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stevie-petey · 5 months ago

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episode seven: the bite

“Yeah, we ended up trapped in their secret base underneath Hawkins.” Dustin further explains, to which everyone’s eyes widen at. “It was fun. Spent my birthday in mortal danger.” At the same time the kids all wish you a belated birthday, which you salute them for. “Thanks, guys. I’m just happy I wasn’t gravely injured this time.” “And that Steve finally kissed you.” Dustin unhelpfully adds before Steve is covering his mouth to shut him up. His face reddens, embarrassed and nervous. Jonathan is standing too close to him for comfort right now.

Summary: steve and robin are your nightmare blunt rotation, you manage to escape a russian lair: mario cart style, you learn that therapy sessions are fun in public bathrooms, steve places your brother on the russian fbi most wanted list, el probably just killed a bunch of people (deserved), and reunions with jonathan are always special when one of you is gravely injured

Rating: general, cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, mentions of blood, graphic depictions of blood and gore, cursing

Words: 10.1k

Before you swing in: HI IM ALIVE !!! my laptop isnt ,,,, but im trying to ignore that. sincerely apologize for the wait. my laptop shits down randomly every ten minutes and my new one is backordered so ive been fighting demons to write this. i also had a hard time with the bathroom scene with robin. i wanted to get that scene just right. it took a lot of rewriting, but i think im happy with how it ended up <3 pls enjoy this child of mine. she cost me blood, sweat, and tears lmao

“Boop!” Steve’s finger pokes your nose and he lets out a delirious giggle. “I booped you!”

At first it was adorable, endearing even, when he booped your nose. However, he’s done this five times now in the last minute alone. That, and you’ve been trying to give Dustin directions back to the elevator while dodging Steve’s surprisingly aggressive nose boops. All while the threat of armed Russians running after the cart looms over you. “Turn left here–would you stop it?”

“Wanna boop that pretty little nose,” Steve’s glossy eyes struggle to find yours, his motor skills delayed and concerning. His left eye has all but swollen shut and you’re still not sure if his unusual behavior is due to head trauma or something else. “C’mere, angel.”

He tries to boop you again, and before you can dodge the attack, Robin’s hand grabs his finger and she lets out a pathetic scoff. “You’re hogging the boops, dingus!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Yeah huh!”

Steve’s arm reaches over you and he bats at Robin. They start to hit one another, though their movements are slow and weak. They giggle as they fight, and you’re stuck in the middle of it. You try to push them off of you, but the two teens are too busy pinching each other and cackling to pay you any attention. It’s miserable.

Erica, from the passenger seat of the cart, turns and winces at your predicament. “What is wrong with them?”

“I don’t know!” Dustin keeps his eyes in front of him as he drives, though he’s equally as confused and unnerved. Secretly, he’s glad he’s the one driving. Otherwise he’d be in the middle of a Steve and Robin giggle sandwich like you are.

“Whose hand is that?” You twist around. There’s a foreign body part that’s currently resting on your ass. Steve snickers and Robin puffs out her cheeks and giggles, neither one of them confessing. You’re about to start kicking shins when the cart comes to a screeching halt. The force of it throws you and the two teens back with a painful thud. “Christ!”

“You guys alright back there?”

Somehow you wind up with Steve’s elbow in your ribcage and Robin’s head smacking into yours. Hissing in pain, you throw the two off of you and glare at your brother. You seriously fear the day he gets his license. “I want to die.”

Dustin turns back around in his seat and gulps. Steve’s and Robin’s own groans of pain can be heard from behind him. “They’re fine.”

Sneakers squeak against the tile floor and the doors to the back of the cart fly open. You’re greeted with Erica and Dustin, eyes wide as they take in the scene before them. You’re squished underneath the teens. You try shoving them off of you again, but they’re dead weight on you.

“Wanna kiss again, Y/N? I really liked it,” Steve smacks his lips as his head rests against your stomach. “Wanted to do that for so long.”

Your cheeks burn at his words and your stomach flutters. You haven’t forgotten about the kiss earlier. God, you haven’t. It leaves you breathless every time you remember how it felt to have him so close, to smell him and taste him. A part of you wants to ask how long he’s thought about kissing you, but you know that the back of a cart while fleeing from Russians isn’t the most appropriate setting.

Robin squirms next to you, her head also somehow on your stomach, pinning you down. “Can I get a kiss too?”

“If either one of you kisses me right now, my knives will be the last things you see.” The two teens make despaired noises, which you groan at. Meanwhile, Dustin and Erica continue to stand at the end of the cart, unmoving. You clench your teeth. “A little help here?”

Dustin mumbles a sheepish apology and yanks Steve’s arm while Erica yanks at Robin, freeing you. As soon as you’re able to, you jump out of the cart and start clapping your hands to speed everyone along. “We gotta go!”

“We’re trying, Y/N!” Erica groans, struggling to get Robin up from the ground.

You start to help, though you nearly fall when Dustin throws Steve against you. A complaint lingers on your lips, but when you see that your brother is now at the elevator doors with a keycard in his hand, you swallow it down.

Steve, however, is full of complaints. “This sucks.”

You blow hair out of your face and don’t bother responding to him. Instead, you watch anxiously as your brother swipes the key card he must’ve stolen earlier. When the scanner’s light flashes green and opens the elevator door, you exhale with relief. At least something has gone right today.

After practically throwing Steve and Robin into the elevator with Erica’s help, Dustin hits a button and closes the door. As soon as it shuts, the room starts to move. You brace yourself, now familiar with how fast the damn thing can go.

The elevator ascends at a nauseating speed and there’s a crash behind you. Turning around, you find Robin holding a dolly in place as Steve gets on. He holds his hands out and starts to cheer as his friend snickers. They look like goddamn toddlers at daycare.

“Hey, no!” You feel like a parent, yanking at Steve’s arm to get him down from the dangerous position. The elevator is moving too fast to be messing around on. “This isn’t playtime–”

“He looks like he’s surfing, Y/N!” Robin squeals with excitement, rolling the dolly to the left.

Steve’s body twists and he steadies himself with a laugh. “I’m surfing!”

“Stop fucking surfing!”

You fight with the teens. Steve refuses to get down and Robin keeps rolling the dolly away from you. As you yell at them, Dustin and Erica exchange concerned looks. You overhear the girl mention how they seem drunk, and you’re about to tell her that she might be right, when Robin pulls the dolly from underneath Steve and sends him crashing into the ground.

“Wipeout!”

You’re checking Steve for injuries as soon as he lands. Dustin kneels next to you and feels his forehead and winces. “He’s burning up.”

Not liking the sound of that, you check Steve’s pupils. The room’s lighting is dim, but it’s obvious that his brown eyes are almost entirely taken over by the blacks of his pupils. “Holy shit, they’re scarily dilated.”

“Ow. Thought you liked my eyes,” Steve swats at your hands sadly. He whines, trying to get you to let go of him. “Said you liked brown.”

“I do like brown, but I also like when you don’t act like a three year old.” You soothe him before turning to Dustin. “Any idea what it could mean?”

“Maybe he’s drugged?” Erica suggests.

You frown. “Could explain why he keeps trying to–” Steve reaches up and boops Dustin’s nose. He giggles and your brother looks annoyed. Sighing, you finish what you had been trying to say. “Boop people. Why he keeps trying to boop people.”

“Your turn, angel!”

Dustin intercepts Steve’s finger, which you’re grateful for. He gently smacks the teen’s face to get his attention. “Steve, are you drugged?”

“How many times, dad?” His voice drips with sarcasm and he rolls his eyes. “I don’t do drugs. It’s only marijuana.”

“Since when do you smoke?”

“Y/N, focus.” Dustin dodges another incoming boop and swats Steve’s hand away. “This isn’t funny, okay? We need to know what they did to you.”

“C’mon, honey.” Your fingers run through Steve’s hair. Parts of it have dried blood. Something more than a beating happened to him and Robin, you just don’t know what. If they’re really drugged, you have no way of knowing if they’ll be okay, and a part of you is terrified. “Work with us, please. What did they give you?”

“Are you gonna die on us?” Dustin asks, concerned as well.

“I’ll tell you!” Robin shouts from the corner she’s slouched in, eager to please you. She twirls her hair around her finger and gives you an unsettling smile. “We all die, my strange little child friend. It’s just a matter of how… and when.”

Neither you nor Dustin say anything for a few moments. Both of you blink, trying to process what exactly the teen has just said. Afraid to look away from her in case she tries to possess you or something, you slowly nod. “Okay, thank you for sharing, Robin.”

She flashes you a thumbs up and proudly smiles. “Happy to help!”

“They’re gonna be looking for us up there,” your brother redirects the attention back to the fact that you’re all still very much in danger. He starts to interrogate Steve, trying to come up with a plan. “So I need you to tell me where you parked your car.”

“Oh, can we make a pit stop at the food court?” Steve’s eyes glaze over and you know you’ve lost him again.

Robin leans forward and starts playing with your hair. “I would kill for a hot dog on a stick!”

You snap your fingers at the two of them. They’re impossible to level with, you’re not even sure why you’re still trying. “Guys, we need to focus.”

“No! No hot dog on a stick,” Steve suddenly lifts himself up and glares at Robin. “The guy at the counter said that Y/N she has pretty eyes. He’s an asshole.”

“You mean Dave? When the hell did he say that?”

Steve scoffs at you. “Last week. Ruined my whole day.”

“Fine! We’ll get you and Robin something else to eat.” Dustin says, which Robin cheers at, though he ignores her. “But only if you tell me where your car is parked.”

Suddenly Steve’s hazy eyes fill with remorse. “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh? I don’t like uh-oh, can we not uh-oh?” Dustin nudges you with his shoulder to shut you up and let Steve explain. You mumble an apology. “Okay, why the uh-oh?”

“They took the keys.” Steve shoves his hands into his pockets and reveals that there’s nothing in them. “The Russians, they took the keys. Like forever ago.” For some reason this is hilarious to Robin, who starts to laugh hysterically in the corner. He joins her, amused by the whole thing. “That’s a bummer, right?”

You drop your head in your hands as Dustin sighs. With no keys and no way out of the mall, you’re not sure what else you can do. The only other option would be the bus that takes commuters home, but it comes every few hours and you have no idea what time it even is right now.

Which means you’d be left with having to hide a very drugged up Steve and Robin in a giant mall swarming with Russian undercover guards for an unforeseen amount of time.

Not ideal.

“We’re doomed.” You sigh into your hands.

Dustin nods beside you. “Yeah. We’re doomed.”

–

When the five of you finally reach the mall, you guide everyone through the back hallway and fling the doors open. Fresh air hits your face and you take a moment to inhale. It’s only then that you notice that it’s dark outside. The air is warm, crickets chirp faintly from far away. What day is it? How long could you have possibly been down in the lair?

As you have a minor breakdown trying to get your bearings, Steve and Robin walk behind you. Their mouths are wide open as they greet the fresh air with glee. “Oh my God, that tastes so good! Steve, can you taste the air?”

They stick their tongues out and marvel at the world around them. “I taste it!”

You watch them with your arms crossed. If you had any suspicion before that they were drugged, seeing them try to eat the air only confirms it.

“Shit!” Dustin screams out of nowhere and grabs your hand. He tugs at you to start running. You look up and see two Russians men now running straight towards you.

“Come on!” You grab Erica’s hand and shove her in front of you to run alongside your brother. Then you grab Steve and Robin by their shoulders and all but throw them against the mall’s door. “Go!”

“Why are we running?” Steve mopes, tired from all the physical activity he’s been forced to endure these last few minutes.

You don’t bother answering him and instead shove him inside the second Dustin gets the mall’s doors opened. Everyone runs, though you’re not sure if anyone has an actual plan. The guard’s footsteps can be heard behind you, and all you know is that you guys need to hide until you can figure something else out.

“Any chance you guys know any hiding spots?” You shout behind you to the kids, nearly tripping over your feet as you do so.

“No, this mall is one giant public swamp.” Dustin responds, huffing.

Steve stumbles next to you, still obviously drugged up, yet giggling as always. “It feels like we’re running from movie villains!”

Turning a corner, what Steve has said floats through your mind. Running from movie villains… What are the odds the Russians know about American movie theaters? They’re dark and usually crowded with people for night showings. It could be the only safe place to hide.

“Dustin, start heading towards the theater!” Erica and your brother start asking you questions, but you don’t have time to explain. “Just trust me.”

Somehow you all make it to the theater’s doors without being detected. Poking your head through, you make sure there isn’t anyone nearby. When you’re sure it’s safe, you open the door wider and motion for everyone to follow. “Let’s go.”

Dustin guides, dragging Robin behind him while Erica follows. You stay with Steve and start walking once the others have gone ahead.

“Awesome, movie date!” Steve exclaims with a dopey smile. He’s about to say something else when his eyes find something. Completely forgetting that you’re holding his hand, he runs towards a nearby trash can. He pulls out a bag of popcorn that had been on top of the trash pile and quickly starts shoving the food into his mouth.

“If you ever wanna kiss me again, stop eating trash popcorn.” You snatch the bag out of his hands with a disgusted face. “I cannot believe I have to tell you that.”

“But I’m hungry.” Steve pouts, staring down at his now empty hands with despair.

You ignore his pathetic pouting and follow Dustin, who has now flung open the curtains to the theater’s seats. He scopes the area and starts heading right. When he stops at two open seats, he points his finger at Steve and Robin. “You two, sit.”

“But these seats are too close!” Robin complains, and Steve voices his own qualms about the seating arrangements.

However, you have other things to worry about. Shoving the teens into their seats, you wipe away crumbs on the ground with your shoe. “I’ll sit on the floor next to them. No way I’m leaving them alone when they’re high off their asses.”

Dustin looks at you, skeptical. He doesn’t want to leave you alone with them, afraid they’ll somehow get you into trouble. “You sure?”

“Positive. I’ll take care of them.” you squeeze his arm. While you understand his concern, you can’t bring yourself to abandon Steve and Robin again. Not when Steve’s face still bleeds slightly and Robin’s cheek swells with a bruise. They got hurt because of you; the least you can do is stay with them now. “Find other seats, we’ll be fine here. Just… be careful, alright?”

A man behind you shushes you rudely, reminding you where you are. If the kids don’t leave now, they run the risk of drawing more attention. You push your brother back up the aisle of seats, and he seems to understand what you’re doing. “Fine, but whatever you guys do: Don’t. Go. Anywhere.”

“Fine, dad.” Steve glares at the kid, which you sigh at. It’s going to be a long night.

Dustin leaves after you’ve saluted him, and Erica follows. Once they’re gone, you do your best to keep Steve and Robin quiet. As you shush them, you look up and see Dustin standing near the exit. You tilt your head, hoping he sees your questioning, and thankfully he does. He holds his radio up and mimes making a phone call.

He’s calling for help.

You nod at Dustin, indicating that you understand, and he leaves. After you’ve checked to make sure Erica is still in her own seat at the other end of the row, you turn back towards Steve and Robin; they’re enamored with the movie playing. They whisper to themselves, not understanding what’s happening, but at least they’re quiet and out of danger. Slowly, you start to relax.

All you have to do is stay in this movie theater until Dustin can contact the party for help. Should be simple enough. Except you make the fatal mistake of absentmindedly mentioning that you’re thirsty. “God, I need water right now.”

“Water.” Robin exhales as if it’s a prayer. Her entire face twists into longing and she hits Steve’s shoulder. “Water. Now.”

“On it!” He nods earnestly and suddenly the two of them are scrambling out of their seats. You snap your fingers at them, hiss whispered threats, but they don’t listen. They climb over you as if you’re an inconvenient bug on the ground.

Before you can even stand up, they’re already halfway up the aisle of seats. You barely have time to get up before they’ve left the theater itself. “I’m so over them being drugged.” You huff, running after them. There isn’t time to tell Erica where you’re going, too afraid you’ll lose them if you don’t hurry.

Those fuckers better save you some water.

–

Steve makes you hold the button on the water fountain because he “can’t do it himself”.

“Is my help really necessary?” You complain, arms crossed as you watch Steve messily gulp water down. His neck is bent at an awkward angle and for a brief moment you truly question whether or not you find him attractive. Water drips down his chin and his gulps are obscenely loud.

“Yes,” Steve responds in between slurps. The cold water washes over him and he’s never felt closer to God than in this moment. “That’s amazing.”

Robin stands next to you, patiently waiting her turn. “So like, I wasn’t totally focused in there or anything, but I’m pretty sure that mom was trying to bang her son.”

“In the movie?” You hadn’t been paying much attention in the theater. Your view from the ground was shitty and you were too busy making sure the idiots didn’t somehow kill themselves. However, despite your lack of attention, you doubt that’s what the movie’s premise had been about.

“Wait, the hot chick was Alex P. Keaton’s mom?” Your hip knocks against Steve’s, causing him to choke on the water he’d been drinking. Coughing, he clutches at his chest. “I could’ve died, Y/N!”

“Sorry,” you smile sympathetically at him, feigning pity. He lost the privilege of calling other women hot after getting you locked in a Russian elevator for twelve hours. “My hip slipped.”

“Aren’t you two going to question how the guy was able to go back in time?” Robin is still focused on the whole son being in love with his mom plotline.

Steve inhales even more water. “Then why is it called Back to the Future?”

Robin begins explaining the complexities of the movie, but you tune her out. While you appreciate that she’s trying to make conversation, you’re uneasy about being out in the open like this. There’s no one around, but you can never be too careful. It’s only when she shoves Steve away from the water fountain that you focus again.

“Wait, I was supposed to go after him–” Your protesting falls on deaf ears as Robin steals your turn for water. Reluctantly, you step away. She can hold her own damn water fountain button.

You notice that Steve has wandered off a few feet away. He still stumbles as he walks, though his footsteps aren’t as unsteady as they were earlier. He stops in the middle of the walkway and you join him.

“Wow,” he breathes out, looking up. He’s mesmerized by what he’s seeing. Curious, you look up as well, though you only see the skylights above. It’s night, no natural light flows through the panels. Yet Steve stands transfixed next to you. “The stars.”

“The stars?” You’re not sure what he means. You can’t see the stars from where you stand. Then again, you suppose he could be seeing things, given that he’s heavily drugged up.

“The stars are pretty like you, angel.” Steve says, eyes still on the sky, yet his hand somehow finds yours. He intertwines your fingers together and is able to pull you closer, albeit weakly. “You’ve always been so beautiful… scared me when we were younger.”

Your breath catches and you look at him. He’s looking up, seemingly unaware of the effect his words have on you. An overwhelming warmth fills your chest. You want to say something, tell him you love him and that his beauty last July had terrified you.

But you don’t say anything. Steve is still high, he wouldn’t remember what you’ve said, and you want your confessions to sit within his chest the way his sit in yours. Instead, you find yourself admiring him. You study the length of his neck. The mole that rests just below his jaw and the others that litter his pretty face. His nose, the dip of his chin. The hair tucked behind his ears. His eyes.

Steve Harrington is beautiful. Scars and all.

Then he starts to gag and quickly the moment is ruined.

“Oh, God.” You quickly grab his shoulders and frantically look for the nearest bathroom. In your haste, Robin reacts to Steve’s sudden sickness by gagging as well, and you’re very afraid of what’s about to unfold. “Okay, bathroom time! For the love of God, we need to find a bathroom.”

They’re useless as you twist and turn them around as you search for a bathroom. When you see a nearby sign, you drag them behind you and pray that they make it the next fifteen feet. As soon as you barrel through the bathroom door, Steve and Robin run out from behind you and just barely make it to the toilets before spilling their guts.

You stand near the doorway, cringing. It’s not a pretty sight.

They puke, spit out the excess, and flush the toilet to clear it before the next round of vomiting begins. Then they do it all over again. It goes on like this for a while, and all you can do is linger in the doorway and offer halfhearted comfort from across the room. You’ve never really gotten over your slight fear of vomit, if you’re being honest.

Eventually Steve and Robin seem to throw everything up. When they’ve flushed the last of their sickness down, you hesitantly walk towards them and stand in between the stalls. “We feeling any better?”

“The room stopped spinning for me.” Robin says, her feet propped against the stall’s wall. You have no idea how she’s laying down the bathroom’s ground so casually. “Steve, is it still spinning for you?”

He looks up for a moment, testing what will happen. When he feels perfectly fine, he exhales with relief. “Holy shit. No.”

“You probably flushed the drugs out of your system when you puked.” You observe, leaning against the stall’s divider. “What were you guys on?”

“Allegedly a truth serum.” Robin says from the floor. “Ask me something, test if it’s really all gone.” Then, because she’s trying to get you to laugh, she lowers her voice and impersonates one of the Russians. “Interrogate me.”

Though you smile at her, your stomach twists. Not only were they beaten for information, they were also injected with a goddamn truth serum. Treated like lab rats. And you left them behind, all alone; you’ll never forgive yourself for that.

But they’re here with you now, you remind yourself. They came out the other side. So you’ll do whatever you can to make it up to them and show them that you’re here for them. Even if that means asking bizarre questions to make sure they’re no longer being controlled by truth serums. “When was the last time you peed your pants?”

“Today.”

Steve looks at you to make sure you’ve also just heard Robin’s response. “What?”

You shrug. “I can’t really judge. I peed my bed a few years ago. Watched a scary movie with Dustin and had a nightmare. Wasn’t my proudest moment.”

“What?” Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“See!” Robin lifts her head up from the ground to look at you. “I was also scared. When the Russian doctor pulled out a bone saw, it was only a little bit, but holy shit.”

She starts to laugh and you join her, despite the image of the bone saw you saw burning your mind. You had seen it in the room when you were saving them. It had terrified you. Yet Robin laughs about it now, so you allow yourself to as well.

Steve shakes his head at you both. “Yeah, it’s definitely still in her system.”

“And it’s not in yours, Harrington?”

His eyes shine when he looks at you. He’s coming back to himself, you can feel it. The knowing smirk is back. “Clean as a whistle, Henderson.”

Robin clears her throat, now uncomfortable. “Aright, my turn. I want to ask him a question.” When Steve gives her the okay, she takes a deep breath. She looks at you, a resigned look on her face. Something seems to have struck her, something that terrifies her. Her laughter is gone. “Have you… ever been in love?”

Steve doesn’t expect the question. He looks startled by it and tilts his head up at you. Your eyes meet, and you nod, giving him the permission he doesn’t truly need. You talked about it once, last year. The two of you in your room late one night, whispering confessions about love and the pain it brought. It was never a secret.

“Yep. Nancy Wheeler. First semester, senior year.” Steve mimes a gunshot to his heart, trying to lessen the unease. He will never really feel comfortable talking about that time of his life.

“Oh, my God.” Robin rolls her eyes. “She’s such a priss.”

You walk over to her stall and nudge her leg with your shoe. “Hey, she’s my friend, ya know.” Ignoring how dirty the bathroom floor inevitably is, you sit next to Robin. “She’s not a priss.”

“At least, not really.” Steve adds, nostalgia in his voice.

