#blood n gore warning here too lmao

[trashy-roadkill]

The best thing to do is to tell someone they're doin great, even while wounded

[stevie-petey]

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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[btsugarush]

GANGSTA | myg - 004

summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, and gang related activity; four things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention.

pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f!reader

warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni.

word count: 3.5K

authors note: yes, it is here. it only took me 76 years lmao. y’all best give me all the love since y’all wanted to be on my ass about this mf. anyway, enjoy the drama. also this was prewritren with the tags a long time ago so if you no longer wanted to be tagged or if you’re new and wanted to be tagged i’m sorry. the taglist got full but i try to switch out who i tag every chapter.

“Now, are you sure you’re okay? I can personally file a report for you.” Mr. Kim asked for the 6th time. You roll your eyes, fed up with the badgering. You didn’t understand why he cared so much anyway. He was the one that refused to listen to you when you tried to explain why it wouldn’t be a great idea for you to deliver in Gongdan.

You didn’t go into detail about the assault, or even bother to mention Yoongi being the reason it didn’t escalate. You simply just stated to him that you were attacked and managed to slip free.

Luckily for you though, the old man’s guilt for the attack led him to giving you the rest of the day off and you snatched that offer up immediately. Not like he needed your assistance, seeing as the restaurant was practically dead with only about 4 customers. “I’m fine, Mr. Kim. I promise.” You assure him one last time. “Alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” You exit the shop, the door dinging as you do. You spot Mina’s car sitting in front of the restaurant, and she smiles cheerfully as you climb inside. “Hey. Thanks for picking me up so early.” You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “No problem… But why am I picking you up so early? And…” she leans forward, peaking at your ripped shirt. “Why is your shirt ripped?”

You scratch your head, the thought of explaining the situation to Mina made your brain itch. “I had to deliver at the Devil’s playground again, and got attacked.” You kept it short and sweet. Mina’s eyes widened in shock. “What?! Was it that Yoongi guy again?!”

You shake your head. “It wasn’t him, it was this group of guys. Yoongi was actually the one that saved me…” you twiddle with your fingers as your mind wanders about the raven. Mina arches a brow at the gentleness in your voice. “He saved you?” You nod slowly in response. “My god, what does he expect from you now? Sexual favors?”

Of course Mina has to be the most dramatic and think the worst possible thought of everything. “No, he didn’t ask me for any favors. Which I guess is surprising for someone with his track record.” You admit, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Mina starts up the car, finally moving from the restaurant premises. “Please don’t tell me you’re buddy buddy with that thug now?”

You scoff, letting your eyes roll back. “Of course not! The guy is a criminal, and stalker. I’d never befriend him,” You argue, crossing your arms. Yoongi may have saved you, but you weren’t swayed by his heroic charm. “Anyway, enough about me and my shitty day, it’s too traumatic to talk about. Did you have a talk with Jin like I suggested?” You change the subject. Mina’s face drops at the mention of her boyfriend’s name. “Yeah, we talked for about 2 minutes before it all blew up. Now we’re not on speaking terms,” She sighs. “I think maybe I should break up with him…”

You frown. ‘There she goes being the most dramatic again…’

“Mina, don’t be so damn hasty all the time.” You try to reason with the blonde. “I’m not!” She defended herself. “I’m just tired, y/n. I’m tired of trying to figure him out. I’d rather break up with him before he breaks up with me.”

Mina had never been the girl to get her heart broken. In high school she was the one always doing the heart breaking, so you could tell that it genuinely killed her to love someone as much as she loved Jin, and not know where his head was at regarding their relationship. “I don’t know, Mina… I just know if I was in your shoes with Kookie, I’d try to work things out before I think of the worst possible outcome.”

Mina pouts, but she doesn’t continue to speak. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, you were right. She shouldn’t just jump the gun and break up with Jin. Although he was acting strangely and it was confusing the hell out of her. “You know… I’m jealous of your relationship with Kookie.” She suddenly blurts, causing you to turn to her with a raised brow. “Huh?”

“I’m jealous,” she repeats. “Of you and Jungkook.”

You tilt your head to the side, your eyebrows now scrunched in curiosity. “Why?”

Mina simply shrugs, sitting quietly for a couple of minutes before answering. “You two match, and have an unbeatable connection. You started off as best friends, which played in your favor. I met Jin in the hospital because he had a broken arm. We don’t have the history you and Jungkook have.”

You smile at the compliment towards your relationship, but quickly shake your head. “History isn’t everything. Some people marry their high school sweethearts and breakup. You and Seokjin just need to be mature– or you at least.” Mina whips her head in your direction, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean by ‘or you at least’?”

“I mean that sometimes you’re immature. You tend to freak out when things don’t go your way and storm off like a child.” Mina snarls. “I’m not immature.” She muttered to herself, practically proving your point. The car finally slows down in front of your apartment before coming to a complete stop. “Thanks for the ride again, Mina. I appreciate you.”

“Of course. I’m mature enough to pick up my best friend when she needs me.” She glares, your previous comment still not sitting well with her. You shake your head, paying no mind to her attitude. “Bye, Mina. I hope everything works out with Jin.” You pushed open the car door, climbing out.

“Yeah, you and me both.” She mutters her last words before she waits for you to close the car door, speeding off into the distance with you standing there to watch. You let out a sigh, shrugging. What was the point of her asking for your advice if she was always going to dislike what you had to say?

You turn on your heels, walking up the steps that lead to your building entrance. As you venture down the hall to your apartment, you spot a shaggy haired man placing a bouquet of flowers right in front of your front door. A smile forms your face as you see the one person you longed to see after such a horrendous experience. “Kookie?”

The brunette jumps slightly, your sudden appearance catching him off guard. Once he registers that it’s you, he smiles as well. “Well shit, I wanted to surprise you with something sweet when you got off. Guess that’s a fail.” He scratches the back of his neck, chuckling. You shake your head, instantly embracing him with a hug. “It’s not a fail. I’m so happy to see you.” Even though you pretty much talked on the phone with Jungkook everyday, it felt like you hadn’t seen him in weeks.

Jungkook’s tattooed arms wrap around your waist, returning your gentle embrace. “I’m happy to see you too, angel. What’re you doing home so early though? I thought you weren’t off till 8:00?”

You bit down on your bottom lip. You wanted to start crying right there just thinking about what almost happened to you today. You hadn’t told him about your trip to Gongdan yesterday because you didn’t want him to worry, but now you felt as though he deserved to know this time. “I got attacked today.” You take a step back, showing him your torn shirt. Jungkook looks down, dumbfounded at how he hadn’t clocked your ripped shirt when you first walked in.

“By who?!” He shouts. “If it was Yoongi and his gang I swear to god–”

You shush Jungkook, looking around to make sure none of your neighbors were in the hallway eavesdropping. “Let’s talk about this inside, okay?” The brunette is pissed, but he nods, awaiting for you to open your apartment door. He grabs the flowers from the floor as you dig through your purse for your key. ‘I really need to get a keychain for this thing," you thought, finally finding the piece of metal in your bag.

You open the door, and Jungkook wastes no time storming in. He places the flowers on your kitchen table, pulling out a chair for you to sit and explain yourself. Even though he was angry he still focused on your wellbeing. You close the door, unsure if you really wanted to recite the situation. Too late to change your mind now though.

You shuffle to the seat that Jungkook pulled out for you, plopping down. “So? Was it Yoongi’s doing?”

How do you even begin to explain all of this? Yes, but not really? While Yoongi was the reason you ended up in Gongdan, he isn’t the one that attacked you. But he has taken a weird interest in you ever since the Makoto showdown between you and his trusty stooge. If you told Jungkook that though, he'd just spend every moment trying to protect you and probably do something unnecessary to get himself hurt. You didn’t want that.

So, maybe it was best to embellish the truth a bit and leave Yoongi out of it.

“I had a delivery in Gongdan today. Jimin was out sick, and I was the only one that could deliver it. A group of guys attacked me on my way back to the restaurant.” Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows. “You had a delivery at the devil’s playground and you took it? What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I had to do my job. I had no choice, Kookie. Mr. Kim wasn’t letting me out of it. Believe me, I tried.” The brunette scoffed, redirecting his anger to Mr. Kim. “I should go down there and kick that old man’s ass,” He muttered. Jungkook was never too fond of Mr. Kim. He thought the old man could be a bit misogynistic.

“Did they hurt you?” His voice is now more tender. You shook your head. “No. I’m fine,” You assure him. “The only thing that got hurt is my precious shirt.” You laugh a bit, trying to lighten the mood. “Did they just let you go? How’d you get free?” He pressed on.

“Umm…” you trail off, your thoughts once again wandering to the raven haired man.

“So Wonder Woman, you ready to accept that ride today?”

“They got scared off by someone that happened to be walking by. Lucky me, huh?”

Jungkook sighs smoothly, crouching down in front of your chair. He takes your hands in his, interlocking your fingers. “I’m glad you’re okay, y/n. I hate to know you experienced that and I wasn’t there.” He frowns, leering down at your hands. “Jungkook, you’re not gonna be able to be there for everything, and that’s okay. You’re here now, when I need you the most.”

Jungkook looks up at you. “And I’ll stay here.”

“Please remind me to stop letting you pick out movies. You always pick the cheesiest ones.” Jungkook grimaced as you two reached the end of your movie. You wiped stray tears from your eyes, glaring over at your soon-to-be boyfriend. “The Princess Diaries is a classic. I love it.” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, well next time I’m picking the movie. Your selection sucks.”

You gasp, taking a pillow from the other end of the couch. “Take that back.” You cock the pillow, ready to deliver a blow. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry… that you’re ass at picking movies.” You swing the pillow down on him, and his hands go up in self defense as he laughs, his back landing on the couch cushions to better protect his face. You take this advantage to straddle the brunette’s waist, continuing your attack until he ultimately surrenders. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You finally toss the pillow back down to the end of the couch, a victory smirk plastered on your face. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

“Hard not to when I’m being attacked by a pillow.” He looks up at you, still straddling his waist. Jungkook’s hands slowly roam up your legs, stopping to grip your hips. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Your cheeks heated up with the compliment, and you felt a sudden wave of warmth between your legs that made you anxious. This was it. There was no better time than this to lose your virginity to Jungkook.

You lean forward, pressing your lips to his pierced ones, the metal was cold against you; Jungkook didn’t hold back, or hesitate the moment your lips were against his. Your mouths moved in sync, but sloppily at the same time as though you both wanted it real bad– and you did. Jungkook’s hands moved from your hips, reaching back to cup your ass in his hands, giving your cheeks a squeeze.

You moaned softly into his mouth, rolling your hips over the rough fabric of his jeans until you felt his cock harden underneath you. Jungkook made sure to assist you, his hands pressing you down harder against his confined length. Your panties were soaked, and your mind was in a daze. You were sure that you had dampened his jeans by now. “Fuck, Y/n…” he muttered in between kisses. “We have to stop before I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t stop, I want this.” You whine, rolling your hips faster. Jungkook moans, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, I can’t.” He grabs your hips, forcing you to stop. You take the hint, but you can’t help the pang in your chest. Was there something wrong with you? You didn’t get it. What was he waiting for? You climb off of him, taking your place back on the couch.

It’s silent as Jungkook sits up on the couch, running his fingers through his hair. “Y/n…”

“Save it,” You cut him short. “You don’t want to have sex with me, I get it.” Jungkook shakes his head. “That’s not true. I do.” He argued. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “So then what’s the problem? I’m always practically giving signals that I’m ready and you’re holding back. You have never done that with any girl you’ve dated before me.”

“You’re not any girl I’ve dated before you.”

“Right, I’m y/n, the girl that’s been your best friend for years and the truth is that’s probably all you see me as.” Jungkook says nothing, he doesn’t even bother to argue because that’s just something he hates doing with you. “I uh… I should go.”

“Then go.” You snapped. Jungkook nods, standing up from the couch. As he walks to the front door, he looks back at you. You don’t look his way, you just continue to stare forward. “You’re not any girl I’ve dated before you.” He repeats; those are his final words before he opens the door and leaves.

Your eyes brim with tears as you finally turn, looking towards the table where Jungkook’s bouquet of flowers sat.

“Well well well, look who made a full recovery today.” You eye Jimin taking orders as you walk into Makoto. Jimin smiles at you, happy to see you in what felt like forever since you two worked together. “Y/n, it’s good to see you too.” He greets. You cross your arms, not in a greeting mood. “I have a bone to pick with you once you’re done here.” You say, walking back to the kitchen to clock in.

“Y/n, good afternoon. How are you feeling today?” Mr. Kim asks you as you grab an apron from the hook, tying the black fabric around your waist. “It’s a Monday, how am I supposed to be feeling?” You speak dreadfully. You barely got any sleep after what happened last night with Jungkook, and now you were at work. Jungkook hadn’t even called or texted you. Not that you wanted him to right now.

“Well, I meant everything that happened yesterday, how are you feeling today?” He reiterates. You grab a time card, swiping it through the clock. “I’m fine, Mr. Kim.” You walk past him, taking a notepad and pen from the cup holder. Jimin walks back into the kitchen, his face suddenly pale like he was ready to puke. Maybe he was sick.

“Hey, um, there’s someone out there at table three that’s requesting for you to take their order.” He says, scratching the back of his neck. You raise a skeptical brow. ‘Requesting me? Could it be Jungkook?’ You thought. Maybe he wanted to talk in person instead of over the phone. You didn’t see why he couldn’t have waited until your shift was over and come to your apartment, but you didn’t argue with the gesture.

“Okay…?” You walk out of the kitchen towards the dining area. As you scope out table three, you don’t see Jungkook, but in fact, Yoongi, Joon, and two other guys you don’t know. That’s why Jimin looked so sickly. You shake your head, sauntering over to their table. “What’re you doing here? Was yesterday not enough?” You snap at Yoongi.

