Hello, I don't own Young Justice whatsoever, but I am in support for a third season and Wally's resurrection. Yes this is a songfic, but I did not feature the lyrics. I find that kind of annoying, and I hope I'm not the only one who thinks so. I wanted to write something dark and today my friends and I talked all about Young Justice, so this will be my outlet. But, no matter what I write, just remember, I like all my little superheroes.
Song: Animal I Have Become- Three Days Grace
Happy Reading! I hope you enjoy my fail at an angst type story.
She stares at the cracked mirror hanging in the blood covered ensuite. She recognizes the reflection but she doesn't recognize her. She sees the blue-gray eyes, the button nose and knows it's her. But the blood tainting her alabaster white hair, the sticky substance nearly covering the entirety of her face, drives her back into a Hell of confusion and frustration. Is it her, is it someone else? That's a stupid question, of course it's her, but, why is she so confused?
She stares only a bit longer before she has to turn away, her parallel morphing into a creature she'd rather not fathom at this moment. Instead, she occupies herself in the bathtub, a small bowl barely larger than the bathroom sink. It isn't tolerable and in no way comfortable, but that of all things is the last of her worries.
The thoughts in her head are thrown around haphazardly like bats in broad daylight, but a few key words and phrases seem to stand out the most.
"Freak," they whisper.
"Suicide?" they ask.
"Evil," they say.
"MURDERING SCUM!" they yell.
It's all true though. Her kind, a species from a different planet entirely, is often insulted. Being a planet that allows any crime and all murder will of course be looked down upon by everyone else, for their mediocre ways.
But those things hurt her. She's not them. She doesn't want to be them. She doesn't want to be known as them. She's tried not to be like them. Tried. Being completely honest, she is one of them, she doesn't want to be them, but she secretly craves it. She is known as one of them, and by almost anyone, she is identified as one of them and following the last, past events, she is becoming one of them.
And that frightens her. But not as much as it gives her thrill and an adrenaline rush.
She wonders when it got so hard. Morality. Choosing good vs. bad. When did they start mushing together turning black and white into a vibrant gray. She's sitting on her throne, listening to the sounds of bones crushing, smirking to the pitiful screams begging for mercy for their lives. That's her doing, it's her fault.
She feeds on their pain and basks in their fright. The world's in absolute chaos due to her and she only takes pride in it. A powerful dictatorship that's sure to end only when she takes her dying breath. No one matches her potential, no one dares to oppose her.
She'll shoot you up with her sword, licking the blood off her arrows with her very own tongue, leaving most you for scraps. Taking your head, keeping it as a souvenir in some sort of twisted trophy room. A truly sadistic bitch, she tends to draw out the slicing, letting the pained screams give her a pleasurable rush. Their mortified faces getting her off for another night. She's soon pulled out of her thoughts when the screaming abruptly stops.
The weakling's dead. The smirk at full force, she starts to laugh at his merciless death. She imagines the face during the final fatal blow. But a different, certain face crosses her mind. Him. His face reminds her of days before the takeover, and that soon returns her to her thoughts.
The smirk falls, now frowning, she starts to wonder when did black became such a beautiful color.
They're fighting Cinderblock, again. It feels like the millionth time he's broken out of prison in just this one week, it's utterly ridiculous. Nevertheless they take him head on as the powerful duo the world knows them to be.
She aims her arrows in a strategic, calculated manner, while he throws himself left and right on an impulse. By all rights it should've failed, it should've been destructive, it should've been ugly. But to an onlooker from watching from safe distance, it was amazing.
Absolutely beautiful.
Truly a work of art as they fight together, the boy, the girl, so in sync, even an interference wouldn't hinder their masterpiece. And as soon as it began, it stopped. Now a wreck, the horrible beast falls into a heap of the ground, no sign of strength left in his body.
The boy stops his wild running and lands back on the ground, while the girl re-sheathes her arrow and her bow. Together they walk to the beast they had just defeated.
"That's done, let's leave the arresting up to the police," the boy said, already turning around and walking away. But the girl stays in place, looking down out the miserable creature below her. Her right hand returns to the tip of an arrow hanging from her right hip, and starts to releaseit. A hand, though, lands on hers, stopping her from taking it out all the way.