Robin seems to hear it, too. She sits up, eyes not meeting yours. “Are you still in love with Nancy?”

Without meaning to, you hold your breath. You know Steve no longer loves her, but it’s July and somehow he still isn’t yours. There’s still trust between you, but your body tenses and your heart stutters.

And yet Steve doesn’t hesitate. It’s immediate. He doesn’t even have to think about it. He’s known since April, though his body has known since he offered you his hand the day you almost hit his car with your bike. “No.”

“Why not?” Robin doesn’t know why she’s pushing this. You’re next to her, your thigh presses against hers. She knows that Steve is in love with you. He confessed it to her when she was teasing him about it just a few days ago. She devoted an entire whiteboard to tallying all the times he failed to ask you out.

Steve is yours, and you’re his, but Robin can’t help but pick at scabs and expose old wounds.

There’s a few moments of silence. Steve takes his time responding. He can almost feel your hand ghosting over his, even though you’re separated by a stall. “I think it’s because I found someone who’s a little bit better for me.”

You’re quiet. Robin is as well.

“You know, it’s crazy.” Maybe it’s the truth serum still coursing through Steve’s veins or maybe it’s because he’s almost died a million times tonight. All he knows is that he’s tired of running. You deserve to know how he feels about you. “Ever since Dustin got home, he’s been badgering me about asking this girl out. That I need to ‘find my Suzie’. A girl he met at camp who somehow became his girlfriend, who I’m not even sure is actually real.”

He’s rambling. He knows he is, but you and Robin remain silent and patiently wait for him to keep going. Steve inhales, holds the breath for a few seconds, and exhales. All summer he’s been agonizing over this very moment. He’s spent countless sleepless nights terrified that he’d somehow ruin it. In the end, his own cowardice only hurt you; he still remembers the way your body shook in his arms while he held you as you cried last night. Steve remembers the fear on your face when you realized you couldn’t save him. That the Russians were going to take him away from you.

It was then, seeing the terror in your eyes and hearing the desperation in your voice, that Steve Harrington finally realized you would give all of yourself to him; that is what love is.

To love someone is to know that they deserve your love.

And for some reason you love Steve. You see something in him that deserves your love. He’s no longer terrified that his love isn’t enough for you. He realizes now that it’s enough. His love is enough because it is his.

You deserve love, and Steve is more than happy to give all of his to you.

“The point is,” Steve runs a hand through his hair. He can feel you listening, waiting. “This girl, you know, the one that I love, it’s somebody that I didn’t even talk to in school… and I don’t even know why.”

A small laugh cuts through the barrier between you and Steve. The two of you spent years together in school, and not once did he ever talk to you. There was one time, early sophomore year, when he collided with you in the hallway while running to the bathroom to meet Nancy. He had apologized to you, but he continued running and hadn’t looked back.

It was two years ago, but you had only been kids, then.

Hearing your laugh emboldens Steve. He clears his throat, lifts his head. He wishes you were in the stall with him. “I think… I think I was scared. I had always watched her from afar. I mean, here was this girl who would offer help to anyone who needed it. Didn’t matter who they were, she’d help them. I just, I didn’t understand. I couldn’t understand why someone would go out of their way to help others without expecting anything in return.”

“I mean, there I was, worrying about being prom king while this girl was tutoring kids for free in the school library.” Steve scoffs at himself. He will never forgive himself for wasting all those years with you. He could’ve been your friend sooner had he not been such an asshole. “It’s stupid. I mean, Dustin’s right, it’s all just a bunch of bullshit anyways. Because when I think about it, I should’ve been friends with this girl the whole time.”

You rest your head against the wall, buzzed with warmth. “You should’ve,” you find yourself saying softly. Though you know yourself. Steve came into your life when you needed him the most, at the right time, for the right reasons. The timing had never been right before. “But I’m sure the girl is glad you ended up how you did.”

“Me, too.” Warm honey laces Steve’s voice. He can almost feel your body on his. He can see the lines and strings above him, materializing into something more solid with every word he says. “Still should’ve happened sooner, though. I mean, this girl we’re talking about is incredible. She makes me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever met. She’s witty, she always knows what to say and she’s so goddamn smart. I don’t think she knows this, but she has this way with people…”

His voice trails off. It’s what he loves the most about you. The effect you have on everyone you meet. The impact you make within a person’s life simply by smiling at them. “She has a way of making someone into a better person without even realizing it, just by being a part of their life. She… she made me a better person. Taught me to be softer, more vulnerable.”

Steve hadn’t known gentleness until he met you.

To your left, Robin starts to close in on herself with every word he Steve says. She slouches down, drops her head into her knees almost as if in despair.

“She saw this good in me that no one else had before. For some reason, instead of using it against me like others have, she believed that I could be someone different. That I could change… It didn’t matter how long it would take me, she would wait. And I’m so goddamn lucky to be in love with someone as selfless as her.”

Guilt eats away at Robin. She’s harbored a resentment towards Steve all summer, even though she tried to swallow the feeling down. The love between you and Steve had always been obvious from the first day she met you. She watched the two of you dance around each other every day, basking in the sickly sweet young love you shared with one another.

It’s not that Robin resented your relationship with Steve. No, she was happy for you, truly. The bitter taste in her mouth whenever she watched you gently stroke his cheek with your fingertips was remorse intermingling with resentment because she will never be able to do that. She will never be able to love someone so openly. To have someone hold her hand and call her tender names.

You’re a beautiful girl with a boy who could adore you freely. Robin can only ever watch you from the shadows, scared to be caught.

You notice Robin’s shift in demeanor and press your body closer to hers. You’ve never seen her look so small before, so unsure of herself, and it worries you. “Hey, is everything okay?”

She shakes her head, too afraid that if she talks she’ll start to cry. The kindness that you offer her stings. She doesn’t deserve it. Not when she believes you outshine the sun. Before she can make up some excuse, Steve knocks on the stall. “Robin? Y/N? Did someone just OD over there?”

“No,” Robin’s breath is shaky, which worries you even more. “We’re still alive.”

You try to meet her eye, but she won’t look up at you. You’re not sure what’s happened, but she’s closed herself off from you; you feel like an intruder. Placing an arm on her shoulder, you’re about to offer her some more water when Steve’s body slides into the stall.

He settles himself across from you, shy with his movements. Your heart lurches when you see him, too. He confessed his love for you only moments prior, and you want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and call him yours, but Robin looks pale. She’s scared. You just don’t know why.

“The floor’s disgusting,” she says to Steve, hoping to get the attention off of her.

“Yeah, well, I already got a bunch of blood and puke on my shirt, so…” He looks down, cringes slightly. You remain silent, and Robin’s eyes are still downcast. Seeing this, Steve tries to lighten the mood and asks Robin a teasing question. “So, what do you think?”

“About?”

“This girl,” he turns to you, then. He looks at you with such fondness and knows that both you and Robin know he had been talking about you the entire time. He’s trying to get you to laugh, bring a smile back to your faces.

Robin tries to play along, swallowing down the remaining bitterness. You’re sitting next to her, your hand is still on her arm. “She sounds awesome.”

“She is awesome.” Steve winks at you, hoping it’ll get you to blush the pretty pink he loves so much. When it works, he smiles. “And what about the guy?”

“I think he’s as sweet as honey in July.” You say, giving into Steve’s charm. It’s worked on you ever since the day you crashed into that ditch, even if back then you refused to admit it.

“Yeah? Well, I think he’s on drugs, and that he’s not thinking straight. That he doesn’t realize how lucky he is.” Robin interjects. She doesn’t look at you, her eyes remain on Steve. You raise your eyebrows at what she’s said. You hadn’t expected such a pessimistic response from her.

Off put by her sudden dejection, Steve becomes defensive. He doesn’t understand what Robin is doing. She was the one who kept encouraging Steve to ask you out all summer. “Really? ‘Cause I think he’s thinking a lot more clearly than usual. He knows what luck is.”

“Does he? What if there’s this other girl, one he hasn’t seen yet. I mean, really seen.” Robin swallows. Her fingers twist together nervously. “What if he one day sees her and realizes just how unlucky she is. I don’t think the guy would ever want to be her friend after that.”

“No, that’s not true. No way is that true.” Steve shifts closer to the two of you now, confused as to why Robin is saying all of this. Of course she’s his friend. “I mean, apart from the girl he’s in love with, this other girl is the guy’s only friend.”

“Listen to me, Steve.” Robin still doesn’t look at you, but you listen silently and allow her the space she seems to need. “It’s shocked me to my core, but I like you. I really like you, but I’m not lucky like you are. I think… I think you should use that luck. Go for the girl.”

Steve tilts his head, not quite following. “What does luck have to do with any of it?”

Robin sighs and you sit next to her, quiet. She seems to be trying to figure out what she wants to say, and somehow you think you know what she means by luck. It’s always fascinated you, luck and love. Two sides of the same coin. But it never occurred to you that there could be an undercurrent that cuts through the luck. A double meaning behind it.

“Do you remember what I said about Click’s class? About me being jealous and, like, obsessed?”

“Yeah,”

Robin closes her eyes and sighs. When she opens them, there’s a resolved look in them. “It… It isn’t because I had a crush on you. It’s because she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

At first, you’re confused. You had missed their conversation about Mrs. Click’s class. They must’ve had it when they were being held captive, but the phrasing of what Robin has just said feels heavier than it should. Her words land on you with a force you hadn’t seen coming.

If Robin had for some reason talked about being obsessed with Steve in a class they once shared, but not because she had a crush on him, but because a girl wouldn’t stop staring at him…

“Mrs. Click?”

Even though you’ve done well remaining silent this entire time, you can’t help but snort at Steve’s response. He’s trying, you know he is. Robin must know this too, because she laughs softly at him as well. “No, Steve.” Her smile dims, however. “That would’ve made things easier for me, though.”

Easier. Luckier.

And then it all clicks.

Robin’s insistence on always pleasing you. The subtle touches. The way her eyes would darken sometimes when you looked at Steve. How, only an hour ago, she had asked you for a kiss when she was still under the influence of the truth serum.

You draw your hand towards hers and slowly thread your fingers together. Robin’s head spins, she finally allows herself to look at you. She finds your eyes staring into hers. They’re kind, understanding. You’re looking right through her in this very moment, and Robin Buckley has never been more afraid.

“How long have you known?” You ask her, voice gentle.

Robin’s voice shakes. “Since Tammy Thompson…” She has to look away from you. She can’t do this with you looking at her. “She was in Mrs. Click’s class with me and Steve. I–I wanted her to look at me, but.. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from him and his stupid hair.”

She pauses, tries to compose herself, and you squeeze her hand three times. Once to tell her that you’re there, another to give her the reassurance to go on, and the final time to communicate that you understand. There isn’t a reason to be scared. Somehow, Robin knows what the gesture means. Breathing in, she looks at Steve and continues.

“And I didn’t understand, because you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor and you asked dumb questions and you were a douchebag. And–and you didn’t even like her and I–” Her voice breaks. “I would go home… and just scream into my pillow.”

Steve looks between the two of you. It’s obvious he’s the only one not aware of the underlying layers. “But Tammy Thompson’s a girl.”

“Steve,” Robin breathes out, pleading. She doesn’t want to say it out loud. She can’t say it out loud. He needs to understand what she’s trying to say. Why she’s been giving him hell all summer. Why she feels guilty when she looks at you.

“Yeah?” But he doesn’t understand.

Robin can’t say anything. She looks at him, can feel the tears in her eyes; she’s begging now. Steve’s eyes find yours, silently begging you as well to explain this to him. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong. He doesn’t want to be doing something that could hurt Robin like this.

Your shoes squeak against the tile floors as you draw your knees into your chest. You’re not sure what else you can do. Robin has laid everything out for Steve. Your hand still holds hers and you try to quell the fear within you that maybe he’s being intentionally naive. Maybe he doesn’t want to believe it.

“Oh.”

It’s one word, one exhale of breath from a mouth that once used to say cruel things. Steve’s face softens, his jaw unclenches and his shoulders relax. He surprises you, showing nothing but empathy. He’s kind, he’s always been kind.

“Holy shit,” Steve doesn’t want to mess this up, but he’s never been good with words.

Robin laughs. “Yeah, holy shit.”

He sighs and leans against the stall wall. It’s quiet between the three of you. No one really knows what to say now. Steve is still processing, Robin’s heartbeat still hasn’t quite settled, and you’re trying to figure out how to tell her that you understand more than she may know. She’s braver than you, trusted you with this secret, and it’s only fair that you offer her a part of yourself as well.

Plus, it’s a wonderful ice breaker.

“You have terrible taste in women, Robin.” You nudge her with your shoulder, teasing. “I mean, I’ve heard Tammy Thompson during choir rehearsal. You can totally do better.”

“She wants to be a singer, she has dreams!” Robin defends the girl, the change in conversation bizarre but welcomed.

Steve, sensing that you’re trying to lessen the tension, gratefully plays along. “So what she has dreams? She can’t even carry a tune. But, more importantly, what do you know about taste in women, Y/N?”

“I see things,” you jut your head out, defiant. “Probably would’ve fallen in love with Nancy Wheeler had I known her instead of Jonathan.”

Their reactions are expected.

“You would’ve loved Nancy?” Steve exclaims at the same time as Robin guffaws, “You loved Byers?”

You laugh. It’s a full, whole body laugh. One you haven’t felt in so long. “Yes,” you wheeze out, the look on their faces killing you. Steve looks unnerved while Robin looks disgusted. “At least Jonathan doesn’t sound like a muppet when he sings.”

“Tammy does not!” Robin is laughing alongside you now. It’s been a long time since she’s laughed this hard, too.

Steve rolls his eyes, his own smile overtaking his face. “She sounds like a muppet giving birth, Robin.”

“That’s what she reminds me of!” You snap your fingers and point at him. “You’re right!”

Robin clutches her stomach as she laughs. She leans into your side as you lean into her. Steve starts doing a terrible impersonation of Tammy’s awful singing, which only gets the two of you to laugh even harder. Steve gets you to sing along. He grabs the hand that isn’t holding Robin’s and swings it around as the two of you sing. Robin joins, laughing more than singing. It’s lovely. Absolutely lovely.

And this is how Dustin finds the three of you.

He slams the bathroom door open, Erica right behind him, and stands in front of you.

“Okay,” he glares at you specifically. “What the hell, Y/N?”

You giggle at his disappointed dad stance. “I told you I’d take care of them.”

Dustin isn’t amused, which only makes your giggles turn to laughter again. The other two teens aren’t far behind you, descending into yet another fit of laughter. Hunched together, the three of you giggle breathlessly as your brother and Erica watch in disbelief.

But you ignore their questioning stares.

With both Steve and Robin holding your hands, laughter warming your belly, you feel like a kid again.

–

The bus becomes your only option.

“I managed to contact the party.” Dustin had informed you after your laughter died down.

Relief washed over you. “Thank God–”

“But then my walkie died.”

“Yeah,” you had sighed and dropped your head down in defeat. “Yeah, of course it did. Why wouldn’t it die when we need it?”

Which leads you to now: peering out the bathroom door with Steve breathing down your neck and Dustin in front of you, checking to make sure it’s safe. A crowd of people flood the once empty hallway. The movie must’ve just finished. Everyone is talking excitedly, having no idea that five teenagers are currently hiding in the bathroom from Russians.

You envy them.

“When I say ‘blend’, we go. Okay?” Dustin asks the group, eyes still on the mass of people exiting the theater.

“Because Steve dripping blood definitely will blend in.” You retort. It’ll be hard not to draw attention to yourselves with the way his face still oozes. It’s a long walk down to the bus station and you’re getting worried now. The mall closes in ten minutes, soon there won’t be any crowds to hide behind.

Dustin doesn’t bother justifying your remark. Instead he studies the flow of traffic before giving his signal. “Blend.”

The five of you swiftly exit the bathroom and align your pace with everyone around you. Dustin guides in front with Erica while you stay back with Steve and Robin. Your eyes move constantly, scanning every face you pass. Thankfully, the people close to you seem innocent enough.

Erica looks around, impressed. “Well, shit. That worked.”

“Of course it worked.” Dustin is smug, which makes you wince. He’s always had a bad habit of jinxing things. You really wish he had gotten more of your mom’s humility and less of your dad’s ego. “Now we just have to get on the bus with the rest of these plebes, and home sweet home, here we come.”

You shove your brother. “Can we not taunt our inevitable bad luck?”

“We’re in the clear now, Y/N. Trust me, in just twenty minutes we’ll be back home, where our dear mother awaits with her frantic arms wide open–”

“Uh, Dustin?” Steve eyes him nervously. Already you dread whatever he’s about to say. You guys only lasted thirty seconds without any bad luck. It’s a new record, honestly.

“What?”

“Yeah, we might not wanna go to your house.”

“Why?”

“Well,” Steve winces with regret. He knows he’s about to piss both Hendersons off. “I might’ve told them your full name.”

Dustin turns to look at him, bewildered. “What is wrong with you?”

“Dude, I was drugged.” Steve argues, which. Yeah. That’s fair.

Not liking that he apparently sold your brother out to Russians, yet understanding that Steve hadn’t been the most clear headed when it happened, you grab his hand. There’s more important matters to deal with, like whether or not he sold you out as well. “Did you tell them my full name?”

“No, I kept you safe.” He says, with an air of obviousness that you smirk at.

“Aw, thanks honey.” You kiss his cheek, not caring that Dustin is fuming in front of you.

“Oh, so you can resist for your girlfriend but not for her brother?” Dustin struggles to keep his voice low. He has never wanted to shove Steve down a flight of stairs more. “You were supposed to tough it out. Like a man!”

You flick the kid’s hat. “Hey, he was very manly defending my honor.”

“I hate you both–”

Robin suddenly freezes, her eyes catching on something. “Guys…”

Everyone stops, alarmed by the tone in her voice, before you see them. There, standing right in front of the exit of the mall, are the two Russian men from the alley. They’re stopping people, checking their faces, looking for you.

“Abort.” Dustin says, before one of the men makes direct eye contact with him. His face pales and you already have one hand on his shoulder, pulling at him to run. “Abort!”

Steve grabs Erica’s hand and motions for you and Dustin to run ahead as Robin guides. She pushes through the crowd of people and towards the escalators. However, when you get there, they’re roped off and blocked by plexiglass.

You kick at the glass, frustrated. The Russians are close now. Robin, quick as ever, steps past you and places herself in the middle of the two escalators. You’re confused at first, but then you realize there’s just enough space for your bodies to fit through. Sitting down, Robin is able to use the gap as a makeshift slide.

“Let’s go,” Steve places Erica to slide down next, then Dustin. When it’s your turn, he nods at you. “Ready?”

“I’m so tired of running from these shitheads.” You say before launching yourself down the escalators.

Robin waits for everyone at the bottom. When you’re all there, she waves for you to follow as you run again. None of you have any idea where to even hide now that the mall has emptied. There’s no one to hide behind, no corner to run into. And the goddamn Russians are fast, never trailing more than fifty feet behind you.

Somehow you end up in the food court. It isn’t much, but there’s at least vendor’s stalls and restaurant counters nearby. Panting, you point towards the nearest counter. “There! Everyone jump over!”

No one argues, doing as they’re told. You make it there first and help Erica over while Steve and Robin help Dustin. Kneeling down, you motion for everyone to sit with a finger to your lips. The men have to be nearby, you can practically feel their presence close. Facing your friends, you grip your knives and strain your ears for any sounds.

It’s tense. Dustin pants, he’s scared and overwhelmed and you wish you could offer him better protection. Steve glances at you, silently asking you what the next move is, and you shake your head helplessly. You’re cornered, there’s no way out of this one.

The sound of boots falling against the mall’s ground approaches. It grows louder and louder at a maddeningly slow pace. Your knuckles are white from how tightly they grip around the hilt of your switchblade. With one flick of your wrist, you know you could at least disarm one of the men long enough to cause a distraction. You’d never kill anyone, but you know from experience that a cut to the shoulder is sufficient enough.

You’re pulled away from your thoughts when a car alarm suddenly goes off. Its loud noise echoes within the empty mall. Everyone jumps at the unexpected sound, shuffling closer together. Deciding it’s worth the risk, you poke your head up to see what the hell is going on.

The guards are standing around a red convertible. It shakes, vibrates almost, and they look at one another in confusion. The car continues to shriek its alarm, and while the men stand in fear, you smile. There’s static in the air.

Looking up you see El, with an arm outstretched, on the second floor. Her face is strained, her fingers clench in mid air. The look on her face is terrifying, and you’ve never been happier to see blood drip down from her nose. She twists her arm and sends the car flying into the men. You duck as it crushes them, rolls over the tables and chairs in the center, before spiraling into the counter next to you. “Shit!”

The alarm stops ringing. Everything falls silent. Slowly, you and everyone else stand up to inspect the damage. A tire rim rolls past, the Russians guards are sprawled on the ground, unmoving. There’s smoke from where the car has landed, and you let out a low whistle. “Nice one, El.”

“El?” Dustin turns around, wondering if he’s heard you right.

“She’s up there,” you point to where she had been standing, but when you see Jonathan now standing next to her with Nancy, your heart stops. “Jonathan.”

You’re the first to start running, and when he sees that it’s you, Jonathan wastes no time running either. He’s down the escalator in seconds. Your whole body buzzes as you run, adrenaline and longing coursing through you. The moment he’s close enough, you practically leap into his arms.

“Bug,” he holds onto you tightly. He buries his face in your hair and you breathe him in. It’s a familiar scent, a familiar warmth. You had been so focused on escaping the Russian base that you hadn’t even considered that he and everyone else in the party could’ve been involved. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” you tighten your arms around him, but when he makes a pained noise, you immediately pull away. It’s then that you notice the swelling in his head. The dried blood. Pressing your fingers softly to his face, you fill with concern. “What happened, are you hurt?”

Jonathan tries to shrug it off. He doesn’t care about what he’s been through. All he wants to focus on is that you’re okay, for once not covered in blood and bruises like he is. Wherever you’ve been these last few days, at least he knows you weren’t in any pain. “I’m fine, I’ll tell you everything later–”

“You flung that thing like a Hot Wheel!” Dustin exclaims to El, now joining you and Jonathan as the others gather around.

You don’t leave Jonathan’s side as everyone starts talking at once. Lucas asks why Erica is involved, to which you wince at. “I tried stopping them.”

“It’s their fault.” Erica points at Steve and Robin, clearing your name in the process, which you appreciate her for.

Steve stands next to you now and puts his hands on his hips. He doesn’t even try to deny that he’s the reason a ten year old girl ended up locked inside an underground Russian facility. “Yeah, true. Totally true. It’s absolutely our fault.”

Robin asks what happened to the car and Dustin and Steve explain El to her. They quickly catch her up to speed about the girl’s power, and you feel bad for the teen. It’s a lot of information to take in at once. Erica joins, having remembered her conversation with Dustin from earlier in the vents when he had explained the Upside Down to her.

