#also I feel trapped in my life and comfortable and there's no end in sight | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sattlersquarry · 29 days

Text

the great divide (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Summary: (Post Season 4 AU, the sequel to orange juice) After your miraculous return to the land of the living, you aren't doing well.

Word Count: ~12k

Warnings: 18+ PLEASE!!!! for language, anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation. The reader has panic attacks and intrusive thoughts about Not Wanting To Be Alive. If that will be triggering for you please don't read this (read my happier bloom series instead). there's also an allusion to a relapse, slut-shaming, and allusions to sex (although there's no smut, it just gets slightly steamy). this fic is angst + hurt/comfort with an optimistic ending. inspired by noah kahan's music (including this amazing demo on instagram).

a/n: please let me know if i missed any warnings. please don't read this if you think it will be too triggering. the last thing i want is to make someone upset! but writing this was cathartic and helped me work through some things, i think. writing is magical!

🫀🫀🫀

THE GREAT DIVIDE

SOMETIME IN 1987

You aren’t sure how long it’s been since you last saw your friends. It feels like a fucking long time.

You woke up on the ground of the Upside Down, covered in dried blood and terrified at the sight of Vecna towering above you.

He brought you back to life. He wanted to send you back home and use you as a soldier and spy, the same thing he did to Will, Billy, Heather, and countless others.

“If you do this,” Vecna had growled, “You can once again see your family. Your friends. Your beloved Steven. Otherwise…you will die here.”

You refused, not interested in being his lackey. He tried to flay you anyway, but he was weak from the hell Nancy, Steve, and Robin rained down on him, allowing you to escape his clutches.

He stalked you for days, finally catching up to you—but you got the upper hand, using Eddie’s spear to stab him. Repeatedly.

Killing Vecna caused the gates he opened to sew themselves back shut before you could get through. You were glad that your friends no longer had to worry about Vecna and his army of monsters pouring through the four gates, but it meant you were trapped on the wrong side of the universe.

Vecna gone meant the Upside Down could revert back to what it was before he arrived. Now, the sky of the Upside Down was a buttery yellow, and it was much warmer. You saw patches of green grass and flowers starting to grow in various spots around town. But it still felt like a nightmare.

You wander the Upside Down each day with a routine: avoid monsters, forage for food and clean water, and visit the gates to see if any of them reopened. Food and water aren’t as hard to find as you feared, since the world isn’t so much of a poison, desolate nightmare anymore. But the gates stay staunchly shut, much to your chagrin.

You miss your life. You miss Steve. You miss his laugh, his smile, his kisses, his touch. You would do ungodly things to see him again.

You hope he’s okay. Any time you want to give up, you remind yourself that if roles were reversed, Steve would keep fighting to come back to you no matter what.

And, to your pleasant surprise, he does just that.

🫀🫀🫀

AUGUST 1987

It’s been three months since you returned to the land of the living. You’re not taking it well.

Surviving the Upside Down meant constantly being in fight-or-flight, scrambling to find food and clean water while avoiding demo-creature attacks. Without Vecna’s evil influence, the animals weren’t so bloodthirsty—but they still needed to eat.

You were able to avoid them, surviving yourself off disgusting canned food from the Upside Down’s version of the Big Buy and whatever houses you ransacked. It wasn’t very appetizing. It made the meal you were serving up today seem like a 5-star, 5-course delight.

It was neither of those things. It was for a church potluck that your mother had a hand in throwing. Lots of casseroles and carbs. She dragged you along to volunteer in hopes to get you out of the house.

Ever since you left the hospital in May, you’d only ever left the house to go to doctor’s appointments, therapy appointments, and Steve’s place. Your parents wanted to encourage more of a well-rounded life and schedule, and although they’d never admit it, you figured they hoped you’d turn back to your normal self. To the person you were before it all happened.

You think she might have died.

As you plate some macaroni and cornbread for your next patron, you sense eyes on you. You glance over and see two women at a table a few feet away. To your chagrin, they’re gossiping about you.

“I mean, it’s appalling,” an old bat named Shirley hisses. “She claims to have lost her memory after the earthquake and gotten lost, but it’s obvious that she just ran away.”

“Probably thought she was grown up, that she knew better than her parents,” Mildred says with a sniff, adjusting her too-big glasses.

“I can’t believe she left poor Steve Harrington high and dry,” Shirley adds.

Your heart clenches at the fact that these women see you as a villain, as an irresponsible idiot who up and left everyone who loved her out of spite. If they knew the truth…if they knew the nightmare you’d survived…

It only gets worse from there.

“You know what Cynthia told me?” Mildred says. “That her cousin’s roommate’s friend’s brother saw Y/N working a street corner in Manassas. It's just shameful.”

Anger burns through you, hot like hellfire. So, what? You’re not just a flake—you’re a slut to this people now, too? What happened to ‘loving thy neighbor’ and ‘forgiveness’ and all that shit?

“Can I get some more of that?” an elderly man says.

It snaps you back to your task at hand: dishing out food to hungry churchgoers.

“Ah, yeah,” you say. You dump macaroni on his Styrofoam plate. “Sorry. Here you go.”

The man smiles and ambles off. You take a deep breath and try your best to tune out the whispers of the chattering hens.

Your mother must notice the scowl on your face. She makes her way to you, practically floating, as graceful as ever. She’s totally in her element. She deserves a daughter who doesn’t clomp and stumble her way through life. Who doesn’t jump at every loud noise and sleep with a hunting knife under her pillow.

“Doing all right?” your mother asks you, giving you that sympathetic look that you think you might despise by now.

You muster up a smile of your own and nod.

Your mother can’t tell its fake and beams.

“See?” she says. “I knew getting you out of the house would turn that frown upside-down!”

She doesn’t know about the Upside Down. She thinks you got injured in the earthquake, stumbled through the Indiana woodlands, and got found by cops two states over. That you couldn’t remember where you came from due to amnesia, that since they pronounced you dead no one assumed you were the missing girl from Hawkins until your memories came back.

You let her comment slide and fake a smile, figuring it’s better to pretend you’re fine than feel it all.

🫀🫀🫀

That night, you chat with Steve on the phone. He’s gone back to college for the fall semester and you miss him terribly.

He promised he’d come back to Hawkins every other weekend. He knows how hard it’s been for you coming back. Or, he says he knows. Sometimes, you get the idea that he doesn’t really understand.

How could he? Every time he tries to get you to open up about what happened and what you went through, you shut down.

However, when he asks how your day was, you decide to be honest.

“It sucked,” you say. You blow out a huff of air. “These old crones were being total bitches at the church potluck. Apparently, the new conspiracy theory is that I was turning tricks in Virginia.”

“Ugh, I’m so sorry Y/N,” Steve says. For some reason, the sympathy in his voice makes you wince.

“But it’s fine,” you say quickly. “I don’t care what they say about me.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line.

“It’s okay if you do, you know,” Steve says, speaking slowly and carefully as if he’s worried about setting you off. (For good reason; you’ve been prone to outbursts of anger lately.)

“I know!” you say, defensiveness seeping into your tone. “But I don’t give a shit. Really.”

“Good,” Steve says. But he sounds unconvinced. “You shouldn’t.”

Another pause. It lasts a little too long for your liking. You clear your throat.

“I should probably shower and head to bed,” you say. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, totally,” Steve says. You don’t understand why he sounds almost intrigued by the prospect of your boring nighttime routine until he says, “A shower with you sounds like heaven right now…”

Shit. You’re really not in the mood for phone sex. Even if that’s not what Steve is angling for, just slightly flirty banter doesn’t sound fun to you either.

Steve has been a total gentleman ever since you got back. You’ve kissed a little, but anytime he tries to take it further, you stop him. As much as you longed for him in every sense while in the Upside Down, you don’t feel ready to re-engage in those kinds of activities—like you’ve been shot back to the insecure, unconfident person you were before you started dating Steve.

He respects those boundaries and never, ever presses for more. But you worry he’s getting bored and wants to get back into old habits, possibly evidenced by his shower comment.

You’re a coward. You don’t tell him outright that you’re not in the mood, afraid he’ll have an out-of-character reaction and chew you out for being a prude or a tease.

“Huh?” you say. Steve starts to repeat his salacious comment, but you interrupt with: “Bad…connection…can’t…better…”

You hang up the phone and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

🫀🫀🫀

OCTOBER 1987

It’s a Thursday in October, and you’re taking a trip for the first time in a long time.

“You have everything you need?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Toothbrush? Extra socks? Lambchop?”

You huff and roll your eyes, crossing your arms like a petulant teenager.

“Mom! I’m an adult. I do not need a stuffed animal.”

“But you packed her, right?”

You mumble out a “Yes” as she pulls up to the parking lot near Steve’s apartment building.

You applied for spring admission at the University of Indiana. Your lovely boyfriend invited you to stay with him for a few days so he could show you around campus for homecoming weekend.

Tonight is the unofficial campus tour with “Tour Guide Steve.” Tomorrow, you’ll help him and his friends put the finishing touches on a homecoming parade float, and Saturday is the big football game.

Before your disappearance and assumed death, your parents were insanely strict about you staying the night with Steve and wouldn’t have allowed it. Now, they’ve mellowed out—but you hate thinking it’s because of some kind of twisted pity.

Steve must have seen your mom’s minivan pull up from his apartment window, because he jogs over to you before you’ve even grabbed your bag from the trunk.

“Hey, babe!” he says with a beaming grin; the picture of exuberance. You can feel his excitement roll off him in waves. You feel like an asshole for matching his energy. Even though you’re excited for time with Steve, you have a pit in your stomach at the thought of being away from home for so many days.

Of course, if you get accepted to U of I, you’ll be away from home for weeks at a time. You try not to think about that.

Steve hugs you tightly, and you hope he can’t sense your apprehension.

He seems not too, still smiling as he gives your mom a quick hug and then offers to carry your duffel bag for you.

You give your mom a hug goodbye, promising to call if you want to get picked up early.

You and Steve wave as your mom drives away. After dropping your bag off at his apartment, Steve takes you on an abridged campus tour that ends at the dining hall. He wants to introduce you to his friends.

He has friends here. Of course he does, you’re glad he does. No one should feel like they don’t have friends, or like their girlfriend is their only friend. But what does it mean that your boyfriend is your only friend lately?

Nancy’s off at Emerson. As for the Hawkins crew, Jonathan’s busy with family stuff, helping Joyce and Hopper renovate their new house. Eddie’s preoccupied with his band, trying to get Corroded Coffin off the ground after a he-was-accused-of-murder hiatus. And Robin’s a student at Roane County Community College, spending her days with marching band and classes and clubs and work.

They’ve started inviting you to things, and sometimes you go. You usually don’t have much fun, distracted with your own anxieties and unable to think of anything interesting to say.

So, the fact that Steve seems to have moved on from everything so easily and has a pack of friends at college makes you feel pathetic, even though it shouldn’t.

At the dining hall, Steve introduces you to his buddies. When Steve lived on-campus last semester, Gus was his roommate. Now Steve’s moved into his own apartment off-campus, but the boys still hang out often and play together on a club basketball team.

Jessica is Gus’ girlfriend. She has a kind smile and compliments your sweater.

The last friend in their clique is Rochelle. She’s tall and slender, like a supermodel. Apparently, she and Jessica grew up together and are good friends.

Everyone greets you happily when Steve introduces you—except Rochelle, who looks you up and down like she’s inspecting you. It makes you uneasy.

You immediately start to dislike her more when she laughs loudly at Steve’s jokes and squeezes his shoulder flirtatiously.

“You are tew much, Harrington,” Rochelle says, flipping her shiny hair over her shoulder.

It makes you feel tense and jealous and angry and sick all at once.

You’re completely content to listen in silence while the others chat, but then Jessica asks where you go to school.

“Oh, um, here, in the spring,” you say. “Uh, hopefully.”

“That’s awesome!” Gus says. “You get the full Hoosiers homecoming experience a whole semester before having to pay tuition.”

You chuckle and smile. Any good feelings you have about this interaction come crashing down when Rochelle asks, “So, like, if you aren’t a student right now, what do you do?”

“She’s working at Sonic,” Steve says. “Saving up money. Right babe?”

You turn to him, face falling. You’re not working. You tried to apply for a job at Sonic and had a panic attack when you saw the gap in your resume from your 15 months in the Upside Down, so you roller-skated your way home to unemployment.

Did you not tell Steve that? You suppose you “forgot” to tell him about that panic episode.

“Uh, actually no,” you say, furrowing your brow. “Not anymore. I’m just taking a semester off.”

Surprise flashes behind Steve’s eyes, but he recovers quickly. He throws an arm around your shoulders and says, “Right, of course.”

The rest of the conversation is mostly you smiling and nodding along to the funny stories and inside jokes the group shares. When you and Steve get back to his place later that evening, you apologize for not updating him on the Sonic situation sooner.

Steve waves away your apology.

“Don’t even worry about it,” he says.

“But I feel bad,” you say, fidgeting with your fingers while you sit next to him on the couch. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.”

(You didn’t truly forget. You were embarrassed and didn’t want him to know.)

“These things happen,” Steve says. “I totally get it. For a few months after Vecna and…you, my brain was like scrambled eggs. I’d drink myself to a coma every other night. I definitely didn’t have the sharpest mind.”

You appreciate him for understanding. Except you feel shitty because you’re lying to him about forgetting. It’s a vicious cycle.

The two of you put on a movie, and while you’re lying on the couch with him, you start thinking of something you haven’t done in a long, long time.

You lightly trace your hand up and down the arm that’s wrapped around your middle.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “Would you want to…”

You clear your throat.

“What?” Steve asks.

You aren’t sure how to ask for what you want without sounding wholly desperate and/or pathetic and/or like the horniest bastard alive.

“Go to your room?” you say.

“Sure, if you want, we can go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

You laugh lightly.

“No, I mean. You know.”

You wiggle your eyebrows and Steve’s jaw drops. Mouth agape, like a goldfish, his brains seems to short circuit.

The air is charged with something you haven’t felt in a long time.

“Are you sure?” Steve says, a barely audibly whisper. His hand cups your cheek so delicately, and you feel cherished. Love. Seen.

“I am,” you whisper back, before pulling him closer to you for a kiss.

It’s the kind of kiss you dreamed about while you were trapped in another universe.

It makes you feel electric, the same way your first kiss had. That iconic kiss happened because Steve found out you’d never played spin the bottle. In his kitchen late, late at night, he took an empty soda bottle and spun it on the countertop.

He had maneuvered it just right and stopped it with his hand when the bottle neck pointed right at you, like a compass needle finding truth north.

“Well, what do you know,” Steve had said at the time, with a dopey grin on his face. “It’s you.”

“If you wanted to kiss me so bad,” you had quipped, “you could’ve just asked.”

And then you two kissed like crazy, amongst other things.

Back in the present, all your hesitancies and qualms about re-engaging in intimacy and sex with Steve are thrown out the window when you feel his lips on yours.

Giddy as if it’s the first time (because, in a way, it kind of is), the two of you break apart and practically race down the hall to his bedroom. Thank goodness for no roommates, because when you’re in there, Steve slams the door and presses you against it to kiss some more, closing the gap between the metaphorical great divide that you’ve placed between you both.

You tug at his shirt, and he pulls it off before the two of you stumble into his bed.

Things heat up, and they’re going great. Steve is kissing and biting your neck, probably leaving a hickey or two, but you don’t mind. His hands are gripping your waist, practically leaving scorch marks in their wake.

You’re loving this. You’re having a great time.

Until you’re not. The trains of thought in your brain all rush from the station at the same time, colliding at a junction on the tracks.

What if you give Steve an infection? Not an STD, but like, an Upside Down sickness. You could be a carrier and not even realize it. Is that a possibility? What did Dr. Owens say last time you saw him?

He advised you not to get pregnant. He said there’s a possibility your future children could have birth defects after your time in the Upside Down. Birth defects! You’re only 21 years old and your body is poisoned. Not enough to harm you in the short term, but the long term effects on you (and your progeny) could be terrible to deal with.

But Steve really wants kids. What if he finds out you can’t give him children and he leaves you? You really, really don’t want him to leave you.

You don’t realize it, but you start breathing a little harder. To Steve, it seems like you’re insanely turned on. Mentally, your brain is on a different plane of existence.

He’s going to leave you because he’s better off without you. He doesn’t realize it yet but one day, one day. He will.

Vecna was right. Vecna said Steve would get tired and bored of you. That’s why the monster tried to recruit you, to flay you. That’s why he pursued you across the Upside Down for days, hunting you like a dog until he cornered you at the quarry.

Steve finally takes notice of your erratic breathing pattern. You’re not reacting how you usually do to his kissing. He ceases the lovefest and leans up on his elbows.

“Y/N? You okay?”

You don’t hear him. You continue to hyperventilate, your eyes screwed tightly shut.

And when you stabbed the beast through the chest with the spear Eddie left behind, you didn’t even feel sorry.

Is that the kind of person you are? A sick, violent freak?

But it was self-defense!

But if you hadn’t tried to draw the demobats away, you wouldn’t have been in that situation. You went against the plan. You caused all the bad things that happened to you.

You’re a bad person. A bad omen. A bad girlfriend. A bad daughter. A—

“Hey, can you hear me? Y/N?”

Steve’s soft, slightly panicked, voice brings you back down to reality.

You nod, eyes still shut.

“Sorry,” you say. “I don’t—I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, still speaking quietly as if he’s afraid to scare you. You don’t feel his hands on you anymore, but you sense he’s still close. “It’s okay. Can you sit up? I think you should drink something.”

You sit up slowly and open your eyes. Steve looks frazzled, but he musters up a smile when he hands you a glass of cold water.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

You don’t respond, just take a sip.

“Can we just go to bed?” you say after a moment, voice cracking.

Steve nods and gives your knee a gentle squeeze.

“Of course. And, hey, listen, we don’t have to have sex anytime soon, okay?”

“But—”

“No, seriously,” Steve says, shaking his head vehemently. “I mean, of course I like having sex with you. Probably too much.”

You snort and shake your head, a small smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“But you know I don’t mind waiting. Right?”

You nod.

“Yeah, I know.”

But as you lie awake, tossing and turning, your brain continues feeding you lie after lie, and you find yourself believing the opposite. Prude, tease. Bad girlfriend. Bad person.

🫀🫀🫀

The next morning, you, Steve, Gus, Jessica, and Rochelle work on a homecoming float for the club basketball team the boys are on.

It’s fun at first. The parking lot is filled with floats for all different student organizations. Someone is playing music a bit too loud, but the energy is electric.

It takes a turn when Steve rushes off with Gus to get more supplies.

While you’re kneeling by the float trying to staple tinsel trim around the edge, you hear Rochelle and Jessica whispering conspiratorially on the other side. They can’t see you due to a large papier mâché basketball blocking you from view.

You're awash with embarrassment, feeling warm head to toe, when you realize they’re talking about you.

“You know what Mollie told me?” Rochelle said. “When she and Steve were hooking up last year, he called her Y/N, like, three times.”

Your heart shrinks. You didn’t know Steve had been involved with anyone while you were gone. In fact, he said the opposite.

“That’s kind of sweet though, when you think about it,” Jessica muses. “But I wonder what caused Steve and Y/N to break up and then get back together. I’ve never dreamed of breaking up with Gus.”

“I heard some other super freaky stuff about her,” Rochelle says. “My sorority sister, Tina, is from Hawkins too. Apparently, Y/N had, like, amnesia or some shit after that earthquake thing. And she was like missing.”

“Damn,” Jessica says. “That’s crazy. How’d she remember stuff and get back home?”

“Who gives a shit?” Rochelle scoffs. “That’s obviously a cover story. Tina said the real story is probably something much simpler. Like she ran away to become a stripper but couldn’t hack it because she doesn’t have a good body. And, well, we’ve seen that firsthand.”

Anger and shame courses through your veins, and you tug on the hem of your sweatshirt. You’re comforted only a miniscule amount when you hear Jessica come to your defense.

“Don’t be such a jerk. And we have no idea what really happened so stop making shit up, mkay?”

“I’m just repeating what I heard. But Tina’s right, her whole deal is so weird. I can’t believe she’s Steve’s girlfriend. He deserves better.”

Those words echo in your head. He deserves better. He deserves better. You’ve been thinking that a lot yourself lately.

You don’t care if Jessica and Rochelle see you when you toss your stapler onto the ground and stomp off.

“Oh, shit,” you hear Jessica say. “Nice going, Roche.”

“It’s not my fault! I didn’t know she was creeping around!”

As you beeline through the throngs of float-makers, you bump into Steve, holding a box of glittery something. He grins at you.

“Hey, where’s the fire?”

When he notices the grim look on your face, he sobers up.

“Whoa, what happened?”

“Who’s Mollie?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Steve pales. He swallows hard, grip on the box loosening. He gingerly sets it on the ground next to him and shrugs.

“No one.”

“Liar.”

Steve glances around before leading you away from the crowd to a secluded spot on the outskirts of the parking lot.

“She really was no one,” Steve repeats. “Just some girl I had a class with. I was lonely and she liked me, so we went out twice.”

“I heard Rochelle say you hooked up with her,” you say. You cross your arms and try to keep angry tears at bay. “You told me you didn’t find anybody else.”

“I didn’t!” Steve says, a little louder. He clears his throat. “I meant that. We almost hooked up, but I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

You sigh and shake your head. You want to believe him so badly. But the voice in your head that’s been so cruel to you lately isn’t convinced.

“Do you still think about her?”

Steve scrunches up his face, wholly confused at your line of questioning.

“What? No, of course not. Like I said, we hung out twice, had one near-miss, and then never spoke again. Babe, is everything okay?”

He reaches a hand to your arm and you flinch away. Your action makes him frown deeper.

You rub your forehead.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say. “Just tired.”

A beat. You think Steve’s going to accept your answer, until: “Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not lying!” you say, irritation creeping into your tone. “I’m just tired. Okay, Steve?”

Steve fidgets from foot to foot. He’s starting to look as agitated as you feel. With an annoyingly calm, even voice, he says, “I think you’re not being honest.”

“And I think you should shut up,” you fire back, before you can stop yourself.

Steve’s face contorts into a frown, the line between his brows deepening.

“Whoa, what the hell?” he says. “Why are you being like this?”

“Because I just found out you lied about not being involved with someone while I was gone!”

Steve rubs his face with his hands, as if he’s trying to scrub away whatever he’s feeling. He takes a deep breath, another one, and then finally speaks.

“Y/N, I thought you were dead,” he says, voice strained. “You can’t seriously be jealous of me spending time with someone else because to my knowledge, I was never going to see you again.”

You know you should apologize for your outburst. Tell him about your insecurities, now dialed up to 1000 thanks to Rochelle’s comments. Rejoin his friends at the float like the normal girlfriend he probably wishes you were.

But instead, you find yourself voicing one of the fears that’s been swirling in your brain since June.

“It would be so much easier for you if that was still the case, right?” you ask, softly.

“Excuse me?” Steve asks.

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask. “Bringing me back?” He doesn’t react, doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. You clear your throat and, louder, add, “Because it would be so much simpler for you to date a girl like Mollie or Rochelle.”

“Jesus, Y/N,” Steve groans. “Don’t bring Rochelle into this.”

“Why not? She’s obviously obsessed with you!”

“Yeah?” Steve scoffs. “Well, I don’t like her. I like you.” He shakes his head, as if he’s short-circuiting, and corrects, “I love you!”

Too late. You already heard the Freudian slip of your worst nightmare. He doesn’t regard you in the same way he did before your so-called death. You’ve changed too much.

You shake your head vehemently.

“No,” you say. “No. You loved the girl I was before it all happened.”

“You’re still the same girl!”

“I’m not!” you shout. You’re so angry, so upset, so emotional, you can’t stop. You’re floating above your body and watching yourself speak when you say, “I’m not. She’s gone, and sometimes I wish you’d never brought me back so I wouldn’t feel like this.”

Steve goes still once more. When he finally replies, his voice is dangerously quiet: “How dare you say that.”

You hadn’t expected that. You’d expected him to swoop in with comforting platitudes. To hug you and promise it would all be okay. To truly hear the words you’re saying—the thoughts you’ve been too afraid to voice in therapy, thoughts you’ve sugarcoated in your mind to lessen that bitter feeling on your tongue when you finally speak them aloud.

“What?” you whisper. Your eyes sting, unshed tears collecting on your lash line.

“How dare you say that,” Steve says, shaking his head. He’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him. He runs a hand through his hair and barks out a laugh so hollow, you can practically hear the echo in his ribcage. “That’s so fucking selfish that you wish you were still down there. I was miserable without you. I didn’t want to go on. I didn’t think I could!”

He's not getting what you’re trying to say. You open your mouth to reply, to apologize, to try and fix things, but Steve continues.

“So for you to be so callous, to think so little of me, to think I’d rather date some vapid airhead just because it would be ‘simpler’? To think I somehow can’t love you anymore because of what you went through? That’s just…bullshit!”

You heave out a sob as tears roll down your cheeks. Steve’s expression morphs into one of guilt. He swallows hard.

“Y/N, I—”

“You don’t get to tell me my feelings are bullshit!” you snap. You sniffle and roughly wipe your tears away, before jabbing a finger into his chest and pressing in. “Ever since I’ve been back, it’s all about how everyone else feels about it. You and my parents are so much happier, and you seem to think I can snap back to how I was before and forget it all happened and be grateful that I survived. Well, I can’t!”

Despite your distance from the parade planning festivities, you see a few curious students glance in your direction. You can’t be bothered to care.

“I don’t know how to go on with life like normal after 15 months in that hell, and no one understands what I’m going through!” you yell. “No one has been through that! And I’m miserable and scared and anxious and I’m lying to my therapist week after week because I can’t even verbalize what I’m thinking without feeling like I’m losing my goddamn mind. So sorry if sometimes I wish all this would go away.”

Steve’s facial expression cracks your heart in seventeen pieces. He looks devastated and confused.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, somewhat cautiously. “You’re right. I’m not handling this well, not seeing it from your point of view. But this is the most you’ve expressed how you’re feeling about it all. For the past few months, I—I don’t know. I thought you were feeling okay.”

You sniffle again and shrug.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Steve says. He clears his throat. “This is good, I think. Well, no, it’s not good that we’re screaming at each other in the quad. But getting our feelings out is—”

“I want to go home,” you say, cutting him off.

Steve closes his eyes, sighs softly, and nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll drive you back to Hawkins tonight.”

“No, I want to go now,” you say, voice cracking as you try not to cry harder. “I want my mom to come get me.”

Hurt flashes on Steve’s features. “Babe, are you sure? I really don’t mind. I want to, actually. The drive will give us more of a chance to talk.”

But you’re too tired and overwhelmed to talk anymore. Steve understands, though his shoulders are slumped as the two of you walk back to his apartment.

He offers to pack your bag while you call your house. Your mom picks up on the second ring.

“Hello, Y/L/N residence.”

“Mom?” you sniff. “Can you come get me?”

“Oh, of course sweetie!” You hear the jingle of car keys. “Wait, are you crying? What’s wrong? Was it another nightmare?”

“I just don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Did you and Steve have a fight?”

“His friends were really mean,” you say quietly, deciding not to disclose that you indeed got in an argument with Steve. “This girl, Rochelle, said one of her friends from Hawkins is telling everyone I was a stripper.”

“Oh, don’t you listen to that.”

You can’t hold back tears as you begin to cry harder.

“How come everyone makes up those dumb rumors?” you say through sobs. “And if people on campus already know them, how much worse will it be if I’m a student here?!”

Your mom soothes you over the phone before promising to get there as quickly as possible. As you hang up the phone, Steve comes in from down the hall, frowning and carrying your now-packed duffel. He doesn’t even try to be subtle about his eavesdropping when he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me Rochelle said that to you?”

You shrug and look down at your feet.

Steve closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I keep replaying our conversation in my head,” he says, “and I feel like an ass.”

“You’re not, Steve.”