“Nice to see you too,” the raven laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Yesterday is the reason I’m here in person, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you getting your pretty self into any more trouble in my hood.” He smirked. “You remember my boy Joon, don’t you?”

“Wonder Woman, it’s good to see you again.” You glare at Joon, rolling your eyes. You didn’t have time for this. Yoongi was the last person you cared to see right now, and you definitely never wanted to see Nam-joon again. “So are you here to order something or are you here to be the bane of my existence?”

“Depends… are you on the menu?” He bites his bottom lip, looking you up and down. Joon, and Yoongi’s other two minions snicker and you’ve decided you’ve had enough of this pig fest. “Okay, goodbye.” You turn to head back to the kitchen, but Yoongi stops you by grabbing your wrist. “I’m just joking around, sweetheart. I’m here to ask you something.” You pull your wrist from his grip, turning back to face him. “Ask me what?”

“Well, I’m having this kickback at my place tonight. I want you to slide through.” You scrunch your eyebrows together in confusion. “What on earth would make you think I’d dare to step foot into Gongdan again? And what makes you think I’d go to your shifty ass warehouse?”

“Well, I just thought after my heroism the other day you would want to thank me more properly.” You scoffed. Mina was right. He was expecting some kind of sexual favor from you. “I knew it. You only helped because you thought you could use me later on. I should’ve expected that from someone like you.” You leave their table, making your way back towards the kitchen, but this time Yoongi stands up from his seat to follow you.

“Princess,” He stops you again, his hand grazing your waist, but he doesn’t fully touch you in a manner that came across as though he was trying to respect your boundaries–for once. He steps in front of you, blocking your way to the kitchen. “It’s not like that. I helped you because I wanted to.”

“Is that so? Because it truly didn’t seem like it just a second ago.” You snarled, crossing your arms. The raven makes a “tsk” sound before continuing on. “Sweetheart, if that’s all I wanted from you then I would’ve made you give it to me right there in the alleyway. Regardless of what happened,” His face was stone cold serious. He meant that. You stood silent, not knowing what to say next.

“Listen… sometimes I have these kickbacks, and they’re a vibe, but it would be better if I saw your pretty face there.” His voice is soft, so soft that you didn’t think someone like Yoongi could produce such a tone. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to take a bus through Gongdan at night.”

“So don’t. I’ll pick you up.”

You sigh, slowly feeling yourself ready to cave in and you didn’t know why. You literally could not stand this man. He was a stalker for fuck sakes. A criminal. And yet… here you were ready to accept his invitation because of one good gesture, and a sudden softness to his voice. Yoongi’s eyes search for yours until they lock, a smile forming his face. For a moment as you're looking into the raven’s eyes you begin to question is he really the monster he makes people believe? Or is that all for looks?

“Hey, can we get the check please?” A customer calls out. Your eyes snap away from Yoongi’s. You had almost forgotten you were at work. “Look, I have to get back to work. I’ll… I’ll let you know.” You take your notepad, writing down your phone number. As you rip the paper from the pad, you actually begin to question your sanity. You hand the paper to Yoongi, his lips tilting in a sly smirk as he takes it.

“I look forward to hearing from you, princess.”

Taglist

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[l3monlem0n]

Some Murder Drones Episode 7 screenshots I thought were interesting and my thoughts on them :>

SPOILER WARNING!!!! is spoilering

Nori, despite being a middle aged woman with a child, appears to be an Otaku or otherwise likes "edgy" and "scene" stuff, as well as listening to nightcore, very much like her daughter. Good for her tbh you're never too old to have fun

She also has a photo of Khan and what I can only assume is baby Uzi, though it appears to have blue eyes, but maybe it's just the lighting. Still very cute she has a pic of her husband

As well as all the previously mentioned Otaku stuff, she also drew herself as an anime character. She has a skinsona. Phenomenal (pos)

Nothing much here, just Uzi coughing up blood. Girl got the goop (gore) inside of her already

Lab Space. Apparently the Church was just down there and not even the humans know why. The canonicity of this is questionable; it could just be a joke

OT, as per google, stands for "Occupational Therapy". Makes sense for the context, and makes the bottom text funnier

"Fun Time To Universe Big Crunch: 87". The Big Crunch is a hypothetical way the Universe could end, where the universe folds on itself and shrinks into a single point. 87 "what" I don't know. If it's months, that 7 years and 3 months

Honestly the Murder Drones lore is super confusing. I think what this is trying to say is that every other Zombie Drone is doing poorly, (Except for Yeva), they are trying to reactivate 002 (Nori) via the USB. I'm not sure what this means. Maybe they only got the results they wanted from the two of them, and are trying again with Nori since she was the only other one that worked (also why they got Yeva when she failed; this may all be referring to how the episode opened up) Also, the date says SER. As revealed in the episode Cabin Fever, Copper-9 has months that Earth does not. SER most likely stands for Seramorris, the month revealed in that episode

Looks like the "bad event" wasn't the first one. Certainly was the last one though lol

Just a good pic of ghost/hologram V with the scary stuff. Might use this as a wallpaper

You can literally see the hole in his neck where N bit him in...

...And it's to the point his HEAD FALLS OFF. (including because I didn't notice the first time around)

Yup, the idea that Uzi became the Admin for N and V is completely true. I wonder what would've happened if she didn't, since Cyn didn't react whatsoever

friggin bug (very pos)

You would not believe how difficult it was to get a good pic of this (I'm using snipping tool lmao). Always a pleasure to see Uzi's doodles. Things her gun can do (upper right):

NOT judge her

Forced prom date (?)

Allows her to say she had friends before she frickin murdered them with sci-fi machinery

The cut off text at the bottom: Plan B: Normal gun + Shoot really fast

This is while Tessa is looking for something in the lockers. Claws, chains, magnets, Wings, and scribbled "HELP". Looks like the lockers were all specifically to hold the infected worker drones. Oof

We are in the future now baby. We have rererererereCAPTCHA. Funnily enough, it still couldn't stop a robot

There is a message board where someone who doesn't like robots is talking. They also are scared. Also no one else is using this system, which is unsurprising. "Ur aight ;)" Wait is the winky face intentional foreshadowing? Or unintentional?

We get the names of a bunch of other Worker Drones. Unfortunately for all 029 fans, her name was not visible. (also can someone tell me what "JWEB" could be short for?) And Yeva is said to have a patch. That may be the crucible thing idk

Cyn (which I will be calling this version Skyn [Skin + Cyn]) apparently took of the space suit just to give Doll the Withered Foxy jumpscare. Honestly really terrifying. If this photo was teased before release I think the fandom would've exploded

Just N being a good boy :3

The MDs, Cyn's pets. Nori refers to them as "Nerfed" so the "Entity" can ensure control, and says they were made to destroy other hosts. I don't know why Cyn would want them dead, but I'm not the loremaster here. YouTube line is there because I couldn't be bothered after the Railgun image

Probably already confirmed, but doubly confirmed that a symptom of the Solver is giving Drones organic insides. A Worker Drone body with a rib cage and guts. I wonder what would happen if the infection continued uninterrupted (also R.I.P. Doll I loved you :frown:)

I'm sure everyone noticed, but when Uzi tried to manipulate Tessa, the ERROR noticed appeared. Already hinting Tessa is not all she says she is

Apparently the Solver can create Black Hole Saws. Interesting development (Blackhole Blitz)

I know most people (I think) see this as a joke and N just being a bit of goofball. But honestly, I think he did it intentionally to shock Cynuzi and give Nori a chance. In the Pilot, he licked V's sword to surprise her too, which means he isn't unfamiliar with doing something weird and surprising for the advantage

Skyn eating Doll's core. R.I.P. Doll again. Seriously, was that Doll in Core Form like Nori was? Or was Nori a fringe case because she was "Exorcised" and this is just a regular core? Questions, questions. Also yeah the Solver also gives you a Core. Fun

This tag makes me think that this body is Cyn's actual body. Not longer a hologram, but her actual body from the mansion. The reason Tessa gave N, J, and V their names was because that was the first letter of their Serial Designation (she's very uncreative). However, Cyn's tag was slightly faded, which meant her SD couldn't be seen, so Tessa gave her the name "Cyn" after her P/N, even though the other 3 already have the same P/N as Cyn (Tessa, again, is very uncreative)...

...and for some reason, Cyn or the Solver, which ever theory you subscribe to, decided to wear Tessa as a skin suit for some twisted reason. It did help her with the Captcha. Also scary because this doesn't have the right proportions for an adult (unless Cyn really forced that skin on), which leads me to believe that this is a Younger Tessa, and she faked having an older voice. Maybe I shouldn't call her my wife... I'm sure Eldritch J is still available :^)

(Seriously, the eyes are burnt out, leaving two eye holes over the visor, so she gives herself two X eyes so it looks better. Also yeah we found out what that thing on the "It Came From Copper-9" poster came from. It really was Cyn or Skyn)

Just a frame of the final...frame... for coolness. I'm probably also going to use this for a background. Also, this is definitely Copper-9. You can see the ring and ringless moon together on the right. Uzi somehow got sent to orbit after falling in the meat hole

Well that was all for now. This series has consumed me entirely, body and soul, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Goodbye and goodnight

[urprettylittlething]

In The Shadows

Purge Alternate Universe

Yandere - Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

A/N - Okayyyy I've been working on this for like a week and it's the longest I've ever written for one thing, I had a shoulder injury which is mostly healed up now during the week which hindered my progress a little because I originally really wanted this to get out nearer Halloween time, but oh well TT at least its here now right? Lmao, but I hope you guys enjoy it, I tried my best and lowkey kind of hate it, I wished I could've done more or something, but if you have any ideas around this for a possible part 2 let me knoww, although no promises ;) Consider this a massive thank you story, I now have over 100 followers and the likes and reblogs and comments, you guys, I'm crying, I love you all so much <333333 I love interacting with you guys and your comments on my stories or in my inbox <3333 you all make my day ilysm <3 :( AND IM SORRY I COULDNT HELP IT, they're kind of really mean so its more harsh yandere than the soft you all wanted :( I couldn't help myself its a purge AU TT, but I promise ill make something softer in the future <33 sorry this is so long omfg, but let me know your thoughts pretty please &lt;3 and if you actually read all of this ily

summary - Another purge night is here and you think your safe and sound, but let your guard down and you'll find yourself bound.

warnings - purge, mentions of 'off screen' murder, actual 'off screen' murder, kind of gore but reader doesn't see it, blood, rope, reader gets tied up, gags?, tape over readers mouth, they're actually kind of really mean lol, especially Geto, descriptions of panic, anxiety, overthinking, stalker situation kind of, swearing, crying, brief hair pulling, if there's any more let me know ml <3

genre - Oneshot

wc - 7.2k

~spelling and grammar fixed already~

Edit - the top photo 6/11/23

The tip tapping of fingers on keys echoed around the silent room. The occasional footfalls of people around her walking up and down. Picking up books to further aid their studying would slip past the music playing in her ears when they were loud enough.

Every time she would hear someone being a little too loud for the library they were in she would glance up and shoot a half-hearted glare their way.

They’d never see her but it was the thought that counted. A barely audible sigh escapes her as she brings a hand up to massage her cold fingertips into the throbbing skin at her temple. 

Nervous nibbling was occupying her teeth and lips, chewing away the flesh and creating tender spots her tongue would soon soothe. 

She’d been staring at the same empty document for two hours now. No more than two sentences she was able to come up with before she’d erase them in a fit of frustration.

Abandoned textbooks lay closed behind her laptop, she’d deemed them no use around thirty minutes in, but she couldn't bring herself to get up and search for better ones. 

She was antsy, not able to focus on her assignment due in a week's time. Her brain was all fogged up, too many thoughts going through her mind and yet she's not able to focus on a single one.

The purge was tonight. March 21st. And it was currently 1pm. 

Why did she even bother to come to the library in the first place? Was she hoping to distract herself even just a little bit before she had to hunker herself down in her dorm for twelve hours? 

Maybe. Yes.

Was it working? Absolutely not.

She was too skittish. Overthinking everything that had the potential of happening later and things that have previously happened. 

‘Someone's not going to come and try to kill me just because I forgot to return their pen that one time, right?’ 

The amusing, albeit a little dark, thought did make the corner of her lips twitch just the smallest amount. 

Taking off her headphones after stopping her music, she closes down her laptop and starts to move it into her bag. 

She spares a quick glance around the few tables next to hers as she stands with the library's books in her arms. Her eyes locked with a man sitting roughly two tables down. Slumped back in his seat.

Gojo Satoru. Bright white and fluffy hair paired with a set of dazzling blue eyes. The ones currently peeking over the tops of his round shades that had slid down his nose as he tucked his head down slightly. 

Sitting in front of him and abstracting her view of Gojo only slightly is who she assumed was Geto Suguru. Two peas in a pod and never seen without the other. The long black and silky strands of hair tied up in a half up bun was a giveaway to who he was as well.

Both of them were originally from Tokyo, Japan. Coming over to America over five years ago. Or at least that's what she’s heard from around the place, not knowing them personally. They were the most popular boys in school when she had joined a little over a year ago and they still held the title strong.

She doesn’t think she's ever really interacted with them. At Least not on any kind of personal level. Sure, maybe from a few friends of friends or passing each other in the hallway and being polite to her upperclassmen, but nothing all that memorable. 

Which is why this prolonged eye contact is sending a very noticeable shiver down her spine. The smallest twitch of a smirk on his face and she was breaking eye contact, gulping down the pooled saliva in her mouth as she turned around and hastily made her way in between the towering bookshelves.

Leaving the library after stacking the books she’d previously taken back on the shelves, she hastily makes her way down the long corridors. Keeping her head down, her hands clutched tight on the strap of her bag. She passes very few people in the hallway.