Meanwhile, Nancy is focused on Robin. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“That’s Robin. She’s a friend.” You step between them. When Nancy sees that it’s you, she quickly looks away. She fidgets with her fingers, overwhelmed with shame and regret. She hasn’t forgotten the cruelty she showed you a few days ago. You haven’t forgotten either, but you’ve never been one to hold anger towards others. Extending a kind smile, you nod at her. “Hey, Nance.”

Nancy looks up, surprised, but smiles at you as well and it’s enough. Maybe one day you’ll sort through the tension that never seems to leave you and the girl alone. Untangle the lines and threads that haunt both of you. For now, there are other things to worry about.

Steve has started explaining the Russians now, and quickly it becomes clear that you’ve all been dealing with vastly different situations.

“Russians, what Russians?” Jonathan asks you with alarm.

“See those guys laying over there?” Everyone looks at where you’re pointing, the men still knocked out on the ground. “Russians. We enjoyed twenty-four wonderful hours with them.”

“Yeah, we ended up trapped in their secret base underneath Hawkins.” Dustin further explains, to which everyone’s eyes widen at.

“It was fun. Spent my birthday in mortal danger.” At the same time the kids all wish you a belated birthday, which you salute them for. “Thanks, guys. I’m just happy I wasn’t gravely injured this time.”

“And that Steve finally kissed you.” Dustin unhelpfully adds before Steve is covering his mouth to shut him up. His face reddens, embarrassed and nervous. Jonathan is standing too close to him for comfort right now.

Nancy looks uncomfortable with this new information, Mike makes a disgusted sound, Max high fives you, Lucas cheers, Will gasps and looks nervously towards his brother, and Jonathan chokes on his own spit. It’s truly a very wide array of reactions, all of which are expected to certain extents.

That doesn’t stop you from hitting the back of Dustin’s head, though. “Can we focus on the Russians infiltrating Hawkins?” Dustin hits your shoulder in retaliation, but he knows you’re right. He turns to Mike, upset that he hadn’t come sooner. “Didn’t you get our code red?”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t understand half of what you were saying.”

The kids all start to argue and Steve joins in, making a remark about how he’s always bugging Dustin to watch for a low battery. More arguing follows. Lucas and the others demand to hear more about the Russians. As you try your best to explain everything, you notice from the corner of your eye El walking away from the group.

Her shoulders are drawn into her body, her breathing seems to be labored. You nudge Jonathan, pulling his attention away from the kids arguing, and point towards El. “What happened to her tonight?”

Jonathan is about to explain what they’ve been dealing with, but when El collapses onto the ground, you leave his side in a heartbeat to join her. Kneeling beside her, you’re cold with panic. She’s covered in sweat, her face is flushed. “El? Sweetheart, what’s happening?”

Mike and Jonathan are beside you now. Mike is in his own fit of panic, nearly ramming into you in his hurry to get to the girl. He turns her over onto her back, his face twisted with worry and fear. “El! What’s wrong?”

The rest of the group stands around El now, staring down at her. She manages to open her eyes, but you can tell that it pains her to do so. “My leg.” She rasps out, voice thick with tears.

“Her leg, okay.” Jonathan takes action, swiftly unraveling a bandage on her leg. You hadn’t noticed it before. There’s a deep wound underneath the gauze, its blood has soaked through it. Nancy helps Jonathan with the bandage, and when they finally get it off, you almost throw up at the sight.

The flesh is raised, angry and swollen. There’s a giant gash in El’s leg, deep and to the bone. The veins in her legs are dark and begin to constrict when something starts to move inside the wound; something is crawling inside her leg. It’s a nauseating sight.

Mike starts to freak out even more. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. He’s scared for the girl, his eyes fill with panic. Instinctively you pull him into your arms, tightening your hold as he fights against it.

That’s when El begins to scream.

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mrsnancywheeler · 11 months ago

Text

the lakes (6) // finnick odair x f. reader

merry christmas to all who celebrate, my gift to you 🎄

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

midnight rain

5k words

warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT MDNI (y'all better eat it up while it's here bc this might be one of like twice or three times so merry christmas lmao), orgasm denial, teasing, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slightly mean finnick but also softdom, mentions and allusions to trafficking and sexual trauma, self-hate, manipulation of someone's feelings, allusions to death/violence, pnv, usage of weapons, terms of endearment, no use of y/n, unedited, cumming inside, mental health issues, self doubt, hypocritical reader, savior complex finnick

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Cold air hit your skin as the doors to the training center opened, instantly you could feel the onslaught of goosebumps on your arms. “Remember brush up on skills, knives, spears and number one objective-”

"Katniss.” You finished for him. "You go get your hands back on that trident, and hopefully my instincts will remember what it takes to throw a knife or a spear.”

"If not, work on some survival skills, but I think the instincts will kick in.” You tilted your head to the side, uncertain but humoring the idea. He kissed you softly, “See you soon."

"I'm only going to be a few hundred feet away, Finnick.” You smiled and he did too.

“Well that's a few hundred feet too far.”

"Good thing you can come find me anytime you want.” Squeezing his hand as you reluctantly took a few steps back.

“You don't want to come and admire me back in my element?" He joked, his grin bearing his shining teeth.

“In your dreams, Odair."

“Absolutely!" Finnick's eyebrows quirked up before you finally pulled yourself out of his magnetic field to focus on the more viral thing, survival.

It had been so long since you'd thrown a knife with purpose, over half a decade which had been what you felt most confident in. Of course there had been a couple times, admittedly more than a couple, when your nerves spiked up and a moment where you were simply making dinner, chopping something up, to being spooked by a noise that led to a knife wedged in a wall or cupboard. So Finnick cooked and cut, he wasn't as easily startled or on edge.

This year they had clearly made more of an investment into the training, a little pad verifying it was you when you stood on the elevated block. You took a second before lifting the tiny weapons from where they lay, the weight was instantly familiar in a way that made your chest heave. It felt like you were that same young girl again, trying to see what could help her survive, help her overcome others. Finnick has been right, how to throw a knife, how to throw it to kill, all came back like child's play.

The instant the first hologram appeared it was like your brain went on autopilot, they weren't real but your brain was screaming, survive, survive, survive. Each knife flew from your hand with lethal aim, your arms instinctively knew what to do, how to throw precisely as fast as possible. So you trusted your body when suddenly the simulation was over, you felt your head coming back to reality. It was terrifying, you'd felt like you were in a dizzy high and suddenly you were that same young girl terrified in the arena. Full of guilt and regret for the lives you'd taken.

“I thought your weapon of choice was a spear." A voice cut through your thoughts, bringing your thoughts back to the person you were now. Peeta, ever outgoing and charismatic just as he'd been depicted, with an untrusting looking Katniss not far behind.

“No, that's what was convenient at the end, but the spear was never mine, it was-"

“Conway’s." Katniss finished the name you hated saying, hated remembering for you. “You killed in the Bloodbath with knives and then the girl from District 2." She must have been rewatching everyone's games, learning their tactics.

“Ironic, weren't they the District 2 girl from last year's weapon of choice as well?" You asked, stepping off the platform.

“Yes." She was tense, stiff it radiated off of her, stagnating the air.

“When there's such limited options, it's hard to get much differentiation. You certainly helped mix the bag last year.” Not just with her little bow and arrow, you hoped she knew what you were really saying, but couldn't with the people watching from above. She probably didn't, she was like a guard dog who didn't know whether or not one could be warmed up too, but would always assume the worst.

“I'm glad that was entertaining." Her voice was bitter as if she had no idea that everyone here has gone through the exact same trauma and felt the same way.

“It certainly was for them." You glanced upwards, towards the head game maker and his cronies observing you all like lab rats. “Most of us were." The Morphlings certainly had to be the most boring show of all, to those who couldn't realize it was such a smart tactic to stay alive, even if it didn't make great daytime television.

“You should teach us how to throw sometime." Peeta inserted himself back into the conversation. "If you want, we could teach each other things. I could go over camouflage.” He offered with a smile.

“Yeah of course!" You smiled back. “When you blended into the rocks by that stream, it was truthfully unfathomable in talent to be able to do that."

“And Katniss can shoot, I'm sure you've seen, but she never misses." Katniss shot him a glare, "Just following Haymitch's orders.” Peeta shrugged before his eye was caught by Johanna finishing up with her ax training. “I should get a formal introduction." He was walking away when Katniss spoke again.

“Why'd you volunteer for that girl?" She asked, and you turned your head towards her.

“For Annie?" You felt like it was obvious, but Katniss just nodded. “I wasn't going to put her through this again, that wouldn't have been fair of me. I couldn't let any of them, I couldn't have lived with myself if I had, so I might as well die on that hill now." Your candor seemed to make her less stiff. “You know, she was the first tribute I mentored. Years after my games, I did everything I could to help her win, to prepare her, but I couldn't prepare her for what happened after. Seeing her after that it was like I failed." Annie would forever be known as the one who went "a little crazy.” Maybe that was a blessing though, maybe it saved her from a much worse fate. Katniss' eyes finally looked more soft, not off guard, but not blocked off from your words.

“Even though you know this time only one of you can come out?" Her eyes briefly flickered towards Finnick before landing back on you.

“I'm not expecting to be the one who makes it out and she wouldn't have either. It's worth it to save her, he'll be fine without me." The words were too raw, too much like being stripped naked, but you knew you needed her to trust you and being honest would probably be the most effective route. Of course she couldn't completely trust you if she'd watched your games, you didn't blame her for that, but you just needed a little of it. “It's not different from what you did for your sister, sometimes you just know when that person needs to be protected no matter what that means for you."

Katniss began walking over to where the spears were located, “Like Peeta said, if you show me how to use the spear and the knives, I can show you how to shoot the bow and what plants and berries you can trust." This was her way of some form of acceptance you realized and internally congratulated yourself.

“Sounds like a deal to me." You picked one of the heavy spears up, it was also just as you remembered. It brought back flashes of the boy who taught you how to use it, the boy you'd killed with it. You could tell what she was thinking as you held it, how you used Conway, used his emotions and then his own weapon. “You know, the funny thing is people act like he didn't know, but that’s really what made it so brilliant.” Katniss looked confused as you stepped into the platform, which confirmed it was you. "Looking back you realize how early on he had me figured out and was playing me right back, I really think that's what endeared us to each other in the first place. He was trying to beat me at my own game almost from the beginning and I didn't even realize.” You launched the spear into the first hologram before quickly grabbing the other as Katniss watched on, absorbing the seemingly impromptu rant. “I can't blame him, I don't blame him even if I'm the one who gets it all placed on my head, which I probably deserve." Another spear knocking the hologram figure apart. The final one ready to fly. “You just have to remember who the real enemy is."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"You two already have an advantage being from District 4, plenty of opportunities to practice with what you would be good at using in lessons. So stick with whatever you were good at then to impress, but don't forget to learn other skills that could be life saving in the long run.” Finnick was breaking down the plan for the two of you as the walk for the first training session with the other tributes was about to ensue. Although it went unspoken you'd also been blessed with extra practice even from back when you were dating Finnick in the district, he was so anxious that he needed to ensure you knew how to protect yourself. That you polished your skills, which he was sure you could do.

"Show off your strengths, but don't forget you're not just impressing the gamemakers, but the approval of other tributes can be vital. Alliances are important.” Ondine added.

Finnick nodded in agreement, “Another advantage from District 4, is the availability of the Career pack of tributes. All of the best trained and prepared tributes, especially if you show off enough to impress Districts 1 & 2 you're both a shoe-in. I'd encourage that as the strongest choice."

“I don't think we should do that." Conway’s voice of disagreement made you stop in your tracks. What was wrong with him? What could possibly be going on in his head that possessed him to argue with your mentor, someone who'd won before? Finnick raised an eyebrow, in a look you could only describe as patronizing. “I'm just saying that also means they're the best prepared to stab us in the back when it comes down to it. If we ally with tributes from a less prominent district it could make it easier when it comes down to it, make it less vicious.” He was delusional, it would be vicious no matter what when there were just a few people left.

You looked at Ondine who’s eyes were closed as she shook her head, Finnick's arms were crossed as he looked at the two of you, and Conway looked expectantly right at you. Then it hit you, this was a test. In order to maintain his trust in the fantasy you'd been carefully creating you'd have to take his side, prove you weren't loyal to every thing Finnick muttered. Even if it was hypocritical it angered you, it felt hellishly unfair that he would put you in a predicament like that. Who cared about the relationship between you and Finnick when he was the mentor offering advice to save both of your lives?

Conway pointed at you, urging you for a response. “I mean, what do you think? I'm just babbling aloud, I'll drop it if you think it's stupid." Maybe you were just paranoid, no, this was definitely a loyalty test. To him your love would mean support, it would mean unwavering devotion. So you painfully forced a caring, understanding look in your eyes, for your muscles to relax, and a loving smile on your face.

“Of course we should keep our options open, I mean we're not even there yet, the Careers this year might not even be the best options. You're right, Conway, we should consider every path to help us." Of course the Careers would be prepared, he was going to get you killed if he kept pulling this. Reasoning that at least your actions were well calculated not blindly emotional scrutinization. It made you slightly resent him, but the answer seemed to satisfy him as he grinned at the other two before beginning to walk again.

The slight spring in his step was obvious to anyone paying close enough attention, it upset you. When you hoped Conway wasn't watching, you shot a look towards Finnick. It was quick, but you grimaced and hoped your eyes could express your annoyance. Although the bob of his head was equally quick you could see he understood and was feeling just as enraged as you felt if not more. How could Conway claim to care about you when he could threaten a potentially life saving alliance to try and prove a point about how much you felt for him over Finnick? Although Finnick still wore a charming smile you could feel him seething and it comforted you somehow to know that he would never, that he would always pick safety, your safety and that he wouldn't stand for Conway’s games either. Even if rationally it did make sense, you were messing with him which both you and Finnick knew, but there wasn't time to think on that when it was life and death.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“You're brilliant, even if it pains me to admit that you beat me to it." Finnick shook his head, smiling wildly. Haymitch had informed you that so far Katniss would have liked you as an ally if it weren't for the package deal that included Finnick. A feat considering all the tributes that wanted to ally with her after her impressive show in the archery station. It had truly been amazing, how smoothly she used the weapon, and how accurate she was.

“Well, you're welcome." You pecked him on the lips, smiling. Sitting down on the bed and smoothing out your robe, Finnick soon followed.

“I love you so much." He mumbled as he crashed down onto the mattress.

“I love you too, Finnick." Your head lay down by his, quietly counting the freckles scattered across his face.

“Staring is rude." His eyes shone with his internal brightness that he couldn't hide from you.

“Isn't that a perk I should get being your wife and all?" He scooted closer, nose brushing against yours.

“I suppose. Don't know why you'd need to, there's no need to memorize when you're stuck with me forever now."

“Good." There was nothing you wanted more than to see his handsome face every day, from when you woke to when you slept and every moment in between.

His hot hands embraced your cold face, making you shiver and he smirked. It was so patronizing, how he knew that his skin to yours was like fire on ice so you had no choice but to melt, but you couldn't stop yourself from softening anyways. Before you could even try and conjure up words to try and call him out, his lips were on yours.

He wasn't aggressive, never, but his gentleness didn't take away from his control. Your lips chased him and suddenly you were beneath him, swept up in his plush lips. Hands searched for him before he pulled his face away. You couldn't stop yourself before you whined at the removal of his lips from yours, pouting at him.

He scoffed, looking down at you slightly condescending, “Really, angel?" You could feel your face heating up as his eyes gazed at you, his hand delicately tracing the hem of your robe. “We don't have to do this, if you don't want to, sweet girl. You have to communicate with me, I don't want to push you, if you even don't feel comfortable you need to tell me." It felt like too much in the moment when it seemed so blatantly obvious that you wanted him, craved him. But it also made you love him so much more.

For so long it had been difficult to even be touched. The Capitol had come in and dug their talons into you, your own intimacy didn't even belong to you. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. You'd tried to push it down, he'd dealt with it for so much longer, since he was so much younger. Pushing it down didn't stop the roots of trauma from taking root deep within your soul though.

You felt guilty for not being able to give yourself in so many ways to Finnick who was unbelievably patient, of course he was, he understood, he cared. When you'd finally grazed your hand against his and let him grab it, the pureness of the touch was enough to make you burst into tears. That made it more difficult too though, your tears. A tactic that had once seemed wise in winning over the Capitol as a sweet, innocent girl had come back to bite you. Echoes of how pretty you were when you cried.

When you'd finally given that part of yourself to Finnick, of your own accord, the will that has usually been taken from you. He'd made sure you wouldn't regret it, he brought back the positives of intimacy which you'd forgotten about. You were so used to calling upon the tears as you zoned out, floated away. But not with Finnick, never with him. Where you both belonged to each other and were truly connected as one.

“Are you comfortable?" You asked softly. It felt selfish that he was so worried about you with what he'd been through as well, like it was too much about you.

Finnick sighed, “Don't do that." You looked at him quizzically, “Averting the question, you shouldn't be doing it to please me, I'll be okay. I wouldn't have gotten this far if I wasn't.” His hand stroked the side of your face which chased each movement. "Are you certain you want this? I'm not going to be upset if you say no, angel.” The way he loved you so deeply to be going step by step wasn't even grating anymore it just made your heart buzz even more.

"I do want this Finnick, I know what to say if it is too much.” The thumb grazing your neck was enough to make your eyes roll back, your entire body sensitive with the waiting.

Finnick nodded, slowly. Making sure you weren't just trying to appease him, "Color?”

You sighed dramatically, "Green.” He tugged your hair lightly, "Ow!”

"So impatient, trying to take good care of my girl and she's too desperate to appreciate it.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

You pouted, “I'm sorry, Finnick. I'm just-" You gasped as his hand slipped in your rope, warm hand grazing the cold, hardness of your nipple. Legs rubbing together, his other hand, instantly sitting between them to hold them still.

“Speak up, angel. Just what?" That's what you appreciated so much, he was dominant, took care of you without the casual cruelty others often used. Of course he could be cruel in the best way, a type that still cared and knew what the line was and respected it.

“Need you, please. So, so bad." Your hands grabbed his shoulders, then the sides of his neck desperately trying to feel more of his warmth.

He hummed condescendingly, “You do?" His hand left your breast to the toe of the robe which he slowly unknotted. You nodded, brows furrowed as you tried to buck your hips. The hand prevented your legs from getting closer together, hitting your inner thigh but not in a forceful manner. “Come on sweet girl, can't you behave for me, won't you be my good girl?" His ocean eyes had you nodding along mindlessly. “Words."

“Yes, please, I just, please I need more."

“So needy." The knot on your robe untied, falling open to reveal you to the crisp air. His hand trailing down to where you needed him most, the feeling already sending shocks through your body. You wanted desperately to buck your hips up once again but resisted. He chucked, “Is this all for me? I haven't even really touched you yet." You nodded desperately, the teasing made you want to cry in desperation. Which was fine, but thinking about it scared you, the way they'd taken away two things that were so natural, so personal would distract you.

“Finnick." You said shakily and the time instantly made his face get serious.

“Are you okay? Do we need to stop?" You shook your head vigorously.

"No, just-” Your fingers fiddled with the blanket, embarrassed, "Can you just take some deep breaths with me?”

"Of course, my love.” He grabbed the hand nervously moving around the blankets to hold it to his heart. “You're okay, in and out with me, angel." You closed your eyes, breathing with him, his heart reverberating through you. “Let me know when you want to keep going or stop." He whispered.

“Finnick, I just want to cry, not in a bad way just it's been so, so ruined for me." Weaponized, sexualized.

He nodded, “You can cry if you want, I'll wipe them away from you." The idea made you want to cry at his sweetness alone.

“Okay." Your voice was shaky, “We can keep going, please." His fingers began moving again, right over your core. Palm slightly running against you and it took all of you to not rub with him. Fingers delicately circling your sensitive nub and you moaned out. The first tears falling which he diligently wiped away with his time and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Is that good?" You nodded blissfully and he swatted at your bareness causing a yelp.

“Yes, thank you Finnick, so good."

“Good girl, such a fast learner." You whimpered, toes curling. “What do you need?"

“In me, please."

“What, my fingers?" He held one hand up, moving them in front of your face. The man was mocking you, he knew what you meant and he kept rubbing your clit, making it nearly impossible to keep verbalizing.

“No!" You stammered out desperately. He smirked and removed his fingers from your bundle of nerves, causing you to hit his arm in frustration before he was grinding his clothed member on you and your hands wrapped around his shoulder tightly. You nodded intently, “Yes please. Want you to be inside of me, want to be one Finnick, yours." It hit you that this was the consummation of your marriage which made your heart swell as well as your need.

“Can't deny you anything, sweet girl." He was such a liar, but right now he followed through. Your hands began pulling down the pants he wore, desperate to free him so he could be buried in your walls. He groaned as your hand grazed his tip, precum dotting it. You licked your lips and he smirked cockily, “Another time, angel."

"How do you want me?” You asked, you'd take him anyway he wanted just to be clenched around him.

"Just the way you are is perfect, wanna see you, beautiful.” He lined himself up with your soaked entrance, "Are you sure, you're ready? Don't need more preparation.” You shook your head vigorously, pushing yourself forward to feel the tip and he grunted.

“Don't need it, so wet, I can take you, promise."

"Only if you're sure.” You nodded again, pouting.

"Please!” You whined and with that he didn't hold back, pushing his full length in and you nearly screamed. Clenching your walls around him, fingernails digging into him.

“That feel good?"

“So, so, so good." You began sliding your hand down, but he caught it tutting in disapproval.

"I've got you, angel, just lay there like a good girl. Let me take care of you too, you're making me feel so good.” His expert fingers went straight back to your clit as he began pounding in and out of you.

“Oh God, Finnick!" Your eyebrows pulled together and eyes snapped shut as he filled you. It was like you were a perfect fit for each other.

“So perfect angel, just looking at you made me think I wasn't even gonna make it into you." Finnick groaned, he knew exactly what you liked, what pace to go. You'd been so used to faking it or them not caring at all, but with him he could get you there so fast, so hard, and could do it over and over so perfectly. His fingers rubbing into your bundle of nerves that had you biting into your bottom lip to stop you from waking the whole floor. Both actions made you want to scream in ecstacy. “Are you close already, angel? Do I really make you feel like that, so fast?” You nodded, dumbly making mindless noises as his hips thrusted in and out. “Me too. I don't know how you do it to me. Where do you want me, stomach, mouth, inside?" His groaning was making his own speech shaky.

“Inside please, need to feel it, Finnick."

“You sure?" He asked, biting down on his bottom lip as your moans from his skilled fingers working their magic as he kept moving inside of you made him even closer.

“Yes, yes, yes, need to be one, just you and me. Need it inside." He pinched the bundle of nerves lightly as he hit the spot inside of you that had you kicking your feet on sheets. “I'm gonna, oh I'm gonna-"

“I know, just wait a little bit longer, angel, I'm almost there. So close, be my good, good girl." You whined, nodding.

“Wanna be so good for you."