“No! I am. I absolutely am. You were honest and vulnerable, and I immediately got mad. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say flatly. Admittedly, you’re not sure if you forgive him yet. But you know you didn’t treat him well either, so you say, “I’m sorry too. I was insensitive. I know you had a hard time while I was gone—”

“But it’s nothing compared to what you were dealing with,” Steve says. He steps closer to you and intertwines your hands together. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

“My mom’s already on her way,” you say. “And you should rest up. Tomorrow’s the parade, and the homecoming game.”

“I don’t need to go to the game.”

“Steve—”

“I’d rather come back to Hawkins this weekend,” he continues. “Spend more time with you. Talk things through, you know? Maybe I can just ride with you and your mom, and Munson can bring me back Sunday.”

He’s sweet. But you aren’t sure how to tell him that you really, really don’t want to be around him right now. You don’t want to be around anyone, really.

You take a deep breath, gently drop his hands, and say, “I think I need some space.”

You can’t look Steve in the eye, but you hear the pain in his voice when he says, “Oh. Um, okay. Yeah. Of course. Space.”

You two sit in awkward silence while you wait for your mom to arrive. When she gets there, Steve continues to be a gentleman, carrying your bag for you and politely making small talk with your mom. He gives you a hug goodbye, but it doesn’t linger the way his hugs usually do.

As your mom drives away, you watch your boyfriend get smaller and smaller in the side mirror.

Before leaving, you promised him you’d call him that night.

You conveniently “forget” to do that.

He leaves a message at 9:37 p.m., asking you to call him back.

You don’t.

🫀🫀🫀

NOVEMBER 1987

“Hey, babe. It’s Steve. Again. I know we agreed on ‘space’ but I haven’t heard from you in three weeks…I don’t want to rush or smother you, but I’d really like to talk, even if it’s for, like, five minutes. So please call me back. I love you, Y/N.”

“Hey Y/N. Are you doing okay? Robin says she saw you and your mom at the store the other day and you just seemed kind of…out of it. To be honest, I’m worried about you. Listen, even if you don’t…even if we…even if you’ve decided you don’t want to be with me anymore, or something, I still care about you. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. Please call me. Bye. Love you.”

“Hi Y/N, I’m coming back to Hawkins for Thanksgiving. Can I come by after you and your parents have dinner? I want to check in. On how you’re doing, and on how you’re feeling about ‘us.’ Let me know, okay? Bye, Y/N.”

“Hey. I’m going to swing by your place after I’ve finished Thanksgiving dinner with the Buckleys. Robin told me you’ve been avoiding her too. And Eddie, and Jonathan. I know you’re going through a tough time, but don’t try to do it alone. That’s a lesson I learned the hard way last year. I’ll see you tonight, all right?”

🫀🫀🫀

You’ve spent the past month and a half wallowing. All you really do is sleep, eat, shower, and take short walks around your neighborhood for exercise. Any time Steve calls the house phone, you tell your parents to let it ring and let it go to voicemail.

It’s shitty of you, but you aren’t sure how to dig yourself out of this hole that you’ve found yourself in. You’re still feeling rather undeserving of Steve.

So when he shows up on your doorstep on Thanksgiving, wearing that maroon sweater that you’ve always just adored, the first thing you do is apologize for your radio silence. Then, you offer him pumpkin pie.

“I won’t say no,” he says. “As long as you split it with me.”

While your parents cuddle on the couch and watch It’s A Wonderful Life, you and Steve sit on the kitchen counter and eat slices of pie with whipped cream.

For a few minutes, you exchange small talk and pleasantries. Then, Steve gets down to business.

“How have you been doing, really?” Steve asks.

“Fine. Just tired.”

“Y/N,” Steve says with a sigh. “Please just be honest with me.”

You suck in a breath.

“Okay. You want honesty? I’m having a really hard time.”

“I know,” Steve says gently. “And I want to help. Can you talk to me about what’s going on?”

You consider it. You consider wrenching your heart open for him and admitting all your fears and insecurities. But last time you broached this subject with Steve and tried to be wholly honest about what you were feeling, you didn’t explain it right and he took it the wrong way.

And you also hear what sounds like Rochelle’s voice in your mind: He deserves better. He deserves better.

You save yourself the trouble and say, “I need to get my shit together. And I’m not being a very good girlfriend while I do, so I think we need to break up.”

Despite your best efforts to stay strong, you feel tears coming on. Everything only worsens when you hear Steve whisper, “What?”

He deserves better. He deserves better. He deserves better than you.

“I have to focus on myself right now,” you continue as the tears roll down your cheeks. You stab your pie with your fork and say, “I’m sorry. I love you so much—”

“I love you too, Y/N, so I—”

“—but I need to deal with this on my own. It’s not fair of me to treat you like this.” You clear your throat and add, “You deserve someone who can give you everything you want.”

“You’re what I want,” Steve says. You can’t look at him, but you get the impression that he’s tearing up too. “I mean, if this is really what you want, I’ll respect your decision completely, but I just have to know—is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

You don’t want to do this—

—but he deserves better.

“I’m sorry, but no.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Steve says after a beat. “Even if we aren’t together anymore, I’m still here for you. You know that, right?”

You nod, still decimating your pie slice with your fork.

“Okay, good.” He sniffles.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“Sorry. Ah, I mean—”

Steve chuckles, despite everything. You two share an awkward hug goodbye before he leaves.

You stay in the kitchen and hear him wish your parents “Happy holidays.” As you hear the front door open and shut, as you hear his car turn on and drive away, you try to convince yourself this was the correct choice. That shutting him out means he’ll live a happier life without you.

The pit of emptiness like a chasm in your soul will go away eventually, right?

🫀🫀🫀

FEBRUARY 1988

It’s been 3 months since you broke up with Steve.

You decided to defer your U of I enrollment. Steve, being a good friend, calls a few days before the semester starts asking if you’d like help moving into your dorm, and you break the news to him. He understands but sounds disappointed. It makes you feel terrible.

But this is the right choice. You aren’t ready to be away from home, away from your parents, even if it’s just a couple hours away.

You start taking community college classes to fill your time and get some credits, along with working at Bradley’s Big Buy as a stocker. It’s mindless, monotonous work. It’s kind of perfect.

What isn’t so perfect is your therapist, Elaine. She’s nice enough. But she doesn’t seem to get it. You aren’t able to fully tell her what you went through, considering she knows nothing about the Upside Down, so she can’t really help you.

When you start opening up about the dark thoughts worming their way through your mind, Elaine advocates strongly and staunchly for putting yourself out there and making new friends to fill the void. You’re starting to wonder if you’re wasting your time shelling out $50 a week.

You do think a better social life would be good for you, so you invite Robin, Eddie, and Jonathan to come over to your place for a horror movie marathon. (Nancy would be invited too, if she wasn’t away at school.) You’ve rented a D-level slasher trilogy about a man in a hockey mask attacking pageant queens. It’s small potatoes compared to what you’ve actually been through.

Jonathan agrees, but both Robin and Eddie tell you they can’t make it. Robin because she’s got the flu. Eddie because he has band practice all afternoon and into the night.

It stings like a barb ripping you open when you swing by Melvald’s for cheap movie candy and spot the two of them across the street, laughing as they head into the Hawk with…Steve, who must be home from school for the weekend.

So they do want to have a movie night. Just with Steve and not you. Message received.

You wonder if Steve said something to sour you in their eyes. You thought the breakup was amicable. You know he was upset by it, but he respected your decision. And he doesn’t seem like the type to badmouth an ex, especially after all you’ve been through together.

But anxiety rolls through your nervous system the rest of the day. As you and Jonathan watch the crappy movies, you just feel numb.

“Jee-sus!” Jonathan yelps as the killer’s chainsaw hacks through someone’s limb.

He glances your way, eyebrows raising. “What? That didn’t scare you?”

You shrug. “I’ve seen worse.”

Jonathan’s brow furrows. He leans over and pauses the movie.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? We can watch something else. Or, if you’d rather be alone, I can head out.”

You pick at a loose thread on the pillow in your lap.

“Are Robin and Eddie mad at me?” you whisper.

“What?” Jonathan says with a laugh. “You’re, like, the nicest person in a fifty-mile radius. Why would they be mad at you?”

The old you was nice. The current you is moody. But Jonathan is also pretty moody, so maybe your moodiness is baseline in his eyes.

“They both said they couldn’t come tonight,” you continue, “but then I saw them just an hour ago in downtown Hawkins heading into the Hawk with Steve. Why else would they make up excuses not to come unless they were mad?”

Jonathan takes a long, slow sip of his grape soda and shrugs.

“It’s probably because they don’t want you to think they chose Steve over you in the breakup.”

“But that’s exactly what they did!”

“Maybe not,” Jonathan says. “Maybe they just made the plans with Steve before you invited us over and it’s easier to turn down your invitation than cancel on him.”

That’s a very logical way of looking at it, but it still stings feeling like you’ve lost two friends since you and Steve aren’t together anymore.

You and Jonathan continue watching, but his mom calls halfway through the second movie, forcing him to leave early—something about El using telekinesis to turn her bed into a bunk bed and it backfiring horribly.

You try to push your worries out of your mind, but paranoia takes a hold. As you toss and turn in your bed that night, clutching Lambchop for a semblance of comfort, your brain bullies you.

Robin and Eddie are pissed at you. Probably because you haven’t gone to any Corroded Coffin shows since you’ve been back. You’ve been a little preoccupied.

A little selfish, more like. It doesn’t matter what you’re going through. You should still support your friends.

But why? You don’t like drinking alcohol anymore because you don’t like feeling out of control. And the Hideout is the only place Corroded Coffin plays, and that place reeks of booze and cigarettes and bad decisions.

Maybe that’s why Eddie’s mad. Is Robin mad by proxy? Did Steve shit-talk you to her? How did he describe the events of the breakup?

Were you a bad girlfriend? Are you a bad friend? Bad person?

Yes. You’re a bad person.

🫀🫀🫀

You happen to run into Robin on the community college’s campus the following Monday. You can’t help but ask if she’s feeling better.

Her eyes widen and she plasters on a smile.

“O-oh, yeah!” she says. “I’m feeling loads better. Tons! Tons better.”

“Your sinus infection is gone?” you prompt, knowing full well she told you it was the flu.

“Yep! All gone. My sinuses are as healthy as can be. I feel like I could live to be 100!”

You exchange a few more pleasantries and shuffle off.

🫀🫀🫀

MARCH 1988

There’s a dark cloud hovering over your mind. Most days, you’re lethargic. You go to classes and go to work, and you do start going to the Hideout on Tuesday nights with Jonathan and Robin to watch Eddie play with his band.

But that’s the extent of your social life. You’re feeling lonely and drained.

Things take a turn for the worse in March. It was a cold, cold winter in Hawkins, and spring is shaping up to be warmer but just as gloomy. Really bad thunderstorms shake the windowpanes of your house most days, and the streaks of lightning remind you so much of the grayish-yellow Upside Down sky, it makes you sick.

You can’t help but find yourself thinking you want to disappear to escape it all. Not die, exactly. But fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. Maybe when you woke up, things would be better.

You try to explain what you’re feeling to Elaine the Therapist, and she doesn’t understand what you meant in the slightest.

“Have you gotten checked for narcolepsy?” she asks.

You give her a tight smile and say you’ll ask your doctor about it at your next checkup.

A bright spot is when Robin invites you to a party at her apartment. You forgot her and Eddie’s little white lie from a few weeks ago and RSVP yes.

The party is going well. You’re having a nice conversation with Jonathan and Eddie when Steve walks in, and he’s not alone.

Your heart sinks to your feet, through the floor, and all the way to the core of the earth when you see Steve is joined by Rochelle.

You don’t even hear any of the conversations happening around you. You quickly excuse yourself to the kitchen for a glass of water—and because you need to be alone.

You get about 15 seconds of a reprieve before Steve enters.

“Listen, it’s not what you think,” he says quickly.

“Hello to you too, Steve,” you say. You can’t even look him in the eye, choosing instead to study the ice cubes in your glass.

“I’m not here with Rochelle,” Steve continues. He runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, yes, she’s here. And I’m here. And we’re here together. But not together together! God, I’m not making any sense, am I?”

“None at all.”

“She needed a ride to her parents’ house for the weekend,” Steve explains. “She lives just forty-five minutes from here. But I guess they were out of town, and she didn’t have a key, so she’s staying with me. And she didn’t want to spend all day in my house alone, so—”

“She’s here,” you finish for him. You finally look him in the eye and force a smile. “That’s fine, Steve. You can hang out with whoever you want.”

“Trust me,” Steve snorts. “I’d rather not be hanging out with her. I’m just doing her a favor because she’s friends with Jessica and Gus.”

Before you can respond, Rochelle saunters into the kitchen. She smiles like a shark—all gums and teeth.

“Oh, it’s you!” she says. “Y/N! How have you been?”

“Fine,” you say politely. “How about you?”

“Oh, just great. Really great. Sad to not see you around campus, though. I thought you enrolled?”

She has the impressive capability of making everything single sentence sound like an insult.

“I’m going to community college instead,” you explain. “But I really should get back out there.”

You give Steve and Rochelle a wide berth before stepping back into the living room.

The rest of the party goes by fine. Except you can’t quite contain your rage watching Rochelle throw herself at Steve all afternoon.

She sits too close to him. She constantly whispers in his ear and giggles, like they’re sharing inside jokes and secrets. While Robin’s putting on a movie for everyone to watch, you swear you even see Rochelle put her hand on Steve’s thigh.

The only thing that makes you feel better is that Steve blocks every one of these advances. While Eddie regales you all with a Corroded Coffin storytime, you even notice Steve's slotted himself in between Robin and the wall, forcing Rochelle to stand off to the side near a potted plant.

When the party’s over, you wish Robin well and try to slip out unnoticed. Unfortunately, Steve has a terrible habit of noticing everything about you, and he follows you out.

“Hey, wait up!” he calls, jogging behind you as you speed walk to your car to avoid the sprinkling rain.

“Sorry, I have to go,” you say, struggling to unlock your car door.

Before you can get it unlocked and make your escape, Steve places a hand over the driver’s side door handle.

“Hold on,” he says. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“Well, I have to get home—”

“This’ll take five minutes,” Steve promises. He traces an X over his heart. “Cross my heart, hope to cry.”

You scrunch your nose in confusion. “It’s ‘die.’”

“Huh?”

“It’s ‘Cross my heart, hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye.’”

Steve’s eyes widen and jaw drops, affronted. “Jesus Christ,” he grumbles. “Why would anyone ever want to do that?”

“That’s the point!” you say, and you can’t help but laugh at the appalled look on his face. “You don’t want to do that, so you keep the promise.”

“Ah. Okay, well, I’ll be fast. I just want to see how you’ve been doing these past few months. I—I miss you, you know?”

You swallow hard. The rain’s starting to pick up now. You don’t want to wait too much longer to drive home, or else it’ll be too hard to see. And if you see lightning, you’ll probably have a panic attack behind the wheel, making you a danger to yourself and others.

“I miss you too,” you say. “But I really, really need to get home now.”

You think of leaving it at that, but your heart feels as sad as the look on his face, so you add, “But you can come by my house later tonight and we can talk? Uh, how’s 8 sound?”

Steve’s face brightens. He gives you that smile that always makes your stomach do a backflip.

“I’d like that,” he says.

You smile back and open your car door. Before stepping in, you turn to him and say, “Do not bring Rochelle.”

“Cross my whatever and hope to who-gives-a-shit!” Steve says as he walks backward away from your car. You give him a small wave, which he returns, before getting in the car and driving off.

As you suspected, the drive home is much, much too anxiety-inducing. Thunder seems to shake the whole frame of the car as you drive across town. Rain falls in pails, as if angels are taking buckets and throwing them on your car specifically. Your windshield wipers can barely keep up, and cars are honking and passing you since your fear is causing you to drive about ten under the speed limit.

You try not to let that bother you as your hands grip the wheel for dear life, the muscles from your fingers up to your shoulders impossibly tense. There’s a reason your mom drove you everywhere last summer and fall. Getting back into the habit of operating a motor vehicle isn’t easy, and everything seems to scare you now.

Despite everything, the drive is going fine—until one of the cars passing you cuts a little too close as they swerve back into the right lane. They almost clip your front bumper, which causes you to panic and swerve off the road near the now defunct trailer park.

Your tires squeak on the wet grass and you slam on your breaks, heart pounding. Shuddery breaths draw in, out. In, out. You try and collect yourself and turn your left turn signal on to merge back onto the main road. However, something gray out of the corner of your eye causes you to whip your head in the direction of the trailer park.

This is where you died and were resurrected—well, the version of this in the Upside Down. In Hawkins, the area is cordoned off. No one can live there anymore, thanks to the big cracks in the earth. Once gates, they were now sealed, but they upended some trailers and tore others in two.

You see a flash of movement between two broken trailers. The gates are supposed to be closed, and there aren’t supposed to be Upside Down creatures in Hawkins anymore, but you can’t help but wonder alternatives. You feel compelled to check it out.

You turn off your car’s ignition, grab the flashlight from your glove box, and clamor out, ducking under the “CAUTION” tape and jogging into the park. You squint in the rain, the beam of your flashlight scanning the surrounding area. You step over uneven earth, wondering if you’re wasting your time and should just—

“GRRRRRROWWWLLLL!!!!!”

You whip around and gasp. The gray creature you saw wasn’t a demo-creature, but a mangy, stray dog with muddy fur. It snaps its jaws and you see three little puppies cowering under a bush behind it.

An overprotective mama dog wouldn’t have scared you two years ago. You would’ve known exactly how to handle the situation without freaking out. But now, your fear spikes and you remember the few run-ins with hungry demodogs you had in the Upside Down. The dog is blocking your way back to your car, so you turn on your heel and run in the opposite direction, toward the imposing forest.

You can’t think clearly. Your mind is on fire. All you can think is Danger! Danger! Danger! And it’s keeping you from making any rational decisions.

You swear you hear the dog chasing behind you, snarling and ready to attack. You zig-zag between trees and glance behind to see if you really are being chased.

You lose your footing on slick mud, left ankle twisting painfully as you fall to the ground. Your flashlight skitters out of your grasp and rolls away, blinking out.

Now, you’re stuck in the rain, in the dark, with an injured ankle and no flashlight. Thankfully, the dog wasn’t following. But you feel powerless, hoping you can muster any survival instincts from your time in the Upside Down to make your way back to safety.

🫀🫀🫀

At 7:58 p.m., Steve parks outside your house.

He’s more nervous than he needs to be. He tries to remember that this isn’t a visit to win you back, as much as he wishes it was. No, he’s respecting your decision. But he’s glad he has the chance to just talk to you.

After you dumped him, he spent way too much time overanalyzing that fight you two had in October. It solidified the fact that he was an ass, completely misunderstanding you and getting mad for no good fucking reason.

Admittedly, he was tempted to throw away all his progress and drink away his misery. But he didn’t, channeling that energy toward more productive things. His mind is clearer than it was, and he’s going to make it right this time. Steve wants to check on you, the way his friends checked on him while he was having a tough time. Their support was invaluable.

Steve rings your doorbell, shaking out his umbrella.

The front door swings open. Your father looks expectant, before he frowns.

“Steve, hello,” your father says. “Is Y/N with you?”

Steve’s brow furrows. “Uh, no,” he says. “I’m supposed to meet her here.”

Your father curses and puts his head in his hands.

“Is it her?” your mother says, rushing around the corner with the cordless phone tucked under her shoulder. When she sees Steve, her shoulders slump. She speaks into the phone, “Hopper, she’s still not back.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, heart sinking. “Y/N’s missing?”

“She never came back from Robin’s party,” your father says, stepping aside to let Steve in. “You saw her leave, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve says with a nod. His mouth feels very, very dry.

Your mother continues murmuring on the phone with Hopper, and your father continues grilling Steve: “How was she? Did she seem upset?”

“A little nervous, maybe,” Steve says. He swallows hard. “I, uh, I think she was freaked out by the storm.”

You should’ve driven her home, Steve thinks. You idiot. If something happens to her, it’ll be your fault.

“She’s been so quiet lately,” your father says, voice strained. He clears his throat. “And so jumpy. But she said she wanted to start driving again. We thought she was getting better…”

Your father looks like he’s beside himself. Steve is unsure what to say to make things right.

Your mother hangs up the phone and sighs. “Hopper’s going to go look for her,” she says. She chokes out a sob. “Oh, Roger…she’s been so down lately. What if she…”

“Let’s not speculate,” your father says firmly, though he looks anxious about the possibilities.

Your parents decide to drive around looking for you, and Steve joins the search in his own car as well. He can’t sit idly by knowing you’re out there, possibly in distress, possibly in danger.

🫀🫀🫀

While you’re sitting against a tree trunk trying to shield yourself from the rain, there’s a morbid part of you that’s okay with this.

You wanted something bad to happen. You wanted to be in some kind of distress, because you being hurt means people have to care about you. Right? They have to really, truly see that you’ve been struggling but haven’t been able to ask for proper help.

You snap yourself out of that thought process, trying to remind yourself that people do care about you. But it’s hard to feel that way when you’ve put so much distance between yourself and the people you love.

You aren’t sure how long you sit in the rain having a pity party, watching your swollen ankle get bigger and bigger. You need to ice it and elevate it. And anytime longer in this rain, you’ll catch a cold.

So, you crawl on your hands and knees and find as sturdy a branch as you can on the forest floor. You use it as a pseudo walking stick to help you hobble back toward the trailer park. You know the way, thanks to your time traversing the forest daily in the Upside Down.

As you get closer to the break in the trees, you hear people calling for you. You shuffle there faster.

“I’m here!” you yell, stumbling through the tree line. “I’m here!”

It’s Chief Powell and Hopper, and they look relieved to see you. Officer Callahan and an animal control worker are trying to coax the mama dog and her three pups into crates.

“What happened, kid?” Hopper asks, sitting with you in the backseat of Powell’s truck while the other man radios for an ambulance and a tow truck for your car. The usual gruff timbre to Hopper's voice has a softened edge to it today, like he can sense your emotional fragility.

“Some jerk pushed me off the road. And I thought I saw…I—listen, the mud made the dog’s fur look gray, and I thought it was—”

“One of these hellhounds?”

You nod.

“I’m not sure if you realize this,” Hopper says. “But it’s been two years to the day since you…you know.”

You swallow hard.

“I didn’t remember,” you admit. “I mean, I knew the anniversary was coming up soon, I just…”

“We were all worried you…did something,” Hopper continues cautiously.

“I wouldn’t,” you say, much too quickly. “I mean, I feel like shit a lot of the time, but…no. I wouldn’t.”

Hopper nods, eyeing you. He doesn’t quite look convinced.

When the ambulance arrives, he rides with you to the hospital. Then, your parents meet you at the ER, while a doctor looks over your ankle.

It’s sprained, but not broken, thankfully. They send you home with a brace, some crutches, painkillers, and instructions to elevate and ice.

The whole drive home, your parents give you a speech about how much they love you and how they want to know how you’re doing, and that if you ever feel low, to talk to them because they can help. Normally, that kind of thing would annoy you, but after today—the fear of seeing what you thought was a demodog, of being back in the wilderness by yourself, even just for a few hours—you appreciate the gesture.

It's after midnight when you get home, and the rain has finally let up. Your dad helps you up the porch stairs, leaning the side with your bad leg against him the whole way. You almost don’t notice the note tacked to the front door until your mom points it out.

It has your name on it. You open it. Parts of it have been scratched out, but you can still read it all.

Hey, Y/N. I was driving around looking for you when Hopper found me. I’m so glad to hear that you’re going to be okay.

I’ll swing by tomorrow to chat, if you’re still up for it. If not, no worries. I know it’s a tough time. I just want you to know that I miss you I care about you more than you know I’m here.

-Steve

🫀🫀🫀

When Steve comes by the next day, he’s not alone.

You’re surprised to see him and Max Mayfield standing on your porch.

“Uh, hello!” you say. “How are you, Max?”

“Pretty good,” she says, “now that Steve is taking us for ice cream.”

You raise your eyebrows and adjust your stance on your crutches.

“Oh!” you say. You look to Steve. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Everything about his posture is tense, nervous. You wonder if this is an intervention or something—if you’ll arrive at the ice cream shop and be bombarded by the rest of your friends and a licensed professional promising a “safe space.”

You tell your parents where you’re going, promising a million times that you’ll be careful, and hobble down the porch steps to Steve’s waiting car. He’s a gentleman, one hand hovering behind your back and ready to catch you if you fall.

Max lets you have the passenger seat, likely due to your injury. On the ride over, you consider (politely) asking what she’s doing there, as you expected this conversation would be about the nature of your and Steve’s relationship.

A part of you deep, deep down had hoped he would beg you to take him back. A part of you deeper down felt selfish for that, but it was what you wanted.

You made a huge mistake letting him go.

Steve ends up taking you both to Sonic, pulling into one of the parking spots and pressing the “Order” button. Max leans up from the backseat, sticking her head between the two front seats, and rattles off a complicated order of hot dogs, fries, slushies, and ice cream into the speaker.

“I thought this was just ice cream,” you say with an eyebrow raised.

Max smirks.

“Moneybags Harrington is paying,” she says, patting him on the shoulder.

“I resent that,” Steve grouses. But there’s a sparkle in his eye.

When the food comes, Steve divvies it up amongst the three of you. However, he quickly comes up with a shoddy excuse to step out of the car—something about the fries being a medium instead of a large.

Max climbs over the center console to settle in the driver’s seat.

You aren’t sure what to expect when you’re alone with Max, but it’s definitely not, “Dying and coming back really sucks, doesn’t it?”

Your burger immediately tastes like sandpaper. “Oh, let’s not talk about that,” you say. “Let’s talk about fun things. Have you learned any new skate tricks recently?”

“Don’t deflect,” Max says, waving a french fry at you for emphasis. “Steve said you were having a hard time because no one could relate to you, and I’m probably the only person in the world who can.”

She’s not wrong. After your return to the right side of the universe, you learned that Max woke up from her coma, completely healed, after you killed Vecna and the gates closed. You hadn’t thought about how the two of you had similar, paralleled experiences.

“It does suck,” you say quietly, swirling your spoon around in your ice cream cup. “And I kind of feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“For me, it was a lot of anger,” Max says. She fidgets with her own food as she continues. “I couldn’t understand people’s priorities anymore. Like, what do you mean you’re worried about a chem test, Dustin? A few months ago, the world almost ended!”

“I totally get that,” you say, and your heart already feels lighter. “And my parents don’t understand what really happened, so they just don’t get me at all. Why I get so scared, so angry. So jumpy. It makes me feel like I’m a freak in their eyes.”

“I feel like my mom doesn’t even see me anymore,” Max says. She clears her throat and you catch a glimpse of tears gathering on her lash line before she roughly wipes them away. “Like to her, I’m a ghost.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” you say. She scoffs.

“And there’s another annoying thing,” Max says. “The empty platitudes to make us feel better. That shit doesn’t fix anything!”

You’re not offended by her outburst, because you honestly agree. The two of you lament a bit longer, and by the end of the conversation, you’re feeling on top of the world. Sure, nothing is really fixed. But you finally realize that you have a kindred spirit in all this.

You and Max make a plan to do things together more often. You’re seeing her as a de facto little sister already, and you’re hopeful that your planned meetings will be just as beneficial for her as they are for you.

Steve comes back after what seems like a millennium, shooing Max back to the backseat.

“Took you long enough!” she says.

He just smiles.

🫀🫀🫀

JUNE 1988

It’s the first day of summer.

And it’s been a year to the day since you returned.

You expect to feel more anxious than you do. Instead, you feel peaceful.

You’re doing a lot better, genuinely. You found a new therapist (sorry, Elaine) and since it’s someone who worked with Dr. Owens, you’re able to spill all the gory details of your past and your trauma. Healing isn’t easy, but you feel yourself slowly sewing yourself back together again.

You and Max stick to your word and take weekly trips to Sonic. You talk about the heavy stuff, but also the normal life stuff. You sometimes have guests. This past week, Lucas and Mike tagged along, arguing the whole time about what should happen in the Ghostbusters sequel that’s supposed to release next year.