Even after pushing through the doors and trekking her way to the dorms at the end of the path, there were very few people loitering around outside. Some of the people she passed looked like they could be stoned, not that she could really blame them. Some looked a little too relaxed and happy and some were just trying to get to their destination as quickly as possible. Like her.

As the doors came into view, and then the stairs, she slowly began to relax, her fast pace lessening up. Successfully getting to the safest place she could for when the purge would start. 

It was also a massive relief that her two good friends would be staying with her during the twelve hours of horror. Last time she was by herself there had been multiple scares throughout the night. Nothing too big but something she didn’t think she could handle alone again. 

Reaching her door on the third floor she fiddles with her keys for a few seconds before her door clicks open and she pushes her way inside. Closing the door and locking it again for good measure. 

It was 1:43 pm.

A few minutes after she had arrived back at her dorm did she realize she still needed to pick up some food items. Being a broke student meant she had essentially nothing in her cupboards or her fridge. And if she was ‘hosting for the purge’ this year, it meant she had to stock up at least a little bit. 

‘Imagine trying to hide from a killer and your stomach growls, I think I would just die on the spot.’ She thinks, the smallest smile gracing her face. Humour is usually her way to cope in situations like these. It’s either that or panicking and she’d rather try to save that for the main event.

With a heavy sigh and hesitation weighing her limbs down, she slowly puts her shoes and jacket back on. She can make this quick. In and out. Easy peasy. 

With a quick jump while shaking her limbs out to get rid of her last minute hesitation, she quickly opens her door and steps out before shutting it behind her. No going back now. Locking the door behind her, she starts making her way back down the stairs and out the doors, walking in the direction of the food store. 

Her nerves were still playing up though, eyes darting this way and that as if trying to find a reason for her to panic. ‘It’s okay, the purge hasn’t started yet, all those things are still illegal.’ Is what she keeps telling herself while taking a deep breath. But the fact they won’t be in a few hours was still cause for some panic. 

Arriving at the store, she wizzes around, collecting any good looking snack and throwing it in her basket before hastily paying and leaving. The heavy plastic carrier bag hanging from her fingers gave her reason to think she went a bit overboard. 

Her quickened steps and accelerated breathing were all she could hear for a while. Her walk back to her dorm was supposed to be a quiet one, less and less people were loitering around meaning less and less noises to distract her. 

Especially from the new set of footsteps that have appeared behind her.

As soon as her mind clocked the extra set of footsteps there, it went into overdrive. ‘Who is that? Are they following me? No, you're being delusional, they're just trying to get back home. But are they? They just appeared out of nowhere. Are they going to try and kidnap me? Rape me? Stuff me in a van? Drag me down a dark alleyway and murder me?’

Her mind was racing, steps quickening and breathing silenced under the new threat. ‘Oh god, what if they’re stalking me? Waiting until the purge starts to come and slaughter me? They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me. What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?’

And then they were gone. 

It barely registered in her mind that the fast paced footsteps from behind her had vanished. A sharp breath escaped her before her head whipped around on a desperate whim. No one. Not a soul on the path behind her. 

Her shoulders sank with relief and a watery laugh broke free from her trembling lips. ‘I’m losing my mind.’ She thought. Even though that feeling in her gut had faded, it never fully disappeared. Her racing heart never slowed and neither did her footsteps. 

Y/n hurried back to her dorm, almost running through the doors and up the stairs to fumble with her keys and quickly burst in. Double checking she locked the door behind her, and then checking every other lock on her third story apartment. Only when she had made sure they were all secure could she finally relax. 

Her body shivering and hands shaking from the after effects of adrenaline. Her breathing is still a little shaky as she pulls a bunch of pillows and blankets into her tiny living room. Pushing her chair and sofa away to make more space as she lays everything out as neat as she could, making the floor a comfy space for her and her two friends to crash for the purge. 

She empties the snacks from out of the plastic bag and piles them in a nice little corner near the TV. A small stack of movies there for when they’re all waiting for the purge to start. Some cards in a pack were also placed there. 

The three of them are wanting to be as quiet as possible while the purge is going on. Everything locked, curtains drawn, lights off, TV with no volume and only subtitles, quiet games to play in case they got bored, etc. 

They weren’t taking any chances. It was doubtful anything would happen, since nothing really ever did in the dorms. No student here would go as far as murdering somebody, everyone mostly stayed inside, not wanting to risk anything. She only knew of a few people that have snuck out before to rob a few stores, or do some petty revenge like smashing someone's car without getting into trouble.

But overall, it was best to remain quiet. They didn’t want to get murdered because the TV was turned up too loudly and attracted some wrong attention. 

It was 5:15 pm.

This is the time her friends arrived. Knocking some made up code on the slab of wood before messaging just for good measure that it was really them outside. 

After unlocking the door and letting her two good friends inside her dorm she swiftly closes and locks it again. Relieved greetings transpire as well as nervous whispers about the purge and some small gossip of who they think would actually go out this year and who are likely to stay inside. 

The three of them start to make their way around her dorm, closing all the curtains and double checking the locks on all the windows and doors. Especially the balcony and front door. 

After they’ve secured the apartment, they turn off all the necessary lights, flicking on a few electrical lanterns and setting them up around the living room, but away from the windows. They’ve left one lantern in the bathroom and one in her bedroom, both turned off, just in case of emergencies.  

The three of them settle in a spread out pile on the blankets she put down in the living room. Some snacks are passed around already and a movie is slotted into the TV, playing as background noise mostly while they talk.

Erica, a sassy but kind of dumb girl, with choppy shoulder length hair that had been bleached and dyed a light green. She's donned in a crop top and sweatpants, comfy.

Don, a friendly giant, very kind in nature but also a little muscly. He has short black hair and a sculpted jawline. He also came in sweatpants and a baggy white T-shirt, also comfy.

Her two very good, and only, friends here. They’re in a few of her classes and all regularly hang out together. 

“So,” Erica begins after her mouthful of powdered donut. “Who do you think is going to actually purge tonight? Like, actually actually. My moneys on them two hotties in my class.” She finishes, wiggling her eyebrows..

Don hums around his half empty soda can. “Yeah, honestly I wouldn't be surprised if they did.”

Y/n pipes up, “Wait who?” sitting up against the sofa behind her, getting comfy like she's about to hear the gossip of a lifetime.

“Oh, Em, G! You haven’t heard of it? You’ve seriously been, like, living under a rock or something.” Erica says jokingly. Picking apart pieces of her donut and eating them. 

Don perks up too. “Really? You haven't?” Y/n shakes her head in denial as Don shrugs. “I get it, it’s mostly stayed in our class, hasn’t spread much further than that.” He says before crawling forward and rummaging around for more snacks.

“So get a load of this right!” Erica sits up too after finishing her donut. Waving her hands excitedly as she tells her latest gossip. “You know them two really hot upperclassmen right?” She draws out her ‘really’ and waits patiently at the end of her sentence for the other girl's confirmation. 

When she nods in slight confusion, Erica continues, “There were some major rumours in class that the two of them were late this one day because they were beating someone up. And I don't mean like a few slaps or hair pulling, I mean punches. You know?”

Y/n nods again, this time with furrowed brows and Erica continues, “At first, I didn’t believe it, obviously. But then, the two of them came into class and I swear there were blood stains on their clothes. Blood stains! Not to mention all the plasters and bandages all over their hands! I just had to believe it then! Wouldn’t you?”

After the end of her long rant she slumps back against the front of the sofa and mumbles incoherently to herself shaking her head while pouting.

Don, who had been listening silently, pipes up, “It was true, I was actually there for once.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raise in disbelief at what she had just heard. Fighting, here? She couldn’t help but to doubt it, if only just a little. Stuff like that has never happened here. Or at least while she had been here. It was just unheard of.

And for an attack so vicious to result in blood being drawn, then there must have been somewhat of a good reason for it. That was the conclusion she came to.

“I mean, there had to have been a good reason for it.” Y/n says, “They’re pretty nice people aren't they? It is Gojo and Geto were talking about here, right? They’re really popular here too.” Her eyes darted between her two friends, looking for more answers on this unexpected juicy gossip.

Erica sighs wistfully, “No, it got shut down pretty quick, which I guess is why so little people have heard about it. God, would I pay to see them fight though. Their muscles must have looked amazing.” 

They stop talking about it after that, Don getting distracted by the snacks and whining about how she didn’t get his favourite. Erica smacking him with a few pillows and complaining how he’s getting in the way of her movie she was barely even watching. 

Their playful banter did little to distract from her inner turmoil. A small shiver went down her spine again. The memory from earlier in the library resurfacing in her mind. Gojo staring her down, the creepy walk back from the shops and now learning the two had at the very least helped in injuring someone.

It could just be because it was purge day, but everything was beginning to creep her out and she was overthinking again. ‘What if he wants to attack me next? What if all of those things were connected and someone really was following me home? What if he wants to kill me? What if both of them want to kill me? Have I ever done anything to offend them? I haven’t, have I?’ She knew these were far fetched and ridiculous, but she couldn’t help but think of them anyway.

Her spiralling thoughts were halted when a stray pillow smacked her in the face. “Oops, haha, sorry.” Erica sheepishly apologized, bringing her hand up to smooth down Y/n’s ruffled hair. Don was laughing in the background.  

Y/n was stunned for a few seconds before replying, “Oh, don’t worry. How about we put something else on? This movie is kind of boring.” crawling across the piles of pillows and blankets to reach the stack of movies.

This caught the other two’s attention, eagerly rushing to the stack as well to try and get first pick. Arguing for a few more minutes before settling on a movie they all loved. Snuggling back into their original positions.

This was how the next few hours went before the announcement appeared.

It was 6:59 pm.

At exactly 7 on the dot, the TV went black before turning blue, the government announcing the commencement of the purge. Big bold letters and ‘Emergency Broadcast System’ and ‘This is not a test’ were displayed on the screen.

They were all quiet as it played out. The mood quickly turned sombre.

“Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted.”

Don gulped.

“Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.”

Erica huffed.

“Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.” 

Y/n shivered.

“Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 am when The Purge concludes.”

She released a shaky breath. The announcement ends with “...A nation reborn.” before stopping. The screen turned black again.

No one moves or says anything. Each of them were frozen in an array of emotions. Fear being the most prominent. 

The silence stretched on for minutes. Eerie in its wake, not even being able to hear other people in their dorm rooms like she normally would.

Eventually, after releasing another shaky breath and rearranging herself with trembling limbs, they all snap back into the present. 

Don coughs and Erica shuffles awkwardly. 

“Cards, anyone?” Y/n meekly speaks up. The other two nod as they sit in a small circle. 

It was 7:36 pm.

This was when the first explosion of some kind was heard by them. Each of them froze in the middle of playing their mostly silent game of cards. The noise was distant, but the impact remained.

A scream from a few doors down echoed in the silent space.

They waited with baited breath for any follow up, but when nothing happened, they slowly relaxed. Each of them assumed it was the explosion that must have scared someone. Sometimes it’s better to think of the positive, rather than what that scream could have been for.

A few minutes later a siren bellows in the distance, a few car alarms wail.

Nothing too bad, but knowing that it could mean someone was being murdered out there didn’t give them any ease.

It was 8:02 pm. 

This is when the banging starts. Y/n thinks it could be a few doors down again. Erica thinks it’s below them and Don thinks it’s above them. 

Wherever it was, it was concerning. 

Erica releases a small nervous chuckle. “Maybe someone is just having a good time?” A fake smile plastered on her face to try and mask her worry. Even she didn’t believe her little theory. Not during a time like this, during The Purge.

It was a few minutes later, after they had quietly resumed their game, that footsteps were heard.

Clacking down the hallway. 

1, 2.

1, 2. 

1, 2. 

1, 2. 

They were walking at a leisurely pace. Taking their time. Strolling down the hallway and getting closer and closer.

All three of them looked towards the door, as if someone were to burst in at any moment.

The footsteps slow before coming to a stop. Right outside her door.

The three of them hold their breath, bodies flinching when a light knock rings out into the open space.

Complete silence.

Another knock.

None of them had even noticed the earlier noises had stopped, too focused on the potential threat now right outside the door. Seemingly wanting someone to open up.

Three pairs of eyes dart between each other. Silent questions trying to push their way out without being heard. A few panicked half shrugs and furrowed brows with downturned lips later, another knock rings out.

This time it was a little louder.

Barely audible whisperings of ‘you go’, ‘no you’, ‘fuck no’, ‘who even is it?’ cut through the silence. No one wanted to ask the question. To even speak a hint of it lest it result in it coming true.

Eventually after a solid minute of panicked, almost silent, squabbling later. A frustrated and frightened Erica pushed herself up. Taking a very obvious deep breath. Eyes closed and silently mumbling to herself before taking a few steps over to the front door.

She tried to be as quiet as she could but each step sounded like it weighed a ton. Every creek and every wobble made to sound the loudest. 

Very quietly bracing her hands upon the door, she leant up on her tiptoes. Peeking into the peephole positioned in the centre of the door.

The two left in the pile of blankets still. Not wanting to even breathe in fear of disturbing whatever was happening in front of them.

A sudden screech of pure panic and fear tore from Erica’s throat. Flailing before landing with a harsh thud on the floor beneath her. Scrambling backwards on her hands and feet, keeping her eyes on the door the entire time.

The two startle and immediately jump up, laboured breathing hindering their lungs from the sudden scare.

“What the fuck? Erica what happened? What was that?” Don frantically whispered. His eyes were also locked on the door. 

Y/n also whispered to her, “Who was that? Erica?” her eyes locked onto her friend, not able to bring herself to look at the door yet.

“It was.. Oh god.. The peep..” Erica wheezed out. The fright took too much out of her with her frantic gasps for air.

A sudden bang echoed into the room. A few more followed before they all realized it was coming from the front door. 

Erica screeched and threw herself back into a standing position, rushing for the kitchen and grabbing any sharp knife her eyes first laid on.