He nodded, the words bringing him even closer to the edge as he roughly thrusted into you. “You are, so good, just gotta hold back a little longer." You were sobbing, lost in the high as he wiped away the tears streaming down.

“Feels so good, Finnick, I can't please let me, need to."

“Wait." He said sternly, at this point he felt like he was denying himself too just to watch you squirm and listen to his every word. Grabbing your face softly so your eyes were trained on him, hand still rubbing fast circles on your clit. “Been such a good girl, don't ruin it." His hips started stuttering inside of you.

You shook your head, “I won't, I'm sorry. Wanna be good." He let go of your face with his free hand and pinched your nipple. “Finnick, please, I can't. Please don't be mean, I need you.”

"Making me feel so good, my love. Clenching around me, trying to hold back, you're such a good listener." He pinched your clit again, he was being mean, he couldn't deny it but the way you cried out and started trying to push away from him was bringing him straight to the edge. “Color?"

“Green." You choked out, “Please, Finnick, I can't." Your hands pushed against his chest.

"Then you know what to say, angel." He raised an eyebrow, “So you can." It would feel so much better, be so much harder for both of you the longer he kept this up. His lips attached to your breast and you tugged his hair, he moaned onto you and the vibrations had you desperately trying to fend off the orgasm approaching.

“Please, I need to. I know you are too." He thrust into that special spot in you again and your hands hit the sheets in frustration as your eyes fluttered.

“Be patient, don't be a brat." He pulled away from your breast to look at you. He pressed down on your clit and thrust into you again, “Oh god, gonna let go inside of you now, angel. Be all over your walls, gonna feel so good. Been such a good girl, you ready to let go of me."

“Yes, please!"

“You can let go, sweet girl." His lips pressed to yours to quiet both of you moans as you finally both let yourself go. You could've sworn the way his split inside you made your shaking even harder. It was so good, so worth it.

You were nearly breathless when you pulled away, “That was new."

“Are you okay?" He asked, eyes full of concern.

“Yeah, of course. I just, you're always incredible, I'm great.” You laughed breathlessly.

"Oh, good.” He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

“Thank you."

“You don't have to thank me, angel."

“Yes I do, they've taken so much of both of us and you just bring so much of it back to just being so real, so it doesn't feel like they own it anymore."

“That's just being a decent human, I just want to take care of you. Through all the ups and downs." He was so kind, it made you ecstatic that for as long as either of you were alive you'd always be one with each other, bonded through everything you loved. “Come on, we have another long day tomorrow, let's get cleaned up."

“What if we just didn't go, just laid here together, until it passed."

“I'd love to." His eyes were earnest and like pools you could drown in, “Nothing I want more than being with you forever. But they'd drag us out and we have things to do, my love.” He helped lift you up from where you lay comfortably. Your nose scrunched up." What?”

You pulled apart your thighs, "So sticky.”

He laughed before he could stop himself, "Well I'm not the one who asked for it.” That smug, loveable ass.

"Shut up, you loved it.” Softly shoving his arms as you went to stand.

He raised his arms in defense, "Guilty as charged."

He was so perfect, the way he was so effortlessly funny, so compassionate for all your needs even if you didn't verbalize them, how patient he was yet so stern and guiding. Much too good for what you could give him, you'd go to hell and back to do half as much as he did for you. Of course he always assured you of all you did to help him, but it felt so miniscule compared to what he did for you. The things you would sacrifice to help him, to be by his side were unmatched.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so much for reading!! I haven't written smut in so long and this really isn't a smut heavy series but I felt like exploring how what snow did to the victors who were deemed to be desirable would effect their intimacy and sometimes a little spice is needed to deal with all the angst I write. if you enjoyed it feedback is always appreciated, likes, comments, reblogs, anything and my ask box is already open if you have any questions or ideas! thank you all so much for reading 💋

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peggyao3 · 2 months ago

Text

Relic - Pt. 10 "Fettered Flesh"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧

A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism❗, Murder, Female rage, Teaching the Universe about Feminism, Angst with a Happy Ending

WORD COUNT: 5k

A/N: HELLO PRECIOUS PEOPLE 💕 Shit hits the Giedi Prime fan, so get out your umbrellas!! I feel like with every chapter I'm getting more excited 🥹 And everyone who has left a comment is to blame 😭 I appreciate it so greatly 😭 I've recently started an internship thingy (in a manner of baby's first real job experience lmao), so I have a bit less time to write, but chapter 11 and 12 are finished already, so I do have a bit of food in stock 💪

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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Day 5

Jealousy is a beast, but loneliness is a monster.

Jealousy ignites with fiery tendrils but loneliness drowns you slowly until you're staring up from the bottom of the pitch black sea, yearning for the light.

All day she's been mulling over the three woman-creatures, Feyd's "pets". What is it that infuriates her the most? The physical violence? The fear of what they might have done to her - Death, torture or worse? Their derogatory status? Their beastliness grafted into female bodies, paired with the fact that Feyd has been bedding them at some point?

Without thinking about it, and perhaps it is tactless, she has been pouring her heart out to Lilia while the attentive handmaid is treating her scabbed injuries from last night. Now it is evident that wound management is a well-needed skill around the Harkonnen palace. The sarcophagus is safely folded up and her new weapon is tucked into one of the compartments.

"Am I overreacting?!" She asks, even though - hell no - she knows she isn't, but a part of her soul yearns for human connection, affirmation, camaraderie, friendship. It feels so good to be talking to someone who is not the man she thought she knew or the belittling Bene Gesserit sisters.

"Hmm," Lilia begins tentatively and the glowglobe light brings out the unusual color of her eyes as she tilts her head, so amber that they almost appear golden. "While I'll say it's never been common for the na-Baron to practice monogamy… I'll also say that I'd be quite furious at my husband if he had three women on the side." Her voice quivers upon women, as if it repels her to describe the three beings as such. The spider in the Baron's throne room may be the most harmless monster to roam these halls.

The engineer's questions chip away and it becomes perfectly clear that it's the jealousy that cuts the deepest, even with her superficial wounds cared for, a blade is wedged inside her guts that will keep on cutting.

"And do these 'pets' have handmaids too?" A self-destructive question to determine where her own status truly lies. What's a bride but another pet to him?

"They used to have handmaids…" Lilia hesitates. "But they always ended up eating them. I'm glad to be assigned to you, my Lady."

Great. There she has another horror to add to the menagerie.

Lilia continues: "If it calms you, I doubt there will be any further incidences with them. The na-Baron has been in an, uhm, unstable mood since last night." The maid's posture turns rigid. She shouldn't be speaking about the na-Baron like that, but the Earth woman's emotions are contagious. Lilia will get herself killed if she's not careful. She's been telling that to herself since she was a little girl.

"Unstable, uh-huh, well so am I."

The Harkonnen woman nods and decides it is best not to elaborate on what it means when Feyd-Rautha is having the worst day of his life.

Vladimir Harkonnen chuckles with delight at his nephew's distress and the infantile killing spree that has been painting the halls black since last night.

It took even less time than he expected, for the new woman to be disgusted by his poor nephew and he cannot hold it against her. Feyd-Rautha is a raging child in an unfortunately manly body.

The Baron is well-entertained by the hollow screams that blare down the hallways. First the three harpies. A shame, they had helped keep Feyd settled so nicely and they hadn't been cheap either. It's also a shame that the Bene Tleilax don't offer bulk discount, considering the number of Gholas the Baron saw himself forced to commission for the little game his nephew and he have been playing.

Next on Feyd's blade was the guard at his little witch's door, then anyone who crossed his path in the night, all the while Feyd was chafing with desire to be cut and hurt. But no one outside of the ring is allowed to raise their blades against the Baron's heir apparent, unless instructed by the Harkonnen sovereign himself.

Some fire has returned to his nephew since the woman's arrival and he appreciates that, yes, he does, but he will keep a sharp eye on the two of them. He has no doubt that she's a Bene Gesserit agent who has implanted phantasms in Feyd-Rautha's mind, but Vladimir is willing to play the sisterhood's game, for his nephew's sake, even though he had sworn to never let a witch enter his fortress again.

Not since Lady Margot Fenring had tried to steal his lovely boy's precious seed. Luckily, Feyd's blade had worked quicker than the thief's vocal chords.

But Valdimir is willing to adapt. The boy had been boring him to death for the past two years and he used to be so entertaining and feisty!

In the evening hours after a night and day of bloodshed, Feyd still has stamina (a trait the Baron cherishes so dearly about his nephew) and comes barging into the guarded dining room, bringing with him the cloying scent of blood that sticks to the tacky soles of his boots. He wears the clothes of yesterday and blood lust in his eyes.

Careful now.

Vladimir gives no sign to the guards, chews without haste and takes a noisy gulp of wine, making sure a bead rolls down the folds of his massive neck. The muscle at his nephew's jaw twitches and his fingers strangulate the blood-slick handle of his blade.

The eight arm-legged arachnid creature shivers in its basket under the table, eager to get to Feyd, partly because his boots smell yummy, but it doesn't dare move away from the Baron's feed. Smart thing.

"Don't look at me like that. It's not my fault that she doesn't like you, boy."

Feyd halts as if struck by one of the bolts of infrared lightning that cook the atmosphere during the summer months. Tension strains his neck, a bull ready to charge at his Matador and for a second the Baron thinks he'll have to switch on his shield ring. But his nephew turns and barges off with bouncing, stomping steps, draining his stamina and wetting his knives on everything that breathes, when the only one he really wants to kill sits fat and mighty on his throne.

It's almost cute, Vladimir thinks. The boy could kill him so easily now, if he really put his cunning, little mind to it. He's strong enough, smart enough, but his spirit - that's the crux. Feyd's spirit is broken and riddled with fear of the punishments. The last time he tried was at 17 and then never again.

Ah-h-h, yes, the Baron has conditioned him well and he considers it his retirement plan. Age hasn't left the Harkonnen sovereign unscathed and while his mind may still be sharp (or else how would he have come up with such a genius plan!), his morbidly obese body fully relies on the protection of his shield ring, guards, lung machine and poison snoopers. But as long as the boy still fears him, the deadliest threat within these halls remains on a pretty, silver leash.

The fire of jealousy has dwindled down and now all she does is miss him, sitting lonely in her room, lonely on this planet, lonely in the universe with only inanimate objects and the virtual messages and images of dead people to keep her company. None of this can ever compare to the warm hands of her beloved and his smile, the roundness of his cheeks and his painted teeth. She misses the way his eyes used to crinkle just for her. He had made her believe that only she could make him smile and offer a sliver of peace to his soul.

It's been two years since their last dream. Why wouldn't he have taken other women?

He said he "hasn't touched them". Since when? Since he learned she's alive? Since their first dreams? Ever?

She regrets now that she denied him when he knocked on her door an hour ago. The bitter guilt of disgracing oneself crawls over her when she slowly moves towards the door, but her self-respect has cauterized and become cinders along with her fury. Feeling sick to her stomach, she places her hand on the panel and the heavy door slides open.

Finding herself face to back with a guard in bulky plate armor, she halts. She wouldn't know where exactly to find Feyd's room anyway. The man turns on his heels and salutes briskly before returning his hand to the hilt of his saber.

"Good evening. Ah, wait, are you… New?" She blurts out, not meaning to seem disrespectful. The Harkonnens often do look quite alike to her, but she could have sworn the old guard was a little shorter.

"Yes, my Lady." The man looks right above the crown of her head, avoiding her eyes.

"What happened to the other guard?"

"He was replaced, my Lady."

That does make sense and she's almost a little relieved. She wouldn't want anyone who'd let these bloodthirsty creatures inside to guard her and her most valuable possession. However, she still hopes this incident won't ruin his chances of employment indefinitely.

"I see." She glances cautiously down the austere corridor. Past the windows, there is only blackness and the occasional faraway rumble from the factories. "Do you have to stand here all night? Your feet must be hurting. What about a chair?"

"I'm not allowed such luxuries."

"Says who? You can't excel at your job while being overworked and your feet are aching in those boots."

The man wonders if the na-Baron's Lady wishes to insult or test him. "I am at full capacity, my Lady!" He salutes again. "I have no complaints about my boots."

"Fine, alright. Could you please point me the way to Feyd's room then? I want to see him. No need to accompany me, I'm sure I'll find it, just make sure no one enters my room, please?"

"Sorry!" The man extends his arm to the side, stopping her advance around him without laying a finger on the Lady. "The na-Baron has ordered this door to be sealed unless he or your handmaid demand entrance."

"Well I don't demand entrance, I want to exit. I want to see Feyd."

The guard grows queasy. That scenario was not included in his instructions. To be fair, the briefing for his new position can be considered rudimental at best but he didn't complain. Up here has been the safest spot in the palace tonight. "The na-Baron doesn't welcome visitors in his private quarters."

"But I'm his…" She swallows uncomfortably. "Betrothed, or am I not?"

"You are, my Lady."

"So, couldn't you perhaps call him?"

The poor guard's expression says 'I'd rather not'. The na-Baron has only just settled, finally, and even the dumbest desert rat knows not to wake a sleeping tiger. All evening long he's been wondering how many of his comrades will be dead come the morning and he doesn't want to be the next one to become fodder for the slaves' food rations. "I'm sorry, my Lady. It is against the protocol to disturb the na-Baron at night unless there is an emergency. Is there an emergency?"

"No…" The woman's expression twists into defeat and she pads backwards with slackened shoulders and somber eyes. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

The door slides shut and she is too sad to even be angry about her gentle imprisonment. There's nothing out there for her anyway, except for Feyd, and if he doesn't want to see her…

Self-destructive thoughts sprout from the cinders in her chest and grow into the wildest phantasms. The guard was too kind to tell her Feyd has visitors in his room. Perhaps he explicitly decreed that she is not to join him.

To prevent herself from hurtling into a bottomless spiral, she must find a distraction. Nearly choking on bitter tears, she opens up the virtual app drawer that she's most familiar with and selects the 3d-modeling tool. A nice, little task to keep her thoughts from straying is exactly what she needs, and so she settles down on the bed and begins to design a practical, foldable, printable chair for her guard, thoughtfully optimizing stability and the required resources.

The engineer doesn't notice when her tears dry, but they do.

Day 6

She sleeps awfully that night, despite the chip's helpful sleeping program consisting of gentle rain and soothing frequencies. It can't have been much longer than two hours when she is awoken by a knock on the door, followed by another, more insistent one a moment later.

The 3d-modeling interface still overlays reality when her eyes snap open and her sluggish brain activity requires a moment to shut it down. She was almost finished with the printable chair parts last night, but she must have dozed off eventually.

The knocking persists and she calls: "Lilia?"

A pause. "It's me." An unmistakable, deep and raspy voice comes muffled from the other side. Feyd-Rautha, freshly showered and dressed in a clean, casual suit, leans his forehead against the cool, thick plastic, breathing hard and fast so that his respiration condenses on the door. Waiting, he pleads silently for mercy. He cannot do this anymore, doesn't want to kill anymore just to feel something other than fear.

She freezes, legs half swung off the mattress as anxiety twists her belly. All of her jealousy comes crashing back and a little demon whispers poison in her ear: Go back to your hyenas and toy around with them, not me!

When silence is the answer to Feyd's timid greeting, his stomach drops as if filled with lead. Blood pounds in his ears like the war drums on his birthdays and his breath becomes shallow, so that he no longer even hears the guard's antsy shuffling. What will he do if she never forgives him?

A harrowing need for violence flashes through him cold and dark and his twitching hand jerks for the blade at his hip but the door rushes open before he can brandish it and his woman faces him with crossed arms, her face puffy from sleep but her eyes are wide and vulnerable.

She beckons him to enter and he follows, eyes racing to the crowns of thorns in the vase, the sarcophagus, the ruffled bed, everything the way it was. How does she deal with pain?!

"Hello," Feyd mumbles, voice reduced to a tiny, grated whisper.

"Hello."

"Can we… talk?"

The relic nods and waits, clammy fingers clutching her sleeves. But then Feyd says… nothing. His eyes are focused on an imaginary point somewhere behind her navel and his jaws strain as if chewing a brick.

So, she begins: "I'm sorry, but I was very upset." She paces, shoulders drawn up. "I know that customs are different around here, I mean, they obviously are," she guffaws quietly and shakes her head. "But where I'm from, it requires consent to have more than one partner and I never gave you that consent. I've never given my consent to anything that's happened to me since I woke up! And then I found out you're alive and I can be with you and I really believed everything would finally be better, but you-" Her voice hiccups. "I'm very upset, okay?" Her lips twist and she lifts a hand to her mouth, sobbing quietly into her palm. "You're so different in real life."

Feyd's frozen limbs regain their agility and he jumps to her side as she tries to turn away, a swift predator despite his anguish. He clutches her by the arms. "Wait! Remind me. H-How was I in our dreams?"

"I- I don't know, you looked happy." Her arms burn where he's holding onto her with his broad palms and long fingers. "And you were kind."

"Have I not been kind to you?"

"To me, yes. But being kind only to me is not enough." She shakes her head bitterly.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Be honest with me. Who are these three?! They said you don't play with them anymore like you used to, and they hurt me, Feyd!" She writhes out of his clenched fists and he lets her because when her fingers skim his wrists, all his muscles go weak. She yanks up her shirt, showing off the healing gash on her waist.

Feyd wants to kill his darlings all over again and his sinful mouth twists into anger. "They used to be my pets. Pleasure slaves, if you will. Just some meaningless toys, nothing more, I swear it to you."

"Pleasure slaves!" She blurts out, shaking her head. At least he's being honest but - what the fuck?! "You-" Stumbling over her own words, she backs away from him with disgust. "Who are you? Who the fuck are you?"

More violence waits on her tongue. Does he respect anyone other than himself?

"You know me! You know who I am, where are you going?!" Doesn't she know she knows more about him than anyone else?

"I don't know shit about you!" She yells. "Where were you last night?"

"What?" All color is drained from his face. How could she know?

"Were you with them because I couldn't perform the way you wanted the other day?"

"What are you talking about?!" Feyd tries to grasp her by the arms once more but she twists away. If anything, he is at blame for being unable to make his woman comfortable enough to reach her release. What a pitiful good-for-nothing he is, pathetic down to the last, rotting cell. "I haven't touched my pets since I met you and that's the truth!"

"Oh, yeah? Then why was I not allowed to see you at night?"

"What makes you say that?"

"I tried to come to you last night, but the guard at my door said I'm supposed to stay in this room! So, were you with them?!"

Feyd stops his advance and an incredulous shimmer glazes over his blinking eyes. He could have held her last night, against his hurting heart. A dizzying lightness befalls his chest and sorrow becomes anger and anger wings his footsteps when he turns to the door, grinning, then giggling. Feyd slams his veined hand against the panel so hard, the screen cracks and inky blood slips down the valleys of his palm.

"Feyd? Feyd! What are you-"

The baffled guard faces the snickering na-Baron behind the opening door, last night's tiger resurrected like a Ghola for one last kill. A stammered 'my Lord' on diddering lips. Feyd-Rautha looks as bestial as his hyenas with prowling steps and rolling shoulders, searing eyes locked on his unmoving prey.

"You told my woman she couldn't see me last night? S'that right?" A slip of pink peeks out of the ghastly frame of black, gnashing teeth.

"My Lord, I beg your mercy, I didn't wish to distur-"

Metal flashes. The relic screams as the length of Feyd-Rautha's blade carves into the guard's pallid neck, Adam's apple bulging and sitting on the knife like a popped, black cherry. Blood sputters around Feyd's clenched fingers and laughter has faded from his lungs at once. He digs deeper as the guard draws in gurgling breaths, bubbles of air swimming in the blood around the metal.

The relic freezes like a mouse, glued to the spot as if she might turn invisible to the cold eyes of the beast who wears her lover's clothes. He looks nothing like Feyd-Rautha now, his features empty and alien with eyes that don't feel and hands unfazed by the death that stains them in thick, inky streams that roll down his victim's neck.

This is how the universe sees him.

Feyd's blade slashes sideways, spraying a half moon of blood across the corridor and when the guard stumbles, he falls back into the na-Baron's knife, adding a vertical gash to the horizontal one, tip sinking into the flesh under his jaws, and with a jerk - up into his tongue.

The man grunts, still clinging to his life by a thread, and lurches forwards without drawing his sword. His head falls on Feyd-Rautha's shoulder. Feet shuffle in a grotesque waltz and Feyd's bloody fingers slip around the taller man's neck, holding him there while his blade plunges into his belly between armor plates so deftly, he could find all the weak spots blindfolded. The body slackens, weighing down on Feyd-Rautha whose ichor dripping fingers aren't ready to let go.

Shuk! Shuk!

Is the sound of his blade sinking into soft flesh and viscera, whipping back out with a spray of blood and entrails.

The Bene Gesserit may have proclaimed her human, but the adrenaline that sets her nerves ablaze is a gift from her ancestors, animals, because that's what humans are at the end or the day when facing a bigger predator.

Fwump.

Feyd looks her way, the dead body dropped, and blood covers his hand like a shiny glove of ink, dripping down the blade tip in a drizzling stream. The light catches on the sharp edges of his alabaster skull and all she sees is a new, terrifying breed of human, birthed by a world of poison and decay. There are millennia between them. They may share the same DNA but that doesn't mean he is not an alien to her.

In the end, the man from her dreams is not the man of her dreams.

Out the door? - Blocked! Death!

Off the balcony?! - Death!

To the Sarcophagus then. To her gun.

She turns and sprints, feet skidding over the shards of her rose-colored glasses, but Feyd pounces, a beast hungry for carnage, and catches her around the waist, hurling her backwards with the strength of three men. His blade clatters to the ground.

"No, wait. No. NO! NO! You can't go," he howls. "You cannot leave me!"

Wailing, she thrashes in his grasp and slams her elbow into his guts, her foot against his shin, then his crotch and the soft flesh there is squashed by her heel. When his hold slackens, she twists away and bolts, bare toes slipping across icy marble, but blood-smeared fingers find her shoulder, tearing on the fabric. She throws herself away from him so hard, the seam starts coming apart, so his other hand flies to her throat, steel-hard fingers curling around clammy flesh, yanking her around and against the wall.

She can't be looking at him like that, like he's the devil. Like he looks at his uncle.

Desperately, his lips search for hers but she jerks her head to the side, bites, scratches, nails burrowing into his throat. No is the word that Feyd-Rautha raps out between violent kisses that seek her pulse point with his tongue and teeth, no, she can't ever leave him, no, not ever, even if she hates him like everyone else. Her fear poisons the sweat on her neck and her nails don't egg him on, they hurt. He takes a knee to the guts and his lungs pop open for a harrowed cry.

Pain used to be pleasure but everything hurts, she doesn't love him anymore. One more meek and quiet final 'no' as he abandons the assault on her neck and his slackened arms wrap around her middle, hiding his face from rejection in her shoulder's soft flesh. Tears drip hotly, finally. All day and all night he's been waiting for the cathartic downpour, but not even the most pitiful plea could rouse a sliver of empathy in the hollow of his chest. Now he bawls like a baby forgotten in its crib and his blood-soaked hands seek purchase at the back of her shirt.