You and Steve…ah, what’s there to say. You want him back, but you imploded the relationship and it feels selfish to waltz up to him and say, “Hey, hot stuff. Wanna get back together?”

However, you’ve officially enrolled for the fall semester at U of I. While he’s home from Hawkins for summer break, under the guise of asking for tips about campus life, you spend a lot of time with him.

You also spend time in the library, doing some studying to catch up before you start your classes in the fall. Your high school graduation was a lifetime ago. Literally.

Steve, Robin, and Jonathan join you for those summertime study sessions, although Jonathan and Robin usually bicker over the music theory books and Steve doesn’t get much done except for doodling in his notebook. But sometimes you catch him staring at you, and then his cheeks flush pink in that adorable way that makes you want to do something stupid, like beg him to take you back.

If only you knew if he really felt the same…

…which you find out he does, during the summer solstice.

You’re at the county fair with your friends, but they’ve all run off to watch the fireworks, so it’s just you and Steve at a picnic table downing sodas and cotton candy.

Your fingers wrap around the cool glass of a now-empty Coke bottle, and you place it on the tabletop. You attempt to look nonchalant as you spin it slowly.

Once it’s picked up momentum, you let it go, watching it spin a few more times before stopping it with your hand when the bottle neck points at Steve.

“It’s you,” you whisper, attempting to recreate that magical first kiss moment from years and years ago. You clear your throat at Steve’s dumbfounded expression. “Ah, sorry. You don’t have to kiss me. I was just…”

To your pleasant surprise, Steve’s face splits into a grin. “Well, gee, Y/N,” he says. “If you wanted to kiss me that bad, you could’ve just said so.”

A million canaries titter a love song in your heart as he leans forward.

The two of you kiss, for the first time in a long time.

The great divide in your soul is starting to seal. And everything feels right.

THE END

🫀🫀🫀

a/n please lmk what you thought 🩵

tags; @aloneinthehellfire @starry-eyed-steve @hollandweather @wisdomssdaughterr @huffledor-able541 @springautumn

@sunshinesteviee @curiositydooropened @crappymixtape

#st fic: oj #st fic: tgd #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic

200 notes · View notes

themotherofhorses · 1 year

Note

Hi author first of wanted to say I love your work !

I'm not sure if you take requests so if you don't feel free to delete this 💛

Modern spy Aemond x naive reader [ Aemond meets her when he's on a mission and becomes obsessed with her how can someone be so sweet and innocent !? He just has to have her also baby trapping and smut if you're comfortable writing it ]

follow me now, and you will not regret (leaving the life you led before we met)

pairing: modern spy!aemond targaryen x naive!reader

warnings: explicit language. stalking. very much nsfw smut. once again, aemond is an obsessive and pussywhipped little bitch with zero thoughts within his pretty knocker. manipulation. innocence kink. breeding kink/baby trapping at the end.

notes: hi, yes, this is me coursing through uncharted and absolutely fucking rough waters in some attempt to spice up my usual smut writing style

(aka me practicing for the next chapter of my modern series)

masterlist

A career life built solely around espionage (or a sort of black shadow warfare mixed with cold combat) came dirty, bloody, and uncertain.

Or, at least, that was what Aemond “The One-Eyed White Death” Targaryen would tell himself on the daily, in some attempt at justifying the ends to the means. Really, this entire situation could have been a lot worse, he thought- after all, the lives of countless innocent civilians could have been caught within his crosshairs. He hated when that happened; it was always so messy, and came with heavy and boring paperwork.

However, that was not the case this time, thankfully.

It was only one innocent civilian in his hands, and she was still safe and sound.

Aemond had never meant to stick around the city for so long, having other missions queued up after this one, but fuck…you were perfect. Godsent, the prettiest and most delicious slice of heaven above, and he did not consider himself a godly man, nowhere near in the slightest. The gods loathed his type, he knew, and never hesitated in casting them all down to the pits of hell.

But you…

He had met you during the mission, while stuck undercover at some random little café on the corner street. The boss sent him to stake out some old-money and big-named crime mobster that was allegedly dealing weapons and various drugs under the noses of local law enforcement, a suspect on their “Most Wanted” board. And you- well, you were tucked away in a small booth, hunched over two thick college textbooks while multiple paper assignments laid strewed across the table top, so unaware of his presence sitting tables away on the other side of the room.

Gods, you were absolutely gorgeous, he thought. So fucking pretty, with those eyelashes and charm bracelet and focused look on your face. It made him forget all about his original mission. Fuck that, he has a new one now. And there was the cutest pout on your pink and glossy lips that made his cock harden, despite not having the faintest clue on what your name could be.

(That itself was no concern of his, he could find it out later in the evening. And he eventually did.)

You were there at the café the following day, and the day after that. Always with your head in those damn school books, his pretty and dutiful schoolgirl. The sight made him chuckle, and smile, and fill with the strongest urge to ruin you completely with his mouth, and fingers, and cock. On the fifth day, he finally decided to step up to your table, interrupting your usual study schedule with a shy smile and your favorite drink in hand, as well as a chocolate chip cookie.

“I- uh, I hope you don’t mind, miss,” he said, feigning bashfulness, “but I’ve seen you around everyday for this past week and thought, maybe, you wouldn’t mind being friends? I’m new in town, actually…and- well, I don’t know a lot of people around here…” he added, watching your pretty eyes widen.

And, fuck, your lips were glossy again, and he stood there (like a complete idiot) wondering what flavor they could possibly taste like.

Cherries?

Strawberries? Blueberries?

Maybe mimosa or peppermint patties?

“Oh, well, of course! I don’t mind whatsoever,” you replied cheerfully, rousing butterflies in Aemond’s stomach. “I’d be happy to be your friend,” and you patted at the spot next to yours, slugging away your tote bag and books so that he could sit down, and you could introduce yourself.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Aemond became your friend, first. The easiest way to manipulate your unsuspecting victims? Through trust and friendships, per the teachings of his old childhood mentors back at the academy. Throughout the next month, he bought you hot chocolate and matcha tea lattes, joined you in quick lunch dates, insisted on driving you to your college classes, and went with you to the little bookstores scattered across the city. It was fun…and torturous- utter torment and near physical agony- because all he wanted to do was fuck your pretty pussy until you could no longer remember your name and your cunt was to the shape of his own cock.

He would sit beside you in the café booth, listening as you drone on and on about your favorite, most passionate subjects, all while trying to desperately hide the boner in his jeans and rid his mind of such dirty thoughts and fantasies. There was no use, though. Aemond was fucked, too addicted and obsessed.

He wanted you, now and forever.

But that was not the worst part. The worst part was that you had not the smallest clue of what you were doing to him. You were just his sweet companion, his dear friend, too innocent and naïve to both the world and the waking beast deep within him.

He often followed you back home, to that tiny apartment near the college. Aemond swore it was because he wanted to make sure you were safe and protected from any of his enemies, anyone daring to steal you away from him, but he knew it was more due to the chances of seeing you undress and shower and decide which nightie you would wear to bed. And, sometimes, he got treated to his sweet girl trying to touch herself. It was so cute, so endearing, to watch you slip a hand between your thighs only to pause because you had no idea of what to do, and how to fuck your own fingers inside your cunt until you came.

Poor, sweet girl of mine, Aemond shook his head, tutting. Alone and in need.

How could someone so pretty, such a fucking cock-tease, be so innocent and untouched, so stupid and unknowing to everything sexual?

It did not make any sense to him.

Maybe you were made for him, and only him, and this was the gods’ gentle way of telling him to change his ways before it was too late. Leave behind this career of his, wash away all the red staining his ledger and hang up his callsign, all so he can start a family with you. The family he needs, the one he deserves.

Yes, he thought, that makes more sense. You need him the same way he needs you.

And, really, who was he to ignore the gods above? Aemond himself was no godly man, it was not in the nature of a spy like him- but for you, perhaps the fates might allow it.

Two months later, after a dinner date, Aemond has you pressed against your apartment’s door, his mouth frantically devouring yours in a fervent and wet kiss. It has been so long, so torturous, weeks after weeks of constant late-night jerking off to your pretty pictures and those blue-laced panties he managed to slip from your bedroom that one afternoon and pretending that all he wants to be is your friend.

You are so beautiful, so stunning, especially within this very moment, chest heaving out heavy breaths while you peer up at him as if he is a god.

He grabs at your face, a rough grip on your chin. “Tell me you want it tonight,” he demands, his lips near your ear. You shiver and clutch at his arms, so close to melting into nothing but putty in his hands. “Want what, Aemond?” you ask innocently, batting your dark eyelashes up at him. Fucking cock-tease. He chuckles while trailing light kisses along your jawline and down your neckline, mouthing at your nape and clavicle. You mewl at the feeling. “Please- please, don’t stop…”

“Do my kisses feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” you sigh out, tangling your fingers within his silver hair, “it feels amazing.”

He smirks. “It will feel a whole lot better in a little while, I promise you, sweet girl. But I need to ask…do you trust me?” You nod frantically, leaning up to kiss his lips. “Of course, Aemond. You are my dearest friend! I trust no one more than you.” Aemond just laughs at your words, yearning so badly to tell you that- by the end of the night- your cute ass will no longer be ‘just his friend’ but something much more, definitely.

But where is the fun in that?

“Good, good. Just relax and enjoy everything, okay?”

Aemond then pushes you back against the door, quickly slipping off the pretty floral top you wore and groaning at how your lacy bra cupped your breasts perfectly. Where have you been all my life? He thinks while snaking his hands around your back to unhook your brace and toss it somewhere over his shoulder, too busy salivating over your free and ample breasts and perky nipples.

“Fuck, look at you…so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles, kneading at your breasts. You stiffen, flushing under his heavy gaze before moving to cover yourself up, feeling a little self-conscious. Aemond shakes his head, gently tugging your hands back to your side. “No, don’t you dare cover yourself up, baby. Not in front of me.” His fingers pinch your nipple, cause your back to arch. “I’ll never understand why no one has ever devoured this pretty body. Gods, look at these tits. You’re so beautiful, baby, a fucking wet dream come true. Mmm, yeah, bet they’ll taste delicious,” and he wraps his lips around a nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

You’re delicious here, and Aemond knows you will be even more down there. His poor cock, still tucked inside his pants, feels like it is weeping, too impatient and irritated and ready to ruin you. His hand slides down your belly to rest on your hipbones and thighs, fingers ghosting around your panties.

“Ohhh…” you gasp out, biting at your bottom lips when his hand slips in.

“Fuuckk,” he drawls out against your breast, thrusting a finger into your wet cunt. “Gods, you’re so fucking wet down here. Absolutely soaking, poor baby.” Aemond strokes your slit a few times before rubbing your clit with his thumb, hearing the way you whine and shake at his actions. “I can’t wait to be inside you, fucking you till all you can think about is me.” He continues his thrusting, watching how your pretty face scrunches in sheer pleasure.

“Are you enjoying this, baby?” he asks, humming. “Do you want me down there tongue-fucking you? Hmm? Oh, wait, my sincere apologies, pretty girl, you probably don’t even know what that means.”

You moan, loud and high-pitched, teeth still chewing on your bottom lip. At your silence, he spanks your ass, causing you to lurch up with a massive gasp. “Use your fucking words, sweetheart. I don’t care for silence, especially from you.”

The more you remain quiet, he thinks, the more spanks you’ll receive.

Eventually, you fling your head back, bumping it against the door. “Okay, yes! Please! Please, Aemond…!”

Grinning, Aemond stands up and draws his lips back to your ear, saying slowly, “Spread those legs then, baby girl, right now.” When you do so, he sinks down to his knees, both hands gently clutching your thighs, “Yeah, that is a good girl. My pretty, good girl of mine.” He moves his face to the front of your pussy, “Can you feel my breath against this pretty clit? Are you waiting for me to devour this pussy? Tongue-fuck you until you’re a stupid little mess? Tell me, baby.”

He then blows against your wetness, ignoring how you jolt hard at the feel. And I’m not taking no for an answer,” he adds before slinging a leg over his shoulder.

“Oh gods, yes, please,” you whine, jerking your hips up against his face. Aemond slaps your asscheeks hard- once, twice, three, four times. “Beg, my pretty baby. C’mon, I know you can do it. Beg for my tongue, beg like you mean it, you stupid and horny little slut.” Your eyebrows furrow at his words and you whimper. “Don’t be mean to me…” you whisper, trying to blink away tears.

Aemond raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you thought that, because this is your first time, I would be nice? My sweet summer girl, you teased me enough these past several months, and I’m done playing nice. Now, tell me you want this. Tell me you want me to claim this pussy as mine.”

Your wanton cries are everything he needs in this life, he soon realizes. If he can spend the rest of his days with his face buried deep between your thighs, he swears he’ll die a happy and satisfied man. The way his name glides off your tongue is incredibly, completely wonderful, and his mind fills with various fantasies and all the positions he will soon have you in, helpless and dripping like a whore in heat.

His pretty whore, forever and always.

“Fuck, baby, who am I to deny you such?” Aemond buries his face between your trembling thighs, inhaling your mouth-watering scent one final time before slipping his tongue inside your wet folds. “You taste so fucking good, baby- shit, you’re leaking all over my face,” he moans amid long licks, fucking you both with his tongue and fingers.

“Oh, gods! Oh- oh- oh…!” You shriek, both legs buckling as your hands clench into tight fists. All of your little moans and whimpers, those pathetic pleas and begs, they all send more blood rushing to his cock. You don’t recognize the early grave you’re digging at, too overtaken by the pleasure.

“So fucking tight against my fingers. How the hell will you take my cock, baby? Fuck, I’m going to destroy you.”

You moan again, in such a loud and lustful cry that causes his resolve to only weaken faster.

“Oh! Oh, Aemond, this feels so good! Please- please, don’t ever stop,” you wail, fat tears gushing down your cheeks. This pleasure, it is a feeling like nothing before, not even coming close to those few times you made some sad and futile attempt to touch yourself, too confused on how to deal with those strange tummy butterflies that seemingly hatched from their cocoons the day you meant Aemond.

How thankful you are that you met him.

Your body squirms every couple seconds, only to wince when he spanks your ass hard again.

“Shut the fuck up,” Aemond hisses without venom. He is too much in love with you for poison. “Do you wish for your neighbors to know that I’m fucking you right now? What would they think? The pretty and sweet girl that lives here, too innocent and naïve for this damn world, letting a man eat her out like a whore.”

You shake your head again, eyes puffy and red from all the tears. “N-no, Aemond…” you stutter out.

Aemond pauses his fingers, now curious to see how far he could go with this new type of torture. But it is not long, though, before you buckle against his hand, your bruised and swollen chest pushing up with stiffened nipples. And your body, it soon tightens as your flustered face screws up in that telltale sign that you are only seconds away from cumming. The scene is beautiful, very much so, and he feels pride that it is all from his own doing.

Yet he drags himself back up on his feet, removing his fingers from your cunt before you could cum. Perhaps it is a bit too cruel on his part, but Aemond could care less; he wants you to cum on his cock for your first time.

There will be many more times of this, he wants to reassure you. He doesn’t, though.

You’ll find out on your own time.

You gaze at him through bleak and narrowed eyes as he unbuttons his pants and shoves them down to his ankles. “You poor, poor little thing,” he tuts, running a gentle hand through your damp hair, “-are you tired? You look tired, but from what? You didn’t even cum once!” He pats your cheek, “Don’t worry, my sweet girl, you’re about to. Can’t tell you how many times, but it’ll be a lot.”

And Aemond does not wait for your response, instead snatching your hand and pressing it against his boxers. “Can you feel that, baby? That is my cock. Can you feel how hard it is? You did this, you made me so fucking hard that it hurts.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head, “Now, that is not very nice, is it? No, no, no it is not. I thought you were a sweetheart…” He shoves your hand back, ignoring the small tears that gather in your eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, wiping them away. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Aemond! Please don’t be mad at me…please, how can I help you? I’ll do anything,” you pout as you watch him slip down his boxers. Your teary eyes grow as wide as dinner plates, and your breath hitches. It is so sexy to him, eating away at the little self-control he is trying to maintain.

You’re a virgin, he reminds himself. Soft and easy, my baby deserves that.

“Shhh, baby,” Aemond rasps out, cupping your face within his hand. He kisses your nose, cheeks, and forehead before finding your lips. “I’m not mad, really, my sweet girl. I know you meant no harm, you’re too sweet and good for that,” and he holds your face against him while readying to fuck you with his cock. He can feel your short pants, the little breaths you take, and how you shudder whenever his clammy skin meets yours.

“Relax your body, baby girl, don’t tense up. It will hurt less…good girl, that’s my good girl.”

Nice and slow, he chants as he slowly sinks into your cunt, groaning at the tightness, slow and nice. You whimper, eyes rolling back as begins his thrusts, slow and easy. I’m a gentleman.

Mother made me promise to be a gentleman.

I’m a gentleman. I’m a gentleman. I’m a gentleman.

But the look you are giving him, with your lips pink and puffy from the shit ton of kisses and bites, and the way your pussy clenches around his cock…it is causing him to forget all about how his mother indeed made him promise to be nothing short but a gentleman.

You’re too pretty for him not to devour, and…well, were you not made for him? The gods created you with the purpose of him eventually finding and caring for you, the way it should’ve always been- the way it will be for now on. His one good eye (the one those stupid bastards left alone back at the academy) watches as you shake and quiver and mewl out the sweetest and yummiest little moans.

The way you are right now, you’re just begging to be made into a new mother, and his mind goes insane at the sudden image of you heavy with his children, huffy and sore and always exhausted. It is delicious to think about. Aemond- truthfully- never really thought about kids, constantly busy with the espionage lifestyle and the back-to-back missions, but you…oh, he knows that, after tonight, you’ll have no choice but to remain by his side as the baby grows, needing him to protect and provide and shower you with love and affection.

He’ll be the best husband and father, and you his good girl- his precious slice of normality.

The way it should be, the way it will be.

It is half a year later that Aemond “The One-Eyed White Death” Targaryen finally connects back with his boss through a phone call.

Before that, he dropped off the grid, returning no calls and messages and signals, leaving everyone behind at the headquarters confused, concerned, and scratching their heads as to why their finest agent suddenly vanished without a trace.

He was not dead- they knew that. He was just…gone.

“What happened, agent?” The director asks, fiddling with his pen while another agent of his attempts to get some kind of reading on him. No luck; Aemond made himself untraceable. “Are you hurt, Aemond? Did someone threaten you? You left after I assigned you that mobster and- well, we assumed the worst, son.”

Aemond chuckles, shaking his head. “No, boss, do not worry about me," he says, "I’m good. Very good, in fact, the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, one might say.”

He leans against the doorway, arms crossing over his chest as he watches you flip through a baby store catalog and marvel at all the products they have for sale- the finest baby strollers, a variety of cribs, bassinets, and swing sets, and the cutest little animal plushies and clothing.

“Frankly, boss, I just grew tired of the spy life.”

“Is that so? And pray tell what you are now, Aemond One Eye.”

He smiles, eyeing your baby bump and how you are utterly glowing. “I’m a family man.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x modern!reader #aemond targaryen x you #modern!aemond #dark aemond targaryen #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #request #vic writes 🧸

1K notes · View notes

astyrial · 9 months

Text

little lamb spencer reid x fem!reader (angst) synopsis: you are kidnapped by an unsub word count: 1.5k warnings: blood, kidnapping, torture, hurt/comfort masterlist | requests are open

a finger slowly and steadily hovers above your skin, running from your chin to your collarbone. your hair stands on edge as he looks down towards you. the man has a wicked smile on his face, his lips curl only a little as he sees the fear resting in your eyes.

"pretty little lamb, tricked so easily by a wolf in sheep's clothing. couldn't you, of all people, see that i very clearly brought you into my trap? shouldn't the fbi be the best of the best? and yet you follow like sheep," he brutally laughs, the thick mucus building up in his throat quickly regurgitating.

your eyes look up at the man, meeting his own. he has rich brown eyes, nearly black, as the light fades from them. "oh, but obviously i chose you for a reason, can't you see? i chose you because they'd do anything to keep you safe. that spencer kid, yeah, i'm sure he's loving this."

spencer... your lip quivers a little as you attempt to hold back any tears. your mind begins to race as to what he had said about the unsub. that he thrives on fear, he enjoys someone who fears him. that the man also has to have a military background, probably a father figure who served.

"you're a sick bastard," your jaw tightens in his direction, your lips no longer moving, your eyes attempting to hide the very real fear hidden within.

he laughs, raising his hand up to his forehead, "isn't that just great, you're trying to act like you're not scared? have i not put on enough theatrics for you people? not enough risk?"

just out of your line of sight, the man grabs something. it doesn't leave much room for imagination as it sticks into your upper arm, a knife. it's a few inches deep into the skin and yet he feels the need to push it in a little farther. like the man yearns for the feeling of ending someone's life, like he is draining their life force.

despite the strong will inside, an exasperated cry for help reverberates deep from your lungs. a laugh rings through your head, a rich and annoying laugh that imbeds itself. he pulls the knife out and watches as the blood seeps down your blouse. "are you finally getting it? that you can't hide your fear as well as you think you can."

"fuck off," you swallow whatever phlegm built up in your mouth, your eyes meeting his.

a little spit hits his cheek, his eyes wide in amusement. everything you do can't stop the vile things he is already planning out in his head. "really? stupid little lamb. none of your friends? coworkers? what do you consider them? because if it's anything closer than coworkers, i'm sure they'll be crying at your funeral."

no amount of training can prepare you for the expression on his face. no amount of an agent shouting at you that this moment is the moment that matters. no amount of textbooks that spencer sends to your office can prepare you for the feeling of a knife running along your thigh.

"you know how this goes, you've seen the tapes. how about you look up and give your last words. and makes sure they're nice, your boyfriend will be watching," he smiles, shrugging his shoulders as he adjusts a shoddy camera hooked up to a laptop.

of course you've thought of your last words, you're an fbi agent. you've been in comprising situations. however, you never thought it would realistically come. it never has and you thought retirement would've come quicker. "no," you shake your head, no long winded speech about justice, just no.

"no? what do you mean no? you really have nothing to say to me? your friends? family? don't you wanna say anything?" he yells, the knife falling with his hand until it grazes your knee, taking a piece of skin with it.

you double over in the chair, your arms restricting you from moving forward much. your teeth clench hard against your lips and cause a little blood to fall. the unsub looks to you, his knife bloodied and dangerous. without much foresight, he hits the backend of it against your nose.

with the same hand, he uses his knuckle to hit your eye and eyebrow. the knife slicing your forehead as he does so. "you're all so stubborn. you know that?" the unsub breaths heavily, parts of his face twitching as he glared at you. "maybe this'll be the tape, i don't need you give some sob story."

"yes you do," you cough up, ensuring that your word count stay small, "you need me to."

was goading the unsub your best choice? probably not. but from what you can remember is that this unsub is repetitive. he has traits similar to that of someone with obsessive compulsive disorder. he needs you to give a grand speech because that's what he's been taught.

"i do, little lamb? and how would you know, because some of your profiler friends know? they don't know me, but since you think they do, then tell me. how well do they know me?" he smiles, believing he had somehow tricked you into believing that this doesn't count.

but every long winded speech counts. he just can't recognize it. "you're right, they don't know you," your eyebrows lower, your forehead creasing as you wait and watch as the unsub sighs. his thumb running along the edge of the knife's handle.

he leans towards you, his eyes inches from yours, and truly it's the first time you've seen such lifeless eyes from a living person. the unsub takes the knife and plunges it into your stomach, your body lurching forwards at the impact. however, it doesn't do much but makes the wound feel even worse.

the knife twists a little as he continues to stare right at your eyes, waiting for something. but the only thing the two of you can hear is a loud crashing noise. the man quickly pulls the knife out, causing blood to quickly pour from the spot.

"fbi! raise your hands mr. sanchez and drop the knife!" derek's voice coats your mind and released a wave of serotonin. suddenly adrenaline is not the only thing keeping you running.

"i'm in here!" you attempt to scream, however, it mainly comes out as a croak. your voice scratchy and losing most of its shape and tone.

the one and only person you wanted to see the most runs through the doorway. his fbi vest covers a sweater vest, his hands raised with a finger wrapped around the trigger of a gun. spencer.. your face instantly falls, tears piling up by your eyes, "spence."

he lowers the gun, stuffing it into his holster as he runs over to you. spencer raises his hands up to your face, his fingers lingering by your eyes. his thumb runs along your cheeks as tears run down his own face. especially when he notices the blood covering your blouse and jeans.

"what happened? we have an ambulance here, an emt is making his way up as we speak. i should've been there with you, should've stopped him," spencer's eyes search the wounds on your body, making sure to unbound your hands.

you shake your head, your lip shaking as you can't find the words to answer his questions. a shiver runs along your arms, sending goosebumps down your body as spencer's hands press against your stomach. you wait for seconds, watching until the emt finally arrived.

"i'm jake, the emt. where have you been hurt?" he immediately opens his bag, his eyes looking between you and spencer.

spencer starts instructing him of the places he could find that seemed to have surpassed the skin. "thank you," you whisper to him as the emt patches up your stomach. the stitches running through your skin causes you hold onto spencer's hand, making sure to hold it tightly.

"you'll be okay, because i know you. you're strong, y/n. you survived this, that's what matters," spencer reaches his hands up to your cheeks again, smearing a little blood onto one of them. he stands up and kissing the top of your forehead. his lips are soft, yet slightly cracked from possible dehydration.

you look up at him, your head pounding from the loss of blood. and yet, the only thing you can think of is spencer. it's the best time to have your mind sidetracked, enamored with the love of your life instead of with the hasty stitches in your stomach.

"are you coming with to the hospital?" you question, your hand grabbing his, your eyes closing slowly as you start to feel the pain that the adrenaline can no longer hide.

"of course y/n, i would go to the ends of the earth with you. what's one hospital?" spencer smiles, bringing a little warmth to your evening. it may be to help you not realize just how freaked out he is, either way, his smile is exactly what you would've wanted to see last before passing out.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid angst #angst #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fic

276 notes · View notes

butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 1 month

Note

EXCUSE ME MISS MA’AM!?

Hi I speak for everyone that if you have the time, energy, and love…. Could you please give us a part two of Bunny. Yeah we’re gonna need that in order to function properly. I am begging at this point.

P.S. you are a beautiful person!

Sincerely,

Chaos

I love you babes! 💚 again, I cannot believe an amazing author like YOU, wanted a part two from ME! This absolutely means the work to me. Thank you :)

Bunny (Part 2) - Health Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Joker x Fem!Reader Joker x Reader with Anxiety

Word Count: 11,941

Warnings: violence, Joker, manipulation, minor age gap, implied stalking, technically breaking and entering Summary: This new-found relationship- if it could even be labelled as such, has been wearing on Y/n. Being with a wanted criminal generally does that to a person, she finds. Now, when she encounters a potential new friend during her lecture, how will this dynamic fit into her already tumultuous existence?

(Part 1)

A/N: Thank you everyone in fact for all the support on this fic that I've gotten and a lot of requests for a part two so I hope I can deliver! I love this man so much (maybe not as much as our girl Chaos, but you get me). In this one, I definitely wanted to make him more manipulative and just overall aggressive so ✨ slay ✨ So I hope you all enjoy this part two :) 💚

To describe her newfound "relationship" with the Joker as unconventional would be a massive understatement. If Y/n wasn't anxious before, she most certainly was now. The Joker's presence in her life was a constant source of unease, his unpredictable nature and the shadow of his criminality casting a dark cloud over her thoughts.

The fear of discovery gnawed at her mind like a relentless beast. What if someone saw him entering her dorm? What if word got out and she became a target? Despite the Joker's assurances of protection, Y/n couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered in the depths of her mind.

And then there were the surprise visits, each one a jolt to her already frazzled nerves. With no means of contacting him or determining when they would meet, Y/n found herself at the mercy of the Joker's whims, her schedule and peace of mind constantly disrupted.