Don stood frozen in fear. Not able to move or barely breathe from the looks of it.

Y/n wasn’t any better herself. Downright terrified. This was her dorm. Her dorm. Which means whoever was outside, was looking for her.

The banging persisted, the person on the other side seemingly determined to get in. This proved correct when the handle started turning whichever way it could. 

She didn’t even realize, terror clouding her senses because when she looked back to her two friends, Don had collapsed into himself, wheezing with little air entering his lungs amidst his panic. Erica was cornered in the kitchen, sobbing, tears flooding her cheeks and ruining her mascara she had in place.

The persistent banging stopped for a second. The faint sound of another pair of footsteps approached from the hallway outside. Muffled talking pursued but it was hard to make anything out, between her pounding heart, Erica’s sobs and the slab of wood in the way, didn’t make for easy hearing.

For Y/n, it seemed there was one second of complete silence. No sobbing, no voices, no distant alarms or explosions, no racing heart, no wheezing lungs. Before chaos sprung onto them.

Suddenly the people outside, because there was another person now, resumed banging on the door. But it didn’t seem like they were ‘just knocking’ anymore. No.

They were trying to break the door down. 

She could see it from the way the door groaned and creaked under the relentless kicking. She couldn't quite tell if they were using their feet, or an object, or whatever. 

All that mattered was that they were trying to get in. And they were going to succeed.

“Move! Hide! We need to hide!” She whisper-yelled. Rushing to Don and tugging on his arm to try and get him to move. He stared at her for a few seconds before his brain caught up, registering what was happening around him. The real danger he was in right now.

“Hide.. Oh god..” He panted, sprinting for the bathroom, the first place his eyes had landed on.

With Don now searching for a place to hide, she ran her way to Erica. Still trying to be as quiet as she could, in the little hopes that they would think she wasn’t here.

“Erica, we need to hide! They’re getting in!” She frantically whispered to her hyperventilating friend. Trying to shake her shoulders, even resorting to lightly slapping her face to try and get her attention. She was desperate.

“Please!” The sound of splintering caught both of their attention. Heads whipping towards the door starting to cave. She wasn’t all that surprised, that slab of wood was a shitty excuse for a door anyway.

Erica suddenly sprung up and dove for the piles of blankets in the living room. Trying to bury herself amongst them, taking the knife with her.

And now that all her friends had been taken care of, she ran for her bedroom. Trying her best not to stumble and fall in the dark hallway. 

As soon as her door came into sight, she gently opened it, gunning for her wardrobe tucked into the corner of the room. Not even looking towards the turned off lantern, she didn’t need them knowing her hiding spot from something so obvious. 

It was already messy anyway, so in her frazzled brain she didn’t bother caring where she tossed piles of clothes and shoes in her room.. They’d hopefully think it was like that in the first place.

After quickly clearing a space big enough for her to curl into, she did just that. Situating herself just right, back pressed against the side of the wardrobe, knees tucked to her chest and pressed against the boxes in front of her. She was sitting on old shirts she hadn’t seen for months.

Hearing the door breaking even further, she grabbed any clothes within her reach and threw them over herself. Shutting the door when she was mostly covered, she could have sworn she could hear laughter coming from the hallway.

A loud crash and splintering tore through the air. She knew it was her front door. And now they were inside. 

Her hands slowly went up to cup around her mouth, trying to muffle her breathing as much as she could. Her body froze. Even when she already began to feel muscle cramps settling in, she dared not move. She forced herself to breathe slowly. Every inhale a struggle along with a reminder that she was still alive at this very moment. Even if she was convinced she wouldn’t be for much longer. 

The thought brought tears to her eyes. The original shock wears from her body and settles into something akin to despair. 

Her throat started clamping up, muscles seizing and throbbing with the need to cry. 

It was the thudding of footsteps that shook her out of it. Snapping her half way back into a nightmarish reality. 

She gulped. Closing her eyes and straining her ears for any information they were willing to receive.

Just as she thought. Two pairs of footsteps. 

With every thud of a shoe or a spike in their muffled talking, her body would tremble. 

It remained like this for a few more minutes. The footsteps or talking occasionally pausing. 

It was during one of these silences, where a different sound was heard. She couldn’t identify the exact sounds, just ones of commotion. They were still all muffled. And then she heard muffled yelling. 

It sounded so dulled, between the walls and layers of wood and clothes, she could barely make out anything, her ears straining for any hint as to what was happening. Being left in the dark like this, literally and figuratively, was terrifying her. 

And then this horrible, awful noise carried its way between the cracks in the wardrobe. Crunching. Cracking. Stomps. 

That muffled yelling from before kept getting cut off. Eventually dwindling down into a barely audible groan. Those thuds never seemed to stop either. Never ending, crunching, cracking, and now wet thuds. 

Her brain was trying its hardest to process, to catch up with the information that it has been provided with. 

More footsteps, only one pair, accompanied with muffled laughter. And a more distinct sound traveling through the air. 

A scream.

Even more laughter, hurried footsteps and pleas of ‘no’, ‘please’, ‘don’ts’. 

It was now, with the wet stomps still in the background, her screeching friend, that eager laugh, that her brain had finally caught up.

She was going to be sick.

They’re hurting them. Killing them.

Her friends.

Her body moved out of its own violation. Shaky hands and feet kicking and pushing their way out of the pile of clothes. Wardrobe door swinging open with a creak.

She collapsed out of it. Slumped on the floor, dry heaving. Her lungs not seeming to take enough air in but yet holding in too much. She couldn’t function. Fear overwhelmed every part of her. As well as grief. 

Her ears were ringing and she was left gasping, drool dripping onto the hard floor beneath her as a result of her attempted vomiting. Eyes wide open, blurry when she tapped back into her mind. 

Tears, clouding her vision and dripping audibly on the floorboards below her. 

In the distance she could hear muffled talking. Two men, she could make out more clearly. Not only that, but squelching, wet, gooey noises seemed to mingle in the air. Gurgling was the next before silence.

A minute passed, maybe two before the footsteps started up again. Those goddamn footsteps. 

1.. 2.

1.. 2.

1.. 2.

But they were slower than before. Steady. Taking their time. 

And getting closer.

Her instincts kick in, blinking profusely to try and clear her eyes from the tears, looking up and darting around before landing on the space under her bed.

She wouldn’t have enough time to fix her spot back in the wardrobe. She couldn’t run past them, not even in her best state which she certainly wasn’t in right now. She had considered her bedroom window as an option, but it was locked, which would take time to open. Not even mentioning the fact she was on the third floor, so jumping out would break at least something important. They would be quick to notice as well, and if they came for her, it was likely they would decide to chase her down.

Under her bed seemed to be her best option at the moment, and she was running out of time. Scrambling as quietly as she could, she slid herself directly under her bed, trying to center herself in the middle of it, tucking herself into a tight ball.

The footsteps stopped right outside her bedroom door, she had enough sense to shut it on her way in, thank god. But that clearly wouldn’t be enough to stop them. 

Almost as if the person was teasing her, they slowly clicked the door open. The distinct creak she had grown accustomed to over the months making itself known. 

Her muscles are tense, tightening in the presence of her predators. 

In the dark space from under her bed and in her room, it was obvious when the light from inside the hallway started spilling in the more the door got pushed open. In the vague depths of her mind it registered that they must’ve either turned the hall lights on, had taken one of her lanterns,  or were carrying one of their own.

Her lungs were burning with the effort to keep her body running with the little air she was allowing them to have, all for the sake of trying to keep quiet.

It was all too silent once again, only for a second or two before the second pair of footsteps came towards her. A lot more hasty compared to the other ones. 

Her breath silently hitched, the new person pushed their way into the room, stepping past their company before a thunk was heard. The sound forced her body to startle, jolting her muscles and kick starting her trembling again. An uncontrollable reaction to the fear she was under, the unrelenting motions causing a deep ache in her ribs.

The sound of rustling was now heard. It seemed they were looking for something. ‘They’re going to kill me. They’re digging around for a weapon to stab me with, to bash my head in, to murder me like they did my friends. I’m dead. I’m dead, I’mdeadI’mdeadI’mdead-’

Her racing thoughts consuming her fear riddled mind failed in picking up the sound of the other pair of footsteps slowly creeping round to the end of her bed. 

The person paused, silently crouching down low before a pair of hands reached under.

The sudden tight grip on her ankles followed up by the sudden pull had her screeching. Pure terror flooding her veins. She had been yanked out from under her bed, lying sprawled on the floor and gazing up at the towering man stationed above her. 

Her lungs burned, seizing up before a sickening scream escaped her. Fuelled by genuine, unrestrained horror. 

They had found her.

One of her lanterns they had brought in illuminated his face in a haunting light. The darkened shadows stretching and contorting behind him to create the most grim image for her mind to paint. Not that it was far off.

A foot standing on either side of her hips, straddling her if it wasn’t for his standing position. Hands nestled comfortably back in his trouser pockets now they had done the job of retrieving her. A comfortable looking long-sleeved shirt adorned his figure. Dark splatters starting from the bottom of his shoes and creeping their way up his legs, tapering off into a few spots that painted one of his cheeks.

An easy smile softly ingrained on his face, followed by gentle looking eyes peering down at her if it wasn’t for the malicious spiral she found herself paralyzed in. Dark locks of hair extended down his back, past where she could see from her position, with the top layers sectioned off and tied back into a bun.

His mouth opened and he spoke. “Well, well. Look what I’ve caught for us Satoru.”

Satoru. The other man must be Satoru Gojo, and this was Suguru. Suguru Geto. The most popular guys she knew, the supposedly kindest. And then staring in the library, the walk back from the shops, the gossip her most likely dead friend had told her.

Her body suddenly felt like it was pumped full of adrenaline. Pushing herself up as fast as she could, using the bed as support all the while stumbling over her numb riddled legs. She took off, running towards the open door she so desperately wanted to pass through. 

A sudden arm snatched her from around her waist and she screeched. Pure instinct driving her at this point as she scratched and kicked and flailed in his, Satoru Gojo’s, hold.

The sound of something dropping before his other arm came round, collecting both her wrists in one hand of his. His grip tightened the more she fought. Her body pressed tight against his, her back to his front. His head situated itself on her shoulder, tucking over and pressing his cheek to hers even while she cried and panted and kicked.

She could feel his grin pressing against the side of her face. “Such a pretty little thing we have here. Can’t let her get away so easily now, can we? Not after all the trouble we’ve gone through.” The last part practically whispered into her ear as she turned her face as far away as possible from him. 

A little laugh boasted out from Geto. “Of course not.” He strolled over to them, bending down to pick up what Gojo had dropped in order to restrain her.

Rope.

Fucking rope.

The moment her eyes zoned in and processed what Geto was unravelling in his hands she tried to fight back even harder. Eyes flooding with tears that spilled down her cheeks. Short mumblings of ‘no’ being repeated over and over while becoming louder until she was yelling. 

“Please don’t do this! Let me go! Please, please.. Stop!” She shrieked while sobbing, convinced they were going to kill her or torture her or something horrible like that.

Gojo walked the two of them to the edge of her bed before forcefully pushing her down, manhandling her onto her front and bending her arms to rest pressing against her back.  

She sobbed into her ruffled sheets as she felt Geto fastening the rope tight around her wrists, the rough material digging into and pinching the sensitive skin. Raw and red marks already forming amidst her struggle. 

Her legs still hung off the bed, trying their best to kick and hopefully injure one or both of them, but she knew it was a losing battle. None of her landing blows made them falter in any way.

When her wrists were successfully restrained Geto kept them pressed to the small of her back while Gojo let go and reached down to grab her ankles. Pulling them up and bending her legs at the knees while they both worked in finishing the task of tying her up.

When they finally stepped back to admire the work they’d successfully done, Y/n deflated. Tears soaking into her bed in which she rested on top of. Her lungs still burned, having never stopped. The hogtied position she had been forced into leaving her nothing to work with in terms of escaping. Not that she could think clearly anyway. The distress she was under proved too much.

“Oh, Shh Sh Sh… There, there, sweet thing. Settle down for us now. We aren’t going to kill you.” Cooed, who she could only guess right now was Gojo.

Geto reached forward from his position of kneeling on the bed, gentle soothing pets stroking her hair. Her sobbing tapering off into hiccupped breathing even while flinching with every touch. “There you go, good girl. See that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

He pulled away from her, stepping down off the bed and heading towards the previously discarded bag on the floor Y/n hadn’t noticed before..

Y/n slowly turned her head round, no longer pressed into her sheets. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, swollen from all the crying she’d been doing. Little hiccups and groans left her while her lungs tried to recover. She’d given up struggling right now, it had done nothing but cause her pain as the rope dug and squeezed the skin of her wrists and ankles. 

Gojo piped up from behind her, only now feeling the heat from his legs pressing into hers causing her to flinch. “You know, this would’ve gone a whole lot easier if you had just let us in sweetheart.” She could practically hear the smug smile in his voice. “Look at where you are now, tied up all pretty for us. Ripe for the taking.” He pressed closer to her at that, voice practically dripping with need. 

She whined in fear and started squirming at his words. Panic flooding her senses again for just a second before a sharp tug to her hair had her yelping, halting her movements.

“I thought I told you to quit that.” Geto was back to kneeling on the bed in front of her, his hand gripping tight onto her hair, eyes narrowed. 

Her bottom lip trembled, breaths picking up with every second he glared down at her. 

“Don’t be so mean, Sugu.” Gojo said, a teasing lilt in his voice. 

Geto glanced back at him before humming and letting go of his harsh grip, her scalp burning in turn. “I suppose you’re right. She’ll have plenty of time to learn when we take her back home.”

Gojo hummed and she felt him leaning away from her, hearing him crouch down and fiddle with something from the bag as well. 

“Back home?..” She stuttered, voice hoarse and throat dry.