The woman grows still, nails still wedged inside the bloody crescent indents in his neck. Her lungs ache when she draws a trembling breath and Feyd-Rautha's hard, heavy chest moves with her, no more fight left in him. Quietly, she cries with him and curls her arms around his round shoulders, holding him there as he clings to her like an abandoned child and sheds tears for all the hurt and all the fear.

The man of her dreams is still there, somewhere, under the alien shell, vulnerable, weeping.

"You hate me, don't you?" A broken sob.

Looking over his head, the dead guard's viscera glitters darkly on the hallway and she is surprised to realize that even now, she doesn't hate him.

Feyd continues: "This is why I never wanted you to know who I am. I am awful."

"You're not awful," she whispers, fingers slipping around the back of his head, nails rimmed darkly by Feyd's blood.

"I have to be awful. I was born to be awful."

"That's not true…" He was groomed to be awful.

But Feyd isn't finished. In a fashion of now or never, confessions spill out of him like poison rain. "I killed my mother when I was four. I don't remember why. I killed my pets. I kill men for sport. I kill people for fun. I kill because it's the only thing I can do. Yesterday, I-" His voice breaks. "I killed anyone I could find and no one fought back. I lo-o-ost count."

A full glass can't get any fuller when pouring more water, so shock and disgust are lost to the acceptance that has smoothed over the crescendo. They're just information to be added into a folder in her head. Feyd killed his mother. Feyd kills people for fun. Still, she holds him, fingers sliding up and down the back of his head as his shaky sobbing turns breathless and ugly.

"Okay," she whispers and rests her cheek on his head, exhaling softly so her warm breath fans his scalp. "For fun?"

"Ye-e-es."

"So, you had fun last night when you-" She swallows. "Killed?"

"No."

She lets out a thoughtful hum and Feyd's grip on the small of her back tightens. Still, he doesn't dare look at her and tears and snot have soaked her shirt. With her emotions currently defective, her ability for logic is still sharp, and so she concludes, it does all make sense.

Her poor Feyd, a current had pulled him under when he was barely a child and then layer after layer, he has been building his armor so as not to drown in the maelstrom of abuse. With every kill, a little boy has been screaming for help in an empty room.

Soft lips press a kiss to the crown of his head and Feyd's breath trembles in her hold, a beast tamed by a loving caress. That's all it takes.

Just because she understands his actions, doesn't mean she endorses them.

"Will you still be my wife?"

"I haven't decided yet." Another kiss so gentle, it taunts the corpses stacked up in the processing hall.

"So, we're no longer engaged?"

"I don't think we ever were, not to me. But that doesn't mean I don't love you."

Dizzily, Feyd-Rautha raises himself. If not for the fingers twisted into his woman's shirt, he might just topple back into the spinning vortex at whose edge he is teetering now, one foot in heartbreak, the other in salvation. Blue eyes crack open, rimmed with dark blood vessels. She doesn't flinch, doesn't bolt, only her hands slide to the front of his suit and slip under the lapels, thumb rubbing where his heart hammers.

Feyd sees the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks and the shadow of horror tucked away in the corners of her eyes in a way that is all too familiar to him. More than anything, he wants to delete the images from her head and close the door, kick the blade under the bed, pretend it never happened. He tried to do everything right, got her flowers, hid her away in her own room away from state matters, made love to her with all his heart, but at the end of the day he is still who he is when he can't hide within a dream and it'll never be enough.

"Feyd, is… Is Lilia okay?"

"Yes, she is," comes the earnest reply and she exhales shakily, head sinking against Feyd's chest, arms sliding around his waist beneath the suit where his skin is burning hot.

"Thank God." Her voice warbles, the only warning before her knees give out and every other muscle along with them. The pair sink to the cold, hard ground. "I just want to go home," she sobs and crawls in her beloved's lap which is still the only place in the cold, hard universe that soothes her soul.

Not her sarcophagus, although it is tempting to freeze herself up again and sleep forever. No, it is still him. A new home, not what she had imagined, but a home.

"Me too," Feyd sighs and squishes his cheek against the top of her head, closing his eyes to envision the bedroom of their shared dream, blue pillows, a white bed, a softly rustling fern in a terracotta pot, her in his arms. Home.

How easy it would be to demand of him: 'If you kill one more innocent, I will leave you!' But she might just kill more than she saves that way, and maybe him too, and maybe herself.

"Feyd, can you-" She sniffles. "If you get angry again, please never hurt Lilia. And whoever the new guard will be, don’t hurt him either. Can you do that for me please?"

"I promise." He squeezes her tight, eyes screwed up so tightly that he sees only dizzying stars. "I love you. I'm sorry."

She cannot fix the whole world, but she can start where she can see. It's not a solution, but a sapling, and a sapling can grow.

Mother Father How did I end up here, stone bound? All I feel ist the striking distance to the clouds My flesh is fettered on the skin of the soil But even so I almost reach the sparks in the void Sailing through the vacuum, am I drowned or alive?

- Cepheus by Fewjar

A/N: Okay, I promise promise this was the angstiest chapter, we're climbing uphill from here!! 🥺🥺🥺 Hand over your guesses, what do you think will happen from here? 😌💕 Thank you so much for all of your time!

TAG LIST:

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted

#feyd #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd x oc #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x oc #feyd imagine #feyd rautha imagine #feyd fanfiction #feyd rautha fanfiction #feyd smut #feyd rautha smut #dune part 2 #dune part two #dune 2 #austin butler #peggysuave fanfics #peggysuave;relic

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underoossss · 1 year ago

Text

What If’s -Miguel O’Hara

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem!reader

warnings: spoilers for across the spiderverse!!!! a couple of vampire jokes here and there. kissing, yearning, idk if those are warnings.

an: there’s no better character than miguel to write a wholesome hurt/comfort friends to lovers fic. this is my first time writing for him and I hope I did a good job lmao. let me know how I did!

★★★★

“I know I said I don’t mind your company.” Miguel’s voice reaches you from the platform he’s perched on in the middle of his lab. “But do you have to turn the volume up so loud?”

Your laugh echoes the room as you press a button twice to decrease the volume for a moment. “It helps me focus. Some of us have jobs aside from being a superhero you know.”

“Oh is saving the world not enough of a job for you?” Miguel’s eye-roll is clear in his tone and it makes you smile. “Perhaps you don’t know it but here we’re trying—”

“I know, I know, Twilight.” You wave him off over your shoulder. “What I mean is I like having a job, and I’m super smart so they let me work remotely.”

“All spider people are ‘super smart’ as you put it.” Miguel says, from somewhere behind you as you tap away on your laptop.

“Huh,” You fake surprise, then speak through a grin. “Here I thought I was the only one, good to know you’ve got a brain behind your broody eyes.”

Miguel’s breathy chuckle makes your heart jump, and you turn on your seat to catch the corner of his mouth lift in a half smile. Going back to the report you have to finish for your regular job, you turn the music up again and rest your feet on the desk in front of you. “I can feel you judging me, Twilight.”

“I am.” Miguel calls back to you and you smile.

There’s nothing that makes your body fill with warmth like Miguel. From being his most annoying spider recruit since the day you met —you saw he had fangs, and he never lived the vampire jokes down— your relationship has blossomed into a beautiful friendship over time. The kind of friendship where everything is easy around each other, where you anticipate the other’s needs, and the kind that started with sharing trauma. Both of you’ve lost many people, and it’s probably the reason why you cling to the other as much as you do. You’re a stubborn tangle in his hair and he's as present in your life as the breeze that hits your face when you’re swinging through the city. You bring out the best in each other —regardless of you annoying him every single day— and this deep connection you seem to have is most likely the one responsible for the lines between friendship and love to be so blurred between you. You’ve fought by his side multiple times, and you love it, but there’s nothing you love more than these quiet moments with him, where you just exist near each other, and everything feels right. Though you love seeing him in action, more often than not getting distracted by his ruthlessness, strength, and skill, you love doing simple things with him too. Miguel showing up to your place when you’re cooking dinner and refusing to dance along with you; Miguel getting coffee with you after much insistence to leave his desk; Miguel sighing at your bad jokes which only makes you laugh more; Miguel staying over at your place, his presence a warm reassurance that you’re safe.

Insistent pinging takes your mind away from its memories, and you’re quick to set your work aside and swing to the platform to see what’s going on. Lila has appeared over Miguel’s shoulder and is gesturing at the many alarms popping up on the yellow screens. A canonic event has been interrupted, a black hole has opened under the city of Mumbattan on earth 50101, Miles Morales —the Spider-Man Miguel’s been keeping tabs on for a while— is in that dimension for some reason, and there’s a multiverse-jumping anomaly on the loose.

Miguel’s face darkens, a mix of worry, fury, and tiredness forcing his features down into a deep frown. He pinches the bridge of his nose before talking to Lyla as he flips through the screens. “Tell Jessica to go to Earth 50101 and bring backup with her. We need to contain that black hole.”

“On it.” Lyla disappears for a moment before she’s back by Miguel’s side. “What else?”

“Bring Miles Morales to me.” He says, setting his hands on the table in front of him and looking at the screen that show’s Miles stopping the canonic event. “It’s time we stop this mess at its source.”

“Miguel?” Your eyebrows shoot up at his words, worry settling on your chest. “What do you mean?”

Lyla disappears a moment later as Miguel’s monitors keep flipping through the events in Mumbattan. Alchemax blowing up as a result of the anomaly calling itself the Spot turning on the supercollider. The building collapsing on itself.

“You know what I mean.” The man in front of you furrows his brows in anger. “He’s become a threat since the moment he was bitten. It was never even supposed to happen, you can’t expect me to let him go on like this. To keep disregarding canon as much as he pleases.”

“You know I’ve always supported you, Miguel.” You take his hand in both of yours and squeeze it tightly. “I’m the one backing you up, winning everyone over when they get mad at you… But this is wrong.”

“It’s not.” He says, taking his hand back from you and clicking away on his computer. A moment later, moments in Miles Morales’ life float in the screens around you. “We have to stop him. He’s going to undo everything we do if not.”

“Miguel,” You furrow your brows at his words, then gesture towards him with your arms. “Listen to yourself, who’s more out of canon here, him or us? We weren’t bitten, that’s strike one; we can’t stick to walls, strike two; you don’t shoot webs and my senses aren’t heightened like everyone else’s. That’s strike three.”

It’s something that’s always intrigued you, but it’s never made you think of yourself or Miguel as less of a Spiderman than everyone else. That’s not what wearing the mask means; it means protecting those who can’t protect themselves. To be selfless and kind and self-sacrificing for the world, even if no one says thank you. If Miguel and yourself haven’t broken the multiverse just by existing, then why would Miles. If his world hasn’t collapsed then there’s nothing wrong with him being the superhero that he is.

Miguel ponders your words but shakes his head, still adamant to see things your way in this matter. “The kid–”

You take a step closer to him and cut him off before he can continue. “The kid was bitten, regardless of it being supposed to happen or not! He has lost someone dear already and has basically followed every other spiderman rule, Miguel. I don’t think he’s the reason this is happening.”

Your friend, the object of your affections, turns his back towards you, going back to his screens. They show the events of Mumbattan now, the way Miles saved the captain and the little girl from being crushed by falling debris. There’s also the black hole in the city, threatening the people they tried so hard to save. The hole is so similar to the Spot’s that you’re sure an analysis would prove it right. But Miguel isn’t seeing reason. “He is.”

“It’s the Spot’s fault!” You raise your voice, frustration getting the best of you more a moment before you take a deep breath. Trying to see things from his perspective, you place a hand on his upper arm, your voice falling down to a reassuring whisper. “I know you’re scared of the world collapsing again, but it won’t.”

Your heart falls when he shrugs your hand off and turns to look at you. The many screens around you dance across his features, and after inhaling deeply Miguel speaks again. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” You smile sadly, hoping that your confidence in him will let him see what’s right under his nose. “I know it because this time you’re here, Miguel, guiding us and making sure it doesn’t happen again. You just need to see that Miles isn’t the problem.”

“Everything started with him.” Miguel argues, his voice emphasizing the word everything, definite on his theory. His eyes are full of resentment, not towards you, but towards the situation. Days and nights of working himself thin in this office, weighing on his broad shoulders.

Your squeeze your eyes shut before you look at him again. He’s so blinded by his own past mistakes; he thinks Miles will repeat them. When you speak again your voice is soft despite your irritation. “Miguel, you know in your heart it didn’t, and I know that because we’re the same.”

He exhales and looks into your eyes; they soften only slightly as they lock with yours. You try to urge him once again to forget this theory for a moment and see things differently if only for a second. He needs to know you don’t think it has to come to this –an attack towards the young spiderman– and that you won’t be a part of it if it does.

“If I feel it, then you must feel it too.” Though you’re talking about his plans for the young spiderman, the underlying topic of your feelings for him are clear as day in the way you look at him. You let your guard down, and say barely above a whisper, “Please. You know I can’t follow you, not this time.”

His eyes look aways from you as his shoulders tense, a clear sign of all the walls you’d crumbled building back up. “You want me to risk everything, including you, over a what-if?”

“Everything’s a what-if, Miguel.” You smile sadly at him, then set your shoulders straight as you step away from the platform and from him. “But I guess that settles that.”

Miguel takes two steps and catches up to you before he reaches for your hand. There’s a tightness around his brown eyes from the way you’re looking at him tearfully. They shift to confusion a moment later, when his hand moves upwards towards your wrist and you grin. Taking another step back, you hold your watch on your opposite hand, showing him that you knew he’d try to take it from you. You know him better than he gives you credit for.

“I’ll see you when you’ve changed your mind, Twilight.” You fiddle with your watch until a portal opens and when it does, you throw the device back at him. Though your throat is tight, emotion concentrating there as tears sting your eyes, you keep yourself from crying. “Otherwise… I guess this is goodbye.”

Not bearing to look into the new despair in his eyes, you turn around and walk into your dimension without looking back. When the portal closes behind you, you’re back in your apartment, the room dark around you safe for the lamp you forgot to turn off in the morning. Every corner you look at you see Miguel’s lingering shadow; the wall he always leaned against when you talked in the kitchen, the couch where the two of you always hung out –your legs over his lap and your laptop over yours as he waited for you to finish working. You wrap your arms around yourself, hoping for some comfort to come from it.

Hoping this mess can be fixed.

It is only a day later when the first step towards it being resolved, happens. You’ve been swinging through the city, patrolling different neighborhoods and keeping an eye out for any anomalies. Without your watch you’ve been disconnected from the Spider Society. Most importantly from Miguel, and although you try to, you can’t help but wonder what’s happening back in the HQ. You've barely been to your apartment since your fight with Miguel, your heart feels like a fading bruise –not quite broken but yearning painfully– and the last thing you want to do is spend time somewhere that will bring his memory back to you. So quick stops to shower, work, and eat, in between patrols are all you’ve allowed yourself. You’re swinging to one of these stops, when you spot a lonely figure standing in your balcony.

Even from afar you know its him, no one else has his shoulder-to-waist ratio, and no one else makes your heart skip quite like he does. Despite being vexed from your last conversation, you feel his heart call out to yours, and the way his eyes rise to see you swing towards the balcony are all the confirmation that you need that your assumptions were right. He would come around eventually, you knew it, you never thought it would be this fast though. What have you done now, Miguel?

You land on the balcony next to him, nod towards your door so he can follow you inside. Once the door closes behind you, you take your mask off and Miguel’s vanishes too. There’s no awkwardness as you stand in front of each other in the middle of the living room, only silence in an otherwise joyful room. The lights are still off in your apartment but you don’t move to turn them on, instead you shrug and motion towards the balcony.

“Nice timing.” You say, trying to keep your voice light. “What are you doing here?”

“You said you’d see me when I changed my mind.” His voice is low, like he’s worried the moment will shatter if he speaks any louder.

“You did?” Your question is followed by a step closer to him, but a frown appears on your face. “What changed it?”

“I’m sorry. I made a mistake.” He whispers, brows furrowed together creating a deep crease between them. His eyes won’t meet yours but from the city lights outside your apartment, and the glow from his suit, you can see the deep regret in them, and the embarrassment from admitting his wrongs. “Then made a mess out of everything.”

“Miguel–”

“You can say I told you so, because you were right.” He turns to you, bringing his hand to hold your cheek briefly before he sighs and walks away, closer to the balcony’s window.

“What happened?” You follow him, standing next to him. Part of you is afraid he’s going to leave the same way he arrived, and panic settles on your chest. You urge him to keep talking though, you won’t give him a chance to shut down this time. “What happened with Miles?”

“The Spot’s stronger than before and going to Miles’ dimension to destroy it and then possibly many others.” Miguel clenches his hands into fists, the muscles around his neck tensing, the stress and worry in them is clear for you to see. “But he’s not there, because of me.”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, a mannerism you’ve gotten from the man next to you. Of course he scared the kid off; you love this man more than anything, but he really needs to work on his first impressions. “Where is he? How can we find him?”

“I have an idea; I think his friends do too.” Miguel starts, then shakes his head, some strands of hair falling over his forehead. “Maybe the dimension of the spider that bit him is a good place to start.”

“Then we find him, Miguel.” You move to stand in front of him, your back to the window and the city, all your focus on him. “We find him, we bring him home, and we defeat the Spot.”

He nods almost imperceptibly his gaze in the distant glimmering buildings, his handsome yet tired features washed in light blue and purple light. You know he can feel your gaze on him, burning a hole on his face but his eyes won’t look away from the window. When he doesn’t give in a moment later, you bring both of your hands to his face. Half expecting him to move away, you’re surprised when he lets you, and a small breath escapes him at the contact.

“Why won’t you look at me?” You whisper, your thumbs moving softly over his cheekbones. “Everything will be alright; we can fix it.”

“I almost lost everything by trying to prevent it from happening again.” He confesses, eyes full of torment when they finally meet yours. They glisten in the light, worry and despair making his icy layers melt for you too see him clearly. It’s enough to make you tear up. When you try to say something, he cuts you off as if knowing what you’re about to say. “I almost lost you.”

You shake your head fervently. “You were never going to lose me, we’re best friends I don’t think we’re capable of losing each other.”

“We’re more than that.” He says, voice gentle as he takes your hands from his face and holds them in his, they dwarf yours in size. “I feel it too and I’m sorry if it’s too late.” His words echo back to your last conversation, and it makes your stomach flip. Finally, after so much time, your feelings are bare in front of each other. Precious jewels you would never trust to anyone else, both broken, both put back together, and perfect for the other.

“It’s not.” You shake your head and let go of his hands, moving them instead to rest on his shoulders. A smile makes its way to your face, and the way Miguel’s lips move to mirror it makes your heart soar.

A moment later his head is tipping downwards as you step on the tip of your toes to kiss him. It’s an electric moment, a canonic event itself with the way all the pieces seem to fall into place. You move your arms around Miguel’s shoulders and hitch yourself higher to wrap your legs around his waist. His approval is hummed into your mouth as his lips move ardently against yours. One of his arms goes around your waist while the other moves up your back to bury his hand in your hair, tipping your face in the perfect angle to kiss you into a blissful state. Your sighs are unstoppable and he’s more than happy to catch them with his lips as your hands move to his hair. This is all you’ve wanted, to have him completely, for the two of you to accept the feelings that have always been there.

Eventually your passionate kiss simmers down to something slower, calmer. Miguel’s lips brush yours softly; barely-there kisses that move to the corner of your mouth, your cheek and along your jaw. His voice is rough when he whispers against your lips in a gentleness he rarely shows, “I love you, I always have.”

“I love you, you broody, cheap Twilight vampire wannabe.” You murmur, brushing your nose against his as he chuckles under his breath, before he sets you down. “We should go.”

“Only if you want to.” Miguel tells you, holding out your watch on the palm of his hand.

You take it from him and put it on with a smile. “Please, you’d be lost without me.”

His hand cups your cheek for a moment, a soft smile just for you on his face as he says, voice low. “Right again.”

In front of you a new portal appears, back to Miguel’s office to round everybody up. The future might still be up in the air, and there might be many battles ahead before this multiversal conflict is solved. But one thing you know for sure is that with the right team, the impossible can happen. You’re sure Miles’ team has his back, but a little backup wouldn’t hurt them, would it?

You take Miguel’s hand and squeeze it in yours before walking backwards to the portal. “Come on Twilight, let’s help the kids save the world.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara fluff #across the spider verse fanfic #spider man 2099

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oweninadaydream · 8 months ago

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𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 || 𝐂𝐇.𝟏

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Hangman is the certified ladies' man and everyone thinks they can read him like a book, but what neither the Dagger Squad nor anyone else can even begin to imagine is where the hell Jake has been going every Saturday night for the last few months…

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x male!character

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 : mentions of alcohol, some making out but nothing too smutty, emotional distress lmao, age gap relationship (27-35), some religious trauma, self-deprecating thoughts, post Top Gun : Maverick, the Dagger squad is stationed together.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2k

𝐚/𝐧 : Gif by @tay-swifts , M/N (Male Name). Hello beautiful people!!! I'm so exited about posting this project I've been working on for a while. I just wanted to say that since it's my first time writing for Jake this might be a bit OC Jake but I do hope I got it right hehe. Enjoy the fic and stay tuned for the next parts!!!

It was well after midnight when Jake arrived at the club’s entrance. The throbbing bass emanating from inside made the whole building shake, making his mind wonder what it would be like to live on top of such an obnoxiously loud place, contrasting with the quietness of the accommodations the Navy offered. The reflection of the neon sign reading “Mon Ange” turned his natural olive-toned skin into a vivid dark azure that matched perfectly with the baby blue in his eyes. The smokers (all with stamps on their hands) were all gathered some feet away from the door to get back in after dragging a final puff from their cigarettes. The queue was not very long, mainly because everyone who was meant to be there had arrived way earlier than him. He reprimanded himself for getting there so late ; in less than two hours the nightclub would shut its doors and Jake would feel like he wasted four hours of his life for nothing. Well, his journey would not be in vain if he caught a glimpse of-

“Jake”

This was L.A, a city 118 miles away from the Marine Corps Air Station located in Miramar, which is a two-hour long drive away from everything he knows. He had to remind himself of those facts to avoid spiraling at the sound of his name in such a place; he hated how his body kept reacting to these kinds of situations, but not even a skilled lieutenant like himself could take the reins of these unnamed emotions that coursed through his entire being.

"What are you doing here by the door? I was worrying about you not showing up today, I was just about to send a search party. C'mon , let's grab a drink. Perhaps I can even convince you to dance this time" A wide playful smirk accompanied the flirty comment exquisitely and, even though Jake was more than used to these antics, his heart skipped a beat. Trying to compose himself, he answered while staring at the concrete floor.

"I don't belong on that dance floor and y'know it, darlin' "

“Oh don’t say that, the 30s are the new 20s! … Even if you’re not planning to dance, you must’ve driven all the way over here for something, right?”