What truly unsettled her, however, was the realization that the Joker seemed to have an uncanny ability to keep tabs on her, lurking in the shadows without her knowledge. She was trapped in a game she didn't fully understand, a pawn in the Joker's twisted world, with no escape in sight.

But it wasn’t all too bad, for one thing, he was surprising very generous, in his own way. He’d show up, showering her with gifts and other offers that kept her on her toes. He’s also offered to buy Y/n a high end apartment, but knowing him, it would be paid with dirty money, which is something she’d think about everytime she stepped into the apartment.

Despite his unpredictable nature, she couldn't deny the feelings she harbored for him. In his presence, she experienced emotions she had never known before, a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration that left her breathless. Strangely, amidst the chaos and danger that surrounded him, he had a way of making her feel oddly calm and grounded.

Nights like these were the ones she cherished most. Lying on her single bed, Joker enveloped her in his embrace, his warmth providing a sense of solace that she found nowhere else. They remained in silence, finding comfort in each other's presence.

Y/n felt his lips press against the side of her head, eliciting a slight groan as she instinctively reached to wipe away the residue of his makeup. She hadn't yet seen him without it, respecting his choice to keep his identity concealed, but sometimes wished she could see the man behind the mask.

"You don't like my kisses?" Joker quirked an eyebrow, teasingly.

"It's not your kisses I mind, it's the greasy mess you leave behind," Y/n replied with a playful grin.

“Greasy mess? Like this?” Joker responded by nuzzling his face against hers, prompting a laugh from Y/n as she attempted to push him away.

Y/n playfully pushed Joker away, laughing as she saw his face paint smudged from their playful exchange. It wasn't until she caught her own reflection in the small mirror across the room that she realized her own face was adorned with similar streaks of color.

"Oh yay! Now I have to go out and clean my face," she remarked, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Joker glanced at his reflection in the mirror, a grin spreading across his face as he observed the colorful mess they had created together.

"It's a masterpiece," he declared with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh, feeling a sense of freedom and happiness in these moments with Joker, despite the uncertainty that lingered in the background.

Y/n rose from the bed, intending to clean the smeared face paint from her skin, but Joker's voice halted her in her tracks.

"Where do you think you're going?" he inquired, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"Just to wash my face," Y/n replied, her voice gentle.

Joker's response was immediate. "Later," he insisted, his arms beckoning her back to the warmth of their shared space.

Reluctantly, Y/n made her way back to him, sinking back into the comfort of Joker's embrace as they resumed their quiet companionship.

As they lay together in silence, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in her mind. Joker's presence, though comforting in its own way, was a constant reminder of the unpredictable nature of their relationship.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/n felt Joker's hand gently stroking her hair, a gesture that contrasted sharply with his usual erratic demeanor. She turned to look at him, meeting his intense gaze.

"Now tell me… What’s going on inside that little mind of yours, Bunny?" Joker asked softly, his eyes searching hers for answers.

Y/n hesitated, unsure how to articulate the swirling emotions inside her. "Just... wondering about us," she admitted quietly.

Joker caressed her cheek, "You worry too much, Doll," he murmured, pulling her closer to him.

But despite his reassurance, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that gnawed at her insides. She knew that navigating a relationship with the Joker would never be easy, but for now, all she could do was hold onto him and hope for the best.

As Y/n stirred from her slumber from her sudden alarm ringing, the absence of Joker's warmth beside her sent a pang of loneliness through her. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up in bed and glanced around the room, the morning light casting a soft glow over the empty space.

With a heavy sigh, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and reached for her phone to silence the persistent alarm. The familiar routine of the morning only served to highlight the absence of Joker's presence, leaving Y/n feeling a sense of gloom that lingered like a shadow.

Despite knowing that their time together was fleeting and unpredictable, Y/n couldn't help but yearn for the comfort of Joker's embrace. But as she resigned herself to another day without him by her side, she knew that the loneliness was a small price to pay for the moments of connection they shared.

Navigating the familiar corridors of Gotham University, Y/n followed her well-worn path to her lecture hall. As she walked down the steps, she suddenly stopped. Someone was sitting in her spot. Well- it technically wasn’t her seat, but it had become her unofficial spot through habit.

Her heart quickened with uncertainty as Y/n scanned the room, searching for an alternative seat. Sighing in relief, she found herself an empty row along the side, a makeshift refuge from the disruption to her routine.

As she took her seat, she couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. It was unsettling to deviate from her routine, even in such a small way. But she reminded herself that change was inevitable, and sometimes it was necessary to step out of her comfort zone.

Just as she started to relax into her new surroundings, a voice startled her from behind.

"Hey, mind if I sit here?" the voice asked, and Y/n turned to see a guy standing beside her, a friendly smile on his face.

"Uhh.. No, you can sit," Y/n replied hesitantly.

He smiled warmly, settling into the seat beside her. "I’m Max, by the way," he introduced himself.

"I’m Y/n," she responded quickly, feeling a flutter of nerves at his friendly demeanor.

"He really piled on the homework this week, didn't he?" Max said with a chuckle, referring to the professor's latest reading.

Y/n nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. "Tell me about it. I feel like I'm drowning in articles."

Max laughed, a sound that was oddly comforting to Y/n's ears. "Well, at least we're in the same boat. Misery loves company, right?"

As they chatted, Y/n couldn't help but notice the genuine kindness in Max's eyes and the way his smile reached all the way to his eyes. It was a stark contrast to the unpredictable intensity she experienced with Joker.

Despite her lingering anxiety, Y/n found herself enjoying the conversation, feeling a sense of normalcy she hadn't felt in a long time. For the first time in a while, Y/n felt a glimmer of excitement at the prospect of forming a new connection. Maybe this blip in her routine was exactly what she needed.

As they walked up the steps, Max's voice cut through the murmurs of departing students. He turned to Y/n with a friendly smile, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "I'm heading to the library. Care to join?"

Y/n paused, her gaze flitting to the clock before returning to Max. His genuine invitation sparked a flicker of warmth in her chest. "Thanks, but I don't think I have time," she replied, a hint of regret in her tone.

"No worries. Maybe next time?" Max suggested, his smile unwavering.

Y/n's mind raced, contemplating the possibility. She couldn't help but feel excited about Max's offer. "Sounds good," she finally said, returning his smile with a small one of her own.

"Great," Max said, his smile widening before he turned and walked out of the lecture hall.

As Y/n watched Max's retreating figure, a sense of relief washed over her. For the first time in a while, she felt a glimmer of normalcy amidst the chaos of her life.

Walking back to her dorm was a breeze, as it was only a short distance from campus. With each step, a smile adorned Y/n's face, a rare occurrence after a typical day at university. Beyond the casual acquaintances in her dorm, she rarely found herself engaging with others on campus.

Unlocking her dorm room door, Y/n stepped inside, only to be greeted by a sudden scream that escaped her lips. Joker stood before her, a chilling presence that sent shivers down her spine.

"You scared me!" Y/n sighed, quickly shutting the door behind her. “I didn’t expect to see you till later on.”

Joker's demeanor was unsettlingly calm as he observed her, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, an eyebrow quirked inquisitively.

"Have a... good day?" Joker's voice carried an edge of menace.

"Uhh... I suppose," Y/n replied, her nerves palpable.

There was an unmistakable tension in the air, an unspoken threat lingering between them. Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

"Are you okay, Joker?" Y/n asked cautiously.

"Dandy..." Joker's response was terse, his gaze piercing as he continued to scrutinize her.

Y/n's brow furrowed in concern, her instincts on high alert. But before she could voice her apprehension, Joker abruptly changed the subject, his tone taking on a predatory edge.

"Made any friends lately?" Joker's question hung in the air, loaded with an underlying threat.

"N-no," Y/n stammered, feeling like a cornered animal under Joker's scrutiny.

A sinister smile tugged at Joker's lips, an unsettling sight that sent a chill down Y/n's spine. She felt like a mouse being circled by a hungry cat- or in this case, a bunny being circled by a hungry wolf as Joker began to pace around her, his movements calculated and predatory.

"Hmmm..." Joker's voice was a low murmur, filled with unnerving curiosity. "Then who was that boy you were talking with?"

"Oh! Max," Y/n began to explain, she smiled slightly, thinking back to their encounter. "I had to sit in a different seat today, and he sat beside…"

Her words trailed off as realization dawned on her. Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to form a coherent response. She hadn't anticipated Joker's sudden interrogation, nor did she understand how he knew about her encounter with Max.

"H-how do you know about that?"

But Joker merely smirked in response, his yellowed teeth gleaming in the dim light of her dorm room, his gaze fixated on her with an intensity that made her blood run cold.

"So, my Bunny made a friend?" Joker's smile widened, revealing his yellowed teeth in a chilling grin. "Why don’t you tell me about this… Max.".

"I-I don’t know much about him, I just met him today," Y/n explained, her voice tinged with apprehension.

"Is that so?" Joker halted abruptly, standing mere inches away from her.

Y/n nodded, her nerves palpable as she awaited Joker's next move.

"You know, Bunny," Joker began, his tone shifting to something more serious, "I don't think you should be hanging around with this Max character."

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise. "Why not?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady despite the rising fear.

"Because," Joker replied, his voice dropping to a low growl, "I don't trust him. And you should know by now that I don't like it when people get too close to what's mine."

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to process Joker's words. She knew he was possessive, but this felt different. More dangerous. She needed to tread carefully.

"But… he's just a friend," Y/n protested weakly, hoping to reason with Joker.

Joker's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer to her. "I don't care if he's just a friend. Stay away from him, Bunny. Trust me, it's for your own good."

Y/n swallowed hard, looking down, feeling a knot of fear tightening in her stomach. She knew she had to heed Joker's warning, no matter how much it frightened her.

Joker held her jaw, tilting her head up to look at him with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. “Is there a problem, Bunny?” he asked, his voice low and commanding.

She shook her head, feeling the weight of his hand against her skin, making it hard to think straight.

“Good,” Joker said, his lips brushing against hers in a possessive kiss. “Now, let’s go have a lie down, hmm? I know how class just wears you out,” he suggested, his tone oddly tender as he led her to the bed.

Y/n complied, allowing Joker to guide her onto the single bed. As he kicked off his shoes and settled in, she followed suit, slipping off her own shoes before nestling against his chest. His warmth enveloped her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling the familiar comfort of his body against hers.

"You know I care very much about you, Bunny?" Joker said, his voice soft yet firm.

"Yes... I know," Y/n murmured, her heart fluttering at his words.

"Good," Joker said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his touch surprisingly tender.

Looking at his wristwatch, Joker pushed himself up, not-so-gently dropping Y/n beside him. "Duty calls," he announced, his tone playful as usual.

"But it's only been like two minutes," Y/n protested, disappointment evident in her voice.

"I know, Doll... I'm gonna take you out tonight... how about that? Wear something nice, and I want you to use the money I got you, okay?" Joker suggested, a glint of excitement in his eyes.

Y/n had hoped he would have forgotten by now, it had been ages. "Yeah, okay, I'll go out and find something..." she replied, quielty.

Joker leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss on her lips. "Mwah!" he exclaimed with a grin before pulling back.

"Bye..." Y/n's voice trailed off as she watched Joker leave through her door.

She couldn't help but marvel at how he managed to slip away undetected every time, but she cracked it to Gotham University's apparent incompetence and obliviousness.

With a heavy sigh, she heaved herself up from her bed. It seemed like she wouldn't be catching a break anytime soon.

Y/n struggled to remember the last time she had gone shopping for clothes. She gingerly flipped through the stacks of bills, feeling a mix of awe and discomfort at the sheer amount of money in her possession. Each bill represented a dark and mysterious world she was inadvertently tied to, courtesy of the Joker's lavish gifts. Despite her reluctance to accept his extravagant gestures, she couldn't deny the allure of the possibilities they presented.

With a sigh, Y/n tucked the money into her bag and stepped out into the bustling streets of Gotham. The city seemed to pulsate with its own energy, the tall buildings casting eerie shadows on the sidewalks as people hurried by, lost in their own worlds.

As she wandered through the maze of shops and boutiques, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. The clothes on display were unlike anything she had ever worn before. Bold, daring, and utterly impractical. She hesitated in front of a boutique window adorned with shimmering dresses and edgy leather jackets, feeling a pang of uncertainty gnawing at her.

But then she remembered Joker's words, urging her to splurge and indulge in whatever caught her eye. With a newfound determination, she pushed open the door and stepped into the store, ready to explore this unfamiliar world of luxury and extravagance.

Lost in the sea of designer labels and vibrant colors, Y/n tried to navigate her way through racks of clothing that seemed to whisper promises of confidence and allure. She trailed her fingers over the fabrics, feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension bubbling within her.

As Y/n looked through the racks of clothing, she sifted through each piece with a discerning eye. Among the array of options, a vibrant red dress caught her attention. It boasted a flattering knee-length hem and a square collar, but despite its appeal, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that it lacked the wow factor she desired. With a sigh, she returned the dress to its place and continued her search, determined to find something truly captivating.

After what felt like an eternity of exploration, Y/n's patience paid off when her gaze fell upon a stunning black dress. The fabric shimmered enticingly under the store lights, drawing her in like a moth to a flame. As she reached out to touch it, her fingers traced the intricate stitching and delicate lace details that adorned the neckline, sending a shiver of excitement down her spine.

The dress exuded an air of confidence and allure that resonated with Y/n. She envisioned herself wearing it, knowing that it would accentuate her curves and command Joker’s attention. With Joker in mind, she couldn't help but imagine the look of admiration on his face when he saw her in such a striking ensemble.

Filled with determination, Y/n approached the checkout counter, the anticipation of owning the dress igniting a newfound sense of excitement within her. This was no ordinary purchase, it was a statement, a declaration of her newfound confidence.

As she handed over the wad of cash, Y/n couldn't help but feel a surge of guilt at the extravagance of her spending. The money was a reminder of the tangled web she found herself caught in, a constant reminder of the dangerous allure of the Joker's world.

But as she walked out of the boutique, clutching her new dress tightly, Y/n couldn't deny the thrill of stepping outside her comfort zone. Perhaps, just for tonight, she would embrace the luxury and excitement that came with being the Joker's Bunny.

With a mix of excitement and nervousness, Y/n slipped into the sleek black dress she had purchased earlier. Its smooth fabric hugged her figure in all the right places, boosting her confidence with each zip and adjustment. She paired it with elegant heels and subtle accessories, adding a touch of sophistication to her ensemble.

As she stood in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection, Y/n couldn't help but wonder where Joker would take her tonight. All he had said to her was he was taking her out, leaving her in suspense about their destination. Despite the uncertainty, she felt a thrill of anticipation coursing through her veins, eager to see what the evening had in store.

With a final glance at her reflection, Y/n took a deep breath and headed to the living room to wait for Joker. She perched herself on the edge of her bed, her heart racing with anticipation as she played with the hem of her dress, her mind buzzing with excitement for the night ahead.

As the door to her dorm room swung open, Joker stepped inside, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he took in Y/n's appearance. Rising to her feet, she greeted him with a smile, her heart fluttering at the sight of him.

"Look at you!" Joker exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he gestured for her to spin around. Y/n complied, a soft giggle escaping her lips as she twirled gracefully.

"I see that money came in handy," Joker remarked, wrapping his arms around her waist affectionately.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice filled with gratitude.

"Let's get a move on!" Joker declared, intertwining his fingers with hers and leading her out of the dorm room.

Exiting the building, they encountered no security at the front desk, allowing them to slip away unnoticed. As they stepped out into the crisp Gotham evening, Joker suddenly halted, turning to face Y/n with a playful glint in his eye.

"Wait right here, Bunny. I've got a little surprise for you," he said, giving her a wink before disappearing into the darkness.

Y/n watched him go, her curiosity piqued. She shifted nervously on her feet, her mind buzzing with anticipation as she wondered what Joker had in store for her.

Y/n rocked back and forth on her feet as she waited for Joker's surprise. The evening air was cool against her skin, and the soft glow of the streetlights cast gentle shadows around her. She was so lost in her thoughts that she barely noticed someone approaching until she heard her name being called.

"Hey, Y/n!" The voice was familiar, and she turned around quickly, her expression lighting up as she saw Max walking towards her.

"Hey Max," she greeted him warmly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Uh, you remembered my name," Max remarked, a playful glint dancing in his eyes.

Y/n chuckled, feeling a sense of ease wash over her in Max's presence. "It's not hard to forget," she quipped back, enjoying the lighthearted banter.

Max stepped up beside her, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his hoodie. "You look lovely," he complimented her, his gaze warm and appreciative.

"Thank you," Y/n replied, a blush spreading across her cheeks at the sincerity in his words.

"Got something special planned?" Max asked, his curiosity piqued as he glanced around at their surroundings.

"My uuh... friend is taking me somewhere," Y/n explained, feeling a pang of uncertainty about how to refer to Joker in that moment.

"I see. Well, I hope you have a wonderful night and see you later then," Max said, offering her a friendly smile before stepping away.

"You too! Bye," Y/n called after him, watching as he walked away with a sense of gratitude for his kindness.

As Y/n stood on the sidewalk, lost in her thoughts, she suddenly heard the revving of an engine. Glancing up, she saw a sleek purple Ford Cortina pulling up in front of her, the headlights casting an ethereal glow around the vehicle. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized that it was Joker behind the wheel.

The car's engine purred softly as Joker leaned over and rolled down the window, flashing her a mischievous grin. "Hop in, Bunny," he called out, his voice laced with excitement.

Y/n couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation as she approached the car, her pulse quickening with every step. As she slid into the passenger seat beside him, she couldn't help but admire the vintage vehicle, its purple exterior gleaming under the streetlights.

"Nice wheels," she commented, unable to hide her admiration.

Joker chuckled, his eyes alight with amusement. "It’s yours, Bunny," he said, giving her a wink before pulling away from the curb and merging into the flow of traffic.

"W-what? Really? For me?" Y/n stammered in disbelief, her eyes widening.

"Check the glove box," Joker instructed, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

Curious, Y/n complied, opening the compartment and finding it empty save for a single black box. With a mixture of anticipation and excitement, she retrieved the box, her fingers trembling slightly as she held it in her hands.

"Open it," Joker urged, a playful glint in his eyes.

With trembling hands, Y/n carefully lifted the lid of the box, revealing a stunning gold necklace adorned with a delicate "J" pendant. Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed at the exquisite piece of jewelry, her heart swelling with gratitude and affection.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper as she turned to Joker, her eyes shining with emotion.

"You spoil me too much, J!" Y/n exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with gratitude as she hugged him tightly.

Joker chuckled, his smirk widening at her reaction. "You deserve it, Bunny."

With a grin, Y/n removed her current necklace and replaced it with the new one, admiring the glint of the gold against her skin.

As the city lights cast a soft glow over them, Joker seized the moment at the stoplight. Leaning towards Y/n, he pressed his lips to hers, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down her spine. His gloved finger trailed along her jawline, igniting a tingling sensation that danced across her skin like tiny sparks.

"You're J's Bunny, got that?" Joker's voice was low, filled with a mixture of affection and authority as he held her gaze, his eyes piercing into hers with intensity.

Y/n felt her pulse quicken as she nodded, her heart swelling with a mix of excitement and adoration for the man beside her.

"Good," Joker whispered, his lips brushing against hers once more before he leaned back, his attention returning to the road as the traffic light switched to green, signaling their onward journey into the night.

“I saw you talking with someone… Want to tell me about that?” Joker suddenly mentioned.

The air in the car suddenly felt heavy as Joker's piercing gaze bore into Y/n. She could feel the weight of his disapproval pressing down on her, suffocating her with its intensity. Her fingers fidgeted nervously in her lap as she struggled to find the right words.

"That was just my friend…Max," Y/n finally confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes fixed on the dashboard in front of her.

Joker's jaw tightened, his grip on the steering wheel growing tense. "I thought I told you to stay away from him," he reminded her, his voice cold and sharp.

Y/n's heart sank at the reprimand. She knew she had crossed a line, but Max had caught her off guard, and she hadn't wanted to be rude. "He approached me, Joker," she explained, her voice trembling with apprehension. "I couldn't just ignore him... it would have been rude."

Joker's grip on the steering wheel tightened further, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. He remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the road ahead as they drove through the dimly lit streets of Gotham.

Beneath his face paint, a storm brewed in Joker's eyes, his usual charisma overshadowed by a brooding intensity. Y/n couldn't decipher the full extent of his emotions, but the tension radiating from him was palpable. It puzzled her why Joker was so fixated on someone like Max, and she struggled to understand the depth of his agitation over their brief interaction.

"I don't want you talking to him anymore, Bunny. I’ve already told you once…" he said firmly, his voice tinged with a hint of warning.

Y/n nodded silently, her stomach churning with unease. She knew better than to argue with Joker when he was in this mood. Instead, she cast a glance out the window, her mind racing with conflicting emotions.

As they continued their journey in silence, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at her insides. She couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she disobeyed him again.

The journey was filled with an uneasy silence, punctuated only by the occasional hum of the car engine and the distant sounds of Gotham's nocturnal activities. Finally, they arrived at their destination. A dimly lit alleyway nestled between towering buildings, their shadows looming ominously over the narrow passage.

Joker parked the car with a screech of tires, the headlights casting eerie shadows on the graffiti-covered walls. Y/n's heart raced as she stepped out of the car, her eyes darting nervously around the unfamiliar surroundings. This was undoubtedly another one of Joker's mysterious escapades, and she couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension that tinged the air.

As Y/n followed Joker deeper into the alley, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her gut. The dim lighting and the deserted atmosphere made her skin crawl, but she tried to push aside her fears and focus on Joker's presence beside her.

"Where are we going?" she ventured to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker glanced back at her, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. "Somewhere nice, my dear Bunny," he replied cryptically, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Y/n's heart fluttered nervously at his words, unsure of what awaited them at their destination. But she followed him nonetheless. Stopping at a weathered, rust-covered door, Joker pushed it open with a creak. The vibrant lights and pulsating music of a nightclub flooded out, momentarily overwhelming Y/n's senses. Her heart raced as Joker led her inside, the thumping bass reverberating through her chest.

"Cool it, Doll. It's just us," he reassured her, his voice cutting through the cacophony of sound.

As they entered the room, Y/n found herself surrounded by flashing lights and the rhythmic beat of the music with no people. It wasn't a typical nightclub setting, but rather a smaller, more intimate space adjacent to the main dance floor.

Her heart swelled with gratitude as she realized Joker's thoughtfulness. Despite his chaotic nature, he had arranged for a private space just for the two of them, understanding her anxieties and his own need for discretion.

"Dance with me," Joker declared, his eyes alight with mischief as he extended his hand to her.

As the music filled the room, Joker pulled Y/n close, his hand firm on her waist as they swayed to the beat. Y/n's heart raced with excitement and gratitude. Despite the chaos and danger that seemed to follow Joker wherever he went, moments like these made her feel that he was really worth it.

With each step and turn, Y/n couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of belonging in Joker's arms. She was grateful for this moment of peace amidst the turmoil of their unconventional relationship. The music seemed to drown out the world outside, leaving only the two of them in their own little sanctuary.

As they danced, Y/n gazed up at Joker, feeling a surge of affection for the enigmatic man who had captured her heart. In his embrace, she felt safe and loved, despite the uncertainties that lay ahead. She silently thanked whatever fate had brought them together, cherishing this fleeting moment of happiness.

Lost in the rhythm of the music, Y/n couldn't help but revel in the experience, feeling the pulsating beat course through her veins.

"I've never been to a nightclub before," Y/n admitted, her voice barely audible over the music.

Joker chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Well, you picked the right one for your first time, Bunny," he replied, twirling her around the room.

Y/n laughed, the sound mixing with the music as she allowed herself to be swept away by the moment. It didn't matter where they were or what dangers lurked outside, all that mattered was the warmth of Joker's embrace and the joy of being together.

Joker leaned in close to Y/n's ear, his breath warm against her skin. "Care for a drink, Bunny?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the music.

Y/n nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Sure," she replied.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Joker made his way over to the mini bar tucked away in the corner of the room. Expertly, he mixed together a concoction of spirits, his hands moving with practiced ease. After a few moments, he returned to Y/n's side, holding out a glass filled with the vibrant liquid.

"Here you go, my dear," Joker said, offering her the drink with a smirk. "Drink up." “What is it?” Y/n asked, taking a sip.

"It's a little something I like to call 'Joker's Special'," he replied with a playful wink, watching intently as she took a sip. "Don't worry, Bunny, it's guaranteed to put a smile on your face."

Placing her cup down, Y/n hesitated for a moment, unsure of how Joker would react to her question. But she couldn't shake off her curiosity, and the need for clarity outweighed her apprehension.

"Hey umm… J?" Y/n started, using the new nickname she had given him, hoping to catch his attention.

Joker turned towards her, his piercing gaze fixed on her. "Yes, Doll?" he replied, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"...How did you know about Max... the first time I mean..." Y/n asked, her voice slightly faltering with uncertainty.

Joker's expression hardened, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes. "What's it to you?" he retorted, his tone sharp and defensive.

"I-I was just curious, that's all," Y/n answered nervously, feeling a sense of unease creeping over her.

Y/n swallowed nervously, sensing the tension in the air. She could tell that Joker was growing increasingly irritated by her questions, but she couldn't let it go.

"It's just... I don't understand how you knew about him," Y/n continued tentatively, trying to tread carefully. "I mean, you're always so... aware of things."

Joker's expression softened slightly at her explanation, but the intensity in his eyes remained. He stepped closer to her, his presence looming over her.

"I have my ways, Doll," he replied, his voice low and measured. "Let's just say I keep tabs on what's important to me."

Y/n's unease deepened at his vague response, but a surge of conflicting emotions washed over her as Joker's words sank in. Despite the cryptic nature of his explanation, the acknowledgment that she was important to him stirred something within her.

Her heart fluttered at the realization, a mix of apprehension and a strange sense of validation coursing through her veins. Despite the uncertainty surrounding their relationship and Joker's unpredictable character, there was a strange comfort in knowing that she held significance in his eyes.

Suppressing the urge to dwell further on the implications of his words, Y/n forced a small smile, grateful for the fleeting moment of assurance amidst the mystery that shrouded their connection. She knew better than to dwell on the problems of their dynamic, choosing instead to embrace the fleeting sense of importance that Joker's acknowledgment bestowed upon her.

As the music continued to pulse through the room, Joker extended his hand toward Y/n, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come on, Bunny, let's dance," he urged, his voice a playful whisper.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her mind still grappling with the weight of their conversation. But with a deep breath, she pushed aside her lingering doubts and placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her into the center of the room.

Their bodies moved in sync with the rhythm of the music, the space between them filled with an electrifying tension. Y/n found herself getting lost in the moment, the worries and uncertainties of the outside world fading away as she surrendered to the intoxicating allure of the dance.

With each twirl and sway, Y/n felt herself drawn closer to Joker, the magnetic pull between them growing stronger with each passing beat. And in that fleeting moment, amidst the pulsating lights and the thumping bass of the music, she allowed herself to forget about everything else and simply revel in the exhilarating freedom of the dance.

Y/n was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement as she took the driver's seat of her new car. Y/n was still at that age where driving was fun, but it had been quite some time since she last had the opportunity. Since moving away from her parents, she had relied on walking and public transportation to get around, so the prospect of hitting the road again filled her with giddy anticipation.

As Y/n navigated through the city streets, Joker sat beside her in the passenger seat, his presence filling the car with a playful energy. With every turn of the wheel, his gaze would occasionally drift toward her, his eyes lingering on her profile with a mix of amusement and something else she couldn't quite decipher.

Subtly, Joker's hand found its way to the space between their seats, his fingers grazing against Y/n's arm, clearly on purpose. Each touch sent a shiver down her spine, igniting a tingling sensation that danced along her skin. Despite the thrill of driving her new car, Y/n couldn't help but be acutely aware of Joker's proximity, his touch stirring up a whirlwind of emotions within her.

As they drove through the city, the night air filled with the buzz of activity, Y/n stole glances at Joker whenever she could. She couldn't help but notice the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, contrasting with the seriousness of his painted grin.