Geto looked back down at her, amusement painting his face. “Yes. Home.”

“Where..” She started, face formed in a twist of concern and confusion. “Please.. I.. Just let me go. I won’t- I won’t tell anyone, I’ll- I’ll leave you alone, I’ll do anything, please..” She gasped out, tears gathered freshly in her eyes again, voice cracking every few seconds. 

An amused eyebrow raised with the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth was all she got as a response. 

Gojo had come back, reaching round and fastening a strip of duct tape around her mouth in a sudden flurry of movement. Giving her no time to process what he had done until after he had done it. 

She cried out, the sound muffled thanks to the tape, worried eyes darting around in panic as she tried squirming again for the third time. 

Gojo pressed up behind her once again. “You’re not going anywhere, sweet pea! You’re ours now. We’ve had you picked out for a long time now.” The joy in his voice didn’t fail to put her on edge, his words doing their part in helping the tears gathered in her waterline to finally spill down her cheeks. Wetting the tape situated over her lips.

“He’s right.” Geto replied. Bringing one of his hands up to show what he had collected from the bag a few moments ago. The mobile phone in his hands glowed brightly in the dark room, the lamp from before having been moved, the light now dim.

“We’ll bring you back with us soon enough, but we still have a few more hours to kill before that. And why waste them.” Gojo said, the grin in his voice unsettling her, keeping her frozen in fear.

An easy smile pulled at Geto’s cheeks at that, head tilting to the side to gaze down at their pretty prey. 

“Well what are you waiting for then, Satoru?”

A pause. Smile pulling into a predatory grin.

“Have at it.”

[90sbee]

Dying is not an option (when you're by my side)

Leon S. Kennedy x Gn!reader

1k words. Also on a03

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying.

When his mind seems to get too clouded by the visions of monsters, you pull him out of the depths of his trauma. He does his best to love you. He tries.

Or the fic in which you make Leon repeat comforting phrases so it finally gets in his head that he is loved.

Just a very soft idea that wouldn't leave my head and that's been too long in the wip folder. The warnings make it seem worse than it is, but happy ending I promise!!! Had re4r in mind for this one but can be read with other older versions of him. (Though the older the Leon, the angstier it gets lmao)

Content: No use of y/n, very very soft love, hurt/comfort, some angst, established relationship, living together, sitting on his lap, a tiny bit of possessive Leon (yay!)

Warnings: +18 ONLY. No smut but some suggestive lines. Mentions of blood, suicide, guns and overall (some brief) gore. Leon's mental struggles (depression, anxiety). I'm not a native English speaker but I (lazily) proofread and edited this one.

You lean forward, just a little closer to his body. Leon groans, his face unreadable still.

“Don’t want to,” he muses, kind of annoyed at your proposal.

“Just trust me.”

He reluctantly nods, as you get comfortable on his lap. His firm thighs under you, the warmest and comfiest seat you could ever ask for.

You worry about him, worry so much.

You know now: know what he does, what he works as. At first it was hard to believe it, the stories about human turned monsters, about creatures that linger between heaven and hell. But you had to believe him, you were forced to the first time Leon crumbled down in your arms, sobbing the entirety of the night, the immensity of his body reduced to shivering and tears.

“I love you,” you had told him that time. “I’m not letting you go. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You whisper the same things again now, your voice reverberating close to his ear. Leon eases the grip on your hips, replaces it with a soft touch. He tries to calm down, closes his eyes for a moment too long.

“You love me,” he seems to ask, as if trying to convince himself of it, as if trying to find himself worthy of such a feeling from someone like you.

“I do,” you confirm, cupping his cheeks.

He nods, though his heart is thumping in his chest still. Your hands move to his shoulders, then to his arms, caressing the skin with soft strokes.

“I love you… Look at me.”

He obliges, eyes like the ocean, marked by the heavy and dark eyebags.

It breaks your heart to see him like this. Your lip trembles as you lean closer, shortening the distance.

It is entirely possible —as you’re so much aware of— that one day you’ll come home to an unlocked gun and his body in the bathtub. Or maybe it would be the rifle, the carpet stained with blood and pieces of what used to be his jaw.

A jaw that you love so much, that you kiss now.

Leon sighs, seems content with such affection, his hands getting lost down your thighs.

“Listen to me. You’re gonna repeat as I say, okay?” an attempt to get him out of his head, to remind him of who he is.

“ …‘Kay,” he mumbles, seemingly distracted.

“I’m… good.”

He scrunches his nose, pinkish lips downturned. Naturally, he doesn’t dare to say those words. He doesn’t want to trick his brain.

“C’mon,” you egg him, patting his shoulder gently.

The action seems to at least make his lips curve slightly.

“I’m good,” he whispers, his voice insecure.

He tries. You can see how hard he does it: coming home as much possible, the dirty laundry now clean and with a soft cinnamon scent. A sunflower in the kitchen vase next to the window, the coffee mug always clean even when you leave it in the sink, ready to be washed in the morning.

“I’m a good partner,” you resume, reminiscing.

That does stops him in his tracks, a gentle blush rooting on his cheeks, the smile more pronounced now. Leon presses his face against your neck.

“… Do I really have to say it?”

“Yep.”

He breathes on your neck, as if trying to take in a bit of your kindness, a bit of your peace. He closes his eyes, tries to control his breathing. But his hands grip your hips harder.

He fucking loves you.

Leon is not sure he deserves this yet, the warm body on the bed, the pretty smile that kisses him goodbye, lets him go away even in the middle of the night.

“I love you,” he backtracks, pressing a kiss on your neck.

You chuckle, and allow him that admission.

“Very cute but that’s not what you had to repeat.”

Leon raises his eyebrows, feigning annoyance. He keeps his fingers on your hips, dancing on your skin, drawing patterns as he keeps you close. He wishes he could sign his name there, mark you forever so you’d never get too far away from him… So he’d always have a right to come back to you.

“But I love you…” he pouts.

You grab his face with utmost care, force his cheeks to look upwards at your face.

“I love you too. Lots.”

You kiss his forehead. His body melts under that touch.

“ ‘m a good partner” he mumbles, quickly.

“My baby loves me.”

Now Leon chuckles.

“My baby loves me,” he hides again on your neck, his smile etched constantly on his face now. You hug him closer, kiss his forehead once more, as if sheltering a lost angel in your arms.

“I’ll always have a home.”

Oh, that one seems to break him a little. Leon immediately whines, his hands gripping your body with ferocity against his. He can’t say… He shouldn’t. He… he can’t and…

His heart starts beating faster and he gulps.

“You can do it…” you encourage him and he wants to try. He knows, deep inside, that is true and that he is now safe. It takes him several minutes until his anxiety dissipates and he can look up at you, your eyes encapsulating warmth that he had never experienced with anyone else.

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying. It is seen not only in how much he makes time for you, but also in the way he follows along with your little silly ideas, suggestions to try to build himself up again.

And though he wouldn’t directly admit it, since you two are together he has promised himself to fight his hardest in every mission. He spits his own blood, wipes off the exhaustion from his face and keeps pushing forward. Because, he’ll be damned, he wants to see you once more. And once more. And again and again… And when he comes home, to you, Leon immediately checks —for the tenth time— the safety on each gun and leaves them in locked boxes, his fingers slowly forgetting what it’s like to toy with weapons in the sanctuary that you’ve built for the two of you. The cold of the metal is now replaced by the warmth between your thighs, the flesh on your hips, the softness of your hands.

Hell, he is definitely trying.

And it’s fucking working.

God to be on his lap honestly!!! A dream. And if you've made it to the end, thank you!! Mwah, sweet soul 💙

[myscenic]

Part I | Part II coming soon :>

Pairing: incubus!jung sungchan x prince!male!reader

Genre: royalty au, smut

Warnings: unprotected sex (don't irl!!), swearing, big dick sungchan (yes, again, handjob (r. receiving), blowjob (sc. receiving), cum eating, slight gore, character deaths, (tough reader turns into a sub real quick ijbol), and more (i realized this was too long so I cut it into 2 parts), pls lmk if there's any mistakes :)

Word Count: 3.8k+

Synopsis: I just realized i forgot to write this lmao

𖤐 Note: this was inspired by smth, but i can't remember about what it was, so💀 still can't believe I got so many notes from my last fic, thank u guys sm!! im not really a good smut writer as im still learning, this rlly motivates me to write more but i think ima need to write more non smut fics to calm myself down-

y/n, the prince of the y/l/n's, stood before his father, the king, in the grand hall of the castle. the air was heavy with tension as the king addressed the group of knights assembled before him. y/n's heart pounded with a mix of apprehension and determination.

"my loyal knights," the king began, his voice commanding and authoritative. "i have called you here today to address a grave matter that has plagued our kingdom. people have been vanishing without a trace, and we cannot turn a blind eye any longer."

y/n's father's eyes bore into each knight's soul, his gaze unwavering. "i hereby command each and every one of you to investigate this matter. find out what is happening, and put an end to this menace that plagues our land."

the knights nodded in unison, their resolve firm. y/n stepped forward, his voice filled with determination. "i will lead the charge, father. i swear to you that i will uncover the truth and bring justice to those who have suffered."

the king's gaze softened, pride gleaming in his eyes. "i have faith in you, my son."

with their orders given, y/n and his fellow knights set off towards the town where the disappearances had been occurring. the moon hung high in the sky as y/n's heart raced with a mix of anticipation and unease. he knew that his duty as a prince went beyond protecting the kingdom; it was about safeguarding its people from the unknown horrors that lurked in the shadows.

as they ventured deeper into the small village, y/n's senses heightened. it was as if the very air crackled with an otherworldly energy. suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced the silence, sending shivers down y/n's spine. without hesitation, he motioned for his fellow knights to follow him, leading the charge towards the source of the disturbance.

the house loomed before them, its windows shrouded in darkness. y/n's grip tightened around his sword as he prepared for the worst. he exchanged glances with his comrades, their eyes reflecting a mix of determination and concern.

with a swift kick, y/n pushed open the creaking door, revealing a scene of eerie stillness. the room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the worn-out furniture. but what caught y/n's attention were the lifeless bodies of his fellow knights, piled together in a haunting display.

a sense of dread washed over y/n as he scanned across the room. he knew that the incubus, sungchan, was responsible for this mess. the prince's eyes darted around the room, searching for any signs of the demon's presence.

but as y/n turned his gaze back to the lifeless bodies, a flicker of movement caught his eye. in the corner of the room, a figure emerged from the shadows, revealing the horns first, then the enigmatic and alluring form of sungchan himself.

"well, well, well, isn't this the prince of the y/l/n’s?" sungchan's voice dripped with a mix of amusement and malice as he sauntered towards y/n, his eyes filled with a predatory gleam. "ah~ your knights. don't worry about them, my dear prince. i've taken good care of them. i'm sure they're in a better place now~”

y/n's eyes narrowed, his grip on his sword tightening. "you monster! what have you done to them?"

sungchan chuckled, his voice a seductive melody. "oh, nothing too permanent, my prince~ just a little taste of pleasure and pain. they were quite...entertaining."

y/n's rage consumed him, fueling his every action as he swiftly gripped his sword and lunged towards sungchan, determined to exact his revenge. but to his astonishment, sungchan effortlessly flickered his hand, causing the sword to be flung away across the room. y/n's eyes widened in disbelief, his heart pounding in his chest.

a wicked grin spread across sungchan's lips as he taunted y/n. "is this all you've got, my dear prince? such a disappointment~" his voice dripped with amusement and superiority, relishing in the power dynamic that had shifted in his favor.

y/n then tried to punch sungchan in the face. but before y/n could touch him, sungchan swiftly moved, his movements fluid and graceful. he reached out and gripped y/n's wrist with an iron grip, overpowering him effortlessly. with a sudden, forceful motion, sungchan flung y/n onto the bed, causing the prince to crash onto the soft mattress.

y/n's body sprawled across the bed, his mind reeling from the unexpected turn of events. he struggled to regain his composure, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. anger still burned within him, but it was now mingled with a sense of vulnerability and helplessness.

sungchan loomed over y/n, his presence dominating the space. his dark, seductive eyes bore into y/n's, relishing in the control he held. "oh, my prince, you truly are a sight to behold when you're filled with rage. but sadly, you can't do anything now."

y/n's muscles tensed as he attempted to free himself from sungchan's grip, but it was useless. he could feel the power emanating from sungchan, an otherworldly force that left him powerless to resist. the realization of his own vulnerability sent a shiver down his spine.

sungchan's voice was a low, sultry whisper as he leaned in closer, his breath caressing y/n's ear. "don't worry, my prince. i have no intention of causing you any harm... yet. consider this a taste of what's to come. your defiance only adds to the pleasure I derive from breaking you."

y/n's mind raced, his emotions a tumultuous whirlwind. he knew he had to find a way to escape sungchan's clutches, to protect himself and his knights. but the odds seemed insurmountable, and the path to victory obscured by sungchan's overwhelming power.

as y/n lay on the bed, his body still tingling from the impact, he braced himself for what lay ahead. the battle had taken an unexpected turn.

sungchan's eyes glinted with a mix of mischief and desire as he slowly crawled over y/n, his movements sinuous and deliberate. he leaned in close, his lips barely grazing the shell of y/n's ear as he whispered, his voice dripping with tantalizing promises.

"i was hoping for a show, my dear prince," sungchan purred while playing with y/n’s hair, a sultry smirk playing on his lips. "but i guess i'll have to take matters into my own hands."

y/n's heart raced, a mixture of fear and curiosity filling his mind. he couldn't help but ask, his voice laced with a hint of defiance, "w-what are you going to do?..."

sungchan's laughter filled the room. "oh, my sweet prince, you'll find out soon enough~”

with a swift motion, sungchan raised his hand, his fingertips glowing with an eerie, otherworldly energy. he whispered spells under his breath.

y/n's vision blurred, his consciousness fading away as he succumbed to the power of sungchan's magic. in the span of a few seconds, his body went limp, collapsing onto the bed as he slipped into unconsciousness.