The damn question hit him like a truck. He could try to think of the right answer, but putting something into words made it terrifyingly real, and that was exactly what he'd been avoiding for months. The breeze made them both shiver, as the party outfits didn’t properly protect them from the chilly weather.

“You're right” he muttered “Okay, lead the way. Make it worth the while, mh?" he teasingly replied. Even if what he was doing was definitely outside of his comfort zone, something about the constant banter between them calmed him.

"Don't you always have an amazing time with me? I thought that was why you only talk to me" a fake pout appeared on the face which Seresin couldn't help but to stare intensely in awe. Their hands intertwined and the pilot quickly melted into that comforting touch. His companion briefly exchanged some words with the bouncer and the doors opened for them.

"Thankfully it was Joseph working tonight, I don't think Marcus would have let you in for free just like that" “I’m sure you would've charmed him into doing whatever you wanted anyway”

The thick air of the room embraced him as soon as the doors closed and the familiar feeling appeared in the pit of his stomach almost instantly; it seems like it was yesterday when he first stepped into the nightclub he now knows like the back of his hand, but in reality, that day was what it feels like ages ago. Still, the contradictions that manifested within him every time he returned persisted and only grew each day.

“I’ll go to the bar while you stay here and look pretty, okay? Same drink as always?”

It was because of moments like these that Hangman felt comfortable enough to let his guard down and be his usual extroverted self. Grabbing his wrist to stop him from going any further, he raised his voice so his words could be heard even though the music was top volume. “ Don’t you even dare to try to pay for those drinks, they’re on me.”

“Here it is, the Texan charm of Jake Seresin. I didn’t know you could apply those rules to this situation. Are you trying to imply I’m the girl in this whole affair? Shouldn't we at least draw lots for it?”

"Very funny, M/N'' the hostility that emanated from his rolling eyes made the other man realize his comment had affected Jake on a deeper level than intended. “Hey I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t hav- I know it’s a touchy subject and I’m extremely sorry, please forgive me” the regret was visible in his expression and it also could be detected in the stuttering caused by the words rushing their way out of his mouth trying to obtain his forgiveness as fast as possible. Jake took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second.

Hangman was no saint, he didn’t go to church every Sunday or tried to look for a good christian wife to have kids with like his father did in his day. He knew God was not exactly pleased with the way he was running his life but he used to think that when the time came, He would welcome him with open arms (after having apologized profusely, that is). But now that he had fallen for the most vile trick in the book, he couldn't trust that previous statement anymore. Lust was a capital sin, pretty serious if you asked any priest from the church the Seresin family attended back in Texas, but sodomy? Say goodbye to eternal salvation, son. If Jake was being honest, the promise of heaven or the threat of hell didn't scare him. It was the destruction of all the life lessons that made him act the way he acted, of his purpose as a son, as a man. The thing that truly haunted him at night was the thought of a deity (and his father) designing him to be this flawless individual with a very clear life path , only to end up as a filthy, disgusting f-

“Hey, are you okay? Would you like me to leave you alone for a bit?”

The thought of M/N walking away while he sank deeper and deeper in the sea of guilt and fury frightened him. “Please don’t” he begged “everything’s fine, I promise. Let’s down a couple shots and , who knows, maybe I’ll be in the mood to dance for a bit” the last comment was a futile attempt to hide the everlasting agony that clouded his mind. M/N moved so they were a few inches away and raised his hand to caress his cheek. His next step consisted in resting his arms around his shoulders and starting kissing him delicately in the neck and in the whole face in general, in hopes to kiss the discomfort away.

How could something so delicate and sweet be so dirty? Was it even dirty to begin with? What about the women he had dated? He was attracted to them but now he- Too many questions Jake was not willing to answer that night. He only wanted one thing, and he was about to claim it.

After regaining control of himself, Jake put his right hand on the younger male’s back to guide him to the counter where people were piling up fighting to get the barman’s attention. Being as attractive and well-built as he was, he obtained the alcoholic beverages rather quickly. After the last drop of tequila had made its way down their throats, Hangman took control and led him onto the dance floor. His mind was only filled of the smell of M/N’s cologne mixed with his natural scent enhanced by their bodies crashing against each other while swaying to the 2000s pop remixes, his eyes fixed on his partner’s hypnotizing movements and his hands focused on feeling what they can reach, testing if they can go further in their journey through M/N’s body. Jake was simply standing close and moving according to the song's beat but in a subtle way, just like he would do at the locals he frequented with his coworkers ; manly enough to keep his dignity intact but provocative enough to awake that lustful hunger in the other person’s soul.

‘Mon Ange’ had finally closed down and the two men were still all over each other on the angelino streets. The tingle settling in his chest could only be compared with the adrenaline rush he had previously experienced on those wild nights spent in college, the farewell by the porch of the first girl he had taken on a date or the night out after his first deployment; if he closed his eyes he could swear he was 20 again, but reality made sure to remind him of those fifteen more years that had passed.

M/N had this juvenile thing about him, Jake couldn’t guess confidently his age from afar and his curiosity was finally satiated after befriending him and asking him about it directly ; he was 27, even though he looked some years younger. His bold character combined with his kindness and humor made M/N resemble a butterfly flying around collecting the pollen from every flower in the garden and making it seem effortless. That was one of the many things that hooked Jake on him as if he were the most addicting drug out there, making him throw away his plan of not getting attached and limiting this experience with sporadic hookups that would end then and there, never with the same person twice. That was the problem, he appeared and started moving his hips to some song, making the whole room turn around him and ever since then (even if Jake was still in denial), he was a goner.

The next thing he knew, he was laying down on M/N’s bed, a king size mattress close to a very big window that allowed him to take in the beautiful sight of the sleeping city. He had only been to the apartment twice, but he had always left before the sun had made its appearance in the sky, moved by remorse and skepticism. This time though, he had stayed the whole night that was filled with passionate sex and heart to heart conversations and finally some cuddling that lured him to rest for a while. Now he was wide awake, sitting against the headboard, resting his eyes on the sunrise and on the slumbering figure facing him. He looked so calm, so peaceful. In that moment, turning his gaze away, he tried to repress a sob that came with a single tear falling through his left cheek.

M/N had always known he was queer, embracing his bisexuality in childhood. Jake had never had any problems with people who were not straight, even if the people around him growing up did, but everything was different when it came to himself. For fuck’s sake, he was closer to being 40 than from his teenage years, what was he doing? He could only paralyze at the idea of anyone seeing what he was doing. It was definitely too late for him. Risking his life everyday up in the sky felt like a minor burden compared to the endurance of the dilemmas he carried with him everywhere, just like Christ had carried the cross all the way to Calvary.

He could feel himself falling for the person right next to him, and that was the worst thing that had ever happened to Lieutenant Jacob Seresin. His calloused hand cupped M/N’s soft face, making the other man lean in closer in search of that delightful warmth. Jake’s lips burned in desperate need to say something out loud. His heart started palpitating at a dangerous speed, as he knew the thing trying to escape from his mind was a cruel thing to say and that he was a horrible being just by thinking that. It was no one’s fault and it had no solution, yet the idea popped up in his mind like an unwanted ad appearing on your phone. His chest ached at the possibility of M/N hearing the words, so he tried to whisper as quietly as it was humanly possible.

“I wish you were a girl”

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maul-of-shame · 6 days ago

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I feel like I'm losing brain cells by reading some takes online... Elrond and Gil-galad... are misogynistic...?? but Sauron is fine, he was good to Galadriel, even made her open up and all...

The hell? ��

Legit my reaction lmao.

[TW: very long, heavy, salty rant, if you like Sauron don't read. Tw for abuse, emotional, physical, mentions of death, violence etc etc]

Honestly, if people spent half as much time looking up the meanings of words as they do tossing pseudo-feminist “hot takes” around Twitter, we’d see fewer baffling opinions like this.

Calling Elrond and Gil-galad misogynistic is not only a huge leap but shows a serious misunderstanding of both character dynamics and what misogyny even entails. Elrond and Gil-galad consistently act out of genuine concern for Galadriel and respect for her skills; they’re leaders with an eye on the bigger picture, making difficult decisions with the safety of their people in mind—not as a personal slight against her.

Also, let's be clear here: the one manipulating Galadriel and playing on her vulnerabilities is Sauron, not her allies.

The level of mental gymnastics required to paint Sauron as “kind” or “helpful” while calling Elrond or Gil-galad misogynistic is truly astounding. Sauron is the one who, let’s not forget, has left a wake of devastation behind him, specifically targeting and harming those close to Galadriel.

Sauron is a manipulator of the highest order, skilled in emotional abuse and psychological warfare.

This is the same character who killed Galadriel’s brother, stripping her of her closest family. He has slaughtered countless others she held dear, including close friends and allies, and waged a campaign of terror against her people. And we’re expected to believe he was “good for her”?

How is a person who systematically destroys everything she loves somehow cast as the “kind” option here?

His manipulation was designed to dig at her most vulnerable places, coaxing her trust with calculated, fake gestures of “understanding.”

This isn’t kindness—it’s classic predatory behavior.

From gaslighting to attempting to align himself with her desires, Sauron’s methods are textbook examples of psychological manipulation and emotional abuse. The fact that some people can’t see it doesn’t make it any less clear or less sinister.

And let’s not overlook the physical violence he’s responsible for: he didn’t just oppose her in the abstract—he tried to kill her, manipulated her friends, killed them, and later had the unmitigated audacity to use Celebrimbor’s body as a banner, grotesquely displayed on a spike. He desecrated her friend’s body as a twisted symbol of power, essentially mocking everything she fought to protect. He turned the people she cared about into tools for his own violence, forcing her to relive those losses and betrayals again and again.

Sauron is not “good for” anyone; he’s a walking embodiment of trauma and loss.

The baffling attempts to rewrite this as some kind of “healing” relationship for Galadriel completely miss the point and diminish the actual violence and abuse she endured.

I’d love to know what brand of “kindness” involves murder, manipulation, torture, and desecration of loved ones.

By defending Sauron as “understanding” or “helpful,” people are erasing the impact of his cruelty, the kind of cruelty that left Galadriel scarred, hunted, and haunted.

I genuinely hope some of these takes are trolling—because if people genuinely believe Sauron is some kind of “kind” influence on Galadriel, I’m honestly worried for them.

Glorifying abuse or romanticizing a character who embodies calculated cruelty is troubling at best and deeply problematic at worst. Sauron isn’t some misunderstood anti-hero who’s “good” for Galadriel; he’s a sadistic manipulator who thrives on deception and violence.

And let’s be clear, Galadriel is not here to be Sauron’s therapist. Her role isn’t to rehabilitate him, heal his darkness, or stand by while he exploits her traumas.

This kind of thinking is where we veer into dangerously misguided territory.

Galadriel has no obligation to be his redemption arc, no duty to make sense of his twisted motivations or forgive his endless cruelty. She doesn’t possess some bottomless capacity for “forgiveness” that she just doles out freely to those who have wrecked her life. In fact, framing her relationship with Sauron as one that could foster healing or understanding utterly erases the real, devastating impact of his actions.

It overlooks that Sauron tried to destroy her, killed her brother, and desecrated her friends and loved ones and more.

Sauron has been portrayed as the epitome of cruelty, from using her loved ones as pawns to gaslighting her in moments of vulnerability. His manipulation wasn’t some misguided, accidental misstep; it was a calculated effort to destabilize her and gain control. We’re talking about someone who willfully destroyed everything and everyone around her, leaving her in a constant state of survival.

If this is supposed to be “kindness,” then I am sincerely alarmed by this interpretation.

Galadriel’s journey, her strength, and her resilience are hers. She has fought to survive and rebuild, not to carry the weight of Sauron’s sins or give him a free pass on his malicious actions. She has limits, vulnerabilities, and every right to hold onto her own boundaries and values, which she has firmly established throughout her life.

Repeat with me people: Forgiveness isn’t infinite, nor is it owed.

The idea that she should somehow be “understanding” toward Sauron’s abuses is not only baffling but dismissive of her own traumas and boundaries.

Attributing kindness or “understanding” to a character defined by his repeated acts of brutality—who has actively terrorized and killed those close to her—is a massive red flag.

Reducing this violence to a misunderstood “bond” is a dangerous distortion that trivializes real trauma and suffering. We cannot afford to confuse abuse for care, or cruelty for kindness, because it not only distorts Sauron’s character but also disregards the depth of Galadriel’s struggle and survival.

She doesn’t exist to redeem him; she exists to live fully and freely, unchained from the shadow of his destruction.

Galadriel isn’t here to be Sauron’s emotional outlet, his means of “improvement,” or a balm for his cruelty.

She has weathered enough loss and darkness for multiple lifetimes, and she deserves her own peace, free of this twisted rationalization.

If there’s one constant presence in Galadriel’s life, it’s Elrond. Through every triumph, every heartbreak, and every devastating loss, he has been there, steadfast and true. She trusts him with one of the most potent symbols of her legacy, her heart, and her identity: Nenya.

When she entrusted it to him, she wasn’t just passing along a trinket; she was giving him one of her greatest sources of power, telling him to carry it to Gil-galad, someone she trusts, with a weight that few could ever bear.

That isn’t just a passing gesture. That’s the kind of profound, deep-seated trust that is built on years of loyalty and understanding.

And that’s not all—Elrond’s very presence calms her. The fact that she visibly stops trembling when he reaches for her speaks for itself and their bond. There’s a gentle comfort, a reassurance in him that she feels safe in. This is someone who’s earned her trust and loyalty through countless acts of support, not someone who would even think to undermine or belittle her. Calling Elrond “misogynistic” is not only misguided, but it’s a glaring insult to a relationship that has been a pillar of mutual respect and trust.

Let’s be clear: Elrond has shown nothing but loyalty, understanding, and compassion for her. Painting him as anything else is, quite frankly, a weak, baseless interpretation that cheapens both his character and their relationship. Those who call Elrond “misogynistic” aren’t just missing the point; they’re actively ignoring all evidence to the contrary, and for what?

A quick, shallow take that contradicts everything we know about his role in her life?

He’s been there for Galadriel in ways that are anything but controlling or patronizing. He listens to her, stands by her when others fall away, and has enough respect for her choices and independence that she, in turn, trusts him in a way that’s rare and significant. Those moments they share aren’t empty, nor are they superficial. They’re moments where we see the depth of their connection, built on years of friendship, shared experiences, and unspoken understanding. There’s a strength and resilience in their bond that has withstood more than most would endure, and it’s utterly ridiculous for anyone to dismiss that as misogyny.

Elrond’s relationship with Galadriel is one of genuine care, loyalty, and respect—a bond that has nothing to do with undermining her power or her autonomy. When people throw out terms like “misogyny” in relation to Elrond, it honestly reflects more on their need to create drama than any actual analysis of his character. To label someone who respects, supports, and cares for her as “misogynistic” is not only lazy but a poor reflection of the genuine, nuanced bond they share.

It’s honestly baffling that some people are so quick with their pitchforks, charging at anything that doesn’t align with their own view, that they’re willing to twist the story until it barely resembles what’s actually there. They’re rallying under a banner of pseudo-feminism, claiming that Sauron—the literal antagonist, the epitome of cruelty—is somehow “the good guy” because he “made Galadriel open up.” Like, are we watching the same story?

Because what I saw was a manipulator who has never had anything but power and control on his mind.

Let’s get this straight: Sauron “opened her up” alright, in the most twisted, vile way possible. He made himself out to be her ally, whispering exactly what she wanted to hear to manipulate her. Then he mentally tormented her with the image of her dead brother, dressing him up in everything Galadriel associated with purity and love only to taint it. He used her past to break her even more.

This isn’t “making her open up.”

This is weaponizing her trauma, breaking into her mind, using her memories of her dead brother to twist her into submission. How anyone can possibly see that as anything other than outright manipulation and cruelty is absolutely beyond me.

The man literally tried to kill her! He spent every waking moment of his screen time attempting to gaslight, manipulate, and twist her into his pawn, culminating in physical violence. And let’s not forget: this is the same guy who killed her brother, who’s responsible for the deaths of countless of her close friends, and who used Celebrimbor’s body as a banner, who's ruined cities, manipulated everyone trying to get his way. If that doesn’t scream cruelty and malice, I don’t know what does. And yet some people are out here saying “oh, but he made her feel vulnerable; he was kind to her.”

Kind?

Really?????

If that’s what they consider kindness, they seriously need to re-evaluate what they think love and compassion look like, because there’s not a shred of either in Sauron.

What’s even more disturbing is how he twisted her childhood memories. She’s literally in a mental space resembling her memories as a little girl, even wearing a dress that she had back then. He then morphs into her brother, leaning close, whispering poison into her ear, turning one of the most innocent relationships of her life into something dark and manipulative.

That isn’t “kindness”; that’s psychological warfare, plain and simple.

The way he corrupted her memories of her brother is disgusting—an affront to everything she holds dear. This is someone who’s actively working to tear down every pillar of support in her life, to isolate her, so he can better control her. And people are seriously defending this?

And meanwhile, who’s actually been there for her? Elrond and Gil-galad, who’ve supported her, trusted her, and stood by her even when her quest became dangerous. They’re the ones who’ve offered her a place to lean on without breaking her spirit, without trying to shape her into something she’s not. But apparently, that doesn’t fit the drama-filled, pseudo-feminist narrative people are desperate to push, so instead, they twist Elrond and Gil-galad’s genuine support into “misogyny” and call Sauron a “good guy.”

It’s absolutely absurd, and frankly, the mental gymnastics involved to justify that take would be impressive if it weren’t so horrifyingly misguided.

Also (probs a hot take but I mean you're on my blog so what do you expect-): “wanting Galadriel to forgive Sauron” isn’t some emblem of “girl power.”

And neither is the idea of her “healing” him.

There’s no empowerment in bending to the whims of her abuser or in opening herself up to someone who has systematically torn down every safe space and person she’s ever known. If you’re hellbent on wanting Galadriel to be this “strong woman,” then maybe don’t advocate for her to keep being tormented and manipulated by the one person responsible for all the pain she’s suffered.

That’s not strength; it’s glorifying abuse under the guise of some pseudo-feminist ideal.

There’s this strange irony in people claiming they want Galadriel to be independent, to be strong, yet they seem to want her locked in an endless cycle of manipulation with Sauron, who has literally preyed on her vulnerabilities from day one.

What they’re pushing for isn’t “strength” or “girl power”; it’s a twisted need for Galadriel to keep “fixing” Sauron, a person who has shown no remorse, only calculated moves to control and dominate.

And if you want to ship this pairing, go ahead—it’s your prerogative.

But let’s not kid ourselves: this ship is on some level based on glorifying the very manipulation and darkness that Sauron brings into her life.

There’s no soft underbelly there; it’s not a misunderstood romance. We’re talking about someone who, with full awareness, transformed himself into the guise of Galadriel’s brother, twisted her memories, and then leaned in close to plant his poison. Who destroyed cities, killed hundreds of people, tortured people... Do I need to go on?

He didn’t do this out of any love or misunderstood affection; he did it because he knew exactly how to break her spirit. Because he wanted power.

And for those who genuinely think this is an empowering storyline, please, go back and look at the scenes we’re talking about.

This is someone who has turned Celebrimbor’s body into a banner, who actively killed Galadriel’s friends and family, and who has taken every opportunity to break her down. Who killed everyone standing on his way to power.

This isn’t a redemption arc; it’s an attempt to shackle her to her own trauma.

For those cheering on a “redemptive” relationship between these two—if you can’t see how problematic that is, I honestly worry about what you think healthy love and respect look like.

Also, very important: Abused women (or people in general) don’t have to forgive, forget, or extend a single ounce of emotional labor to the person who harmed them.

There’s no obligation to “be the bigger person” or “heal the one who hurt them,” and it’s disturbing that some people believe Galadriel should take on this impossible, damaging role. Forgiveness is a choice, not a requirement, and for survivors of real trauma, sometimes the healthiest, most powerful choice is to walk away and never look back.

It’s baffling that some people are so invested in seeing Galadriel “redeem” Sauron or forgive him as if that somehow validates her strength. Strength isn’t found in bending over backward to heal her abuser; it’s in her resilience, in her commitment to herself and her allies, and in the boundaries she chooses to set with those who have repeatedly wronged her.

People clamoring for Galadriel to extend her grace to Sauron seem to forget that her strength lies in not being a savior for someone who has proven himself as irredeemable time and again.

Let’s look at the facts. Sauron didn’t just make a mistake or go down the wrong path; he committed outright atrocities.

This is a person who didn’t slip up or stray; he is the architect of pain, not a misguided soul needing “healing.”

Why should Galadriel be burdened with the weight of “fixing” him?

To be clear, advocating for her to let Sauron back into her life or, worse, to forgive him, is the opposite of respecting her strength. It’s as if people want her to forget all the pain he’s caused her for the sake of some feel-good ending that absolves him of responsibility. This expectation that women must forgive or reconcile with their abusers is outdated and toxic.

Survivors of abuse don’t owe anyone closure or compassion—they owe themselves the peace and freedom that comes with cutting toxic people from their lives and honoring their own worth.

People, she literally tried to unalive herself to AVOID him and being USED by him and literally said "Heal yourself" ?????

Like, I'm just baffled by some of those takes, cause literally, on SCREEN it's shown she doesn't want to fix or forgive him.

On a lighter note: Rob LITERALLY said this in his recent interview when asked about Morfydd/Galadriel's relationship with Elrond:

"You find yourself on the opposite side of the argument to someone who you absolutely love and have such a strong bond with. So how do you navigate that? And what does that mean, especially when you have such respect and this person is so powerful in the world?"

People are just trying to join the Antis Olympics, once again, and twist every little thing they can to try to dismiss something genuine and excuse my french, it's early and I haven't had my coffee yet: it's pathetic.

Imagine trying to twist EVERYTHING from a genuine, loving relationship, where both characters are not abused, where they've shown for YEARS that they LOVE and CARE for each other like?????

Are people THAT blind?????