"Enjoying the drive, Bunny?" Joker's voice interrupted her thoughts, his tone light but carrying a hint of something deeper.

Y/n nodded, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. "Yeah, it's amazing. Thank you for letting me drive."

Joker chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "It’s yours, Doll. No need to thank me. And I want you to be careful, I don’t want my little Bunny getting hurt."

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes. "I'll do my best," she replied, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel as they continued on their journey.

Arriving back at the university dorms, Y/n drove to the parking lot tucked away behind the building. The area was quiet, illuminated only by the soft glow of streetlights, casting long shadows across the pavement.

Cutting the engine, Y/n turned to Joker with a hopeful smile. "Would you like to come in? Stay for a while?"

Joker's grin widened, his eyes alight with mischief. "I'd be delighted," he replied.

Exiting the car, they made their way toward the entrance of the dormitory. Each step echoed in the quiet night, the cool breeze brushing against their skin.

Inside, the dormitory buzzed with activity, the sound of music and chatter drifting through the halls. Y/n led Joker down the familiar corridor, the fluorescent lights casting a dim glow as they walked.

Arriving at her room, Y/n unlocked the door and ushered Joker inside. With a flick of the light switch, the room was bathed in a warm, comforting glow. Joker wasted no time in shedding his coat, tossing it carelessly onto the desk chair before flopping onto the bed, his shoes still firmly planted on his feet.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully at his disregard for her tidiness. "You know how I feel about shoes on the bed," she chided, reaching over to unlace them.

Once his shoes were off, Y/n retrieved a fresh set of pyjamas from her wardrobe. "Close your eyes, please," she asked, slipping out of her own shoes before changing her clothes.

Joker feigned a pout. "But Bunny, I don't want to miss a moment of your beauty," he protested, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Y/n rolled her eyes, trying to hide a smile. "You've seen enough of my beauty for one night. Close your eyes," she insisted again, trying to sound stern.

Joker sighed dramatically but complied, shutting his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, but only because you asked so nicely," he teased, flashing her a grin before obediently closing his eyes.

After changing, Y/n turned to find Joker still lounging on her bed, his eyes closed as she had instructed.

"You can open your eyes now," she said, approaching him with a smile.

Joker opened his eyes, grinning at her. "Looking as lovely as ever, Bunny," he remarked, sitting up on the bed.

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her chest at his compliment. "Thank you," she replied, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her.

Joker patted the space next to him on the bed. "Come here, Bunny. Let's just relax for a bit," he suggested, his tone surprisingly soft.

Y/n joined him on the bed, snuggling into his side as they both settled in. As she leaned against him, Y/n stole a glance at Joker. His faded green hair was unkempt, yet somehow it suited him perfectly. She longed to run her fingers through it, but the memory of the grease that always seemed to coat it made her hesitate. Instead, she admired his features, even beneath the layers of makeup that concealed so much of his true self.

Her gaze lingered on his face, taking in the harsh lines of his scars accentuated by the red makeup. She knew from touching them that they were surprisingly soft, a contradiction to their intimidating appearance. And she couldn't help but wish she could see him without the makeup, to truly witness the man behind the facade.

She longed to kiss him without getting greasy red residue on her face, and to caress his cheek without leaving white handprints everywhere afterwards. Y/n yearned to see the face of the man who brought her unparalleled joy.

Joker peered down at her, his gaze magnetic. "Am I just that dashing, you can't take your eyes off me?" he quipped.

Y/n smirked. "I don't know, it's hard to tell with all that makeup," she retorted, her tone light but tinged with playful teasing. She knew she was pushing boundaries, but she couldn't resist.

Joker chuckled, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "Ah, so my Bunny wants to see the man behind the mask, hmm?" he mused, leaning in closer to her.

Y/n felt her heartbeat quicken at his proximity, a mixture of excitement and nervousness coursing through her veins. "Of course I do," she replied coyly, unable to tear her gaze away from his captivating green eyes.

"But the makeup is what adds to the mystique," Joker countered.

"What if I don't want mystique? What if I don't want the Joker... What if I want J?" Y/n questioned, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"What makes you think you can handle J?" he added with a smirk.

Y/n groaned and rolled her eyes. "Ugh! You're so frustrating," she said, turning away from him on the small bed.

"Now, is that any way to treat the man who just bought you a car?" Joker playfully put his hand on his hip.

"Stole! You stole me a car," Y/n retorted.

"How do you know I didn’t buy it?" Joker teased.

"You dropped a few thousand bucks in cash in my hands during a bank heist, and you really want me to believe you paid for this car with honest cash?" Y/n countered.

"Just because the cash wasn’t honest, doesn’t mean I didn’t buy it," Joker continued, pressing a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh at Joker's playful antics, despite the tension that lingered between them moments ago. His unpredictable nature always kept her on her toes, but she found herself drawn to it nonetheless.

"Alright, alright," she said, her laughter subsiding. "Regardless of how you got the car, I appreciate it."

Joker grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "That's my Bunny," he said, pulling her closer into a tight embrace. "Always appreciating my efforts, no matter how... unconventional they may be."

As they lay together, wrapped in each other's arms, Y/n smiled. Even though their conversation didn't go exactly as she had hoped, Joker still managed to put a smile on her face.

The next day, Y/n found herself walking with a newfound lightness in her step. The previous night had left her feeling great, the joy of their time together momentarily overshadowing her usual anxieties. Moreover, she appreciated the gesture from J, who had woken her up to say goodbye before leaving, a departure from his usual habit of slipping away silently while she slept. It seemed their relationship was evolving in a direction she welcomed.

Entering the lecture hall, Y/n descended the steps with a sense of anticipation. However, her momentum halted as a familiar voice called out her name.

“Hey, Y/n!” It was Max.

His friendly demeanor and wave caught her attention, and as she turned towards him, he motioned for her to join him. An internal conflict brewed within her as she hesitated. While Max had been nothing but kind, the warnings from Joker lingered in her mind like a shadow.

Nevertheless, she couldn't bear the thought of disregarding Max's invitation, especially after his gesture of friendliness. So, with a tight smile, Y/n made her way over to sit beside him.

“Hey, Max,” she greeted, trying to mask her unease.

“Did you have a good night?” Max inquired, his tone filled with genuine curiosity.

“Yeah, it was fun,” Y/n replied vaguely, opting not to divulge any specifics.

As the lecture began, Y/n tried to focus on the material, but her mind kept drifting. She couldn't shake off the feeling of being stuck. From the second Y/n had met Max, Joker was on her back about it, but she found it impossible to avoid him.

Throughout the class, Max occasionally leaned over to share a comment or joke, and Y/n found herself smiling in response, grateful for the distraction. Yet, each interaction with Max reminded her of the complicated web of secrets she was entangled in.

After the lecture ended, Max turned to Y/n with a friendly grin. "Hey, do you want to grab a drink or something? The cafe near the hub has this new drink I want to try out."

Y/n hesitated, torn between her desire to maintain a semblance of normalcy and the weight of her unconventional relationship with Joker. She glanced at her phone, noticing a text on her phone from an unknown id. Assuming it was just a spam message, Y/n ignored it, looking back up at Max.

"Yeah, sure," Y/n replied with a faint smile.

Exiting the lecture hall, Y/n and Max strolled down the corridor side by side, their footsteps echoing against the carpeted floor. As they reached the cafe, they paused in front of the wall menu, scanning the array of options before them.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Max turned to Y/n with a grin. "What do you feel like having today?"

Y/n shrugged, scanning the menu once more. "I'm not sure, maybe just a smoothie."

"Sounds good to me," Max nodded, stepping aside to let Y/n order first.

As Y/n stepped up to the counter to place her order, she felt a pang of guilt in her chest. Despite her resolve to avoid getting too close to Max, she couldn't help but appreciate his kindness. Yet, she couldn't shake off the feeling of unease, knowing Joker's disapproval lingered in the back of her mind.

After ordering her smoothie, Y/n stepped aside to let Max place his order. Their drinks were quickly made. With their drinks in hand, Y/n and Max found a table by the window, the warm sunlight streaming in, casting a gentle glow over their conversation. Max seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her better, asking about her hobbies, interests, and aspirations. Y/n found herself opening up more than she had expected, drawn in by his genuine curiosity and friendly demeanour.

As they chatted, Y/n couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. Glancing around the cafe, her heart skipped a beat when she spotted a familiar figure standing across the street, obscured in the shadows. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Y/n recognized Joker immediately, his green locks standing out like a beacon in the crowd, even under a hoodie.

It was as if her heart stopped as she saw Joker's unmasked face. Gone were the layers of black white and red paint that usually concealed his identity, revealing features that were both haunting and strangely attractive. His eyes, once obscured by dark makeup, now bore into hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. The scars that marred his face were stark against his pale skin, a testament to the trials he had endured. Yet, there was an unexpected softness to his expression, a vulnerability that lay hidden beneath the facade of menace. In that moment, Y/n realized that the man before her was not just the Joker, but someone infinitely more complex.

His glare, though obscured from this distance, seemed to taunt her from afar, filling her with a sense of dread that crept up her spine like icy fingers.

The mere sight of him sent a chill through her, as if his gaze could pierce through the glass and lock onto her own. Despite her attempts to focus on the conversation with Max, her mind kept returning to the ominous figure she had glimpsed, his presence casting a pall over the otherwise mundane surroundings of the cafe.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she spotted Joker, her heart hammering against her ribs. Panic surged through her veins, the last thing she wanted was for Max to become entangled in the chaotic mess that was her life with Joker, especially after the continuous warnings he had given her.

"Um, Max," Y/n interrupted, her voice trembling slightly. "I think we should go. Now."

Max turned to follow her gaze, but by the time his eyes scanned outside, Joker had vanished into the university campus. Y/n's unease lingered like a heavy fog, her mind racing with the implications of Joker's sudden appearance.

"Is everything okay?" Max asked, concerned about etching his features.

Y/n forced a smile, but her nerves were on edge. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just... let's head to the hub, okay?"

Despite Max's protests, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of dread that clung to her like a second skin. As they made their way back to the safety of the university grounds, her mind raced with the unanswered questions and the unsettling presence of the man she couldn't seem to escape.

And then her phone suddenly rang. The weight of the phone in her hand felt heavier than usual, each vibration a tangible reminder of the uncertainty that plagued her mind. Y/n's fingers trembled as she gingerly pulled her phone from her pocket, her heart pounding against her chest like a drumbeat of foreboding. The familiar sensation of dread washed over her as she stared at the screen, the words "Unknown Caller" glaring back at her like a sinister omen.

Max glanced back at her. "You need to get that?" he asked, his voice filled with understanding.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with conflicting thoughts, before nodding. "U-uh, yeah. Sorry, just a second," she replied, stepping aside to answer the call.

The bustling sounds of the university corridor seemed to fade into the background as she grappled with the decision to answer the call. Her mind raced with a flurry of anxious thoughts, each one a relentless echo of her fears. She knew exactly who it was, there was no denying it. With a shaky inhale, she finally mustered the courage to swipe her thumb across the screen, accepting the call with a trembling hand.

The ringing ceased, replaced by an eerie silence that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Every second felt like an eternity as she waited for the voice on the other end to break the stillness, her pulse pounding in her ears like a relentless drumbeat of apprehension.

Her breath caught in her throat as she brought the phone to her ear, steeling herself for whatever awaited her on the other end. "Hello?"

"Go back to your dorm, now," came the chilling voice on the line, sending shivers down her spine.

Y/n's hands began to tremble, her voice faltering as she tried to reason with him. "J, come on... you can't be-"

"You're going to go home now before I make a scene in front of your precious boy toy," Joker interrupted, his tone laced with a dangerous edge.

Desperation welled up inside her as she pleaded with him. "J, you know it's not like that!"

"Do you really want to test me?" Joker's voice dripped with menace, sending a cold chill down her spine.

Y/n's heart plummeted like a stone sinking into the depths of a river as the call abruptly ended, leaving her with a gnawing sense of unease. Yet, all she was met with was the stark emptiness of the phone's display, a silent testament to the uncertainty that loomed over her.

Slowly, she looked away from the device, the weight of it feeling heavier in her trembling hands. With a heavy sigh, she tucked it back into her pocket, though the sense of dreed it had evoked lingered like a shadow cast across her thoughts.

Forcing herself to push aside the lingering unease, Y/n plastered a strained smile onto her lips as she rejoined Max. Despite her efforts to appear composed, the facade felt brittle and fragile, threatening to crumble with each passing moment. Yet, she knew she couldn't let her anxiety show, not when Max was standing beside her, oblivious to the turmoil churning within her.

With a deliberate effort, Y/n willed herself to focus on the present, pushing aside the unsettling encounter with Joker and the mysterious phone call that followed. But deep down, she couldn't shake the nagging sense of dread that had taken root in the depths of her being, casting a pall over even the simplest of interactions.

"Hey, sorry, Max. I need to get going," she said, her voice strained with apprehension.

Max nodded understandingly, though concern flickered in his eyes. "That's all good."

"Thanks for hanging out with me...bye," Y/n forced the words out, her heart heavy with worry.

"See ya," Max replied, offering a small smile before turning and walking away, leaving Y/n to grapple with the uncertain future that lay ahead.

With each step back to her dorm, Y/n felt as though she was wading through a thick fog of dread, her every movement weighed down by the oppressive atmosphere of uncertainty and fear. The dimly lit corridor seemed to stretch endlessly before her, its shadowy corners harbouring unseen threats that lurked just beyond her line of sight.

As she approached the worn wooden door of her dormitory, her heart pounded against her chest like a relentless drumbeat, the sound reverberating in her ears and drowning out all other noise. Each click of the key turning in the lock echoed through the stillness of the hallway, a stark reminder of her vulnerability in the face of the unknown.

A sense of foreboding washed over her as she reached for the doorknob, her fingers trembling with a mixture of hesitation and dread. The air around her seemed to crackle with tension, electrified by the presence that loomed ominously close behind her.

And then, as if from the depths of her darkest nightmares, his voice sliced through the silence like a knife, sending a chill down her spine and freezing her in place.

"Open the door, Doll," his words slithered into her ear like tendrils of cold, his breath ghosting over her skin with an icy touch that sent shivers cascading down her spine.

Her hands trembled as she fumbled with the key, her breath coming in shallow gasps. With a shaky twist, she finally managed to unlock the door, pushing it open with a creak. The room lay before her, the atmosphere suddenly growing cold.

It was Joker the closed the door. Joker's arm encircled her waist, his touch sending shivers down her spine. With a gentle yet firm grip, he guided her to face him, but she refused to look at him.

"Look at me, Bunny," he urged, his voice a low murmur that sent a chill through her bones.

Y/n hesitated, her eyes flickering with fear and uncertainty. "I-I don't want to," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Why not? Don't you want to see the face of your beloved J?" Joker's tone was taunting, his lips curling into a twisted grin.

"It's not that... I just... I want to see you when you're not angry with me," Y/n admitted, her voice laced with a mixture of fear and longing.

Joker's grip tightened slightly, his other hand lifting to caress her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. "And why do you think I'm angry with you, hmm?" he questioned, his voice soft yet tinged with an underlying edge of menace.

Y/n's words faltered as Joker's arm enveloped her, pulling her closer against his chest. She dared not utter another word as his presence loomed over her, enveloping her in a mixture of fear and desire.

Joker's lips brushed against her ear in a rough yet possessive kiss, sending a shiver down her spine. "Talk," he commanded, his voice a low growl that reverberated through her bones.

"I'm sorry, J. Please, Max, he's just a friend. You know that," Y/n pleaded, her voice trembling with fear.

"You're mine, Bunny. That means you belong to me and no one else," Joker asserted, his grip tightening on the necklace around her neck as he held it up for emphasis. "You see this? This J? That mean’s you’re mine." he growled, his voice laced with possessiveness.

"I-I'm allowed to have friends," Y/n insisted, her voice quivering with defiance.

"Why would you need anyone else when you have me?" Joker demanded, his tone laced with jealousy and anger.

"You're hardly ever around," Y/n shot back, her words tinged with frustration.

Joker's presence darkened at her retort, his breathing becoming labored with suppressed rage. "If it were up to me, you'd be tied up in my hideout, where only I can see you, where only I can know you," he spat, his words dripping with possessive intensity.

Y/n's heart raced as Joker's words hung heavy in the air, filling the room with tension. She could feel his grip on her tightening, his presence overwhelming her senses.

"Please, J, you're scaring me," Y/n whispered, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her own heart.

Joker's expression softened slightly at her plea, but the possessive gleam in his eyes remained. "You should be scared, Bunny," he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper. "You belong to me, and I won't accept anyone trying to take you away from me."

Y/n's breath caught in her throat and her eyes already pouring with tears as she struggled to find the right words to calm him down. She knew that Joker's jealousy was irrational, but she also knew that trying to reason with him in this state would only make things worse.

"I understand, J. I belong to you," she said softly, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "I won't let anyone come between us."

Joker's grip on her loosened slightly at her words, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. "That's my good girl," he murmured, pressing a possessive kiss to her neck.

Y/n turned around, but still didn’t look at his face. As Y/n buried her face in his chest, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. She knew that her relationship with Joker was anything but ordinary, but she also knew that she couldn't bear to be without him, no matter how possessive and volatile he could be.

Joker had left shortly after their tense encounter, claiming he had "work to do." Y/n remained in her bed, the weight of their conversation heavy on her mind. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she grappled with the conflicting emotions churning inside her.

Each word exchanged with Joker echoed in her mind, replaying like a haunting melody that refused to fade. The conflicting emotions churned within her like a tempest, pulling her in opposite directions with relentless force. Fear and uncertainty clawed at her heart, gnawing away at her resolve and leaving her feeling utterly drained. Despite the familiarity of these emotions, their intensity seemed to suffocate her, drowning her in a sea of doubt and apprehension.

After spending most of the day in bed, Y/n finally mustered the strength to get up. She knew she needed something to lift her spirits, even if just for a moment. With her stash of snacks depleted, a trip to the dairy for a drink or a treat seemed like the only option to get through the night.

Grabbing her wallet, Y/n ventured out into the dimly lit streets of Gotham. Despite the familiar unease that settled over her, she pressed on, her determination to escape her own thoughts overshadowing any fear of the dangers lurking in the shadows.

As Y/n walked down the dimly lit streets of Gotham, her senses heightened by the eerie silence of the night, she heard the unmistakable sound of someone struggling around the corner. Curiosity mingled with apprehension as she hesitated, uncertain whether to investigate or flee from potential danger.

With a heavy heart and trembling hands, she cautiously approached the corner, the rhythmic thuds of her heart echoing in her ears. Peering around the edge, her breath caught in her throat as she beheld a scene that froze her in terror.

Down the dimly lit street, illuminated by the faint glow of flickering streetlights, she saw Joker, his menacing silhouette towering over a figure writhing on the ground. Anguished cries pierced the silence, sending shivers down her spine as she watched in horror.

Just as she watched Joker lift his leg, poised to deliver a brutal blow, Y/n's scream pierced the night air like a gunshot. "J, No!" she yelled, her voice cracking with desperation.

Joker froze mid-motion, his eyes locking onto Y/n with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "Uhh, Doll... Don't you have comedic timing, come to watch, have you?" he quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Heart pounding in her chest, Y/n approached cautiously, her gaze fixated on the figure lying defenseless at Joker's feet. As she drew closer, the dim light revealed the familiar features of Max, battered and bruised, his face contorted in pain.

"Max!" Y/n cried out, her voice trembling with anguish as she attempted to rush to his aid. But before she could reach him, Joker's vice-like grip on her arm yanked her back with a forceful tug, halting her in her tracks.

Max lay on the ground, gasping for air as blood trickled down his battered face. Y/n's heart clenched at the sight of him, his once lively eyes now dull with pain. "J! Why?" she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Joker shrugged indifferently, a smirk playing on his lips. "Had to send a message somehow, Doll," he replied casually, as if discussing the weather.

Y/n's sobs grew louder, her voice choked with anguish. "P-please... Please don’t kill him," she begged, her desperation palpable.

Joker tilted his head, considering her plea with feigned interest. "Hmm, now why would I listen to you? You didn’t listen to me," he taunted, his tone dripping with malice.

Panic surged through Y/n as she fell to her knees, grasping desperately at Joker's arm. "I’m sorry, you were right, I should have listened. Please just leave him alone. Come back to my dorm with me, please!" she pleaded, her words a desperate plea for mercy.

Joker's gaze softened slightly at Y/n's tearful plea, but his resolve remained firm. With a sigh, he released Y/n's grip and took a step back, gesturing to Max with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Consider yourself lucky this time, Bunny," he said, his voice laced with a warning. "But don't forget this little token of generosity."

Joker's footsteps echoed loudly against the silent streets as he dragged Y/n alongside him, his presence looming over her like a shadow. Y/n cast a worried glance back at Max's bloody form on the concrete, her heart heavy with guilt and fear.

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Doesn’t matter," he replied, his tone sending a chill down Y/n's spine.

Y/n's stomach churned with unease as they continued their journey back to her dorm, the weight of Joker's words hanging heavy in the air. She couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gripped her, knowing that she had once again crossed a line she couldn't uncross.

As they approached her dormitory, Y/n's heart raced with apprehension. She knew Joker's presence would only bring more chaos into her already turbulent life, yet she couldn't deny the strange allure he held over her.

With a heavy sigh, Y/n unlocked the door and stepped inside, feeling Joker's presence loom behind her. She glanced back at him, her eyes pleading silently for him to leave, but he remained unfazed, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her shiver.

"Come on, Bunny, let's have a little chat," Joker said, his voice dripping with a mixture of menace and amusement.

Y/n's stomach churned with dread as she led Joker into her dimly lit room, the weight of their unresolved tensions hanging thick in the air. She braced herself for whatever was to come, knowing that with Joker, nothing was ever as it seemed.

As they entered her room, Y/n couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that settled over her like a suffocating blanket. She stood by the door, her eyes darting nervously between Joker and the cramped space around them.

Joker strolled into the room with a casual swagger, his eyes glinting with mischief as he surveyed his surroundings. He seemed to take delight in the discomfort he caused, relishing in the tension that hung thick in the air.

"So, Bunny, let’s talk." Joker's voice was laced with a dangerous edge, his tone daring her to defy him.

Y/n swallowed hard, her mind racing as she searched for the right words to placate him. She knew she was treading on thin ice, and one wrong move could have dire consequences. But beneath the fear, there was a flicker of defiance burning within her, a stubborn refusal to bow down to his every whim.

"I-I just... I thought... Maybe... I have no friend’s J…" Y/n stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker's lips curled into a sinister grin, his eyes narrowing into menacing slits. "And that’s a problem?" he growled, his words dripping with venom.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to maintain her composure in the face of Joker's relentless dominance. She knew she was trapped in his web, with no way out but to play by his rules. And as Joker advanced towards her with a predatory gleam in his eyes, she couldn't help but wonder how much longer she could endure this twisted game of cat and mouse.

Joker's presence loomed over her, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow her whole. He reached out, his fingers curling around her chin to tilt her face up to meet his gaze.

"Bunny, why do you need friends when you have me?" His voice was honeyed, persuasive, but beneath the smooth exterior lurked a darkness that sent shivers down her spine.

"You're all I need, Y/n. Friends are nothing but distractions, pulling you away from what truly matters," Joker continued, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to resist the pull of his words. She knew deep down that he was wrong, that she needed human connection beyond the twisted confines of her relationship with Joker. But his persuasive words wormed their way into her mind, clouding her judgment and leaving her feeling utterly powerless.

"Besides, who needs friends when you have me to take care of you?" Joker's voice took on a seductive tone, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

Y/n's resolve wavered as she found herself drawn into his web of manipulation. She wanted to believe that she could break free from his control, but with each passing moment, it seemed that Joker's hold over her grew stronger. And as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever find a way out of this twisted dance with the devil.

As Joker's words sank in, Y/n felt a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through her. Part of her wanted to push him away, to break free from his manipulative grasp and reclaim control over her own life. But another part of her, the part that had grown accustomed to his presence and the twisted comfort he offered, hesitated.

"I... I guess you're right," Y/n murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

A satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of Joker's lips as he leaned back, releasing his hold on her chin. "Of course, I am, Bunny. I always know what's best for you," he purred, his tone dripping with arrogance.

Y/n forced a weak smile, the weight of her decision settling heavily on her shoulders. She knew deep down that she was sacrificing her own happiness for the sake of appeasing Joker, but the fear of his wrath and the allure of his promises were too potent to resist.

"Thank you, J," Y/n said softly, her voice tinged with resignation.

Joker's grin widened, a predatory gleam flickering in his eyes. "Anytime, Bunny. Remember, you're mine, and I'll always take care of you," he whispered, his words wrapping around her like tendrils of smoke.

As Y/n nestled into Joker's embrace on her bed, she couldn't shake the heaviness that settled over her. Despite being in Joker's arms, a sense of unease gnawed at her insides, casting a shadow over the supposed comfort of their closeness. Yet, she clung to him, desperately seeking reassurance that his presence alone could provide. After all, if she had Joker by her side, everything had to be alright...right?

A/N: Sorry it took so long for this part two to come out but I am so happy to have finished it! I've had it on my mind for AGES but I've had three assignments to get done and then three tests to study for so I thought it would be best to focus on uni first before writing anything and I am SO glad to have gotten them out of the way :P I really liked writing this part because I got to make Joker a bit of a dick. I hope you all enjoyed it and thank you again @chaos-4baby for requesting a part two, I cannot explain how much it means to me, like fr. You are amazing and the queen of Joker fics (Joker's Queen) and thank you to everyone else who did as well, love you all 💚

#fanfic #batman #ooc joker #joker x reader #ledger joker x reader #dc joker #the joker #joker #heath ledger #heath joker #joker fanfiction #joker fanfic #health ledger!Joker #the dark knight trilogy #the dark knight #batman joker #x reader #reader insert #reader with anxiety

72 notes · View notes

touyastearss · 1 year

Text

“You’re mine, after all” - Kaname (Vampire Knight) x Reader

Kaname Kuran x Female!Reader

WARNING: possessive behaviour, vampires, blood, biting

///

“You’re mine, after all.”

///

lil note:

ohhh i love this man. there is more coming. i need more vampire knight x reader authors i loveee this man he was my og yandere ugh. also vampire knight has one of the best aesthetics for the manga and THE best soundtrack

also this is part of a little series of yandere one shots of anime/genshin characters i did that you can find on ao3 here //

You make your way towards the entrance that leads to the balcony, trailing behind Kaname, who encompasses the attention of all those below as he advances across the grey stone.

He sits, lazily placing himself down on the chair in the centre of the balcony. His eyes briefly scan the ongoings of those below him with little interest, before they flick back to you, waiting anxiously behind the shield of the doors.

He offers you a smile, a sight saved only for you in his otherwise uncaring demeanour. It's the same comforting twitch of his lips that you've received all your life, and it gives you that bit of courage to step out into the eyes of so many.

It's nerve-wracking, being under the scrutinising gazes of so many who judge you, who envy you, whose primal desires to kill spark as they stare at you, held back only by the man before you, and the unspoken claim he holds over you.

"Y/N," he calls, beckoning you with two, long fingers from his seat, "sit here." He looks at you, expectantly, and you almost stumble as you rush to follow his demands with a dumb, instinctual submission that brings an amused smile to his lips.

The seat is more a love seat than anything else, but the design is a little different, thinner on one end, so that you only have a little room to sit comfortably, but you move nervously to perch on the edge, nonetheless.

You turn with a start at the sudden touch of a hand on your waist, to see Kaname looking at you with a slight frown. You speak, rushed.

"Should I move to the other-"

"No," he's quick to silence you, "sit here." His legs open a little wider, and he pats one hand down on his thigh.

You can't stifle the little gasp you let out, turning your head quickly to the crowd in the hopes that nobody is watching. But Kaname is a Pureblood vampire, after all, and all attention naturally falls to him, and his date for the evening.