"now, my prince, it's time for the real show to begin," sungchan murmured. he traced a finger along y/n's jawline, his touch sending shivers down the prince's spine even in his unconscious state.

after a few seconds, y/n's eyes fluttered open, his consciousness returning to him in a haze. as his senses slowly awakened, he became acutely aware of the chill in the air against his exposed skin. his heart pounded in his chest as his gaze fell upon his torn clothes strewn across the floor, leaving him completely vulnerable and exposed.

a mixture of shock and horror washed over y/n as his eyes shifted to sungchan, who knelt between his legs with a sinister smirk playing on his lips. sungchan's fingers danced along y/n's inner thighs, teasingly tracing the contours of his skin. The sight of sungchan toying with his hardened cock sent a shiver of pleasure mixed with humiliation down y/n's spine.

"y-you monster!" y/n's voice trembled with a mix of anger and humiliation. "how dare y-you!"

sungchan's laughter filled the room, a chilling sound that reverberated in y/n's ears. "how dare me?~" he purred, "then why is your body reacting to me?~"

sungchan leaned in closer, his breath hot against y/n's ear as he whispered, his voice laced with both menace and seduction. "you look so hot under my touch~"

y/n's body trembled, a tint of pink appeared on his cheeks. he knew this was wrong and he was embarrassed. the prince wanted to defend himself but there was no chance.

as y/n attempted to move his hands, panic washed over him. his heart raced, his breathing quickened, but his efforts were met with resistance. he glanced down, his eyes widening in horror as he realized his hands were magically pinned to the bed headboard, leaving him completely at sungchan's touch.

a mix of fear and rage coursed through y/n's veins as he struggled against the invisible restraints, his body straining against the unyielding magic that held him captive. "let me go, you fucking devil!" he spat, his voice laced with defiance and desperation.

sungchan's eyes glinted with muse, relishing in the power he held over y/n. he leaned in closer, his breath hot against y/n's face as he whispered, his voice dripping with wicked amusement. "oh, my prince, don’t you wanna have some fun?~"

a wicked smile played on sungchan's lips as he observed the war within y/n. "you see, my prince, your defiance only makes this game more playful..."

sungchan's eyes gleamed with a mixture of admiration and sadistic pleasure as he praised y/n, his voice dripping with lust and power. "my, my, my, what a handsome prince you are," he crooned, his gaze fixated on y/n's exposed body. "and that beautiful cock of yours, it's simply irresistible."

a wicked giggle escaped sungchan's lips as he relished in the control he held over y/n's body. his fingers wrapped around y/n's throbbing length, his touch both teasing and torturous. "are you ready to have some fun, my dear prince?" he taunted, his voice laced with seduction.

y/n's anger burned within him, his defiance still present, but as sungchan's hand began to stroke his cock, an involuntary moan escaped his lips. the pleasure mingled with his anger, forming a chaotic mix of sensations that left him both frustrated and achingly aroused.

"y-you... ah~" y/n stammered, his voice filled with a mix of anger and reluctant pleasure. "you son of a... f-fuck!" his words were choked off by a moan as sungchan expertly played with the tip of his cock, rubbing circles that sent waves of overstimulation coursing through his body.

sungchan's laughter filled the room. "how cute~," he purred, his voice a seductive melody. "i definitely prefer this side of you more~"

sungchan's seductive words and skilled touch continued to push y/n closer to the edge of pleasure, but amidst the overwhelming sensations, a surge of anger and defiance coursed through him. his frustration reached its peak, and with a voice strained with desire and fury, he managed to utter, "i-im gonna... ah~ fucking kill... y-you, fuck!"

y/n's words were punctuated by a moan, his body trembling with a mixture of pleasure and rage. sungchan's relentless pace only heightened his need, pushing him further and further towards the edge.

sungchan's ears perked up at y/n's outburst, a wicked grin spreading across his face. he tightened his grip around y/n's throbbing cock, his fingers teasingly tracing along the sensitive tip that glistened with precum. a low chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned in closer, his voice dripping with amusement and a hint of sadistic pleasure.

"what was that, prince?" sungchan taunted. "did i hear a threat? how charming." his fingers continued to play with y/n's leaking tip, receiving a gasp from the prince. "but let me remind you, y/n, that here, in this moment, you are mine. and you can’t do anything about it."

y/n's breath hitched as sungchan's fingers circled and teased, his body betraying him in the most intimate of ways. each touch, each stroke of sungchan's fingers pushed y/n closer to the edge, the desire for release becoming unbearable.

y/n's body shivered as his orgasm crashed over him, shooting white ropes all over on his body and sungchan’s hands. hee panted heavily, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. sweat clung to his forehead and his body trembled with a mix of pleasure and exhaustion. but as y/n tried to catch his breath, sungchan's chuckle filled the room, shattering the brief moment of respite.

"oh, y/n~," sungchan taunted. "i'm not done with you yet." his fingers, still coated with y/n's sticky cum, descended towards the prince's stomach. with a twisted smirk, sungchan scooped up the milky fluid, bringing it to his lips.

y/n's eyes widened in disbelief as sungchan proceeded to eat his own cum, his gaze locked with the prince's. lust danced in sungchan's eyes as he savored the taste, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. "mm~ you taste so fucking amazing," he purred. "i can't wait to have more of you later."

before y/n could react or utter a word, sungchan descended upon him, capturing his lips in a passionate, possessive kiss. sungchan murmured between the kiss, "taste a bit of yourself." sharing y/n's own cum with him.

the taste of the prince’s own cum mingled with both of their mouths, their tongues swirling together. y/n's mind swirled with a mix of emotions, his senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

sungchan released y/n's hands from the headboard, granting him a momentary sense of relief. y/n flexed his fingers, feeling the tingling sensation return as blood rushed back into his limbs. his cock was still throbbing, but a glimmer of defiance remained in his eyes.

sungchan observed y/n's reaction with a satisfied smirk, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and lust. "looks like someone's eager for more, huh?" he taunted, his voice oozing with dominance. "don’t worry, I’ll give you everything~"

y/n tried to defend himself but nothing came out of his mouth. did the heroic side of him got consumed by the devil?

sungchan's cock was a sight to behold, long and thick, with prominent veins pulsating along its length. it stood proudly before y/n, an imposing presence that both excited and intimidated him.

y/n couldn't help but gaze at the impressive member before him, his eyes tracing every contour, every throbbing vein that ran along its shaft. the sight of it made his mouth water, his own desire growing with each passing second. he could feel his own arousal building, a mix of curiosity and a hunger to experience the pleasure that sungchan's cock promised.

sungchan's voice cut through the air, dripping with confidence and a hint of dominance. "you're in for a wild ride, my prince," he declared, his smirk widening as he gave his cock a few pumps, accentuating its size and hardness. y/n gulped at the sight, feeling nervous but also excited to try it at the same time.

"i know you're eager," sungchan continued, his voice laced with a commanding tone. "but take it slow first if you want. so that you can savor every inch of me." his words hung in the air, a seductive invitation that y/n couldn't resist.

y/n wanted to please sungchan, to feel the fullness of him inside him. with a mixture of anticipation and excitement, y/n leaned forward, his lips hovering just above the swollen head of sungchan's cock.

as y/n's lips brushed against the swollen head of sungchan's cock, a wave of realization crashed over him. what have i gotten myself into? he thought to himself, a mix of excitement and apprehension coursing through his veins. the boundaries he had once held so firmly were now blurred, and he found himself venturing into uncharted territory.

the taste of sungchan's arousal filled y/n's mouth, a heady combination of salt and musk that sent a jolt of desire straight to his core. his tongue swirled around the velvety flesh, exploring each ridge and pulsating vein with a newfound hunger. it was an act of submission, a surrendering of control that both thrilled and terrified him.

as y/n continued to take sungchan deeper into his mouth, he couldn't help but blush at the way sungchan responded. the low, guttural moans that escaped his lips fueled y/n's own arousal, reminding him of the power he held over sungchan's pleasure.

and as y/n's mouth continued to work tirelessly, he knew that once he crossed this line, there would be no turning back. but the allure of the unknown, the promise of pleasure that lay just beyond his grasp, was too enticing to resist.

sungchan's voice dripped with arrogance as he uttered his words, his dominance palpable. "i know you can take it all in, baby," he said, his tone laced with a smug confidence. and without any warning, he thrust his length y/n didn't take earlier into his mouth.

y/n's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and pleasure flooding his senses. the sudden intrusion made him gag, the sensation of sungchan's cock hitting the back of his throat sending shivers down his spine. his mouth stretched to accommodate the sheer size, saliva pooling around his lips as he struggled to find his breath.

drool trickled down the corners of y/n's mouth, a display of his submission and the overwhelming stimulation he was experiencing. he fought against his instinct to resist, allowing sungchan's cock to fill his mouth completely.

sungchan's grip tightened in y/n's hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he maintained control. "that's it, take it all," he commanded, his voice a husky growl. The mixture of y/n's gagging and drooling seemed to fuel sungchan's arousal, his hips instinctively thrusting forward, seeking more of y/n's warm wetness.

y/n's eyes watered as he struggled to find a rhythm, his throat constricting around sungchan's cock as he fought to suppress his gag reflex.

sungchan's voice filled the room once again, this time with a hint of admiration. "you've given me the best blowjob of my life, fuckkk~" he praised, his words causing a surge of pride and satisfaction to wash over y/n. the validation that he had pleased sungchan in such a profound way fueled his desire to continue, to push himself even further.

y/n's heart swelled at the praise, a mixture of pleasure and happiness flooding his senses. the thought that he had brought sungchan so much pleasure, that he had exceeded his expectations, filled him with an intoxicating sense of fulfillment.

but sungchan's words quickly shifted the focus back to the present. "i'm almost there, baby," he announced, his voice laced with a sense of urgency. it was a warning, a signal that the climax was close and y/n's purpose was to bring sungchan to that peak of ecstasy.

as sungchan's thrusts grew more erratic, his grip on y/n's hair tightened, a silent demand for y/n to keep going, to push him over the edge.

y/n's mouth continued to work tirelessly, his lips and tongue coaxing every last drop of pleasure from sungchan's cock. the taste of sungchan's essence filled his senses, pushing him closer to the edge of his own release.

with one final thrust, sungchan's body tensed, his grip on y/n's hair becoming almost painful. a guttural moan escaped his lips as he spilled his seed into y/n's eager mouth. the taste of sungchan's release sent shockwaves of pleasure through y/n's body, his own orgasm crashing over him like a tidal wave.

sungchan cupped y/n's flushed cheeks, his touch both possessive and tender. "swallow it all," he commanded, his voice dripping with a mix of dominance and affection. y/n obediently followed, swallowing every last drop of sungchan's essence.

sungchan's smirk widened as he watched y/n comply with his order. "say 'ah'," he teased, his tone laced with amusement. y/n opened his mouth, his cheeks still flushed from their intense encounter, and let out a soft, breathless "ah."

sungchan's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he praised y/n, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and arousal. "good boy," he whispered, his words sending a shiver of pleasure down y/n's spine.

y/n's blush deepened at sungchan's teasing words.

sungchan leaned in closer, his voice a low, seductive murmur. "you like being called a good boy, don't you?" he taunted, his words causing a surge of arousal to course through y/n's veins. the combination of sungchan's dominance and y/n's submissive nature created an intoxicating dynamic that left him craving for more.

y/n's gaze shifted away, his cheeks red. he hesitantly nodded in response to sungchan's teasing words, unable to deny the truth in them.

sungchan chuckled softly, his voice dripping with amusement. "aww, that's cute," he teased, his words laced with a hint of affection. the playful tone in his voice served to both tease and reassure y/n.

y/n bit his lip, unable to hide the bashful smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

sungchan leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over y/n's ear as he whispered, "you're such a good boy, y/n. i love how eager you are to please me. this attitude is so much better than the heroic, bravery side of yours~" his words sent shivers down y/n's spine, his body responding to the praise and affirmation in the most primal of ways.

sungchan then looked down and saw that y/n had came without being touched. a mischievous giggle escaped his lips, causing y/n's blush to deepen even further.

"aw, baby," sungchan teased, his voice filled with playful amusement. "did you just come untouched?" he asked.

y/n's face turned a deeper shade of crimson immediately.

"it's alright," sungchan said, his tone gentle and comforting. "i'm glad i made you feel good. your pleasure is important to me~"

sungchan leaned closer, his breath ghosting over y/n's ear. "i have so much more in store for you, baby," he whispered. "you're going to be begging for more." he said the last sentence seductively making y/n gasp.

sungchan gently guided y/n to lay back on the bed, his touch both tender and commanding. he positioned himself on top of y/n, their bodies aligned in a sensual embrace. leaning in, sungchan captured y/n's lips in a passionate kiss, devouring y/n hungrily.

their lips molded together in a heated dance, tongues tangling in a fervent rhythm. sungchan's hands roamed over y/n's body, tracing the contours of his skin with a mix of possessiveness and adoration. as their kiss deepened, sungchan couldn't resist the temptation to leave his mark on y/n's exposed skin.

lowering his lips to y/n's neck, sungchan began to suck and nip at the sensitive flesh, leaving a trail of red marks in his wake.

moving downward, sungchan continued his actions, lavishing attention on y/n's collarbone. his tongue traced along the bone, leaving a wet trail in its wake.

y/n's breath hitched, a chorus of moans and gasps escaping his lips as sungchan marked him as his own.

sungchan's voice dripped with desire as he whispered against y/n's skin, his breath hot against the marks he had left. "you're so fucking beautiful," he murmured, his words laced with a mixture of reverence and lust. sungchan couldn't help but be captivated by y/n's allure, secretly enjoying each and every moment.