"What are you doing," he asks.
"What does it look like, I'm finishing the job," she counters. He looks at her disapprovingly.
"Not this way," she lets out an annoyed huff.
"Aren't you tired of him always breaking out of confinement, don't you just want it all to end," her voice rise with every couple words said "I know I'm not the only one feeling this way."
"You're not," he agrees "But, this is not the way to do it." They stare at each other challengely, when she caves in completely pushes her arrow back in. He nods in appreciation and together they start to walk off the site.
SHOVE!
Next thing he knows, he's on the ground, his body a flailing mess and his eyesight goes to her sword now fully out and the back to her running form.
"NOOOOOOOOO!" he yells, too in shock to actually move. But, the sharp end of her arrow swoops down and across to slit Cinderblock's throat, blood splattering everywhere, his barely life-showing eyes turn dull and blank. The boy's scream dies in his throat soon after, and stares shocked at the scene before him. The girl turns around to face him, the fitting armor she wears is stained in blood, as well as her hair, her eyes feral, a truly grotesque sight indeed.
"It had to be done," she mutters. And once again they stare at each other, but this time the glares are filled with tension as he looks at her like he's never seen her before in his life. This hurts her as she looks back with emotionless eyes. There so immersed in each other the totally forget they have an audience.
He shakes his head and in a flash he takes off running far into the distance, getting away from her, even for a little while. When he's totally out of sight, she truly comes back to her senses and notices the people around the area. She too, then takes off on her bike and zooms back to their home.
He isn't there.
Not like she expected him to be.
For days onwards, the story makes the headlines of the girl, who they trust with their lives every day, has killed one of their most persistent enemies. He's returned by now and they watch the news together in silence. The whole things blows over, thankfully, when the majority take her side and believe it was time that he was put down anyway.
They may have forgiven her and act like it never happened, but between them, there's still lingering tension, and a link in their bond was permanently severed. She made a vow, not to make that a reoccurring situation.
That turns out to be a vow she ends of breaking in the future.
Her moans fill the room as she rides the man below into oblivion. The sinful mewls coming from her tiny lips makes the man believe he's pleasuring her as their bodies continue to disconnect and reconnect. The thought makes her sick. The reactions she's giving, those sounds are completely accredited to the lustful daze she's in.
The only ecstasy she's receiving, is the known fact that's she's the one dominating, the one who tops. And as she roughly, but slowly drags her stiletto sharp nails down his pale, but toned chest, the true satisfaction comes from the bleeding marks she created and the pained groans he's releasing. She's hurt him, and that truth is probably the only erotic thing she's felt all night.
"AHHHhhhhhh…." She panted. She's riding his dick like a fucking horse at this point, trying to reach the release she oh so deserves. He pulls her down for an open-mouthed kiss and she lets him. Their tongues fight for dominance, and she proudly takes that title. But, that pride leaves as she feels his wet muscle explore her hot cavern and that urge to vomit returns.
She desperately wants to bite his tongue off, feel the blood enter and swish around her mouth, feeling his cringe-worthy screams vibrating against her lips. She feels herself shuddering in pleasure at the thought and she uses that to finally reach her heaven, her blissful orgasm. But the pleasure ends quickly as his face appears in her mind. She pushes the male away from her and unto the ground, yelling him to pack his shit and leave.
He runs out her room scared and naked, tail between his legs. She sits back on the bed and starts to cry. He always ruins everything, everything. Why must he always ruin things for her. He promised to always make her happy, but it seems that just she broke her promise, he had no right to keep his.
It drives her crazy though, she can't even get laid without seeing his face, feeling his disappointment pouring down across her body, making her feel weak people things like remorse and depression. It makes her want to beg for the mercy that will never be given, not at this point, she's went too far.
But now she just wants to talk to him. She wants to make him see her way, even if temporarily. That's a slim chance, considering the situation about him anyway. But she still wants to try.
.
.
.
.
.
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She makes a resolve to go see him tomorrow.
Hi, it's me and this concludes the first part of most likely two part if you're interested follow and wait for the second half. Also tell me if you enjoy it, I'm looking for some feedback as well, I take criticism well. Thank you for making it this far. I sincerely hope your not to disappointed about what I've written so far. Until next time.