You move to sit on his lap, hesitantly. You sit down gingerly, worrying that you're too heavy or that you'll make him uncomfortable, but a strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his chest and onto his lap, trapping your body against his own.

"Don't be afraid, Y/N," goosebumps prickle on your skin at the sound of his voice beside your ear, carrying a teasing tone, "you won't hurt me." His other hand reaches beneath the slit of your dress, a finger dragging shamelessly down the skin of your thigh.

"Look who's here." Kaname whispers, gently turning your chin so that your eyes fall onto a familiar head of white hair, separate from the rest. Lavender eyes stare up at you with a dark glare.

"Zero-"

Kaname's mouth attaches to your neck, sucking lightly at the soft skin, and all breath and words are stolen from your body. You fall silent and still in his grasp, a warmth spreading through your body at the contact of his lips on your skin. But your eyes are still open, and your heart aches with guilt the moment that you see Zero's mouth curl in disgust, eyes narrowing at the sight of you, so pliant in Kaname's arms.

He's furious.

"K-Kaname, don't-" You protest, lightly trying to push him away as the heat of Zero's stare burns into your skin. You try to convince him, not daring to look at Zero anymore. "E-everyone's staring!"

There's a sharp nip to your skin, and you can feel the warm trickle of blood as it travels down your neck, leaving a dark stain. It's almost as if the collective body of vampire's holt for just a second, and you have no doubt now that everyone's attention is on that singular drop of red trailing down your neck. But then it's gone with a long, slow drag of Kaname's tongue against your skin.

"Let them stare, you're mine after all."

#vampire knight #kaname kuran #kaname x reader #zero kiryuu #kaname #vampire knight x reader #yandere vampire knight #zero kiryuu x reader

790 notes · View notes

bunnakit · 4 months

Text

last twilight ep 10 thoughts, feelings, etc

back at it again at the krispy kreme friends. i cried this episode for so, so many different reasons. i'll also show you guys my raw reactions at the end of this, the insanity you guys don't see because i want you to respect me a little.

i didn't make one of these last week because i felt like that episode didn't need any words. some things you just need to feel and to talk about them cheapens what it truly is. that's not to say i didn't absolutely love everyone's posts and meta, i just thought anything i had to say could be felt in the episode itself and i didn't need to fumble my way through it.

Day is so at peace with what is going on and it's so beautiful to see, but the fact that he has to comfort his mother, that she's held onto this delusion that magically everything is going to be okay, is pretty irksome. she's had bare minimum a year, i think nearly two at this point, to accept the truth and she just hasn't and now it's biting her in the ass. but once again, this is something so realistic. i literally JUST dealt with this myself with my mother-in-law in October. once again P'Aof captures the truth of people and our natures.

and it's no wonder things have been so strained between Day and Night. she constantly forces Night to be Day's jailer, to escort him to his cell because the warden said so. it's a horrible position for her to put Night in and it's no wonder he feels so alone and abandoned by his family. it's no wonder Day resents him. Night is trying so hard to make them both love him again and he's been trapped in the middle of a war of attrition and paying penance for something that is in no way shape or form his fault. and then to later learn she HAS blamed Night? it's a horrible situation for him to be in, something he never deserved.

this was so sexy of Mhok, as most things are. you should have been there. it should have been you doing that for your SON. you should have taken the time to be there for him, to see that sight with him, to give him what he wants. but you weren't. you never are.

Day's mom stresses about Day's safety but safety is about so much more than a physical state of being. Mhok has done so much to ensure Day's mental safety and well being, he's done so much to improve Day's every day life. but that doesn't matter to her because she always refused to acknowledge things had gotten that bad. in another life Day never met Mhok and i wonder if things took a dark turn. i don't think Day was on a good trajectory.

here we reach bunn cries phase 1. i was so worried here that Mhok meant their entire relationship but i'm glad to see he just meant this chapter. they've started a new book together; no longer one about a caretaker and his charge but a man and his lover. what a gorgeous way to convey that journey. P'Aof i love you, do you know?

Night, i know i wasn't sure about you for a long time but you've really become one of my favorite people this episode. even Night can see his mom taking away Day's agency, can see her taking away everything Day has become this last year. he doesn't want his brother to disappear again, he just got him back.

god Day's bravery here. he's become so confident, so self assured, because Mhok taught him that he could be, that his blindness didn't make him weak. i know i say it every week lately but i'm so PROUD.

FINALLY SOMEONE SAYS IT. the way she took his phone away INFURIATED ME. you're taking away an important tool of freedom and agency from your FULL GROWN ADULT SON. where the fuck do you get off? and talking about doing things her way under her roof. if it was me i would be out of that house so fucking fast, staying with literally anyone else. the tragic thing is Day doesn't have that option. his disability has left him a victim of his mom's bullshit, given her a huge way to control him. it's disgusting, i'm sorry. i've tried to give her the benefit of the doubt for so long but she went way, way too far this episode.

even Night is sick of her shit and knows this is fucked up. Night once again i'm so sorry i doubted you. he knows how good Mhok is for Day and how good they are for each other. Mhok has only ever been kind to Night and i think that has gone a long way in Night's defense of him as well - not that i think he wouldn't have done it without that but i certainly think it has helped.

and what a fucking breakthrough this was. Day once again telling someone 'i see you.' Day is so good at seeing people once he lets go of his preconceived notions an biases. i can't imagine what a relief this was to Night to know it wasn't just his perception of the situation but something other people see and acknowledge. and he brushes it off, says it's because Day's a crying baby, but they both know that's not all of it.

bunn cries phase 2 is here. i BURST into ugly tears at this moment. it wouldn't be bunn meta if i didn't share a personal anecdote so here we go.

ANECDOTE START ->

i mentioned in my last post, prior to episode 9, that my dad was shit. i'm talking had me, an infant, in the middle of a meth den, in the middle of a raid level of bad. one of my earliest memories is a police officer kneeling down and talking to me while i colored in a coloring book and they searched the apartment. (my mom had no idea until a few years ago when a family friend shared this story. he protected me, thank fucking god.) my real dad went on to get clean (as far as i know) but was emotionally abusive among a whole slew of other issues.

when i was two years old my stepdad came into my life. he would've been just 27 at the time. he fell in love with my mom but wasn't sure if he wanted the responsibility of a kid. my mom said okay and broke up with him. they spent months miserable without each other (they've both told me their sides of this story) until my dad said okay, i can do this, and came back. and you know what? he was amazing. he didn't always get it right but he tried. he stayed up and read me The Hobbit and did silly voices for the dwarves and sang the songs and tucked me into bed and he loved me. (we have matching tattoos from that exact copy of The Hobbit, which i still have tucked away safe.)

we butt heads SO MUCH my teenage years. he had a temper and i was depressed and angry and dealing with so much teenage bullshit. but he still took me to breakfast every sunday, just the two of us, and we'd go see movies together. sundays were our day. he always called me his kid and people joked that somehow magically my mom had his kid before even meeting him. we even look alike. we have all the same tastes.

now as an adult we get along really well. (we still butt heads but it's bc we're exactly alike.) he and my mom have been together almost 30 years. he recently came into my office, a little tipsy, and hugged me and spent almost an entire hour telling me how much he loves me, how proud he is of me, how grateful he is that he had me as his kid, how having me is better than any blood child they could've had. (they tried for years but my parents were never able to have any kids.)

<- ANECDOTE END

some of the best family in the world is those that choose to be your family. i was never his responsibility, not really, but he put everything into being my dad. from just this little statement from Night i see so much of my dad in this moment and i couldn't fucking take it.

Night, i love you. i love you so much. he says it so effortlessly, so confidently. what a man.

so i acknowledge here that their mother is finally starting to get it. she's starting to get things right. she even makes Night's favorite food and makes sure he knows he's loved. she takes the time to try and understand Day, to blindfold herself like Mhok did, etc. and i acknowledge it takes people their own time to come to terms with things, to accept things, and maybe her journey of acceptance was a little longer than others.

however.

this scene shows that she always had the option to cancel. she could have always done this for Day. she could have been there. she could have taken him to the mountain and seen the sunset with him. i have to wonder if Mhok's comment really got to her, i have to believe it did. i think she finally realized that she can no longer be the one that's blind. she has to see reality. it's a big step for her and i'm happy but i'm still so annoyed it took this long for it to happen. but hey - parents fuck up. they do. they fuck us up, even if they don't mean to. once again it's something very, very real from P'Aof, even if i don't like it.

my first knee jerk reaction to this moment was wow, she's infantilizing Day again, but then i sat and really thought about it. in the context of this moment, i think this is okay. sometimes it's just nice to be cared for and Day seems completely receptive to it. fuck, i'm 31 and sometimes i just go curl up with my mom and let her pet my hair, sometimes she makes me my favorite food because she knows i had a bad day, sometimes she babies me a little because she knows i'm having a bad day with my disability.

not everything is infantilization. sometimes it's love and care, the only way they know how. sometimes all you want is a parent's familiar love from years ago. so in the context of everything, i think this was a really nice moment to see, Day taking comfort in his mom's love again.

and despite everything Day still managed to see Mhok, to show him he cares, he thought of him, and wouldn't leave him alone. and then he gives him an oven mitt he made himself, he painted himself, because Mhok took him to learn to paint without his sight. they're so fucking beautiful, so kind and gentle and loving to each other. they're so fucking considerate. Day says you're my sun, i believe in you, i'm proud of you, i support you all in one seemingly simple gift.

i'm reserving my thoughts from the preview for next week but i highly doubt things are going to turn out the way they seem to be teasing. i'll wait to see what happens.

as always thank you so much for reading my rambling bullshit. smooches, take care of yourselves, drink water, take your meds, eat something.

tag loves: @nutcasewithaknife @benkaaoi @callipigio @infinitelyprecious

oh yeah here are my raw reactions before i take the time to really think about everything i've watched.

#bunn meta #last twilight #last twilight the series #mhokday #morkday #userjamiec #I'M BACK BITCHES

59 notes · View notes

poomphuripan · 5 months

Text

10 BL Boys I Want Carnally To Love, Take Care and Cuddle With Every Night

@bunnakit awww thank you for the tag 🫶 as an asexual i can't say i spent much time thinking about fucking anyone (so coming up with this list was really hard ;_;) but if any of these characters propositioned... i would NOT say no 😉

10. Phob (Something In My Room)

if there is an award for cutest ghost of all time in a BL series, i think Phob will take home easily. Phob deserves better sex. my meow meow friendly ghost Phob, i will tuck you in bed my ghost sweetie 🥺🫶

9. Shao Fei (History 3: Trapped)

my righteous cop with a strong sense of justice, i really love Shao Fei so much. Shao Fei doesn't beat around the bush and is really straightforward with his wants, I LOVE HE!

8. Khuafah (Sky In Your Heart)

Khuafah, the HOT CHARMING doctor that you are. i would volunteer to get sick every day just to visit him 🫠

7. Gene (Lovely Writer)

if Gene ever needs to write a straight romance novel, i'm happy to make out with him for research purposes 😉

6. Pisaeng (Be My Favorite)

most patient boyfriend who tries super hard to get you plushies? yea i would bang Pisaeng in a heartbeat, no doubt. in fact, i believe Pisaeng would be considerate and wait for me to be ready (Pisaeng babe i'm always ready for you 😉)

5. Tennoji Haru (Trillion Game)

while Trillion Game is DEFINITELY not BL, but Meguro Ren was in Kieta Hatsukoi so my boy should get a PASS 😤 Haru is confident yet humble, self-proclaimed selfish yet always selfless. god i love competent men *swoons* Trillion Game is out on Netflix, please check out my boy Haru and his boy(friend) Gaku and their start-up adventure together 🥺👉👈.

4. Charn (Laws of Attraction)

while i can't guarantee that i can give Charn a good time, i believe that as a fellow lawyer i can assist Charn with any case work he got. Like i said, i am a sucker for competent men 😮‍💨.

3. Tangmo (Great Men Academy)

you don't understand how obsessed i am with the og golden retriever, nation's boyfriend, Tangmo. it's been 4? years... i have not let him go... gentle soft boi but great at judo too? i think Tangmo and i should have our wrestling sessions ending up as makeout sessions.

2. Joe (My Stand In)

this is kind of a cheat but i've read the original novel for My Stand In (Professional Body Double by Shui Qian Cheng) and i can confirm Joe/Zhou Xiang is the sweetest soul, most precious, unluckiest gay ever (Ming, you are on sight, watch it sir or imma steal Joe away). i'm super excited for My Stand In because i hope i get to fall in love with Joe once again the way i fell super hard, head over heels for him when i finished this danmei novel within less than 24 hours. (was this shameless PR for Poom Phuripan's new BL series next year? yes, yes it absolutely was 🤗)

1. Khun Yai and Jom (I Feel You Linger In The Air)

if i don't have a gentle lover like Khun Yai Kritsada Palathip or a soft boyfriend like Jom Ravit Pittayanan then what's the POINT. i want both of them so BAD. also isn't it such a crime that Yai lives his entire life the rest of his live in celibacy, having fucked only ONE person (the love of his life) in his lifetime. LET ME IN. i will love both of you equally.

+ bonus: Chef Guy (Bake Me Please)

did you REALLY think i was gonna end my list without current loml, our resident sad boi, considerate and caring Chef Guy? 😅 Guy deserves a spot on here because well i'm absolutely feral for this man. Guy is just the nicest guy and i will literally do anything for him. Guy had me at hello but my heart truly broke when he comforted Peach saying he doesn't want to see Peach who's given him so much positivity, cry 😭.

oooooh that was soooo hard ;_; i love all these characters, maybe one day i need to start listing the female characters i'd totally hypothetically bang too because WOMEN ARE HOT 🔥.

47 notes · View notes

that-gay-guy-from-hell · 1 year

Text

What Would They Think?: Vergil X G/N Reader

SUMMARY: The both of you are lying together in bed; however, Vergil can't sleep. As he sits there with only his thoughts to keep him company, his mind wanders aimlessly until he finds himself thinking about his parents--or rather, what his Father and Mother would have thought of you.

BEGINNING NOTES: G/N reader. Pre-established relationship 🌻🌻🌻 >I don’t know but I wanted some sappy fluffy(?) Vergil. Also, in this he is wearing the outfit I referenced in his H/Cs (linked here)--so that’s how he has a tie lmao >Since Sparda doesn't exactly have a cannon personality, I tried to figure out how I wanted him to sound--forgive me if it is rough. Just to be clear: Sparda is NOT hitting on the reader--you’ll know what I mean when you see it. It is an old-fashioned way of showing respect and stuff, not romantic. >Also, I come from a family that (used to) hug a lot so there is hugging between family members--I know that some folks don’t hug much so I thought I would add a note about it lol.

Warm. A comforting feeling you had gotten used to when sleeping. The snug feeling of toned arms wrapped around you; the sounds of light purring and breathing, only added to the cozy space. It was strange how someone so stoic and curt could be reposeful with you. He brought you peace and you brought him the same: keeping at bay his insomnia and nightmares.

Tonight, however, the man of your affections lay awake staring at your sleeping form. He ran one of his hands gently up your arm then lightly pet your head. Vergil involuntarily shook ever so slightly, fearing that he would wake you or that, perhaps, you would fade from his arms like a dream.

Thoughts like that made him feel foolish. Here you were laying happily on his chest and he couldn’t shake the fear of this not being real; that all this is just a desperate daydream from a man trapped in his Hellscape of a mind. A gust of wind would come through and you’d be gone and he’d be back in the Underworld, alone. No one in their right mind would lay with him this way, not after what he’s done; and yet, here you are. Completely unaware of the world around you, enveloped in his arms; trusting him not to harm you as he has to so many others.

A slow steady breath left Vergil’s body as he pushed those thoughts away: not wanting to dwell on such depressing thoughts. He allowed his eyes to close and relaxed his body the best he could. Mindlessly his brain wandered through many different topics, unable to rest. Eventually, his mind ended up on the topic of his family--or rather, his parents.

“I wonder,” Vergil thought, “What would Father and Mother think of you?”

He scoffed at his thoughts, how stupid a question. They are dead. Gone. Never coming back. So, why would he think about something that can never happen?

Despite this, Vergil couldn’t help but entertain the idea, “Father would be surprised that I did not wed Nero’s mother; not taking her hand despite what happened. However, your excitement to learn about him and the history of Hell would surpass that sore point.”

The eldest son smiled, “You interacting with Father… that would be a sight to see--you already find Dante and me intimidating. The look you’d give me upon seeing him. You would've hid behind my coattails upon meeting Sparda--would he have found it as amusing as I?”

He indulged himself further as his smile widened, letting his mind picture things. What life could have been if not for that one day, if not for his arrogance as a young man, if not for his time apart from himself; if life had been normal.

It was mid-December. His parents had invited you both to their home for the holidays. Although you had been dating for quite some time, it would be the first time that Vergil had brought you home with him.

Upon arriving, you commented on the size of the home, “I knew that you were well off, but this is much more than I expected…”

Vergil laughed, “It is even better inside, I assure you.”

The both of you entered the house. It was cozy; a gentle smell of firewood with undertones of cinnamon adorned the air. There were cute holiday decorations all around: Eva must have decorated with Nero and Dante already. A loud thud of boots drew both of you out of your thoughts; in front of you, stood Dante--who jumped off the stairs and down onto the foyer’s wooden floor.

The youngest brother wasted no time in squeezing his twin in a large bear hug; which, Vergil protested quite loudly by shoving Dante off of him. A warm smile found its way to your face as you watched the pair. Even though it had only been a week since Dante had seen Vergil, he always acted as if it has been decades since they had been together.

You noticed Nero come out from the doorway on the right--wearing a God-awfulsweater. He had his phone out and took a picture of the unknowing brother’s reunion embrace.

Nero pocketed his phone, “Glad you two made it,” he stepped further into the room, “was worried you got lost or something.”

Vergil, finally free from Dante’s grasp, shook his head and sighed, “Our flight was delayed, forgive us for our untimely arrival.”

Nero laughed, “I ain’t the one who needs to hear that--swear Grams was gonna have Gramps start a search party to find you two.”

Finding that Eva was so worried about Vergil made you bite your lip to stifle a laugh. Dante, however, decided to help you further by turning his attention to you; giving you the same bear hug he gave Vergil.

You swear you could hear every joint in your body crack from his grip, “Too-- Tight--”

Dante loosened his grip slightly; still making sure to constrain you--his signature way of showing platonic affection, “Whoops, sorry; forgot you ain’t like us.”

Although your grip wasn’t anywhere near as hard as his: you squeezed as hard as you could back, “ It’s alright--nice to see you too, Dante.”

You could feel Vergil seething upon seeing Dante so close to you; however, before Vergil could bark at Dante, Eva walked out and stood by Nero.

She was finely dressed in a dark--almost black--red dress with a snowy white-blue shawl draped around her shoulders. Her golden hair had begun to grey in the middle--a reminder that she was just as human as you.

She walked over to Vergil and gave him a warm hug, rubbing small circles on his back, “I was worried you weren’t coming--”

“I wouldn’t dare break my word,” Vergil leaned into the hug as he felt pangs of a happy sad feeling pull at his heart, “It is good to see you, Mother. Have you been keeping well?”

“Yes, even better now that you are here,” Eva leaned back, her eyes creased at the edges as she smiled.

Vergil widely smirked; he turned and stuck out his hand, asking for you to come over to him. You left Dante’s hug and grabbed the eldest twin’s hand, sheepishly coming to stand next to him.

“Mother, this is my partner,” Vergil took on a strangely shy tone, “The one I have been telling you and Father about.”

Eva smiled opening her arms for a hug, which you did not object to, “It is good to meet you, Vergil has told us much about you,” although you knew she was being nice--you couldn’t help but freeze a bit at what she said, “You make him quite happy, you know?”

“M-Mother..!” Vergil’s face was bright red with embarrassment as he stiffened his posture.

Eva let go of the embrace, “It’s true Vergil--you have been much better since they came around.”

Vergil sputtered, trying to find a response. Nero and Dante were both laughing at him; only adding to his inability to think.

A loud voice called from the landing on the staircase, gathering everyone’s attention, “Vergil, my boy, I’m glad you made it.”

The man began to descend the rest of the stairs; it was Vergil’s father, Sparda. You swallowed hard and, unknowingly, began to move back a bit.

If you looked up the word “ Intimidating ” in the dictionary, you’d find his picture: he was around 7 feet tall (2.13 m) and wore very fine dark-velvet clothing. Upon his face sat a brass monocle which helped emphasize his piercing blue-eyed stare. Although he was much older than anyone else present; he didn’t look older than his late 30s. His hair was slicked back (just like Vergil keeps his, you noted) and you realized that the twins were spitting images of their father.

“Father,” Vergil formally bowed his head.

Sparda stood in front of his eldest son with a raised brow, “What’s with such formalities? You are here on holiday, are you not?”

“I am, however, I thought it best to--”

Without letting Vergil finish, Sparda pulled his son into a large bear hug--just like Dante did earlier. Unlike Dante’s hug, however; Vergil allowed his father to clasp him tightly and even reciprocated by lightly wrapping his arms around the large man.

After a few moments, Sparda broke the hug and held Vergil by his shoulders, “You look good; your partner must be treating you well.”

Dante busted out laughing once more. Nero snorted trying to hold back from laughing at his father’s wide-eyed red-faced expression. You also had gone quite red in the face at the comment.

Sparda’s gaze found its way to you; who had backed up to stand a few feet behind Vergil. He let go of his son and walked over to you. His stature was beyond impressive; his height alone made you feel minuscule. What happened, however, left you abashed.

Sparda, Vergil’s father, The Legendary Dark Knight was kneeling in front of you. His hand was outstretched asking for one of your own. Curiously, you obliged putting forth one of your hands. He grabbed it and gently kissed your hand. It was clear by your expression alone you were confused and very embarrassed at such a motion; especially since, in every regard, Sparda is of a much higher “respect” than yourself.

“It gives me great pleasure to welcome you into our home,” he stood back up, “Vergil has told us much about you. You seem to keep my son on his toes, not an easy feat--I assure you.” his voice reminds you of Vergil’s, but less sharp; more smooth like Dante’s (It is truly bizarre how much the boys really are just their father split in twain), “Finally having a face to the name of Vergil’s affections is quite nice.”

You had no response--what could you say? It blindsided you how overly cordial Sparda was being: Here you thought Vergil was overly formal, especially when you first met, but his father blows that out of the water.

“Sparda, dearest,” Eva broke the silence, “Perhaps you are being a bit too formal with Vergil’s lover?”

The behemoth of a man turned to his petite wife, “Hm? Oh--” he turned back to you smiling, “Forgive me, it has been quite some time since a new person has entered our home; let alone a partner of my son's. I have not upset you, have I?”

You shook your head and sheepishly mumbled, “No, I don’t mind--just didn’t expect it.”

A loud bang came from the doorway behind Eva and Nero; Nero pivoted quickly as Eva followed.

Dante jogged following the pair, “My damned fuckin’ dog--”

Sparda laughed and shook his head; addressing both Vergil and you, “Your room is ready upstairs--it is your old bedroom. Once settled, please join us downstairs it is nearly supper time,”

“Of course. Thank you, Father.” Vergil nodded and with that Sparda headed through the door that everyone else had gone.

You followed Vergil upstairs, your bags in hand. The house was huge inside and was easy to get lost in so you made sure to stick close to your lover. Once in the room, Vergil shut the door behind you both; letting out a sigh.

“You will have to forgive Father, he is old-fashioned that way,” Vergil turned towards you making his way over.

Sitting on the edge of the neatly made bed, you looked up at your boyfriend who was now in front of you, “It’s okay--was kinda nice, if I’m honest. Reminds me of how you were when we first met.”

Vergil laughed and leaned down towards you, hugging you--rather awkwardly due to the position, “They both seem to like you very much. Do you--” he pursed his lips, “What do you think of them--if you do not mind me asking?”

A loving smile appeared on your face, “They seem very nice; you are a lot like your father. Given’--” you pushed back on him slightly so you could look into his eyes, “I am glad you aren’t so damn tall.”

Vergil rolled his eyes slightly and leaned in giving you a gentle kiss. He felt your hands wander over his body. A tug on his tie pulled him closer to the kiss; both of you pushed against each other, each kiss filled with a sweet loving feeling.

If Vergil were to die right here and now, he would die the happiest man on Earth--or in any other place that may exist. You both shared a laugh--life couldn’t get better than this.

“--Vergil?” a voice pulled him from his utopian dream state.

Brought back to reality, Vergil looked at you in confusion. You were wide awake, sitting up, grasping Vergil’s shoulder intensely.

“What-?” Vergil’s voice cracked, and that’s when he realized what had happened: he had been crying. His face was damp, his skin clammy, and his pulse was racing.

You removed your grip on his shoulder and firmly grabbed one of his hands, “You started moving around a lot and I got worried when you wouldn’t wake up…”

His eyes softly examined your face; you were wide-eyed and had a look of distress. He felt guilty that he woke you and made you worry, “I am alright love. It is nothing to worry about,” Vergil squeezed your hand trying to show his sincerity.

“You sure?” your thumb mindlessly began to glide over his fingers and knuckles, “I won’t push you to talk but,” the two of you tenderly locked eyes, “if you want, you can tell me Vergil--you know I am always here for you.”

A pang of sadness twinged at his heart; he knows that you mean it and yet, he was hesitant. It wasn’t the first time that something like this has happened; night terrors are nothing new for the eldest twin, however, this wasn’t a nightmare. Rather, a sad dream of what can never be.

Swallowing his fear, Vergil closed his eyes and took a slow shaky breath, “Okay,” he sat up fully and you followed suit, “It was about you-- or us-- or,” he stumbled over his thoughts slightly agitating him, “about my parents…”

Upon seeing his growing frustration; you sat close to him and intertwined your arm with his, holding his hand again.

Your touch grounded Vergil’s mind a bit, allowing him to continue, “It was about my parents… meeting you,” he felt a lump begin to form in his throat, “It is foolish, I know; however, I do wish you had met them,” Vergil forced the sad feeling back down by closing his eyes as hard as he could and letting the crown of his head hit the headboard, “They would have loved you--you would have liked them too, I feel. It-- It is a trivial thing to cry over, I know,” he opened his eyes staring at the foot of the bed his voice not much louder than a whisper, “Sorry, I did not mean to wake you.”

“Vergil,” you leaned into his shoulder, “don’t apologize--there’s no need to…” you gently placed your other hand on top of his--holding his between both, “What you’ve been through, especially with your family life, is far from normal and,” you could feel him staring down at you; however, you just continued to look at his hands, “it’s okay to cry and be upset--to mourn what you have lost. It’s okay to be sad over things like that, okay?”

You heard his breathing hitch; you knew he had started to cry again. This was the first time Vergil had ever mentioned his parents in this way--only ever telling the stories of his Father’s glory days and such. If you acknowledged it, Vergil would stop and freeze up again; so, you just gently rubbed his hand and sat with him.

A few minutes passed as your lover’s breathing calmed into a normal state. You heard him take a slow shuttering breath as he attempted to re-ground himself.

“Vergil,” your voice was meek and you pushed your head slightly harder into his shoulder, “Can- can I ask you something?”

He moved his head and placed it upon yours, “I don’t see why not.” his voice was a little hoarse but it confirmed to you that he had stopped crying.

“What were they like?”

“Who?”

“Your parents; Eva and Sparda… If you don’t want to talk about them that’s okay, I just was curious.”

He exhaled audibly through his nose and smiled, “They were…” he leaned his cheek on the top of your head and looked down at your hands, “They were complete opposites and, yet, they were seemingly made for each other,” his voice trailed off as his hand tightened around yours, “Father and Mother did well raising Dante and me, for the eight or so years…”

You felt the sadness in Vergil’s voice; to be so young and to have no one but yourself, you couldn’t imagine the pain that he had endured--not to mention everything else that had happened.

Vergil continued, “Father was similar to Dante; however, he was more mature and less brain-dead.”

You tried to hold back a chortle at the sudden jab at Dante but were unable to.