[theetherealbloom]

AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 3 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter Three: There Will Be No Glory

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge, 

Word Count: 8.4k

A/N: I swear I’m cookin’ back here. I've been writing this series non-stop for days lmao. Idk what hit me?? I actually have the next chapter ready to post too lmao. Hope everyone is doing well!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: hunter by Paris Paloma

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KING'S LANDING, THE SEPT OF BAELOR — EARLY MORNING

The Sept of Baelor was alive with a flurry of activity. Servants moved swiftly, preparing for the grand wedding of Joffrey Baratheon and Margaery Tyrell. Every corner of the grand sept was being scrubbed, every flower meticulously placed, every banner hung with precision. The sun had barely risen, casting a golden hue over the stained-glass windows, but already the heat of the day was making the air feel thick and heavy.

You were in the midst of it all, arranging the delicate floral garlands along the altar. The scent of the flowers was overwhelming, mingling with the incense that filled the Sept. Your hands moved mechanically, arranging the blooms with precision, though your mind was elsewhere. The headache that had been gnawing at the edges of your consciousness all morning now pulsed with a vengeance, a searing pain behind your eyes. It was getting harder to focus, and the heat didn’t help.

Voices echoed through the Sept as people hurried by, servants calling to one another in preparation, but it was all a dull hum in your ears. You pressed a hand to your temple, closing your eyes for a moment as the migraine intensified. The world seemed to blur at the edges, the weight of your own thoughts pressing down on you, mingling with the physical pain. 

Then, suddenly, a firm hand gripped your arm. You gasped, eyes snapping open as you were pulled away from your work, your feet stumbling beneath you. The world spun as you were dragged through the corridors, away from the main hall. 

Your first instinct was to fight back. You kicked, struggled, your heart pounding with panic. But the grip was unyielding, dragging you into a darkened alcove, hidden away from prying eyes. 

“What are you—? Let go of me!” you hissed, your voice strained with fear and frustration as you fought against your captor, kicking and trying to free yourself.

Then, in the dim light, you saw him. Oberyn Martell. His eyes gleamed with amusement, but there was something else in them—a hunger, a dangerous edge. He didn’t release you, instead pressing you further into the shadows, the cool stone wall biting against your back.

“You—” you began, breathless, still trying to regain control of the situation, but Oberyn leaned closer, cutting off your words with the intensity of his gaze. 

“Shh," he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. "I’ve been looking for you.”

His words hung between you like a dangerous secret. His body pressed against yours, firm and unyielding, his hands bracing on either side of your head, caging you in. Your heart raced as you realized there was no escaping him now. You forced yourself to meet his gaze, determined to maintain your composure despite the sudden surge of heat that flushed your skin. 

“What are you doing?” you demanded, your voice shaky but defiant. “We shouldn’t be here—”

Oberyn’s smile widened, the corner of his lips curving into a wicked smirk. “Shouldn’t we?” His tone was teasing, but his eyes were dark, intense. His face was so close, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ve been avoiding me. I’ve noticed.”

“I’m working,” you replied, trying to maintain control of your voice, trying to keep your heart from pounding so loudly in your chest. “And you should be—”

But Oberyn interrupted you, his hand brushing lightly against your arm, sending sparks shooting up your spine. "You carry yourself with grace, more like a lady of the court than a servant.” His gaze trailed over you, studying you, watching the way you tried to hide the tremor in your breath. “It makes me wonder… who are you really?”

Your throat tightened. The question cut too close to the truth. You had worked so hard to blend in, to be unnoticed, yet Oberyn’s gaze seemed to peel back the layers you had carefully built. He was too perceptive, too sharp.

“I’m no one,” you lied, your voice steadier than you felt. “Just a servant.”

Oberyn chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. He leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke. “A servant who speaks with such eloquence, who watches others like a hawk, as if you’re calculating their every move.” His breath was hot against your skin, his presence overwhelming as he whispered, “You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

Your pulse quickened. His words were dangerous, far too close to what you had been so careful to hide. Oberyn was watching you with an intensity that made your skin burn, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. He saw through you in a way no one else had. The facade you wore was slipping under his gaze, and you weren’t sure if you could hold it up any longer.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Oberyn tilted his head, his dark eyes searching yours, reading the fear and the defiance in equal measure. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re a good liar,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “But I’ve spent my life around liars. And you... you are no ordinary servant.”

You swallowed hard, your back pressed firmly against the cold stone as Oberyn’s presence enveloped you. His fingers brushed lightly against your jaw, tracing the line of your face as he studied you. "There's something about you," he said, his voice soft but dangerous. "Something... familiar."

Your breath caught in your throat. He was getting too close, too close to the truth you had buried so deeply. You had to regain control, had to push him away before he uncovered everything.

“Let me go,” you whispered, though your voice lacked the strength you intended. 

Oberyn’s eyes glimmered with something unreadable as he held you there, trapped between him and the wall. He leaned in, his lips hovering near yours, the tension between you crackling like wildfire. “Not yet,” he whispered, his voice a promise, a warning. 

And in that moment, you realized you were caught.

Oberyn stood so close, his presence overwhelming, his eyes filled with that dangerous blend of curiosity and something more primal. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the air between you thick with tension, as if the entire world had fallen away, leaving just the two of you in this darkened corner of the Sept.

His voice, low and smooth, broke the silence, sending a shiver down your spine. “My sister used to write to me, you know,” he began, his lips curling into a small, almost bittersweet smile. “Princess Elia. We were always apart, but her letters kept me close to her.” He paused, watching you closely, as though he could see right through the facade you’d carefully built over the years. 

You stiffened at the mention of Elia, your heart clenching painfully. You hadn’t heard that name spoken so intimately in years. You were only a child then, but you remembered her well—kind, gentle, her presence like a soft light amidst the darkness that surrounded the Red Keep. Your hands trembled slightly, but you quickly clenched them into fists, trying to maintain your composure as Oberyn continued.

“There was one letter,” he mused, his voice softening as if recalling a distant memory. His fingers lightly traced the air, as if mimicking the act of writing. “She wrote about a servant. A girl, a child really, whose parents had given her away. She never mentioned the girl’s name, but she always said how kind she was. How strong, despite everything.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You knew he was talking about you. Elia had been the only one who had shown you kindness, who had given you a place to belong when the world had taken everything from you. But you couldn’t let him know that. You couldn’t let anyone know who you truly were. The weight of your past was a burden you had carried alone, and it had to stay that way.

Oberyn stepped closer, his eyes searching yours, as though he could find the truth hidden behind your carefully guarded expression. “I wonder…” he whispered, his lips hovering near your ear. “Was that girl you?”

You swallowed hard, every instinct screaming at you to run, to get away, but Oberyn’s presence held you in place. His gaze was relentless, burning into you, waiting for an answer you couldn’t give.

“I—” You struggled to find the words, your mind racing, but your throat felt tight, your heart hammering in your chest. You had spent years building this mask, this life as a mere servant, someone no one would look at twice. But now, in the span of moments, Oberyn was threatening to tear it all away.

His hand lifted, fingers grazing the side of your face, and the world seemed to narrow down to that single point of contact. “Who are you, truly?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, but there was no mistaking the intensity in his tone.

The question hung in the air, suffocating. His proximity, the way his body loomed over yours, the way his eyes pinned you in place—it was all too much. The pressure, the closeness, the danger of being exposed—it all came crashing down on you, and suddenly, something snapped inside you.

Without warning, you moved.

Your knee shot up, connecting with Oberyn’s side, hard enough to knock the wind out of him, but not enough to cause real harm. He staggered back, his expression briefly shifting to one of surprise before it morphed into something almost amused. But you didn’t give him time to recover. You slipped out from under his arm, using his momentary lapse to dart past him, your body moving with an agility you hadn’t shown before. 

He chuckled, low and dangerous, clearly not expecting the sudden resistance. “I see,” he murmured, rubbing his side where you’d struck him, his eyes gleaming with something far more dangerous than before. “You’re full of surprises.”

But you didn’t stop to listen. You were already moving, slipping back into the main hall of the Sept where the other servants were still bustling about, preparing for the wedding. The light from the stained-glass windows bathed the room in a kaleidoscope of colors, but you barely noticed. Your heart was pounding in your chest, adrenaline still coursing through your veins as you forced yourself to keep walking, blending back into the crowd of workers.

No one seemed to notice your disheveled state, the faint tremor in your hands as you returned to your duties. You grabbed a bouquet of flowers, your fingers working mechanically as you set them in place, your mind racing with the encounter you had just escaped.

Oberyn had been close—too close. You had no idea how much he truly knew or how much he suspected, but it was clear he wasn’t going to let this go. You could still feel his eyes on you, the way he had studied you as if he could unravel all your secrets.

But you wouldn’t let him. You had survived this long by keeping your past hidden, and you wouldn’t let anyone—no matter how charming, how dangerous—pull you back into that life. 

As you worked, your mind kept replaying his words, the way he had looked at you with that knowing gaze. You could feel the danger closing in, but you had no choice but to press on. The game was far from over, and you would have to be even more careful from now on.

But one thing was clear—Oberyn Martell was not a man easily fooled.

KING'S LANDING, THE SEPT OF BAELOR — DAY

You lingered in the cool shadows of the Sept, hidden from view, just another servant who wasn’t meant to be seen. You weren’t supposed to be part of the grand ceremony at all. Your role, after all, was to prepare for the feast that would follow this extravagant display—a celebration meant to rival even the greatest of royal unions.

But something compelled you to stay.

The air was thick with the scent of incense, and the sound of hushed murmurs echoed off the high stone walls as nobles and lords gathered to witness the joining of Houses Tyrell and Lannister. It was all falling into place, every step of this elaborate plan leading to this moment. The tension in the room crackled like lightning before a storm.

You stood, your heart pounding, as Margaery Tyrell, radiant in her flowing gown, walked down the aisle on the arm of her father, Mace Tyrell. Her golden hair shimmered in the light of the stained-glass windows, and her face was calm—serene even—as though she had been preparing for this her entire life. You watched closely, your gaze sharp, dissecting every movement, every flicker of emotion. The entire event was a spectacle, a symbol of power, of politics. It was all theater. 

Mace Tyrell paused at the base of the steps, his expression proud as he handed his daughter to the waiting king. Joffrey stood at the top, his grin smug, cruel even, as he accepted Margaery’s hand. For a brief moment, your eyes lingered on the boy king, revulsion curling in your stomach. His reign had been a reign of terror and madness, and yet, in this moment, he stood like a conqueror, basking in the adulation of his subjects. 

Margaery, ever poised, ascended the steps with him, her head held high as she moved beside Joffrey. The High Septon awaited them, his voice booming through the Sept as he began the sacred rites. You felt a strange sense of detachment, as if watching the scene unfold from a great distance. Yet, there was a thrill beneath your skin—a deep, quiet satisfaction. Everything was in motion now, and there was no turning back.

The High Septon’s voice echoed through the hall, reverberating off the stone walls: 

"Let it be known that Margaery of House Tyrell and Joffrey of the Houses Lannister and Baratheon are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder."

As the words filled the air, you couldn’t help but smirk slightly to yourself, hidden in the shadows. Cursed, indeed. The irony of it all, the pageantry, the vows, the promise of unity, knowing what was to come—it was almost poetic.

You watched as Joffrey, in all his arrogance, turned to Margaery, taking her hands in his. "With this kiss, I pledge my love," he declared, loud enough for all to hear. His voice carried the same venomous self-importance it always had, as if he truly believed himself a benevolent ruler.

The crowd erupted in applause as their lips met in a kiss that was supposed to symbolize the unity of two great houses. You watched with an unreadable expression as Margaery played her part flawlessly, the perfect bride, while Joffrey basked in the adulation.

From your vantage point, you caught a glimpse of Sansa Stark, her face pale as she leaned toward Tyrion Lannister. Her eyes were dark, her lips pressed into a thin line as she whispered, "We have a new queen."

Tyrion, ever the cynic, barely glanced at her as he muttered under his breath, “Better her than you.”

You felt a surge of something—was it pity?—for Sansa, trapped in this viper’s nest with no escape. But this wasn’t your concern, not today. Today, the wheels were turning, and soon, this entire charade would unravel. You could feel it in the air, the undercurrent of tension beneath the applause and celebration. It was almost time.

The ceremony concluded, and the newly crowned queen and her king descended the steps together, the picture of royal power. The applause grew louder, the lords and ladies of Westeros rising to their feet in celebration of this union. But all you could focus on was the bitter truth behind it all. 

Your migraine throbbed in your temples, the dull ache intensifying as you stood there, watching the farce unfold before you. But you smiled, knowing that by the end of this day, Joffrey would no longer be king. The poison had already been set in motion, and the pieces on the board were exactly where you needed them to be.

For now, you would watch. The storm was coming, and you would be ready to strike when the time was right.

THE WEDDING RECEPTION 

KING'S LANDING GARDEN, RED KEEP — DAY

The garden was a riot of color and sound. Banners of crimson and gold fluttered in the warm breeze, the sigils of House Lannister emblazoned on every surface. Long tables stretched across the lush greenery, laden with golden platters of roasted meats, fruit, and delicate pastries. Lords and ladies of every great house in Westeros mingled, their voices a hum of excitement, laughter, and gossip, all gathered to celebrate the union of Joffrey Baratheon and Margaery Tyrell.

Jugglers tossed brightly colored balls high into the air while fire-breathers sent plumes of flames into the sky. Their movements were smooth and practiced, as if the entire performance were just another part of the show that was the king’s wedding. Some even walked on stilts, towering over the crowd, while musicians played lively tunes in the background, the melodies weaving in and out of the general din. 

You stood back, observing from the edge of the gardens, the soft perfume of roses mingling with the smoky scent of roasted meats. The spectacle of it all, the opulence, the grandeur—it was enough to make anyone feel insignificant in its shadow. You glanced down at your own hands, trembling slightly as you worked to keep them busy, adjusting a garland of flowers, though your task had long since been finished.  