And it's the SECOND TIME he said it!! the first was here:

#elrondriel #galadriel #galadriel x elrond #elrond x galadriel #the rings of power #elrond peredhel #the rings of power spoilers #trop season 2 #rings of power #trop #trop galadriel

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aquaquadrant · 7 months ago

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thoughts on the new character bios/interviews that the dreamworks twitter posted below the cut, as promised

so right off the bat, i’m trying to figure out when these interviews took place. it seems to be along the lines of a ‘where are they now?’ for the nublar six, so it’d be long enough after their rescue for them to be settled back in their lives. in terms of exact timing, my guess would be it’s 2-3 years before the time frame of chaos theory, and here’s why.

ben’s part mentions him starting college. if he was 14 during JWCC, he would be around 17 at the time of JW fallen kingdom (ie. during the epilogue scene) cuz it’s 3 years after JW. this would make him roughly 21 during chaos theory cuz it’s supposed to be around the same time as JW dominion (i think so, anyway, could be misremembering), which is 4 years after fallen kingdom. while it’s possible ben delayed his start at college bc of the whole ‘was stranded on dinosaur island for a while’ thing, starting at 21 seems pretty late. so this would most likely indicate the interviews were closer to the timing of the epilogue scene, maybe a year or two after (putting ben at 17-19).

more evidence: darius’s part portrays him as fairly well-adjusted and mentions him traveling to give talks, as we saw in the epilogue. we know that at the start of chaos theory, darius has been isolating himself for an unknown amount of time following brooklynn’s supposed death. i doubt ‘the dino times’ would’ve been able to get ahold of him for an interview.

final point: kenji’s part mentions his relationship with brooklynn and that “all is good in casa de kenji.” so like, it’s very unlikely brooklynn is ‘dead’ yet LMAO

the only thing that snags at me is sammy’s part saying she has her own ranch now. if this interview took place a couple years before chaos theory, she wouldn’t be older than 20. that’s a pretty damn young age to own and operate your own ranch- but since she comes from a family of ranchers, it wouldn’t be impossible. perhaps her family purchased some additional land for her to manage a smaller herd and they stay in close business with each other (providing surplus calves as replacement heifers for sammy’s herd, for example). either way, we stan a strong independent businesswoman.

also there’s the fact that they didn’t make one for brooklynn, when theoretically she would’ve still been alive at the time these interviews were done. but i think the dreamworks team might’ve just been concerned that ppl would confuse the timeline and use it as proof brooklynn is alive (full disclosure: i fully believe brooklynn is alive but ofc the show wants us to still think she’s dead) so i could see them leaving her out just for that reason.

now that the timeline junk is of the way, here’s more random thoughts.

yaz doesn’t seem to have returned to her career as an aspiring pro athlete (seems like something the interviewer would’ve mentioned if she had). this feeds my headcanon of her retaining permanent damage to her ankle quite well. also, the trauma. sammy’s part says they “don’t have time to keep worrying about all that running for our lives stuff.” maybe that’s part of it: yaz decided to just settle down and enjoy the quiet life on the ranch. good for her!!

kenji opened up a climbing school?? that’s random as fuck but i’m here for it. on the surface, it seems like the kinda thing rich tourists would sign up for- y��know, the ppl who travel to exotic places around the world to climb shit. but it’s actually a super useful skill to have in a post-dinosaur world, and kenji knows all too well how important these kinds of skills are for survival. so for me, it’s a choice that reflects the maturing he did during his character arc.

i’ve seen some ppl speculating that yasammy might’ve had a breakup/relationship issues. i sincerely hope that’s not the case- at the time of the interviews, they seemed to be in a very committed relationship, but since that was prob a couple years ago i guess there’s a chance something could’ve happened after. fingers crossed i’m wrong and we’ll just get loads of wonderful yasammy content in the show🤞

i’m curious what ben went/was going to college for. considering the epilogue slated him as researching with mae on mantah corp island, i wonder if he’d pursue some kind of neuro/psych/animal behavior thing.

yaz anxiety mention! god please let the show delve into all the PTSD these kids must’ve brought back from the island.

every new bit of info we get has me so excited like can the show just drop already 😩⚰️

#jurassic world chaos theory #jwct #jwct spoilers #camp cretaceous #jwcc

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aesterblaster · 9 months ago

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Bad Dogs Can Learn New Tricks

Which Blue Lock Characters Have Gone To Therapy, In My Humble Opinion. (+ Who Desperately Needs To But Hasn't + Who Might In The Future)

Warnings: Some spoilers for way past the U-20 Arc, also not an extensive list of characters, honestly kind of funny. I wasn't trying to be TOO serious

Songs: Falling Behind / Laufey , The Main Character / Will Wood , Nothing's New / Rio Romeo

Has Gone To Therapy And Loves Their Therapist Gang

-Anri, There is no way she is able to have that much patience and take that much shit from corporate without having a therapist. I think she uses like 1/5th of her paycheck on books about improving your life and stuff like that LMAO. Her therapist is also a woman so it helps her to have someone who understands her frustrations with not really getting credit despite being one of the founders of Blue Lock. Also sometimes she gets worried she's unethical towards the boys so that weighs on her.

-Kenyu, Look it's still in progress ok? He was just starting before he came to Blue Lock. Once he realized he was going to lose his vision he started working with a professional and found it really helpful. In fact they were the one who encouraged him to go after Blue Lock in the first place. One of the reasons he was so quick to say sorry to Isagi is because he has those #coping skills.

-Gagumaru, After having a run in with a bear in the woods he kept having nightmares and his parents made him go to therapy. Well it was kindddd of therapy..it was a hippie who's a family friend. That doesn't mean he doesn't know grounding techniques. He even taught Naruhaya how to calm down from a panic attack once. But yeah, he doesn't really tell people that he went to therapy

-Snuffy, After his best friend's death he went to therapy ASAP. The type to only call his therapist once every 5 months and still have a rock solid relationship with them. His therapist helped him break his womanizing habit and realize that he's enough all on his own. 100% did some soul searching and stepped away from the scene. He also combined the therapist with a personal trainer to really max out his healing process. 100/10 dude for it.

"I Have Gone To Therapy And It Didn't Work" Crew

-Chigiri, Similar to Kenyu, his parents thought he might need some mental health help after the trauma of thinking he'd never be an athlete again. But he was one of those cold shoulder my mom is forcing me to do this cases. He never actually worked through what he might do if this whole thing falls through. Also snarkiness 100, his therapist almost quit because he was so insulting to them. Chigiri just felt ashamed that his parents even thought he should go in the first place and convinced his sister to also beg them to stop taking him lmao.

-Isagi, Okay at some point his parents realize he takes faliure wayyy too hard and tried to get him in therapy. When he talked to the therapist though the dude was like "Yeah, he's just competitive. Nothing wrong here." Alas, he's been masking for so long that he's incapable of revealing his issues to anyone who hasn't known him for 3 years or plays sports with him. Also, he convinced himself he doesn't need it and then idly imagines just going apeshit and killing his enemies to cope with stress...like bro...

-Noa, Why do you think he gets along with Isagi? All jokes aside, his PR people probably asked him to do it and he went and then secretly never went back. It honestly didn't work because he wasn't willing to give it a chance. And still isn't!!!! Would rather backflip off of a yacht than tell someone in a lounge chair about how growing up in intense poverty still haunts him sometimes, makes him question his worth and avoid conflict in day to day life. Sometimes he wonders if one day he'll wake up and find out it was all a dream....But nah he doesn't need therapy!

-Oliver, He was soooo close to actually getting his mental health in check but then his therapist retired. After that he got another really seasoned one and saw the amount of case files in his desk and just felt like a straight up burden. One of those "other people have it worse" and "it is what it is" guys. He's very open about his emotions and feelings so he just talks to his friends when he's really struggling. (Even though Sendou never says the right things-) Like yeah it's their job but why bug these nice people when sex?? Why talk about issues in sessions when he can get drunk or go train for 4 hours??? Riddle him that?

The "I Need Therapy And I Know It" Team

-Ness, He has so many fucking issues. Honestly, despite his devout worship of Kaiser he does realize that his behavior isn't quite healthy or normal. Dude tries to show you a funny video on his phone and all of his ads are for Betterhelp. Genuinely trying to figure out a diagnosis. Yes he has looked up all sorts of personality disorders and no he doesn't think he has any of them (He has at least two). But again, Ness is self aware enough to know that some help or someone to talk to who sees him as an actual human being would be nice.

-Niko, He cannonicaly describes himself as very very introverted and nerdy, also he hides his face. Tell me you were bullied in school or at least had an extremely traumatizing incident without telling me. Kind of never had anyone, just people who hung around because of his soccer skill or avoided him like the plague. He is that guy who will rant about "society" online for hours and fantasize about moving to a different country thinking he'd get better treatment there. Cripplingly lonely and self conscious at the end of the day, in all honesty. Also he genuinely wants a therapist but just can't afford one.

-Hiori, Obviously his parents are the ones who stop him. He tries to go and his mom realizes where he's making her drive him and swerves off. Even when he gets his license, you just know they're tracking everywhere he goes. He doesn't have enough privacy to really get better like that, Hiori has to wait until he moves out. Still genuinely fucked up by the fact that Gagumaru has gotten therapy and he hasn't. Just listens to emo music and plays video games and pretends that that fixes everything. He's totally releasing a top-selling book about his horrible childhood after Blue Lock.

-Bachira, Is he outgoing and silly? Yes. Does he need better coping skills? Also yes. Men will tell you the most horrible and traumatizing childhood memories about getting jumped and then laugh it off, and it's him, Bachira is men. He ties to brush off his trauma with humor but it never really works. He knows that he genuinely needs to talk to someone other than Isagi or his mom about the Monster and how it was by his side for so long. But also never goes through with getting professional help, just thinks about it sometimes.

The "What's Therapy? Fuck You!" Group

-Kaiser, Oh god, don't even suggest it to him. I headcannon that mental illness kind of runs in his family. He's watched family members be taken away for being too out there and openly mentally ill so he has a reason to not trust doctors. Just associates therapy and things like it with abusive institutions. If he told a therapist all of his issues, he'd probably be sent to a psyche ward. Just the threat of being sent there single handedly kept him from killing himself or talking about his feelings when he was younger. He will continue to just be slightly abusive to the people around him thank you very much.

-Ego, Bro's got the government banning him from soccer and you think he's thinking of therapy? When Anri tells him he needs it offhand, he's like, revenge is my therapy. Insane as fuck but thinks that it's a good thing. He is not willing to talk about his issues to anyone, but especially not someone who will write it all down. Genuinely ruined a few relationships in his past because the main people he attracts are the "I Can Fix Him" people and it just never works. Suprisingly unself aware for how much he analyzes others.

-Barou, His main issue is just shame and failed gifted kid syndrome. But as soon as he's back up he's convinced he doesn't need help. Barou suffers from really high highs and really low lows but he also has the mental fortitude to handle it. He is a well adjusted and kind enough person outside of the soccer field so he never considers that he needs therapy. When he feels bad about himself he hits the gym but he's never really opened up to anyone and he sure isn't going to start once he gets more famous. Especially when he's seen as one of the best right now, can't risk his reputation.

-Rin, He's would rather gut himself with a sword than admit that his mental illness doesn't make him a cool loner wolf and just a lonely person who hasn't healed his inner child. Kind of just wants someone to baby him and tell him everything's going to be alright but in the mean time his barriers are up 24/7. He disdains therapy, thinks that he'd just be seen as a pay check and he kind of isn't wrong. Rin would rather pay money for expensive cleats than spend it for someone to suggest him breathing exercises. He also had a traumacore phase, but he'd rather not talk about it.

#every once in a blue moon my brain works #blue lock #bllk #blue lock headcannons #bllk headcannon #bllk anime #feel free to add on in tags #rin bllk #isagi yoichi #barou blue lock #ego jinpachi #kaiser michael #bachira bllk #hiori yo #niko ikki #ness blue lock #bluelock #chigiri blue lock #bllk fanfic

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youryanderedaddy · 9 months ago

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i am going to BRUTALLY FUCK ADAM UP (and not in a fun way) FOR ALL THE SHIT HE PUTS HIS DARLING THROUGH. IT'S EITHER HIM OR US DYING, NO IN-BETWEEN. AND EVEN THEN HE DESERVES TO BE PUT IN THE SAME PIT HE DUG FOR DARLING, NO PROPER BURIAL OR ANYTHING. NO SAD BACKSTORY IS GOING TO CHANGE MY MIND.

(I love your work by the way, gives me the fuel to spitefully plan all those bastards demises. This is a compliment)

TBH Adam is terrible and I am not making any excuses for him. BUT HERE IS HIS SAD BACKSTORY (any excuse to talk about his emo ass). Basically him and reader grew up in a very poor area, both stuck in abusive households, and for a while they were each other's only support. They were best friends, and eventually escaped home at 16. They lived in motels for months, running small errands for a while to save enough money to move in together. Eventually they managed to rent a run - down flat (it's a start), but then little by little Adam started becoming more and more paranoid, from over - protective to possessive to boderline abusive. Reader escaped, found new friends and managed to find a normal job, which Adam learns of, and it just gets worse from there.

His deal is that he feels like he only has Reader - he has no family or friends, he has no social skills, he's very rough and hard to talk to, so if he can't be with Reader, he feels like he'll be alone again. He had some sadistic tendendies even as a child, hurting animals and getting into street fights, but as an adult it just got worse. Especially since Reader used to balance his bad side out - and now it's been left unchecked for a while.

The other thing is that he hates the idea of Reader moving on and starting a clean sheet. He knows he can't do that. He can't work a normal job, he can't act like a real adult, he feels totally disconnected from his surroundings. He has no actual skills, just trauma and skillduggery that he picked up from his father. Anyways, he's subconsciously envious of Reader, since she manages to move on from her past and start anew.

Adam is also prone to depressive episodes and unpredictable mood swings. He thinks that if he feels like shit, everyone should feel like shit lol. The grave story is him trying to say "You're not going anywhere, you're staying with me until you die." and in his head it sounds romantic, but irl Reader thinks she's getting murdered (which fair enough I would too lol).

But yeeeah overall he's like a time bomb and living with him is basically living on eggshels. Just a very dangerous and unstable character, you never know what you'll wake up to lmao. If it makes you feel better, in my headcanon he dies at 27 because he smokes and drinks waaaaay too much and Reader just takes all his money (which is not much lol) and leaves, and hits the lottery or something xDD

#rambling about my fav #I don't like him but I find him interesting #in my head he's like #emo af #with eyeliner and all #also thanks for the kind words anon <33

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starsofang · 7 months ago

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cod characters as detroit become human characters

soap as connor

- extremely skilled at what he does

- makes sarcastic/snarky comments towards people he doesn’t particularly like/trust, but can be very serious and sharp when doing a job/interrogation

- dedicated to his work, hence why he’s so good at it

- gets along with essentially everybody, but people end up letting him down/turning on him ): graves

- soap was the youngest to pass the sas selection, and connor was the first android to be created for police work :p

- very smart and knowledgeable, literally know SO much about everything, especially their jobs

- both rays of sunshines

ghost as luther

- it was hard picking who ghost would be, and at first i said hank. they’re both lieutenants, have lots of trauma ): and liked working alone until their partners came along

- but i also think he’s a lot like luther

- first off, big boys

- reserved personalities that make them appear off putting and cold at first, but once you realize that’s not all they are, they’re very kind people who just happen to be intimidating

- luther is very protective of his ‘family’, ghost is protective of 141, he’d very much die for them and kill for them

- history of abuse and mistreatment, they come from bad backgrounds that created who they are today

- gentle giants. i don’t like the trope that ghost is scary and mean, because he’s not outside of missions. in dbh, luther was made out to be the same way when all he wanted to do was protect kara and do his duty of being a guardian, and i feel ghost is very similar

gaz as markus

- natural born leader

- gaz is very selfless and wants better for the world, the same as markus

- well spoken and executes their voices very well

- extremely strong willed while also knowing how to keep their temper in check, they know how to do their job and do it well

- does what they have to do in order to guarantee the best outcome, even if it’s not always what they want to do

- they’re also very pretty to look at lmao

price as hank

- at first this didn’t really fit in my mind, but after some thinking, i think they’re pretty similar!

- both of ranking in their respective jobs

- experts at what they do, have been doing it for a long time and know how to lead their men in the ways they know best

- hank is a bit more of a grump than price is, but when they’re both angry (ex. price literally any time shepherd is around), they bring hell to whoever they’re angry at and don’t have the nicest things to say

- the world on their shoulders, they just need a nap man

- hank doesn’t show it as much, but they both have a lot of care in their hearts, especially for the people they work with and they’d do anything for them

- love their liquor after a job lmao

farah as kara

- selfless women who have been through so much

- both deserve better

- but because they’ve been through a lot, they’ve become strong both physically and mentally and use that trauma to their advantage

- will do anything to protect the ones they love, even if it means hurting themselves in the process

- farah is such a soft spoken person with high maturity and intelligence in the way she conveys her words, just like kara

- i literally love them to death, best characters in their respective games ):

graves as elijah

- can be manipulative as fuck lmao

- when they have an end goal for themselves, they do anything to achieve it, even if it means taking others down with them

- both can be perceived as complex characters that have good intentions and good moments, but also know that the reality is they’re rather selfish people who make decisions for themselves

- even the way they talk is similar at times !!

- many people who don’t truly know elijah trust him, just like graves, but only the people who they’ve hurt know the real side of them

- many people like them, while many people don’t, that’s how conflicting their characters are and it’s hard to pick a side

shepherd as amanda

- literally hate them both

- but really, they’re great characters that bring so much to the story and the way it progresses

- has lots of impact on the way the characters navigate themselves. amanda controls connor, while shepherd controls graves. it’s a very similar concept imo

- lots of knowledge and wisdom but uses it to manipulate things the way they want

- betray the very people they’re working with and supposed to guide, for their own selfish reasons

- both dead, technically lmao

replaying dbh for the sixth time and i was like !!! this might be a fun concept. to some it may not be entirely accurate, but i thought it was fun to dissect all the characters and see who fits who the most, and this is the way i see everybody 🙏🏻

#cod #cod mw3 #cod mwii #john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soap cod #ghost cod #farah karim #general shepherd #phillip graves #detroit become human #dbh #call of duty

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kissofthemis · 1 year ago

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Hello!Can i request the nxx biys with a slightly weird s/o?

Like weird as in they're always happy and goofy 24/7 even in dangerous situations?Like maybe something happened to them in the past that made then this way(you can decide on what happened :D )

Oh,and can i be the K Anon?My keyboard lags a lot if i use emojis,so I hope you don't mind if I go by K Anon here :D

Sorry if this is a super long request it's just been brainrottingbin my head 24/7 and i don't have enough writting skills lmao

❤ Artem ❤

At first, he doesn't notice that you have a tendency to laugh off your pain or make morbid jokes. He thinks that he's just more uptight or strict than most people, so he suspects your behavior is actually more akin to how "normal" people act.

It's when you act blasé after a dangerous encounter that he realizes that this seems to be a unique trait, specific to you.

He specializes in criminal cases. He knows that people who feel threatened or have experienced dangerous situations can react in many different ways... but to be this carefree is not something he's seen before.

You don't lash out, but you don't withdraw. You don't scream or cry, but you aren't bottling your pain either. You're an anomaly.

"Mr. Wing, it's a dark world out there." He knows that. "If I'm too serious, I'll crumble." He's never heard you speak in such a flat, detached tone. "So I stay silly!"

He isn't going to pry into why you feel you have to laugh all the pain away, because he trusts you to tell him if/when you're ready.

He knows what it's like to mask his true feelings.

Instead he offers you his shoulder. "If you ever need to turn away from the shadows... I'll shield you if you need a moment to be vulnerable, before putting that smile back on your face."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

💛 Luke 💛

Your smile and laugh make him warm inside. He likes that you can stay cheerful even when faced with stress or with gloomy situations.

He soon realizes that you're a bit too goofy, a bit too relaxed, a bit too much of a jokester. He's not mad about it, but he wants to figure out why you're this way.

At first he doesn't want to tell you he's investigating your behaviors. He's in detective mode and NSB agent mode at the same time; he won't ask for help nor reveal his intentions when he asks to spend more time with you.

He cares, but his pride can get in the way.

Finally he pieces together the puzzle, with clues and hints he obtained partially from you and partially from totally legitimate public sources, no hacking involved. (/s)

"You could've just asked me!" You laugh and wave him off. "It's no big deal!"

Luke gets stern with you. "You were subjected to immense psychological and physical abuse."

You just smile. "And you haven't been?" His scowl gets deeper. "Tell you what! Promise to look after me, so you don't have to worry about me getting trapped or endangered ever again! And then I'll be able to smile freely all the time!"

He reluctantly agrees.

Don't ask if the plush dog he gives you the next time you meet has a camera in it.

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

💜 Marius 💜

Your cheerful and carefree nature is what draws Marius to you in the first place.

He's constantly under stress. Whether it's school, tutoring, Z, or Pax, he always has some project pending and is subject to intense scrutiny.

You're a breath of fresh air from stuffy old men. You smile, you laugh, you play. He wants some of that l joy back in his life.

Unfortunately, trauma knows trauma. The more time he spends with you, the more he picks up on eccentricities that... don't quite line up with "innocence" the way he imagines it.

He understands the value of secrets and how they can protect others. He's had to keep secrets to protect his family, the company, reputations, wealth, you name it.

But he also wants to work on being more honest with himself, and that means being more honest with his closest friends. He doesn't have many friends, so he wants you to be able able confide in him the same way he can confide in you.

Of course, while he's a bold and bright businessman, he's a timid and inexperienced friend.

He'll try to tease and pout his way into your heart and mind. "Aww, are you laughing at me again, miss/mx/mister?" Tugging at your sleeves and your heartstrings. "Trying to trick me with a fake smile? Miss/mx/mister doesn't trust me..."

Turns out he has to be direct and blunt. You two end up having a heart to heart about your respective fears and struggles, the horrors you've faced, the sorrowful smiles and the humorous tears.

He comes up with an idea. "Here's a key to my studio. Want to turn pain and fear into something bright? Show me what you can paint."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

💚 Vyn 💚

In case it wasn't readily apparent, Vyn picks up on your act instantly.

He's a psychiatrist. He doesn't know why you act this way, but he can figure out it's unnatural.

(Not to mention he enjoys card tricks. He's also good at perceiving sleight of hand and other "magic" that involves showing someone what you want them to see, instead of showing them the truth and mechanisms behind the magic.)

Instead of playing games or trying to snoop his way into your secrets, he just observes you.

He's skilled at sitting back and watching, waiting, picking up pieces and fitting them together.

You catch him by surprise, however, when you call him out on his behavior.

"Vyn, am I your patient or your friend?" You pout at him and fold your arms over your chest in a highly exaggerated manner, one that is almost comical in nature. You shift back into chuckles and spin around as you wait for his answer.

Your one moment of frustration could easily be brushed off as a joke, but Vyn hears there is actual hurt in your words.

"You are... quite the anomaly," he replies at last. "You wear both the masks of comedy and tragedy. I couldn't help but wonder which was your real face." He leans closer and whispers, "I want to see my friend's true face, beneath all the masks and pretenses. Is that so wrong, dear?"