“It is semi-ironic,” Vergil stopped leaning on your head as he sat back up straight, “Dante is like our Father: and V was much like my mother.”

Sensing Vergil’s mood beginning to shift to a lighter one, you raised a brow, “So… Eva was an emo poet?”

Vergil looked over at you and scrunched his face in thought, “Perhaps, in some regard; she did marry and start a family with a devil. However,” your eyes met his own, “she was very much a gentle soul with a burning fire behind her convictions in life… and she also liked cats.”

You laughed but stopped upon seeing Vergil’s emotionless expression, “What?”

“When explaining it like that,” he broke eye contact and looked down as a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, “I suppose you have met both of them, in some regard.”

“And I enjoyed interacting with both; although,” you took one hand and set it on his cheek, “if that’s how you’d describe your Mother--I think all of you fit that description just fine. You are a very gentle and kind man; well, at least to me anyway.”

Vergil let out a breath of amusement and leaned into your hand, looking you in the eyes, “Only for you, my love…” he kissed your palm meekly and whispered into it, “Maybe I am more like my parents than I thought.”

You giggled in response--and at the feeling of him slightly tickling your palm with his breath. His eyes moved to yours again: they were filled with a coy-loving softness that he only could or would allow you to see.

Vergil and you exchanged sweet nothings as you slowly laid back down for the night. Deep down he knew that you were the right choice; he may not believe in fate or soul mates but you make him want to. Vergil held you as tightly and as close as he could as he drifted back to sleep knowing that he will never be alone again.

ENDING NOTES: Won't lie--I had a hard time finding how to end this, so sorry if it is kind of abrupt lol 🌻🌻🌻 The next story I have (almost) done is going to be another Vergil sappy story thing… So stay tuned for that! (It's a doozy) 🌻🌻🌻 Figured maybe I should share this here since I haven't posted much. Hope y'all like it! Please let me know if you have any thoughts or comments; I am still relatively new to Tumblr so I am still getting a grasp on things lol

If you like this please consider checking this on my AO3. There are extra chapters and my H/Cs over there, so please consider checking them out! Comments, Likes/Kudos, and shares are always appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!! :)))

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

221 notes · View notes

lumosatnight · 11 months

Text

Lani's Birthday Oneshots: 2023 Edition!

So, today is my birthday (SCREAMING!), and as a continuation of last year's tradition, I present a ONESHOT REC LIST to celebrate 🥳! Here are 15 oneshots, all under 10k words, one for each day in June leading up to my birthday. Lots of genres, lots of tropes, ordered by ship (kinda).

🌼 - fluff | 💔 - angst | 🔥 - smut | 👀 - mind the tags

—

1. Potter's Got a Tiny Dick (that I can't stop thinking about swallowing whole) by @vukovich [Draco/Harry, E, 4.1k] 🔥🤣 This is crack. Hilarious and filthy crack with bff Ginny, nasty car sex, and unhinged Draco wanting "Just a little nom of a cock."

2. Boy Wonder by @maesterchill [Draco/Harry/Ron, E, 6.1k] 🔥🎹 Established in love Rarry with Draco returned from abroad! Wonderful Ron characterization, witty snappy dialogue, and dacryphilia!!!

3. A Saving People Problem by @the-francakes [Draco/James, E, 5.9k] 🔥🏍️ Draco living at Grimmauld place, and James can't keep his eyes off of him. Oh heck yeah! Surprisingly sweet for such a hot cross-gen pairing. Also poor Harry lol.

4. Gray Eyes (Tell No Lies) by @danpuff-ao3 [Sirius/Draco, E, 3.7k] 🔥🍏 Draco with a lingerie kink! Sirius with a one-way magic mirror! So hot, so delectable. Throw in a praise kink too, and I'm drooling.

5. A Sight to Behold by @lumoslyra [Sirius/Luna, T, 2.5k] 🌼🥐 Luna and Sirius dancing around each other. Hermione watching it all and Harry is just confused. Super cute and sweet.

6. in rivulets, in waves by @dulosis [Bellatrix/Luna, M, 2.0k] 💔👀 Dark and deceptive. I couldn't put this fic down. What happens if Bellatrix survives the war? What if Luna takes her in?

7. Catch Me As I Fall by @this-world-of-beautiful-monsters [Bellatrix/Lily, T, 5.8k] 🌼💔 This fic is a wonderful AU of Lily befriending Bellatrix at Hogwarts. How she slowly changes, how she still is roped into the war. Just spectacular!

8. (give me) the first taste by @iamsiriuslyriddikulus [Narcissa/Lily, M, 4.4k] 💔🌿 Narcissa and Lily as hot moms smoking weed!!! Yes!! This Muggle AU is so well thought-out. The characters are so memorable. (Also I'm a sucker for flangst).

9. Love in a Hopeless Place by @dragonsandotters-dh [Remus/Narcissa, T, 4.6k] 💔🐺 So much hurt but also so much comfort. Draco gets bitten by Greyback. A heart-wrenching and hopeful look into the aftermath.

10. Male Bonding by musigneus [Remus/Severus, E, 9.8k] 🔥👀 This is angsty fuck-or-die to the max. Trapped in a cellar before the full moon. But it's SO GOOD and a somewhat hopeful ending.

11. Open a Vault For Me by Sevanna_OHera [Charity/Severus, M, 3.4k] 💔🧪 I found this pairing recently, and the angst level is off the charts. So much hope and longing in this fic and also a canon-compliant ending.

12. Table for One by @littlesixxwrites [Dean/Blaise, T, 3.2k] 🌼🎄 I LOVE THIS SHIP. Bean is the cutest. This fic has instantly smitten Blaise and equally enamored Dean. Lovely fluffy fic that made me squeal with happiness.

13. Maybe This Time (alternatively: once more, with feeling!) by @wanderingdonut [Regulus, G, 4.6k] 🤣👻 THIS FIC!! I died laughing from this fic, then I came back to life cackling and died all over again. Ghost Regulus is perfect. Snarky and entitled and wallowing in death lol.

14. toxicology by @batmansymbol [Hermione, G, 2.9k] 💔💌 A fascinating dive into the possible implication of Harry being a horcrux for so many years. I love how we view everything through Hermione's unreliable narration.

15. just a few sweaters by Prettything_uglylie [Molly, G, 2.4k] 🌼🧶 This story is a cup of hot cocoa in front of the fire. Warm and sweet and content. I adore it with my whole heart.

BONUS FIC (>10k): Tiny Dancer by @rainchance [Neville/Pansy, M, 12.4k] 🌼🩰 A super sweet Panville fic with ballet dancer Pansy and film student Neville. Wonderful background characters and mutual pining.

—

Want more fics to read?

Try my rec tag: #lumosinthelibrary

Bday Oneshots 2022, 22 Fic Recs 2022, WLW Library

#lani's birthday oneshots #hp fic rec #rec list #lumosinthelibrary #birthday #2023

64 notes · View notes

couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 1 year

Note

any chance for more what if emma doesn't die thoughts from you? I am filled with sorrow for her and Dean once more

ooh....you know for someone who has an obscenely long ghost emma wip I've never really considered if she just survived from the beginning hmm...

well obviously when sam barges in the room dean either manages to put himself in front of emma and talk him down, or, the sexier option, he shoots the gun out of sam's hand. sam still argues but dean is invoking oldest rule here lmao. I don't know if 'poughkeepsie' would apply here but I want him to drop a code word to guilt sam into letting emma come along

between his attitude and the whole 'pulling a gun on her' thing emma reasonably does not like sam right off the bat, so she's practically glued to dean like a shadow for the first couple weeks

(personally I think emma truly wanted to escape and didn't want to hurt anyone, I think she only pulled the knife bc she couldn't read dean and thought he wasn't gonna help her. so obviously that's. less of an issue here)

idk I just really like the idea of emma knowing How to fight but having more of a pacifistic nature, not really blending well with either sides of her family. like she didn't ask dean to protect her from the amazons so she could be a hunter. dean may not be able to give her a normal life while they're busy hiding from leviathans, amazons, and the us government, but he'll be damned if he's gonna force her into a fight or give her a gun. sam tries to convince emma to work as bait for the pennywhistle case and dean goes Nuclear

so once dean's comfortable letting her out of his sight for longer than half an hour she's usually on research or like, the get away driver lol

dean's 'never had enough money to get nice things for sammy' childhood guilt is manifesting aggressively he's buying stuff for emma every time he goes anywhere. whole back seat of the car is decked out with fluffy blankets and pillows, she's got her own collection of music, clothes, stuff like that. she definitely has more stuff than she should have considering they're living on the run but that's not gonna stop dean

sorry I just love the idea of sam constantly picking fights with her and dean being like. Why Do You Have Beef With My Newborn.

like I definitely think sam would warm up to her before the end of the season, especially after cas fixes his mind, but between the amy situation and his personal trauma about feeling like a monster his family should have hunted, I think he'd just. have a rough time with her at first. plus in no world does sam know how to communicate with teenage girls lmao

HOWEVER I don't think she'd stay with him while dean is trapped in purgatory. I think lowkey sam doesn't even really. Consider being her guardian or whatever bc he sees her as grown and capable, but also he's immediately trying to find a place to settle down and emma is like. what the fuck are you talking about none of this is finished???

so she takes off. she wants to find kevin to 1) make sure he's okay and 2) see if his prophet powers can help her figure out what happened to dean and cas. I think she should meet up with charlie!!! she figures if anyone can track down a missing person it'd be her, and we all know charlie's not gonna turn away kid wanting to save her parent.

they do find kevin (and linda!) and get them situated and do what they can to hide them from crowley. dean and cas eventually get out of purgatory the same way as in canon bc they couldn't really figure that out, but at least kevin wasn't abandoned all year and had a decent head start on figuring out the tablet. the four of them have a little clubhouse set up and charlie makes buffy the vampire slayer references or room of requirement jokes literally every day

this is pretty much all I've got right now, but I'm always filled with sorrow on emma's (and deans) behalf omg. someone please save her already

#supernatural #spn #emma winchester #dean winchester #spn season 7 #asks #molly mumbles #im-not-a-monster

94 notes · View notes

charbies · 6 months

Text

been having a tough time.. stuff about it under the cut

writing a stream of consciousness about the past few months. I've been really depressed. I kept getting burned out from my job almost monthly, but could bounce back when I took a little time off. Then midway through the summer, it's like I just got stuck and couldn't get.. unstuck. by fall I had a full blown depressive episode; in september I could admit I was depressed, in october I went on medication for it, and by the time november came around it felt like there was no end in sight. Fall is my favorite time of year, and I felt like I was in a fugue state and missed it because I barely existed.

the ways this showed up in my body are unlike anything I ever experienced in my life before and that was terrifying. my head and body ached like I was coming home from war every day. I was falling asleep at the wheel, and it was a recurring pattern; my body was shutting itself off when the thought of what I'd have to deal with at work was becoming too much. I burst into tears whenever I saw my friends post pics hanging out and wished I could live closer and see them more. I felt so overwhelmed and empty, I needed everything to stop and I wanted to disappear.

my job is fucking hard. I try not to talk about it on here, but I work with people who are hurting and traumatized. I regularly have to tell them when I believe the choices they're making are going to wind up killing them. I have to tell them the last things they want to hear and still hope they trust me. The average burnout rate at my job is 2 years, I've been there for 16 months. I'm 24 and the youngest one there by a long shot. I know I'm good at what I do, but still feel way in over my head, I feel like I don't get to be my age. I've thought about quitting but I don't think I have it in me to leave and start over somewhere new just yet, not now. I feel trapped because as hard as the work is, I get way better amenities there than at most other places; this place is basically as good as it gets where I live and it's still killing me.

even tho I know how severe things were getting, I feel so guilty for ways I fell off the face of the earth. I stopped talking to friends, family, coworkers, pretty much everyone. I bailed on linktober and a bunch of other art projects I lined up and thought I had the energy to pull off. In general I just feel like a failure even though I know that isn't true.

I broke down hard and took a leave of absence, I get a few weeks off from my job. I've been off for 10 days and as badly as I've wanted to draw the idea also makes me want to jump out of my skin. So I'm taking time and hoping it comes back while I pull myself together.

I could use some advice or wisdom from anyone who has been through this in any capacity. Even silly stuff in my inbox would make my day. Tumblr was my comfort place when I was a kid and I think it will do me good to be able to look back on this post after I've worked through this and I'm doing better. Thanks for reading all of this if you did, it means a lot <3

#brb crying into my cat #tw depression #tw suicide #tw vent

20 notes · View notes

frogsndogs · 6 months

Text

So I recently rewatched Scooby Doo Stage Fright and I have some thoughts.

Now, I really enjoy this movie and consider it one of my absolute favourites! The first phantom? Amazing and weird but in a way that fits. All the contestants? Keeps everyone guessing. The “no dogs” rule that makes it a struggle for Scooby to get into the opera house? Hilarious. (Especially the old man bit)

But I’m not a really big fan of iterations of the franchise where Daphne is obsessed with Fred to the point that it’s her only character trait. And you might say that her love of Fred wasn’t her biggest motivator in the movie, but throughout the movie she makes it clear she only wants to win so that she can work up the courage to tell Fred how she feels.

But she had one line really stood out to me, that didn’t have to do with her crush on Fred:

“Why do monsters keep showing up wherever we go? Is it something about us?”

There is a lot going on in this line.

First there’s the sentence itself- what it points out. It is an in-universe acknowledgement that monsters go wherever they do. A couple series have done this, even Shaggy did it in the first part of the movie, saying “When do we go to a place that’s not haunted?” But what makes this different is that it isn’t trying to be meta and it isn’t sarcastic. It’s scared, and vulnerable. This sounds like a teenager who is trapped in this strange cycle with no real end in sight. Who’s not sure if she’s the problem.

In many different iterations of the gang what stands out is that they’re the outsiders. The weirdos. Daphne’s family history especially in some iterations makes it clear that she was pressured to conform to something that her parents wanted, something that society wanted. This seems like a line from someone who thinks that there is something wrong with them. Who hasn’t reached Be Cool Daphne’s comfort level with her weirdness.

So I think that the movie would be better if instead of Daphne having an obsession over Fred, she is worrying over why ghosts keep popping up wherever they go. And there’s a couple points in this movie where this would fit well.

First: All the other contestants. Are considered weird. What if Velma said that “A lemon-scented ghost would fit right in with this crowd” and Daphne lowers her head and says “Yeah” softly. Because she is part of this crowd. Talent Star seemed to have attracted a whole bunch of weird people, whose to say that this isn’t bringing up Daphne’s feelings of being different all over again? Like if you won a contest and all the other people who won were batshit crazy wouldn’t you doubt yourself? Just a little bit? Especially if you were a young girl who’s always been told she’s batshit crazy?

Then when Daphne wakes up at night crying? What if she wakes up crying because everything feels wrong? Because she feels wrong? Teenagehood is a time with lots of change and lots of transitions and lots of doubts. So she wakes up crying because she has a lot of existential questions about her life.

And then the whole 5 different phantoms thing is obviously not helping. Just when Daphne thinks they’re done and can move on with normal teenager activities another phantom shows up to ruin everything all over again. This further reinforces the cycle that has been plaguing Daphne for who-knows how long at this point.

But then I think that this movie also presents the perfect opportunity for Daphne to realize that being weird isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Take Steve (the first phantom) for example. There is no way to deny that this guy is weird. He grew up in a sewer, has no idea how mirrors work, he is generally strange. But he’s also selfless. He’s ashamed of the hurt he caused in the past (but even then the worst he did was destroy the disco ball - no one actually got physically hurt), he saves Fred by attacking another one of the phantoms, when Brick gets arrested and no one knows what to do he steps up and takes charge.

I would like to see a convo between the two of them - maybe Steve notices that Daphne’s feeling down about everything and approaches her, asking what’s wrong. Maybe all this pressure that’s been building up throughout the movie finally breaks and she confesses everything that’s been on her mind. And Steve listens. And he understands what it’s like to be weird, and maybe we could get a bit of backstory on him (why there is a random guy living in the sewer will forever haunt my every waking moment) and it could all boil down to yeah, I was weird like you but unlike you I was alone. Because maybe that’s what it takes for Daphne to stop being so caught up in her own weirdness but see every else’s as well. We have Fred who sleeps with a net, Shaggy who can eat a giant pizza like its nothing, Velma who is interested in stuff that isn’t very mainstream like the soap diamond, Scooby who talks.

And this doesn’t change the fact that they are her best friends, her family. That throughout the movie they have been there for her and supported her and Fred on this wild ride. And same goes for every mystery. And the fact that they’re weird? Makes them stronger in the face of these mysteries. Fred’s net saves Shaggy and Scooby’s lives (that dude was running around with a butcher’s knife - he should def be locked up for attempted murder). Velma’s love of the niche comes in handy when stopping Dewey. Scooby and Shaggy sneaking into the opera house reveals that Dewey is the 4th phantom.

So maybe this convo really helps Daphne gain confidence to go on stage and sing her heart out. Then they have the whole chase with Dewey and they give up the contest for Emma and all that. And then, the final nail in the coffin that makes Daphne come into her own weirdness. Brick.

Brick, who is by far the most “normal” person around. Sure, he says “Fantastic” a lot, but that’s not a guy who pulls an egg out instead of a card or a goth band that was a country act up until a few weeks ago, with 3/4 of them being honestly surly and the the other one being so cheerful. Earlier in the film Daphne says that she really admires Brick, and in this version maybe that could mean that maybe in this whirlwind of weirdness she admires how he’s so… normal. But then at the end of the film comes his confession - that he’s surrounded by all these talented people makes him feel suffocated. He feels pathetic. And Daphne then realizes that yeah - all the other contestants were weird, all her friends are weird, but that’s what made them talented. Thats what makes them so amazing.

In the end, the movie ends with Daphne coming to terms with her weirdness - and maybe starting Be Cool Daphne’s list of everything she wants to do. In the end she comes to terms with the fact that monsters tend to follow them around, but as long as she’s got her weird friends she’s gonna be okay.

#scooby doo #scooby gang #daphne blake #shaggy rogers #velma dinkley #fred jones #be cool scooby doo #scooby doo stage fright #daphne blake is amazing #do i ever make short posts?#no #why?#bc apparently i can't shut up #i am so sorry this is so long #pls bear with me

21 notes · View notes

houseofperfecttaste · 2 years

Text

A Boyfriend and a stalker (5)

Warnings: violence, sexual assault, swearing

Y/N slowly gained consciousness but she was still feeling hazy and dizzy, her eyes were fluttering open and she was able to make out the figure sitting next to her rushing to her side when seeing she was waking up. "What did you do?" She asked hurt, fear, and sadness laced in her voice not being able to comprehend why he drugged and kidnapped her. "I saved you baby, I did this for us to be able to have a future with you." Rafe smiled down at her his hand stroking her hair as she tried to move away from his touch but was too tired to move. "Home." Y/N muttered lazily pulling the blankets over her turning away from Rafe. "I wanna go home." She whispered before drifting off to sleep. "You are home." Rafe kissed her head before laying next to her.

JJs POV

"Alright go go go." I motioned my friends to run to the cargo shipping container and we all sprinted inside of it to make sure none of the Camerons hunch men saw us. "So what's the plan here JJ?" John B asked me and I pushed my tongue to my cheek cocking my head to the right and John Bs eyes grew wide. "You don't have a plan?" He exclaimed quietly getting in my face. "Alright just give me a minute.....Pope anything?" I hoped turning to face the smart one of the group and he exhaled and looked around the crate as he thought of something. "we can pull the alarm and get all the men, Rose, Wheezie, Ward and Rafe all in the room and lock them in there while we find Y/N and Sarah." We all decided who was going to do what and now we were just waiting for our container to be loaded onto the ship.

I was sitting on the ground leaning against the container my knees to my chest as my hands were running through my hair and tugging on the ends slightly. "You okay?" Kie asked sitting next to me. "What if he hurt her? What if they hurt her and Sarah? I'm gonna fucking kill Rafe." I tried to maintain my composure not wanting any of them to know that inside of my head I was going absolutely crazy thinking about if Rafe touched or hurt my girl. "I love her Kie, she needs to be okay." I let a tear slip quickly wiping it away hiding my face. "Look, Rafe is crazy yes but I don't think he would physically hurt her, he also loves her." Kie rubbed my back to comfort me and I gave her a small smile to thank her. The container shifted a loud buzzing noise started and we all braced ourselves for being in the air for a minute and hid behind boxes when we felt the container be placed on the boat.

Y/Ns POV

I woke up sitting up slightly looking around the room finally sober and awake enough to realize I was in the middle of the ocean. I looked to my right to see Rafe sleeping beside me and I grew sick at the sight of him. I tried to move away from him but his hand wrapped around my waist pulling me closer to him and nuzzled his face in my neck. "Get away from me Rafe." I pushed him off of me and got up and sat on the couch across the room. "Baby?" Rafes voice was groggy as he sat up and saw he sitting across the room giving him a look that could kill. "I hate you. Why Rafe, why would you do this to me?" I started to tear up thinking about never being able to see JJ, my brother or my friends again and how I'll be trapped with Rafe and his family for the rest of my life.

"No, no, no sweetie I did this for us, we can be together forever without anyone standing in our way I love you." Rafe shot out of bed walking towards me and I got up and backed away from him. "Well I don't love you Rafe! I don't want to be together forever! I love someone else!" Rafes eyes darkened and he strutted towards me and pinned me against the wall his face inches away from me as he held my arms down. "You're going to fucking forget about Maybank, you're mine now you're never going to see him again." I scoffed rolling my eyes at him and I spat in his face and he chuckled a sadistic smile on his face as he wiped it off his tongue rolling across his teeth.

He licked his lips his hand moving up to my throat wrapping around it squeezing the sides. "Why do you have to be such a brat? I'm trying to give you a better life and this is how you repay me?" His head tilted looking down at me with teasingly disappointing eyes knowing he has full control over me. I decided to keep my mouth shut knowing it's what best for me in this situation. "That's my good girl." He caressed my cheek kissing my jaw then down my neck his hands firmly holding my hips pressing me into him. I heard a knock on the door and Rafe slapped his hand over my mouth whispering for me to stay quiet before Wards voice boomed through the door and I started to cry knowing there was no way for me to escape since his whole family was in on his crazy idea.

"Shhh it's okay sweetheart no need to cry. I'll be back baby my dad needs my help make yourself comfortable." He kissed my head before leaving and I sunk to the ground hearing the lock click from the outside. I started pounding on the door screaming for help but no one ever came to rescue me. "Y/N." I heard my name faintly and I turned around scared as I looked around the room as I heard my name being said repeatedly. I leaned down to the vent on the ground and my spirits rose when realizing it was Sarahs voice but my heart dropped again thinking how they also had to kidnap her. "Sarah! Oh my god are you okay? Did they drug you too?" "Yeah Rose did it, I'm guessing Rafe did it to you?" "You would be correct." I sighed sitting against the wall my knees to my chest. "Did he lock you inside the room too?" "Yeah, there's no way to escape. We're trapped Sarah." My voice cracked mid sentence. "We're not trapped Y/N, we'll find a way out we always do." She reassured me and I heard the doorknob jiggle and I quickly told Sarah Rafe was back and I climbed into the bed pulling the blankets over me.

"Heres some food beautiful." He smiled down at me handing me a box and a cherry coke. I opened the box and was met with the sight and smell of my favorite wrap. "Thank you." I whispered not wanting to be nice to him, he didn't deserve any kindness or remorse for what he did and has done. "I'm sorry for earlier, I didn't mean to hurt you." His fingers grazed the bruises his fingers left on my throat when he was choking me and I smacked his hand away. "Don't touch me." I scooted away from him and ate my wrap and watched whatever he had put on the tv. The door opened and Ward walked in a warm smile being sent my way and disgust took over my face at how normal he was acting like he didn't just kidnap two girls.

I put my box and drink on the side table and laid down facing away from the two Camerons as they talked about god knows what, I had zoned out thinking about JJ and what our future would’ve looked like. “How are you doing Y/N?” Wards loud voice asked and I laughed sarcastically turning to look at him. “Hm let’s see you just kidnapped me and now I’m trapped forever so I’m doing great.” I sent him a smile then rolled my eyes turning back over. I followed the sounds of his footsteps lead out the door before Rafe wrapped his arm around me holding me close. “I can’t wait to put a kid in you.” He whispered my heart rate increasing quickly, I wasn’t even close to ready for being a mom and I especially didn’t want one with him. “You’re never getting a baby from me.” “That’s very funny. You will give me a baby sweetie, maybe more than one.” He stroked my hip his hand slipping under my shirt.

I slipped out of his grasp standing up and pacing back and forth in front of him as he scooted towards the end of the bed watching me. "Y/N." He spoke softly trying to grab my hand and I moved it away from him wanting to slap him across the face. "Let me go Rafe. I won't tell anyone I promise, just please let me go." I begged him. "I can't do that baby. You're mine." "I'm not yours Rafe! YOU cheated on ME! You fucked us up not me." His eyes darkened and narrowed at me as he stood up and chuckled. "And I'm trying to fix us! Why can't you just be fucking grateful that I'm trying to get us back together?"

"Because I don't want to be with you Rafe! You're a fucking psychopath, you're crazy!" "Watch your fucking mouth." He growled his hands grabbing my arms roughly. "Fuck you Cameron." I tried to get out of his grasp but he once again wrapped his hand around my throat his other hand tangled in my hair. "You're never going to escape, I'm never letting you out of my sight." He pushed me against the wall his hand roaming my body grabbing at my breasts and he covered my mouth so he couldn't hear my cries or pleas.

He slowly lifted my shirt over my head leaving me in my blue seamless bra and his pupils dilated at the sight of me and he got on his knees kissing my stomach and then bunched up my bra letting my breasts free and my nipples hardened at the feeling of the cold air. He wrapped his lips around my bud sucking soothingly on it and I closed my mouth not wanting any sound to come out to let Rafe know I was enjoying it. God how could I be liking this? Rafes a fucking asshole and I'm with JJ I love JJ and I don't want to do anything with Rafe. He kidnapped me I have to push him off of me. My senses kicked in and I shoved Rafe off of me pulling my shirt back on.

"What? You like it too much?" He asked with his stupid cocky smile on his face. "Absolutely not, I hated all of that." I sat on the bed huffing wishing I could see Sarah. "Sure you did sweetheart." He chuckled sitting next to me. "Rafe do you really think kidnapping me and forcing me to be with you is going to get me to love you again?" Rafe groaned placing his hands over his face and falling back onto the bed. "God, do you ever shut up?" "Wow fuck you." I scoffed rolling my eyes and I started thinking about all the places he could be taking me. An alarm started blaring through the speakers and I looked at Rafe startled. "Stay here."Rafe ordered running out the door locking it behind him.

JJs POV

Kie and I were hiding near one of the exits of the control room waiting to close and lock it so we could all go and rescue Y/N and Sarah. We heard a lot of yelling and commotion and we got the signal from John B to lock the door and we slammed it shut and as we were closing it Rafe and I locked eyes and I smirked at him knowing we all outsmarted him and his asshole dad. "I'll fucking kill you Maybank!" Rafe shouted and Kie and I closed it and locked it then went to our sections of the boat looking for the girls.

"Y/N! Sarah! Y/N!" I shouted running through the halls over and over not hearing any response and I went through each hall hoping that someone else had better luck and found them. I heard slight screaming and banging and I ran towards the sound yelling their names. "JJ!" I heard and recognized it as Y/Ns voice. "Y/N!" I became so ecstatic that I finally found her my mind and heart being at ease and I hoped she was okay and that asshole didn't hurt or touch her.

"I'm here baby. I got you, you're okay." I said through the door trying to find something to unlock the door with. "Baby is there a hanger or a paper clip or something you can slid under the door for me to use?" "Yeah one second babe." I heard her say and I could tell by her voice that she's so relieved that I'm here for her. Moments later she slid a hanger under the door and I was able to pick the lock with it and I swung it open seeing Y/N and the biggest smile spread across my face as I ran up to her wrapping my arms around her spinning her around kissing her lips.

