the case that had killed Ajiro’s son. It’s almost poetic, in a very tragic way...)

Anyway, stressed and exhausted Ajiro falls asleep and has a dream where he talks with Tsukumo Juku, who I guess is how his subconscious is showing ‘reason’ to him (Descriptions of their long-lived intergenerational friendship and mutual trust are really great, btw. Ajiro even notes that just hearing Juku’s voice is enough to calm him down completely, and that everytime they talk on the phone they’re both so happy as if they haven’t heard each other in years. Aww. Ajiro may be sort of a paternal figure to Juku, but it’s too early to tell for sure.) Anyway, dream!Juku tells Ajiro that to solve the current case he should ‘think backwards’, that is, think about the distant past; even more distant than the Saimon family case.

---

Upon waking up Ajiro is told that JDC got a mysterious package: a manuscript signed by a famous detective novel author Dakushoin Ryusui (濁暑院溜水). There are two problems here. 1) Dakushoin died in Geneijo, and the detectives even saw his corpse, and 2) the manuscript describes the first 19 locked rooms... including the ones that happened just hours prior to getting the package.

Other parts of the manuscript are 3 stories happening in 3 different times: in the Heian period, Edo period, and at the beginning of the 20th century. (It seems that what the dream!Juku told him about ‘distant past’ was true, huh.) The first two talk about alleged historical events when a ‘vengeful ghost’ called the Locked Room Lord caused the death of 1200 people each time, the third is about the famous mystery writer Edogawa Ranpo trying to uncover the truth about these events. The latter two stories feature a hundreds of years old man, Hikami Sensai, who relays the previous Locked Room Lord cases to the protagonists by giving them the previous written down stories.

Oh, and then there’s that part of the manuscript that talks about the future, predicting that JDC will fail to solve the case, the Locked Room Lord will complete his plan of killing 1200 people in a year, and then on New Year 1995 JDC will get another message from him that in that year, as well, 1200 people will die...

Ajiro is really spooked now. Soon after, when he calls Juku and discusses the contents of the manuscripts with him, they both suddenly realize they did briefly meet an old man called Hikami Sensai before -- fourteen years ago, right after the Saimon Family Murder Case. (There’s a very cute flashback, with Ajiro telling li’l Juku that he will surely one day grow up to be the pillar of all the detective work in Japan. Juku looks at him in a silent promise, his eyes shining with determination. I can’t overstate how much I love their relations in this.) They also talk about how the Jackie the Ripper Case and the current Locked Room Lord Case may have something in common, but we don’t learn the details.

---

Soon, Ajiro sets up a meeting to discuss the manuscript with other detectives. We meet the rest of the usual JDC cast, among them:

-- Hikimiya Yuuya, the statistics guy with a vast knowledge of mystery novels, usually Tsukumo Juku’s assistant (not now, since Juku’s abroad)

-- Ryuuguu Jounosuke, the cryptography guy who wears all black, refers to everyone with very polite suffixes while talking about himself in third person, and while he looks really young he’s actually a few years older than Juku

-- Kirika Mai, who mainly uses reasoning by elimination, who’s trying to figure out who her parents were (they died when she was a baby), and who holds Juku in very high regards after he saved her and helped her get into JDC

-- Tsukumo Nemu, Juku’s younger sister by adoption (ie. she’s a Tsukumo by birth, Juku is a Tsukumo via being adopted by Tsukumo Ranma), whose reasoning is more based on ‘vague feelings’ about what happened than precise facts. She’s 18 in this book. She and Kirika seem to be great pals and work as partners, probably because tagging along through the Geneijo case made them understand each other

-- Amagi Hyoma, who mainly drinks and sleeps a lot and I’m not sure what he’s even doing there

We also meet some not-detective assistants, as well as a bunch of police officers, including Tetsuko, an older sister of one of the Locked Room Lord’s victims.

Working together (mostly using Ryuuguu’s cryptography skills) the detectives discover that the names of the victims are all anagrams or otherwise wordplays on the names of the characters in the manuscript. It seems that whoever wrote it was either the murderer, or somebody who knew about the murderer’s plan, and encoded the victims’ names in the charactes’ names as a sort of ‘key’. The question is who wrote and sent that manuscript; Hikimiya (who’s a mystery nerd and read all of Dakushoin Ryusui’s books) believes it was written by Dakushoin judging by the style, word choices etc., but Dakushoin is dead (right?), so what’s going on? Some parts of the manuscript are different than reality, eg. the names of the victims, or that time a guy in one of the locked room stories calls JDC and talks with Ryuuguu -- in reality it wasn’t Ryuuguu, but a guy called Yaiba who picked up the phone. So maybe the writer lost contact with the culprit after some time and just guessed stuff? This entire mess is confusing to everyone.

At the point I stopped reading, the detectives all pair up and start serious investigation, chasing clues needed to discover the truth about the manuscript in many different places -- Dakushoin’s own house; Geneijo; the place where the guy suspected to be the Locked Room Lord lived that apparently has photos and maps related to the victims; a historical literature university group that can probably tell whether the Heian and Edo parts of the manuscripts are genuine or not; and also the place where Ajiro and kid Juku met that mysterious old man fourteen years ago...

---

Impressions so far:

I really, really like the parts with Ajiro and Juku. As you can probably tell.

Welcome to ‘things that only make you cry if you’ve read Tsukumojuku and also care too much about stuff’, featuring my poor detective son having a happy life and loving friends, and Serika and Tsutomu Kirika and Nemu being bffs and detectiving together.

There are some boring stretches, which I expected since Seiryoin’s slow pace is often criticized.

Juku’s biological dad was actually called ‘Ryusui’, even with the same kanji as in [Seiryoin] Ryusui, dkjfhkgjd, I mean yeah Seiryoin technically is his dad but still, really. I feel like at one point I’ll have to pull out one of those old Mary Sue Tests and put Juku through it just to see how many points he gets

The ‘historical’ stories were as expected a hell to read because of some archaic vocabulary and fragments like ‘Emperor X had two sons, Y and Z, and their mother was W, and then Y married J and had kids K and U with her’, that I guess the Japanese reader would recognize as historical figures but I don’t know anything about them and I got a bit lost. Yeah, that’s the fault of my ignorance.

This may sound funny, but if I didn’t know anything about the series and got to this point? I’d probably be 100% convinced that Tsukumo Juku is the Locked Room Lord. Solely because he’s hanging out conveniently away from the plot, and everyone describes him as so kind and smart and unearthly beautiful and trustworthy that he must be tricking everyone, right? I guess Seiryoin is playing on the readers’ expectation... by not playing on their expectations. The thing is, we don’t even know yet that Juku can faint people with his looks (a bit weird since you’d think somebody would mention that already). So all the descriptions like ‘his dangerous beauty’, or phrases that can be read as his looks / voice being both ‘amazingly beautiful’ or ‘terrifyingly beautiful’, or that his face and smile are juuust a little too perfect -- all of it kinda reads as if he’s actually ~secretly evil~, and not a genuinely nice man who just happens to also be basically the world’s least lethal basilisk.

#sparkly reads cosmic #maijo and jdc stuff #long post

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