#tears of themis #tears of themis x reader #headcanon #artem wing #luke pearce #marius von hagen #vyn richter #thanks for the ask!#I hope the list format is okay! I may alternate depending on what I think works better for a certain request #K anon #tot

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empath-abuse-awareness · 1 year ago

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genuinely the people who have hurt me most in my life were empaths who "meant well" and "did this because they cared about me" and "were worried about me". on the other hand i have a narcissist friend who loves me very much and treats me with respect. they've made mistakes in the past (passive aggressive towards me and manipulative towards another person) but are trying hard to improve. you really can spin any normal human desire and make it seem demonic just based on the assumption that this person is inherently evil. like "i'm so glad my friends forgave me and we can keep having fun times together" ➡️ "yesss they're back under my control and i can abuse them"

so many people are just totally incapable of nuance like it's complex yknow. like. people with personality disorders deserve love. that shouldn't be a bold statement. those with extreme attachments etc aren't trying to manipulate you from some distant place of villainous intent. theyre jsut. feeling things they can't control. but also if you don't have the emotional capacity to handle being someone's friend after a long pattern of problems, you don't have to sacrifice your mental well-being for them. you're not good for them either if you need distance like that. just also don't make it about all people with that disorder lmao. use critical thinking skills challenge

(obviously also if you don't work out well with someone else due to your emotional needs clashing, tell them explicitly why you have to distance yourself and don't just ghost them)

anyway two of my bestest friends are personality disorder and just silly little guys. everyone in the world, including empaths, is capable of harm and should strive for self improvement.

/not talking to your blog when i say "you" i'm just shouting into the void

i seem to have forgotten to answer this one during my yearly trauma rot, oops

#narcissistic abuse #narc abuse #narcissism positivity #narcissistic personality disorder #npdawareness #surviving narcissism #npd

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ultraviolet-cello · 10 months ago

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Gooooood morning Trigun fandom, I'm up bright and early, ready to sink my teeth into today's analysis/detailed watchthrough episode - 11. To A New World.

I can't believe we're almost done with @tristampparty. These 12 days have been a blast and I'm very glad that I got to chat abt them!! I've been in a bout of artblock recently too, so I'm glad that I can just ramble instead!

Spoilers for Trigun Stampede and Trigun Maximum, and CWs for. okay this one is a Lot, but discussion of violation of bodily autonomy, sexual assault and trauma, pregnancy, transphobia, harm coming to children, Millions Knives in general, Vash's passive suicidal tendencies. If I think of any more I'll pop them up here but this episode is a heavy one!

If you wanna skip those first few CWs (Totally understandable <3), you can skip the paragraphs labelled with a [CW] at the front.

[CW] Okay so we're gonna tail off the end of Episode 10 for a second, but uh. Knives in this scene is using extremely Loaded Language to outright tell Vash that there is something wrong with him that needs to be fixed.

Just to be clear I do think Vash is very trans-coded (intentionally or not), and that very strongly influences how I interpret this scene - I myself am a trans man as well.

Cool, moving on! That's all really for the end of ep 10, I just needed to point out that Knives is using language that is commonly used to justify corrective sexual assault; which is pretty much what my reading of this scene is analogous to.

what in the fresh hell i got jumpscared by dub again. returning to subs hold on a moment. Like i've been checking dub occasionally to match up some dialogue and make sure I'm not being misled by Subtitle Jank but I'm one of those guys who can't listen to anything without subtitles lmao

But i also think i do get the funniest possible translation of this line - actually wait no i hate the double meaning (with Vash's body being used to kickstart the pregnancy imagery). was that intentional. who did this.

Anyway Meryl kicking Wolfwood is really funny but also like. Yeah. justified. She's having a no good awful time but like. She's so willing to believe in Vash, to chase after him even into Extremely Dangerous conditions (There's those hints of Trimax Meryl again....) and Wolfwood is being an ass here. (An understandable ass. But an ass nonetheless). Which is to say YEAHHH MERYL GET HIS ASS!!!

Knives' gay little like. bodysuit here. He and Vash have the same build but their respective clothes make them stand out very differently. Also that Knives' stuff seems to have more muscle definition (HYDRATE. You shouldn't have that Knives you need water :pensive:) which could be building towards his more intimidating appearance.

Also I'd be a fool to not show everyone my initial reaction to this

I've talked a little bit about how Vash uses his gun as a tonfa (thwacky baton) most of the time in melee combat, and I think that's a great way to show him utilizing something Knives gave him to Kill as a nonlethal weapon - in this, however, he doesn't have it and his normally very fluid very good form martial arts is flailing and panicked. Vash is pretty good at keeping his cool in most combat situations, and is a very skilled fighter. Seeing him lose that cool and just start struggling when Knives tries to grab him is :(

Once again the metal/organic dichotomy is coming into play - the creation of inorganic but the destruction that comes from the organic. Typically plant (as in flora) powers in media lend themselves to being creation powers, life, and healing. But Vash here has that plant (flora) theme but those are very much a force for destruction.

Also Knives with the angelic white, and Vash with the black.

I hate Conrad So Much (he's such a good character). Like we Know to some extent that dependent plants are self-aware enough to feel pain, to hold onto memories, to hatred, to love. They don't have consciousness the same way humans or Independents do, but they feel, they live, they understand what Vash tells them. Maybe it is a shallow form of themselves. But I think something a lot of people fail to realize is that (some, not all, because they are individuals even throughout a hivemind) plants appear to enjoy their purpose.

Once again the memory that is shared with Knives in Trimax of a woman and her child thanking the plant for her service and she smiles? After being fused, that plant held onto that memory. I've been given no reason to believe that plants in Tristamp are different, so Conrad is just,,, ignoring the subtleties of plants and taking away their agency to choose for themselves. Doubly so for Knives, who can communicate efficiently with them.

A very quick blink and you'll miss it detail is that Vash says "It was our fault humans crashed here!". The shifting blame and guilt between the two is something that is fighting the narrative allll the time, but Vash attributing to both of them as an appeal to Knives is interesting to relay how he feels.

I also don't think Vash is right, though, when he says the only reason humans abuse plants is because they crashed. Tesla was before, Chronica in Trimax has apparently seen independent fusions before (For what reason?). Like yeah to this extent it's a result of the big fall, but there'd still be problems without it. Nobody is right in this argument lmao

(except me. I'm always correct about everything ever)

[CW] Once again - violating Vash's consent and autonomy because he does not agree with or differs from Knives. Corrective violation, in this case. It's also important that it's Meryl who calls this out - she has to really really struggle for her autonomy to be important. She's small, carry-able, inexperienced, doesn't have any special powers or genetic modification. She's carrying a tiny gun from a man who can never back her up anymore. In fact, nobody is backing her up! She's out here alone! But she's sticking up for Vash. She cares about him,,,, so much

SURPRISE ROBERTO ATTACK [sobs]

Meryl pulled the nail out of him and placed his hands gently over the wound, as one might do in a casket. A memorial of cigarettes and his flask. All this will be destroyed soon, but Meryl did give him a funeral to the best of her ability.

Knives using Roberto's image is cruel as hell. Not to Vash but to ME. He's already dead you can't do this to meeee. "How do you think they'll react when they learn you caused the big fall" He will never learn it!! he never got the chance!!!

So fun fact you can actually eat geraniums. It's just that if Rem had said yes Vash probably would have eaten it right there and then. I've made that mistake before (told one of my class that nasturtiums were edible and he just ate one. right from the plant)

So; the Tesla scene. Something I do want to point out is that Rem finds them almost immediately, and Knives doesn't immediately pass out - Is he still catatonic enough to miss Rem's speech, or did he hear it? Because the reason that Vash turned out like he did is because he was awake to go through that with Rem - Knives was unconscious the entire time and didn't get to start that trauma recovery.

It's also important to recognize that these memories could be unreliable, especially as Knives tampers with them later.

I do want to know which version of the Bible Knives was reading. Because depending on translation/version, you can get Very different ideas out of that.

Anyway Knives is kind of beginning his spiral in that memory - "Humanity never learns" kinda shit, which seems to take place after Tesla. Who knows how long. But baby Vash calls that out and goes "yeah lets have faith"! Baby Knives looks a tad shocked and then Present Knives just. Cuts off the memory. What was the ensuing conversation!!! Hello???

Like he's clearly Having Thoughts (The Horror), we just don't get to know what those were.

So remember when I said it was interesting that Vash said it was "our" fault that the ships crashed, sharing the blame?

Yeah that gave Knives some ammo that just. Broke him. Shifts it allllll to Vash. Update Vash's description to running on 18 guilt complexes, CPTSD, and bisexuality.

[CW] There's so many different forms of assault, metaphorical and. Not. That is happening in this scene from mind violation to Knives literally using Vash's (specifically Vash's) body as a vessel to impregnate other plants which. Hey did you know that pregnancy is a massive fear of a lot of trans men. So many transphobes reduce trans men to their capability to have children, as if that's all they're good for (even if it would kill them.), and that often leads to corrective rape in order to "remind them of biological reality". In this case, Vash is a plant, he's meant to create, and yet he doesn't. But he's still being used to create anyway.

Again, Meryl also directly calls out Vash's lack of consent and gets shot down by Conrad. The whole scene is just. Hgnrhgnhrhnrnrn. It's So,,, everything to me, because it's a really good scene and shows you how far gone Knives is in Tristamp.

There are panels in Trimax that are,,, the imagery is there, but it's very overt in Tristamp.

Also hey yeah. Why is Conrad still alive?? Did he have access to cold sleep? or it's probably the robotics but did he not think of enhancing humans that way? It might just be a temporary solution, I guess, given that he is. Actively coughing up blood.

Alright! I have finished this part of the analysis that I always Feel Strongly about lmao - I have fun doing it but that's such an emotionally heavy episode.

#cli speaks #trigun #trigun stampede #tristampparty #cli analysis

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cloveroctobers · 2 months ago

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FAR FETCHED — Roman Reigns [October Prompts] 🧡

A/N: Idk I didn’t expect Roman to beat everyone else but it was close and I’m not mad about it lol! Y’all been waiting on a part 2 from me since that one thing I wrote back in May and this unfortunately is not that lmao…I had a title picked out and everything and even started writing but its just not working for me! Which is why I always say I don’t do part two’s! Still hope you guys like this little spooky piece though! 🧡

S/N & WARNINGS: also inspired by my old fav show—charmed, which I’m binge watching during this lovely season! I was more of a charmed girlie while the rest were Buffy girls 🤷🏽‍♀️ + dark! Roman & themes + language ofc! Also the fact that this is dropping a little before October??? Originally y’all weren’t getting this until Tuesday but…I had time okay! Also I apologize if the bit of Samoan I used is incorrect!

PROMPT IS FROM HERE & I’m using: Prompt #644: “Can we go on one date without you causing someone trauma?” - “Babe, I’m a demon. What do you expect me to do?”

O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤

Being involved with a demon was many things but it’s not like you could have done much to hide it. Not when the upside was slowly getting used to all sorts of creatures—other than human—that came out to play on this side of town whenever they felt like it. And certainly not when many knew your man as Thee Roman Reigns, chief of the underworld. Well it was speculated and those that knew that rumor…were not wrong! You knew him as his human name, actually held him as he died some years ago as Joe Anoaʻi and come back as Roman. “Joe,” was what he wanted you to call him since that’s what you once knew, although that part of him was killed by the hands of his human mother.

Yeah…it’s as fucked up as it sounds but you both dealt with it in your own ways. Roman claimed that joe was still in there, that he felt most like what he once was when he’s with you. His parents lied about his true identity for years and sure his father did some things that were questionable but Joe never would have thought that his father’s species was also running through his blood as well. Joe can say that he didn’t blame his mother for being upset about it all but he was her son, he didn’t ask to be this way.

It was something she deeply regretted, coming from a family of Italian hunters apparently—something she thought would never kick in or even trained to have the skill. Hunters (besides the cops) weren’t as common in this side of town but the world shifted when she tried to kill her son. Once Joe found out what he was considering that he was brought back to life in the underworld…he had to have that difficult conversation with his father, his siblings, and various of family members…which meant the world as he once knew it…changed drastically.

Joe never thought hell was the place for him…so he didn’t spend much time there…(in simplest terms, yes the underworld was a part of hell but apparently there was even a lower level and that’s where the worse of the worse took place and where Joe had to do things he would never tell you about) only when he had to handle business. One thing Joe and Roman had in common? Was handling shit.

He especially loved you calling him by his birth name when you screamed out his name, officially joining the mile high club on your way back home. (On the upside, since you were very much human!) Half of the time he came up from the underworld on business, October and May happened to be his most busiest of months up here but figured you could use a trip away from daily life, which you had no problem tagging along to feel the Florida air and see the palm trees.

The vacation glow was one of many glows, Joe enjoyed to see on you but knew once you got back to life in town, your stress levels would be back on high. You were more paranoid with life here since you had all sorts of feds and hunters questioning you about your involvement with Joe. They knew he was supposed to be dead, had his family under careful watch, even had a warrant out for his father’s arrest—it was a shame on their part—not having a inside person in the underworld who could inform them that Mr. Anoaʻi already unfortunately passed on, soul and all.

Sika was always on their radar for as long as you’ve known Joe, along with his uncle Afa. Those brothers had no problem raising hell—no pun intended—on the upside but to them it was all in good fun. Never would you have guessed that it had to do with what they truly were. There were many secrets in this city, sure there were a few museums that told the history of this town but most locals deemed it as myths and to boost its appeal. It was more of a village back then before transforming to its now busy city life centuries later.

The pests and hunters best bet was you, knowing your history together and how you were the one who tried to hold onto Joe as he clung to life. They loved bringing that traumatic memory up and even suspected that you managed to take his body from the morgue. Sometimes it was a little funny, which you learned to see the humor in as time went on and Joe came back into your life. Laughter was one of the main things that kept you sane to be honest! They just didn’t get it, they didn’t have the power—no fed or Hunter did—to take Joe down.

“Can we go on one date without you causing someone trauma?” You scowled after tossing the front door back to your Victorian that you inherited from your late grandmother.

Joe causally strolled into the house as if the both of you weren’t drenched from the autumn rain. Slamming the door behind him, you then used the wallpaper covered wall for support while you began to pluck off your heels.

“Babe, I’m a demon.” Joe replied with his hands clasped in front of him, “What do you expect me to do?”

You scoffed, hanging your damp rain coat up and placing your bag on the side table, “you’re half,” you argued before stomping towards the kitchen, “which means you’re not a hundred percent evil and he was just some kid—

“Fuck all that, he was trying to flirt with what’s mine as if he doesn’t know who I am. So? I showed him exactly who I am.” Joe answered as he pulled back one of the island chairs to sit in comfortably.

Pulling out the jug of leftover cider you spin back to face the bearded man, “He didn’t know any better and you could have sent him into cardiac arrest with what you pulled. Not only that?! What if he would have called it in and we got swarmed by the cops?”

Joe laughed with his shoulders, “I pretty much got most of these businesses on lock. The gyms arent my only holy grails but you shouldn’t worry so much…because if you are…maybe you should take the move to Florida where you’ll be better protected.”

Majority of his family (and yours) was still there so it only made sense to him.

It was a conversation as old as time. Once you came to terms with Roman actually being alive and being what he is, which also took lots of processing, he immediately wanted you to leave this town. He knew the small amount of family that was still here, about an hour away, can handle themselves but you were mostly out here on your own. The feds already tried to take his mother before he made the decision to bring her to the underworld himself. It wasn’t something his father ever wanted but Roman had a choice to make and he still protected his own. He didn’t like you questioning him about having his mother “locked up” in his own prison but he preferred to have her under his own care than waiting for a death sentence by those only trying to expose them all.

The only thing he shared was that she did ask about you as much as you did of her.

“Who’s going to protect that kid?” You question around the rim glass while Joe sends you a blank look.

Joe thought it was all fun and games to scare the mess out—what you keep calling—the harmless college kid. Yes he was a little too touchy and overly friendly as your server but most people didn’t try Joe regardless of what they knew of him and solely just off appearance. You weren’t picking sides like Joe tried to throw at you in the passenger side on the way back home, you just didn’t let the kid’s flirtations get to you. You knew your man was getting aggravated the more his eyes focused on the kid touching your shoulder and his jaw tightened.

You weren’t sure who you should have felt more sorry for, that almost broken plate Roman was cutting into or what the kid was about to experience.

The specs of sea foam that swirled in place of Joe’s usual brown should have been enough of a giveaway but you tried to ease his frustrations with your hand placed in his instead. The last straw was when the kid asked what you two were getting into after dinner—it was more directed at you mind you—as if you didn’t just get in from a flight. So what did Joe do?

Let the monster out.

His eyes were what changed first, from dark brown to that bright sea hue. It was always insane work watching it change right in front of you, how the hue almost swirled like a used paint brush being dipped in water. You let go of his hand while his nostrils flared, quickly grabbing the utensils out of the way while he sharply set his eyes on the young man that stood closer to you. Your mouth opened ready to warn the server that you were ready for the check but a deep haunting tone commanded the young man to look Roman’s way.

That’s when you heard the sickening cracking of Roman’s skull splitting down the middle and you quickly closed your eyes and turned your attention elsewhere as Roman was on demon time.

“Maybe you should go and marry him since you’re still worried about him.”

Your brows raised at the jab as you set the cup back on the island, “you know what, maybe I should since the asshole I’m looking at, that I’ve been dating for years won’t give me that type of commitment.”

He knows he shouldn’t have said that, his hand going out to grab your wrist as you’re ready to exit the kitchen and get away from him. Joe’s been working your nerves but not the good kind lately. This was also a conversation that’s been had plenty of times, back when he was a football player, you had to deal with all sorts of women throwing themselves at him, which fed his ego but he always reassured you that they weren’t what he needed or wanted.

That was back when you were just friends. Friends that looked at each other with such adoration and would do anything to make each other happy. It wasn’t much longer after that he asked you to be his forever and that’s what it felt like. You just didn’t have the legal papers and Joe’s always knew how much a union that special mattered to you. He respected it then and thought about it himself, even got input from those closest to him but as he embraced this new life, the rules changed.

They always did.

“You know I love you more than anything right?”

You rolled your eyes, “don’t start that shit with me tonight, Joseph. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Oh, it’s Joseph now?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s like that?”

“Yup, it’s like that.” You stated, which made Joe huff and get to his feet while still holding onto your wrist.

His hold moved to grab both sides of your neck, tilting your head to meet his stare, the darkest of brown but with the right amount of warmth in the center, just for you.

“…it would make me the happiest man alive—well—

He chuckled while you lightly shake your head in his hands, “I told you it would complicate things for the both of us because we would automatically have to clear it with the underworld and I don’t want to put you through that.”

What was there to clear when he was the number one ruler? You didn’t get it and he kept leaving you in the dark about it. You knew when Joe was hiding something from you.

“Right…it’s feeling like that’s what you’ve been doing lately since you found out what you truly are. Telling me instead of discussing it with me.” You inform, “I understand that you’re the man in charge down there but why would we have to go through all that when I know you still have some sort of pull here too. We could always elope?”

That still included paper work and he was supposed to be a dead man…who still lurked in the shadows from time to time and could never be found when he wasn’t hiding by the feds or hunters.

“There’s nothing wrong with that but I know that’s not the kind of wedding you dreamed of.” Joe says to you gently, “…and I wish I could give that to you. What we have now is genuine, always will be…going forth with that step could potentially ruin everything. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Your blood felt like it was inside of a kettle, whistling and boiling away. Sure there were things you could never understand about the underworld, not even google could tell you the real deal and you knew a few witches in town but you weren’t sure how much you truly wanted to know anyway! However, ever since Joe became Roman and the chief, things were starting to feel further from your grasp.

“You keep telling me a whole lotta nothing, Joseph.” You try to look away but Joe’s not having that.

He nudged your face with his thumbs back to meet his eyes but he can tell you’re upset, “hey, don’t get snappy over something you don’t get. You’re the best thing that’s ever been in my life and I would be a dumbass to not want that on paper. I just need you to trust that if I can find a way to make this work, without us both getting hurt…I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

You repeated, “without us getting hurt?” Followed by a frown, “do you mean that literally?”

This was the most he hinted about marriage in the underworld. Usually he would do his best to dodge it, which actually hurt your feelings sometimes. Why wouldn’t he want to marry you?

Little did you know it wasn’t like that at all.

“I said too much—

“Joe!” You call his name as he steps back from you and it’s your turn to get in his space.

He puts his back to you, pushing the chair back in and starts pulling off his suit jacket, revealing a sleeveless black t-shirt underneath. He always ran hot, especially with his new transformation.

“What aren’t you telling me? I mean I’m not jumping through hoops to be the queen of the damned or anything and none of those other demonic bitches better not be either—

Joe feels his lips quirk up in his amusement as he chuckles, glancing at you over his shoulder, “rings of fire are a thing there but I already told you, nobody compares.”

Tilting your head to the side you reply, “So…there are bitches down there that I need to press?”

Joe laughs, “…Who?”

“I know that’s right because I’ll dig my way there if I have to.”

“Now who’s doing the most, huh?”

You flick your hair behind your shoulder with a roll of your eyes. It’s not like you blamed Roman for acting that way, there were things you didn’t understand as a mortal and half of the time you didn’t want to, you just wanted him to be careful and to keep loving you. Sika’s actions caught up to him in the end once he fled back to the underworld after what his wife pulled. At least you weren’t splitting yourself in half or releasing parasites from your face to get others to back off…even if you had that ability you don’t think you would have pulled that shit, especially if people were looking for you.

Joe’s pulling you back into his arms again, lips pressing to your forehead as he rubs your back. Being in his arms was the best place you could ever be but part of you was beginning to feel: if you had to be in the underworld to be his wife, you’d consider it. No matter how much it hurt, you’d do it all for Joe.

Which is why you pushed that thought alone to the back of your mind, knowing you were about to get his bloodline involved to get some answers as you pulled Joe towards the stairs.

“Oh I get to stay tonight? No banishing me?” Joe teased as you start going up the stairs with his fingers interlaced with yours.

You scoff followed by a big yawn, “don’t push me,” you joke, “it’s a new night and the flight is actually catching up to me so I need my body pillow.”

As you got to the second level of the home, joe is squeezing you again from behind, his lips pressing a kiss in the bare space between your neck and shoulder. “Alright, I’ll allow you taking advantage of my body slide since I love you so much and wouldn’t want to give it to anybody else, even when you’re the biggest brat I know.”

He using a free hand to give your backside a nice slap, loving how it bounced back just for him. He licks his lips at the sight while you playfully elbow him the closer you get to your bedroom.

“Ou te alofa ia te oe ma loʻu loto atoa ma loʻu agaga.” You say to him as you turn to him in the doorway of your bedroom and you knew by Joe’s pretty grin that he always appreciated you using his native tongue.

Your arms go up and around his neck when he leans to place his lips right on yours, soft lips always so gentle at first but firm enough to let you know his intentions of love, his beard pricked your face, noses brushed against each other, with his scent smothering you just the way you liked it while you breathed him in, and his hands went to your hips before he leads you into the room for the night.

And as he lays with you on his chest wide awake in the dark of the rainy nightfall, peacefully listening to the sound of you breathing, he knows just how much you love him and that’s what terrifies him the most, now knowing at what cost.

Joe wouldn’t allow you to give up your soul to the underworld in order to be his eternal wife, it was only a matter of time for himself considering this is partly what he was meant to be but Roman?

Was another story.

That was a internal battle within itself.

O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤

Continue with my October anthology prompts here.

#queued #october prompts #October fiction #fanfiction #spooky season #spooky fiction #roman reigns #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x black reader #demon au

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