"God I'm so sorry baby I love you so much, I'm such an asshole. Are you okay sweetie? Did he hurt you?" I rambled placing her down looking over her my eyes stopping on a dark spot on her neck. I bit my lip moving her hair behind her and seeing the black and blue bruises across her neck. "He choked you?" Sadness, guilt, anger was all laced in my voice. I imagined Rafes hand wrapped around her throat squeezing and I almost lost my mind. "I'm okay JJ. I love you, it's not your fault. I don't blame you at all." She reassured me running her hand through my hair kissing me again sensing that I was about to lose my shit.

"I love you so much too. Now let's get you off this boat." I kissed her nose grabbing her hand and leading her towards the lifeboats. As we got closer I saw that the group had found Sarah and they were all getting on. As we were about halfway to the lifeboats Rafe stood in front of us blocking our path. "Let’s finish what we started shall we Maybank?” He smirked and my eyes trailed down his arm to see a gun in his hand and I pushed Y/N behind me ready to fight to the death to get her to safety. “We shall.” I threw the first punch to his face ignoring Y/Ns pleas for me to stop. “Get to the boats Y/N!” I yelled at her and she shook her head. “I’m not leaving you.” Rafe sent a punch to my face reaching for the gun as I was on the ground. I got up quickly twisting Rafes arm making the gun fall out of his hand and i kicked his leg and pushed his head down into the floor.

“Y/N baby you need to go okay? I’ll take care of Rafe and I’ll meet you on the boat I promise baby.” I looked up at her from the ground and she shook her head saying she was going to stay with me. I went to object but Rafe elbowed me in the face, my head flying backwards quickly and then Rafes fist collided with my face multiple times before he kicked me across the face making me groan and spit out a bunch of blood. I looked up and saw Rafe roughly grabbing Y/N and trying to drag her to the stairs but she was fighting against him and punching his chest. My blood started to boil I felt like I was going to explode and I ran over to him tackling him to the ground my forearm against his throat as I punched his torso repeatedly. I was so caught up in the moment I didn’t realize Rafe had reached for his gun and he hit me over the head with the butt of it making me fall off of him.

Rafe held the gun against my temple leaning over me smirking and laughing. “I always win.” He gloated and I heard Y/Ns cries as John B was dragging her to the boats and forcing her in it. “Not this time.” I grabbed his wrist head butting him and kicking him off of me grabbing the gun and pointing it at him. I tried to pull the trigger but for some reason I couldn’t. My finger wouldn’t move I was doubting if i even should pull it. I sighed lowering the gun to my side and chucking it into the ocean. “No!” Rafe yelled trying to save the gun and he placed his hands on the railing his head hanging low before turning his head to look at me and he grabbed my collar pushing me into the rails and punching me again.

“You ruin everything you dirty fucking Pogue.” He spat in my face sucker punching me in my stomach making me topple over in pain and he took the opportunity to take a free punch on my face. The world around me was a blur, screams of my friends faint in my ears as I tried to keep my eyes open. “Hope you can swim fucker.” His voice was smug and he smiled psychopathically at me before pushing me over the railing, me falling unconscious as I hit the water.

Y/Ns POV

“JJ!” I screamed trying to lower the lifeboat faster but I grew impatient and jumped into the water swimming towards JJs body to find him unresponsive. “JJ? Come on baby stay with me.” I wrapped his arm around my shoulder swimming towards the boat and lifting him into it with the help of our friends. Once we got him layed down I started doing CPR on him and begging him to wake up. “Please wake up J. I love you.” I sobbed my hands pressing into his chest again and he jolted forward spitting water out of his mouth and I grabbed his shoulders pulling him up into the tightest hug I could ever give him.

“Baby i love you but you’re hurting me.” JJs voice was weak and I apologized pulling away from him and placing my hand on his cheek kissing his lips and resting my forehead against his. “Are you okay?” JJ asked as I sat in front of him ripping off a piece of my shirt dipping it into the ocean and cleaning the blood off his entire face and fists. “Y-yeah I’m good.” I forced a smile my eyes flickering to his baby blues and I could tell he knew I was lying but wasn’t going to push it in front of others. I looked away from him and turned my head to look at the boat we just escaped and saw Rafe pointing a gun to us and lowering it moments later not being able to shoot at me.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, did he do anything?” John B asked as he sat next to me wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “It’s not your fault John B, and I’d rather not talk about it. Ever.” I let out a small chuckle and JJ grabbed my hand caressing the back of it with his thumb. John B nodded and looked around not knowing what else to say. “You can go talk to Sarah.” I giggled out and he kissed my cheek before heading over to his girl to make sure she was also okay. “Come here.” JJ opened his arms and I snuggled myself into his arms wrapping myself around him feeling secure and happy with him.

“I should’ve listened to you. I ignored the problem and got hurt. You were right.” I whispered into his neck giving it a light kiss and he rubbed my back tilting my head back so I could look at him. “I shouldn’t have stormed out like that baby, I should’ve been there to protect you, hell you wouldn’t have even been out there if it wasn’t for me.” His eyes were boring into mine and I could tell he was feeling so much guilt towards the situation and was placing all the blame on himself. “Please don’t blame yourself JJ. This isn’t your fault, it’s not mine, it’s Rafes and his crazy familys fault.” I traced the bruises on his face placing a kiss on each one. I laid my head on his shoulder my eyes slowly closing as sleep took over me finally feeling safe.

Taglist: @iloverafecameron @agent-grey-fics @bobo08

This is the last part I hope you all enjoyed reading this series as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3

#rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #jj maybank #dark rafe cameron #jj maybank imagine #jj obx #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj x reader

215 notes · View notes

wander-over-the-words · 11 months

Text

Welcome to the World

Summary: Wanting to share a piece of himself with the man he’s committed to, Delta steps out of his comfort zone.

Characters: Augustus Sinclair, Subject Delta; mentions of Sofia Lamb, Eleanor Lamb, Big Daddies, Splicers.

Pairing: Augustus Sinclair/Subject Delta.

Warnings: mentions of past forced suicide, firearm usage, human experimentation, slavery, potential body horror, smoking.

Notes: I watched a compilation of queer first kisses in animation and really wanted to write a first kiss for these two. But I got headcanons to keep, so here’s this: me continuing my unintentional tradition of removing Delta’s helmet but keeping his appearance a secret.

All material belongs to Irrational Games.

Fic also available on AO3.

…

Augustus’s hands are over his, supporting him as he lifts the helmet off of his shoulders.

He’s thankful; he needs that support. He feels his heart pound, trapped in his tightening chest as the air swarms his skin, distantly cold, his head exposed and uncovered, no longer hidden behind a mask. Fear holds him in its fist, squeezing the life out of him. He hears ghosts of the past whispering to him - Lamb’s voice, Eleanor’s scream, the rattling of a shaking gun - and it nearly makes him retreat back into the safety of his helmet. He comforts himself only by focusing hard on Augustus.

Augustus, who was not there when Delta was forced to die, who is a remnant of the present, who is Delta’s light at the end of the tunnel.

If he’s here, then Delta is okay. If he’s here, than Delta’s life is almost complete - just missing Eleanor. If he’s here, then Delta is safe.

Augustus’s head is ducked, shielding his own eyes; he’s doing it out of instinct, out of respect for Delta’s old wish to keep his appearance a secret, even though he now has permission to look. Or maybe he’s just preparing himself for what he’s about to witness.

Delta understands. In no world would a Big Daddy’s face be pretty; he doesn’t remember exactly what they did to him to cram him into this suit and render him a slave, but he can’t imagine he looks like a regular man under there. The ADAM alone has probably warped his image - he wouldn’t be surprised if he looks like a Splicer.

Wouldn’t be surprised, but he would be devastated. He wants to be handsome, like Augustus. He wants a face Augustus can love, not one only the most devoted mother could.

Delta doubles over to place the helmet down on the floor of the train car and Augustus moves with him, crouching as the helmet is placed aside, then standing upright once Delta’s own hands leave the dome, Augustus’s fingers shaking just slightly. He’s keeping his head down, his eyes now glued on the helmet as Delta too straightens up where he’s seated on the train’s bench, Augustus standing before him.

Augustus stares down at the dome, licks his lips once, rubs his thumbs over his fingers as he hesitates, then he turns his head, keeping his chin pointed at the floor - and then slowly, he lifts it and looks at Delta’s face.

Immediately, he gasps, eyes widening, brow creasing, mouth hanging open and lip curling in a distinct, grief-stricken look, gaze flicking all over him, looking more distressed the more he takes in.

It’s like someone’s taken Delta’s own drill to his heart and blended it into mush, the pain is so intense.

He knew it: he’s ugly, he’s hideous, he’s terrifying. He never should have shown Augustus what he looks like, he never should have even considered it; he’d wanted to show Augustus the man he’d decided to commit himself to, but he should have known Augustus can’t love a face like his. It was a moment of sheer lunacy, the ADAM must be getting to him. Whatever that face is - it’s ugly and hideous and terrifying and he shouldn’t have shown it.

With a hiccup of a sob, vision blurring quickly, Delta throws his hands up, ducking behind his own palms to hide, covering his face from sight.

“Oh,” Augustus says, “oh, no - Chief, I-I didn’t mean - That ain’t what - what I was sayin’. That ain’t what I meant…! I-I was just…” He then swallows so thickly that the gulp is audible, takes a breath through his nose, then forces a short chuckle that barely sounds like a chuckle at all. “I was just a little…surprised, that’s all. Just a little shell-shocked. Must’ve just made myself the only soul left in Rapture who knows what a Big Daddy is hidin’ beneath his mask…unless any of the, ah, the folks responsible for…for you are still…around…”

No, he doesn’t buy it. He saw the look in Augustus’s eyes - that’s the look someone gives to something awful. It wasn’t just surprise, it was…misery.

He feels Augustus’s hands on his wrists, though they don’t pull, just rest there.

“Please, now, honey, I…I swear, it wasn’t you that had me gapin’ like that, it was…I was surprised, is all…”

There’s a small tug at his wrists.

“You don’t need ta hide yourself away from me, chief…I ain’t afraid. Not of you. Could never be afraid of you, pumpkin…”

He sounds so genuine…

God. Delta hopes he isn’t going to regret this…

He mulls it over in his head, reminds himself that he trusts Augustus more than he trusts himself, then slowly, hesitantly, moves his hands down, away from his face. He peeks out from atop his fingers as they go, watching Augustus as he reacts for the second time to Delta’s face.

Even with the blur of his vision from where his devastated tears have made a film over his eyes, he sees the way Augustus winces, the way his brow furrows as he goes about looking Delta up and down again.

“There, now…” Augustus mutters quietly, more to himself, it seems. “No reason ta…ta get all upset…”

It’s to be expected, he supposes - whether Augustus is scared of him or not, it doesn’t stop him from being ugly.

Pointing his chin down, Delta casts his gaze away, blinks once and involuntarily frees a tear from where it’d been trapped. He feels the icy cold rivulet travelling down his left cheek, just barely.

Augustus lets out another little gasp when he sees it, then scrambles to fetch his handkerchief from his pocket.

His movement has Delta looking at him without lifting his head; he sees the look on Augustus’s face, how he appears more devastated than he did when Delta first removed his helmet.

Augustus acquires his handkerchief and starts to reach out with it, stops himself when he sees Delta staring at him, then he finishes the path to Delta’s cheek. He gently wipes away the tear.

And Delta…doesn’t feel it.

“No, no…let’s have none o’ that, now,” Augustus whispers tenderly. “Get a load of me, makin’ you shed tears - the opposite of what I’m supposed ta be doin’...!”

(He can relate: he’d rather kill himself all over again than ever make Augustus cry - ever make him frown. Being what they are now, Delta is going to make it one of his life’s goals to see to it that Augustus is happy. Going to be the best partner he can be, whether he’s…he’s ugly or not - that is, of course, if…if Augustus still wants him, knowing what he looks like now…)

Delta lets out a soft note of whalesong - has less of an echo, now that his dome has been removed - and lifts a hand to pat the back of Augustus’s with his fingers, gentle. Sees the way Augustus looks at whatever mouth he may have when he makes that noise. Makes him wonder what it looks like when he…‘talks’.

He becomes distracted, though, when patting Augustus’s hand, involuntarily bringing it closer. Ponders on it, even as Augustus takes the cloth away and bunches it up awkwardly in one loose fist that hovers in the air, uncertain.

With all the anxiety of Augustus reacting to his face, it hasn’t occurred to him before: the constant smell of metal and something that he can’t put his finger on, something sweet, is gone from his senses, and he can smell…cigarettes. And…chocolate. And sweat. Salt. And…something sort of…spicy.

Delta sniffs the air. It’s coming from nearby, from…right in front of him.

It’s Augustus. That smell - it’s Augustus.

His cigarettes. The crème-filled cake Delta had brought back for Augustus to eat, the smell of it still on Augustus’s fingers. Augustus’s shirt, not changed in a while (understandably), infected with the natural salty smell of Rapture’s underwater air. And the spicy smell…it’s not particularly strong, but it’s…it’s nice. Almost…fresh. He thinks it might be the remnants of Augustus’s cologne, whenever it was that he’d last applied any. Or…perhaps an aftershave? He must’ve been able to shave whilst hunkering down in his bunker, after all; there’s only stubble on his jaw, not a full beard.

It hasn’t occurred to Delta until now, but…with all the time Augustus has spent by his side - sitting beside him on the train bench, leaning up against him, agreeing to be his sweetheart and letting Delta take him into his arms, so close that Delta could count every fleck of gold in his hazel eyes - Delta has never known…what he smells like.

It’s…It’s so nice because it’s…it’s him. It’s Augustus. He’s here, with him. It was one thing to share the train car together and to be in Delta’s arms and to sit in his lap, but now he’s…he’s here.

Every other human left in Rapture, Delta has met with his helmet on, saw them through the porthole, an onlooker at their own little world in their cult with their Lamb, from the safety of his own little world, inside his helmet; he knows nothing of them but their looks and their intent to kill him. Separated from the rest of Rapture by a few inches of steel and glowing glass.

But Augustus is intimately closer than that: he’s an honoured guest in Delta’s bubble, whenever he spoke on the radio, but now Delta’s out of his own little world, and now they’re sharing the same air.

In the same world now. Together. As they should be. As Augustus always said they would be, when the suit and the helmet are permanently gone.

Who else has he done this with? Who else has he stepped out of his comfort zone for? He can’t even remember if Eleanor ever saw him helmetless. Perhaps the last people to have seen him like this were the ones who sealed him away in the first place, who’d started all this.

A surge of emotion running through him, new tears welling up, Delta closes his eyes, at peace. Like his heart has been rebuilt. He just about feels the next couple of icy rivulets go down each cheek, pushed out by his shut lids.

Augustus wipes away these tears too. He only knows because the coldness disappears.

When he opens his eyes again, Augustus is still standing there, still holding his handkerchief, still staring at him - him, who has his helmet off. There’s still that smell.

Augustus isn’t - He’s not…turning away. Not moving away from him. He’s staring right at him, standing close by, like always.

Does…Does he not mind…?

Getting caught up in his own thinking, Augustus’s gaze keeps flicking between Delta’s face and the empty air beside him as he fiddles with his handkerchief, uncertain, before stuffing it back into his pocket, not bothering to fold it or neaten it like he usually would. With the rag out of his hands and with his eyes pointing at Delta, he awkwardly hovers his hands before him, not knowing what to do with them, before he puffs a small sigh and lets his arms drop to his sides.

“...I’m not really sure what I expected ta see, honey, if I’m bein’ perfectly honest with myself,” he says, one side of his lips turned upwards just barely in a self-deprecating look, a sort of gentle seriousness in his tone. Trying to make light of a situation that is heavy enough to pin a man down to the ocean floor. “I…Well, I…I don’t s’ppose - what with your own preference of ignorance - that you really have anythin’ short of a clue either, do you? We were in the same boat, as it were. I, uh,” he looks around the train cabin, “I don’t recall pickin’ up a mirror when I climbed aboard -”

Delta cuts him off with a sharp growl, one hand lifting to stop him going anywhere, before Augustus can get any other ideas on how to present Delta’s own face to him.

He doesn’t want to look at himself.

Well - he does, but…he doesn’t. He’s too scared of what he’ll see.

When he’s cured of his condition and out of this suit…then he’ll look himself in the eye.

Turning his head to look at him again, Augustus is wide-eyed at the sudden growl, but he easily translates Delta’s hesitation in his head and, brow furrowed and looking at Delta from under his eyelashes, he nods solemnly.

“I understand, chief,” he says. “Think nothin’ of it. Another time…maybe.”

Still the picture of hesitation, Augustus’s right hand starts to lift from his side, stops and flinches back towards himself, then starts drifting closer before stopping again midway, hovering before Delta’s chest.

“Can I…? I mean…D’ya think I could…?” he asks quietly, fingers uncurling, pointing towards Delta’s face.

There’s a little jump in Delta’s heart - Augustus is going to touch him. Not with a handkerchief this time, but with his own hand.

Unlike the realisation that he’s never known what Augustus smells like, he’s long-since realised that for all the times he’s patted Augustus on the head or sat him in his lap or had him leaning up against him as they sat together on the train bench, he’s never known what Augustus’s skin feels like, his hair, his warmth. Just his weight against him, the very basics of the sensation of a body pressing to his.

A hot fuzziness spreading through his chest as wishful anticipation starts to set in, Delta nods his permission.

“Alright…” Augustus whispers to himself.

It takes a moment, but Augustus’s hand slowly starts to move, starts to complete its journey, until finally, at last, he places his fingers tenderly upon Delta’s cheek.

And Delta doesn’t feel them.

No - there’s…Well, there’s a tiny sensation there, just barely, but too strong a numbness to let him feel textures. He can feel that Augustus is touching him, make out the vague shape of his hand, but he can’t feel his partner’s skin, can’t tell if it’s rough or soft. The smell of chocolate cake and cigarettes and sweat is stronger, with Augustus’s hand being so close, but that isn’t what he’d been hoping for when it came to Augustus finally touching him, skin to skin.

There’s nothing there, not even when Augustus flips his hand to press the backs of his fingers against Delta’s cheek, prodding experimentally, before turning his hand over again.

Augustus’s eyebrows lift a little, his lips forming an ‘o’ shape, but whatever he’s getting out of touching Delta’s skin, Delta has no idea of; Augustus is the only one physically feeling anything in this situation.

There’s just nothing there.

He can only sigh, shaky and miserable.

Of course, Rapture wouldn’t be kind enough to let him have this. He should’ve known. Too kind a gesture for a lady like Rapture.

A tiny wisp of a gasp escaping him, Augustus’s brow furrows more, obviously misunderstanding, and he lifts his hand from Delta’s cheek, intending on taking it back entirely until Delta looks at him; Delta doesn’t know how expressive his eyes are, but somehow Augustus understands, and the hand slowly returns to Delta’s cheek. Since Delta doesn’t move away or indicate any hurt, he keeps it there.

Carefully, Augustus’s fingers stroke over the skin of his cheek, gaze at first watching his own hand before endlessly dragging over the rest of Delta’s appearance, like he still can’t believe what he’s seeing. What’s worse is that there’s still that sadness in his eyes, that crease in his brow that tells Delta that for all of Augustus’s attempts to act like nothing’s as bad as it might seem, it’s still far from good.

It stings, seeing Augustus looking like that. He isn’t running for the hills, but he’s not inspiring much confidence either.

Augustus meets his eyes, as if remembering that this hulk he’s touching up is alive and sentient. He stares, there comes a twitch in his brow - Delta can see the anxiety in his eyes - and then Augustus swallows thickly and licks his lips to wet them.

His mouth opens, closes, then he says shakily, “It…It doesn’t…doesn’t hurt, does it…?”

Does what hurt? He has no idea what Augustus is talking about.

Still, Augustus wants an answer and Delta has one to provide: he shakes his head.

Nothing hurts. Nothing is anything.

He can make out the chill in the air and the vague shape of a hand on his cheek, but besides that, the textures and feel of the world are lost to him.

Letting out a shaky breath, Augustus looks thoughtful all over again, taking his gaze from Delta’s as he continues looking him over. It’s less of an exploration now, he’s seen it all; now it’s like he’s just making mental notes. Like he’s trying to figure something out.

If Delta could remember what was done to him, maybe he could help him there.

He tries to: Delta grunts to get Augustus’s proper attention, then lifts a hand to motion in general to his face. Then he slowly slices the air, in a ‘cut it out’ kind of gesture, and shakes his head again.

Augustus’s eyes widen beneath his ever-creasing brow.

“You…You can’t feel…anythin’? Nothin’ at all? Not…Not even that hand I got on you right now…?” Augustus asks, never a more hesitant translation.

Delta slowly shakes his head again.

Nothing. Only cold numbness.

Augustus can’t look more devastated, and it’s like someone’s caught Delta’s heart with a harpoon and tugged it straight down. He suddenly can’t meet Delta’s eyes at all as he practically throws his head down, ducking it and bending his spine, nearly doubling over like he could crumple at any moment. The hand on Delta’s cheek presses down, less about feeling his lover’s skin and more about stabling himself lest he fall.

Delta straightens in surprise, prepared to catch him.

“Oh…God…” Augustus whispers, his shaking hand coming up to clamp down over his mouth as he stares into space, eyes so wide that they look like they could burst from the sockets, his face paling. He looks like he’s going to be sick.

He says something else into his palm, something that Delta thinks might’ve been, “What have I done…?”

He must’ve misheard.

The reaction confuses Delta a little. Yes, it is tragic, this monstrous form he’s taken and the woes of having sensation stolen from him, and he knows Augustus cares about him greatly, but Augustus looks like he could collapse or faint, and surely, if there was any time to be doing that, it was when Delta first revealed himself. Regardless, what he does know is that Augustus’s care makes him feel loved, and his sadness is amongst the worse pains Delta’s ever felt in his life, so he gently lays a hand over the one Augustus has got on his cheek, whilst his other hand ducks under Augustus’s arm and delicately touches his chin, being careful in how he lifts it.

Hand falling from his mouth and head turning to face him properly, Augustus looks up at him wide-eyed.

Now that he’s looking at him, Delta hesitates, then transfers the hand he’d taken Augustus’s chin with to his face; it’s large enough that cupping Augustus’s cheek turns into cupping his ear and part of his neck too. Trying to comfort him.

Don’t worry about me, Delta hopes his eyes communicate. I’m okay. Promise.

Fact of the matter is: he doesn’t remember ever feeling, and he can’t miss what he doesn’t remember. Yes, he longs to feel Augustus’s skin against his, his clothes, his hair, his breath, every part of him, any part of him, but…but…

It’s not worth thinking about now. He is what he is.

Augustus stares him in the eyes, mouth opening and closing as he tries to process words to say - there only comes a quiet but serious “Chief, I-I…” before he gives up and falls silent again - and then his gaze moves to look at the hand that’s holding the side of his face, and what he does next lifts Delta’s heart right out from under his tummy, where it’d sunk down to when he saw how devastated Augustus seemed by his lack of feeling.

He does as he’s always done when Delta holds him like that: he places his hand over the back of Delta’s and pushes his face into Delta’s palm, shutting his eyes and relaxing like he’s come home, nuzzling firmly. His other hand comes away from Delta’s face at last, joining its brethren in holding the back of Delta’s palm, like he’s scared Delta will leave him at any moment (never).

And if he’s doing that, then that means nothing’s changed. They’re still…them.

The harpoon is pulled painlessly from his heart. The relief is overwhelming.

New tears are welling up all over again.

After a few moments, Augustus’s eyes open and look back up at Delta’s face, and he slowly smiles. It’s a sad smile, but it’s a smile nonetheless.

“...Honey,” Augustus says quietly, sounding tired, “lemme tell ya another truth when I say…I…I honestly don’t think it’s as bad as you’re thinkin’ it must be…Nowhere near, in fact.”

He doubts that, but if Augustus doesn’t mind it, then he can live with it.

And he must not mind it, because he’s still smiling at him, still holding Delta’s hand to him - and then his gaze flicks downwards, to whatever mouth Delta has. He looks back and forth, between his eyes and his mouth, the smile starts to fall as he appears thoughtful, and then he pulls his head from Delta’s palm, and he starts to lean up.

Delta’s heart leaps in his chest - he can’t remember romances he might’ve had back before the suit, but he knows enough to daydream about how soft Augustus’s lips have always looked, how inviting. To daydream that his own mouth is hopefully normal, so he can kiss him as softly and as passionately as he’s craved. On his mouth, his cheek, his forehead, nose, shoulders, hands, chest, tummy, thighs - he wants to kiss him everywhere, when he’s able.

His mind races: oh, gosh, his hands, what should he do with them? He always imagined having to lift Augustus up for their first kiss, but, oh, now they’re nearly face-to-face, so lifting isn’t necessary. Should he hold Augustus’s waist? Is that too much? Should he not move them from where they’re now hovering by his lap, where they’d fallen when Augustus had let them go? He might seem uncaring that way, and he’s never cared more in his life. Would it be intimating to hold both sides of Augustus’s face in his hands, big and encompassing as they are? It’s one thing to hold just one side of Augustus’s face, but being walled off in his giant mitts entirely?

He doesn’t have time to make a choice: there’s a hint of touch on the front of his face, against whatever semblance of a nose he has, as Augustus’s nose reaches him, how close they are now, Augustus’s eyes half-lidded and his hands pressed upon Delta’s chest, the spicy smell of Augustus’s fragrance filling his senses, and Delta can’t close his own eyes - if he shuts them, he might open them again to find he was wrapped up in a daydream - and so he watches as Augustus leans in -

- and at the last second, like it’s an afterthought, turns his head, swerves, and kisses the spot between Delta’s mouth and cheek instead.

Delta flinches at the touch, surprised, heart aching at the fact that he can’t feel Augustus’s lips, just a pressure against his face as Augustus purposely kisses him hard, purposely presses against him, so he can at least feel that he’s there, that it’s happening.

The pull of Augustus’s lips from his skin is audible, if even softly.

Still standing on the balls of his feet to reach Delta’s face properly, Augustus pulls back just slightly, still so close that with just one little lean, Delta could press his forehead to Augustus’s. And Augustus is smiling at him, tenderly and lovingly.

Somehow. Somehow, he’s managed it: to look at whatever face Subject Delta has been left with - with love.

Delta can only stare; there’s a small amount of pain in Augustus’s gaze, in the creases of his eyes, in the furrow of his brow, but Augustus looks no less lovely and no less perfect and divine than he always does.

Even without their first kiss, Augustus has never made him so happy.

“Sorry for the quick deception, sweetheart,” Augustus says quietly, with only a hint of the usual charm but with all of the usual love, “but it jus’ occurred to me there that…we should be savin’ that kind of gesture for when we can both feel it happenin’. Ain’t fair if I’m the only one who gets to live that kind of bliss. Besides - I dunno what kinda yarn the rumour mill mighta spun of me, but, ah,” the side of his lips pick up, just a little, cheering himself up, just a little, as he cups a hand close to his mouth to whisper the secret: “I don’t kiss on the first date.”

He winks as he drops his hand, returning it to the spot over Delta’s heart.

Delta’s so elated and the line is so typical of his Augustus that Delta laughs, another noise that has less of an echo without his helmet, and his overjoyed tears spill as he shuts his eyes in his laughter - maybe laughing too hard at that one line, but he can’t help it, not when he’s currently walking on air, not when he’s been presented with perfection.

The tears aren’t wiped away this time.

Delta opens his eyes and sees Augustus grinning at the infectiousness of Delta’s laughter, his gaze soft. The sheer relief could make Delta collapse; in lieu of that, he leans his head down so he can press his forehead to Augustus’s, whose only reaction is to smile instead of grin.

(It didn’t occur to Delta before, but…is he smiling too? With the numbness of his face, can he smile? Is he obliviously doing it now? He hopes he is. He feels like smiling.)

Delta nods slowly and, not the first time, certainly not for the last, thinks I love you.

#My writing #BioShock #BioShock 2 #Subject Delta #Augustus Sinclair #Deltaclair #Topclair

37 notes · View notes