The whole scene was a display of power, the ruling elite flaunting their wealth for all to see. Each lord and lady wore their finest silks, their jewels glinting in the midday sun as they danced, laughed, and raised their goblets in celebration. But beneath the surface, there was an undercurrent of tension. It lingered in the air, a brewing tempest on the horizon.

As your eyes drifted over the crowd, you spotted Bronn, Tyrion, and Podrick making their way through the guests. Tyrion’s face was hard to read, his usual wit tempered by the weight of the moment. He and Bronn exchanged quiet words, but even from a distance, you could see the unease in Tyrion’s posture. He didn’t want to be here, that much was clear.

And then, from across the garden, your gaze landed on Oberyn Martell. He and Ellaria Sand were seated near the fountain, utterly captivated by a contortionist performing impossible bends and twists before them. Ellaria laughed softly, her eyes alight with amusement, while Oberyn watched the performance with a more measured gaze. 

For a fleeting moment, his eyes found yours.

The world seemed to slow as the intensity of his gaze sent a jolt through your body. His dark eyes, filled with a mix of curiosity and something deeper, locked onto yours, as though he could see through every wall you had carefully constructed. Your heart quickened, and an unexpected warmth spread through your chest. The moment stretched between you, silent and loaded with meaning.

But you couldn’t hold it. Your pulse raced, your palms dampening with sweat as you quickly tore your gaze away, focusing on the flowers at your feet. You forced yourself to breathe, but the weight of his attention lingered on your skin, like a touch that burned long after it was gone.

You busied yourself again, rearranging the flowers though they didn’t need rearranging, anything to distract yourself from the flutter of nerves in your stomach. What was it about him? The way he looked at you wasn’t like the others. It was as if he knew something—something about you that no one else did. 

Your hands shook as you tried to steady your breath. You weren’t supposed to stand out here, in this garden full of lords and ladies, and yet… here you were, caught in the eyes of a man who seemed to see too much.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Ellaria lean in closer to Oberyn, whispering something into his ear, her hand resting lightly on his arm. Her eyes flicked briefly in your direction, curiosity burning behind them. The same possessive glint you had seen before was there, but now it was tempered by a different kind of intrigue.

Your heart pounded in your chest. You weren’t sure if you were relieved or unnerved by the brief reprieve from Oberyn’s gaze. Either way, you knew one thing: nothing at this wedding was what it seemed.

The air was thick with revelry, the laughter of lords and ladies mingling with the melody of flutes and the clink of goblets. Everywhere you looked, you saw power—power flaunted by those who had it, and coveted by those who didn’t. But you played your role, dutifully present, a servant watching a play unfold.

At the head table, Olenna Tyrell moved with a deliberate grace, her hand trailing through Sansa Stark’s carefully braided hair before lingering on the stones of her necklace. The movement was subtle, her fingers deft, plucking at the polished purple gems with a kind of ease that only someone of her station could manage. It was easy to miss if one wasn’t paying attention—but you were always paying attention.

Your eyes narrowed, recognizing the faint gleam in Olenna’s fingers as she discreetly palmed something. The strangler. A crystalline form of poison, almost impossible to detect once dissolved in wine. Your heart beat faster, but outwardly, you remained composed, blending into the background of the celebration.

No one else seemed to notice. Not Sansa, lost in her sorrow, nor Tyrion, pouring himself another goblet of wine as he approached the table. Olenna’s conspiratorial smile went unnoticed by the rest, except you. You stepped closer, pretending to busy yourself with the trays of wine, ready to serve at a moment’s notice, but your ears were sharply tuned to their conversation.

You heard the last bit of Olenna’s words as she turned to Sansa, her voice low but pointed. "Perhaps if your pauper husband were to sell his mule and his last pair of shoes, he might afford to bring you to Highgarden for a visit. Now that peace has come and all is right with the world, it would do you good to see some of it." Olenna cast a glance toward Tyrion, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “You must excuse me. It's time I ate some of this food I paid for.”

Tyrion smirked, but the bitterness in his eyes was unmistakable. He raised his goblet in a mock toast, the weight of his station pressing heavily on his shoulders.

As Olenna moved away, the music changed. The musicians struck up a familiar tune, the one they always played for the Lannisters—a song of lions, of power.

"A coat of gold, or a coat of red, a lion still has claws..."

Margaery seemed to be enjoying the performance, her laughter light and genuine. But Joffrey, ever the restless king, was bored. He stood abruptly, tossing coins at the musicians as if they were little more than beggars. "Very good. Very good. Off you go," he said dismissively. The musicians scrambled to collect the coins, bowing as they backed away from the table, desperate to avoid the king’s wrath.

From where you stood, the entire spectacle felt sickening. You clenched your jaw, your hands hidden beneath your sleeves as you forced yourself to remain composed. It was all a game to them. A game of politics, of power, of lies. The poorest in King’s Landing would never see the remnants of this feast, no matter what Margaery or Joffrey decreed. You knew the truth. People like you—those without titles, lands, or coin—were little more than pawns to be sacrificed in their endless struggle for dominance.

You watched Margaery lean toward Joffrey, her hand resting on his arm as she tried to soothe his restlessness. "My love, why don't we make the announcement?" she said, her voice soft, almost coaxing. Joffrey banged his goblet against the table, the sharp clang silencing the crowd as he stood.

"Everyone!" he called out, his voice booming over the garden. "The queen would like to say a few words."

The crowd cheered, applauding the queen they had already accepted as their own. Margaery stood gracefully, her smile serene as she addressed the crowd. "We are so fortunate to enjoy this marvelous food and drink. Not all among us are so lucky. To thank the gods for bringing the recent war to a just end, King Joffrey has decreed that the leftovers from our feast be given to the poorest in his city."

More applause followed, and Joffrey beamed, soaking in the adoration of the crowd. Cersei, ever watchful, approached Margaery with a forced smile. "You're an example to us all," she said, placing a kiss on each of Margaery’s cheeks. The queen mother’s jealousy was palpable, her eyes glinting with barely concealed disdain.

You stood there, watching it all with clenched fists beneath your sleeves, your breath coming in slow, measured draws. The words, the gestures, the smiles—it was all smoke and mirrors. They paraded their generosity, their wealth, their power as if it were a gift to the realm, but you knew better. This peace was fragile, built on the bodies of the innocent, and it could shatter at any moment.

Your fingers dug into the fabric of your dress, a habit you had developed over the years. You scratched at the skin beneath, the pressure grounding you as memories flashed before your eyes—memories of pain, of cruelty, of the Mountain. The heat of the branding iron. The smell of burning flesh. Your own screams ringing in your ears until the world went dark.

You bit down hard on your lip, forcing the memories to retreat back into the dark corners of your mind. But the tension remained, a heavy knot in your chest, coiled tight like a viper ready to strike. Everything around you—the laughter, the opulence, the false smiles of lords and ladies—was part of this never-ending cycle of power. A gamble played at the expense of lives like yours.

Standing at a distance, you felt Oberyn’s eyes on you again. He lounged with casual arrogance, a wicked smile playing on his lips as Ellaria sat on his lap, delicately feeding him a grape. His gaze lingered on you, his expression one of amusement, as if he found your presence there tantalizing. His nod in your direction was slow, deliberate, and the smirk he gave you only made your pulse race. You quickly turned away, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing the effect he had on you.

Your focus shifted, catching Cersei out of the corner of your eye as she exchanged curt words with Brienne of Tarth. Whatever was said made Brienne visibly uncomfortable, and she soon excused herself, walking away with her usual brisk pace. You weren’t close enough to hear their exchange, but the look on Cersei’s face said it all—disdain, irritation, and a certain dangerous pleasure in making the taller woman feel out of place.

Just as you were about to step away, something else caught your attention. Pycelle, with his hunched posture and greasy fingers, had cornered a young maid—Serena, you realized with a scowl. Inwardly, you cursed. Pycelle was one of those men you despised most at court, his pretense of wisdom nothing more than a shield for his lechery. You moved closer, keeping your head down, pretending to adjust your serving tray as you eavesdropped on their conversation.

Pycelle’s voice was low, his tone sickeningly paternal as he said, "No, no, come to my chambers and I will examine you personally."

Your stomach churned at his words, but before you could intervene, Cersei’s voice cut through the air like a dagger.

"She’ll do no such thing."

Pycelle jumped, his greasy face paling as he turned to see the queen standing there, her expression cold and unyielding.

"Oh, Your Grace," Pycelle stammered, his voice trembling slightly. "Yes, well, this young lady sought my advice..."

Cersei’s smile was sharp and cruel. "You should see Qyburn. He’s quite good."

The maid, eyes wide with relief, quickly dipped her head. "Your Grace," she murmured, then hurried away, escaping Pycelle’s grasp.

Pycelle’s face contorted into an expression of disgust. "Qyburn? Deplorable man. Brought shame on the Citadel with his repugnant experiments."

Cersei tilted her head, her smile never wavering. "More repugnant than your gnarled fingers on that girl’s thighs?"

Pycelle stiffened, his eyes darting around nervously. "Your Grace, I am a man of learning."

Cersei’s eyes gleamed with dangerous amusement. "My little brother had you sent to the Black Cells when you annoyed him. What do you think I could do to you if you annoyed me?"

Pycelle’s face turned ashen. "I never meant to annoy anyone," he mumbled, his voice now a pathetic whimper.

"But you are," Cersei said softly, stepping closer, her gaze boring into him. "You annoy me right now. Every breath you draw in my presence annoys me. So here’s what I want you to do: I want you to leave my presence. Leave this wedding right now. Go to the kitchens and instruct them that all the leftovers from the feast will be brought to the kennels."

Pycelle’s mouth opened in protest, but Cersei cut him off sharply. "The queen is telling you the leftovers will feed the dogs, or you will."

For a moment, the old man seemed to consider arguing, but one look at Cersei’s smile—a cruel, dangerous curve of her lips—and he thought better of it. With a shaky bow, he muttered, "Yes, Your Grace," and scuttled away like the coward he was.

Cersei smiled after him, pleased with herself.

What a bold-faced cunt, you thought bitterly, watching her bask in her small victory. Everything about her was venomous—her beauty, her power, her cruelty. She wielded them all with deadly precision, and you hated her for it.

With a steadying breath, you made your way back toward the head table, slipping seamlessly into your role. You refilled goblets, offered plates, your presence unnoticed among the nobles. But beneath your mask of calm, your mind churned. Every move, every word, every gesture at this wedding was a lie—a careful façade constructed to conceal the rot beneath.

The clamor of the wedding feast carried on, a haze of laughter, clinking goblets, and the gleam of gold and silk that shone in the late afternoon sun. The Lannisters and Tyrells reveled in their temporary triumph, their smugness saturating the air like a sickly perfume. But you knew better than most how quickly fortunes could turn in a place like King’s Landing. The city was a pit of snakes, and the shift of power could change in an instant.

From where you stood, just close enough to watch but far enough to remain unnoticed, your eyes followed King Joffrey. He sat at the head of the grand table, restless and bored, his twisted amusement turning toward the fool juggling before him. Margaery, ever the dutiful queen, smiled gracefully at his side, playing her part flawlessly. 

But Joffrey… he was never satisfied.

You saw the glint of cruelty in his eyes before he even stood. The familiar spark that made your skin crawl and your stomach twist. His voice cut through the air, sharp and mocking.

"A gold dragon to whoever knocks my fool’s hat off," Joffrey declared, his sneer stretching wide as he stood, scanning the crowd like a predator ready to pounce.

The fool, a trembling man in motley, barely had time to react before the guests joined in. Laughter echoed as food—chunks of bread, slices of fruit, and bits of meat—were hurled at him. You could see the fear in his eyes, how his smile wavered as he danced awkwardly to avoid the barrage. 

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. The sight of it—how quickly cruelty had become sport—set your blood boiling. You knew this game, too well. You had seen it before. You had lived it.

Joffrey’s laughter rang loud, ringing in your ears like a taunt. 

You couldn’t take it anymore.

With a sharp inhale, you turned on your heel, walking briskly away from the spectacle. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, the fury bubbling beneath the surface, the memories threatening to overtake you. The jeers, the screams, the sound of flesh meeting stone… all of it haunted you still, and this—this senseless cruelty—stirred it back to life.

The clamor of the feast swirled around you, a whirlwind of laughter, clinking goblets, and hushed conversations. Your hands moved mechanically as you helped arrange the giant feast table, replenishing trays of roasted meats and lavish platters of fruits. Yet your mind remained a storm of its own, the anger still simmering beneath the surface from what you'd just witnessed.

This court—its twisted bets, the cruelty woven into every interaction—was a festering rot, and you couldn’t allow yourself to forget that. Not for a moment. Not here, where forgetting meant losing yourself to the madness.

As you moved to refill goblets of wine, you saw Cersei and Tywin strolling past, their expressions as cold and imperious as ever. You kept your head down, but their voices reached your ears, low and murmured.

Tywin’s tone was calm, almost bemused. “You’re in rather a good mood.”

“I suppose I am,” Cersei replied, her voice holding a faint, bitter edge.

“I won’t ask why,” Tywin remarked, his gaze never faltering as they passed by.

“Small pleasures,” Cersei added, a sharpness in her words that hinted at something more, something dark beneath the surface.

You busied yourself with the table, arranging goblets when you caught movement from the corner of your eye. Oberyn and Ellaria had entered, gliding through the crowd with a grace that seemed to draw every eye. Their presence commanded attention, not unlike the very snakes that represented their house.

Oberyn's deep, silken voice cut through the air as he greeted them. "Your Grace. Lord Tywin."

Tywin turned to face them, his expression as stony as ever. "Prince Oberyn."

"I don't believe you have met Ellaria," Oberyn continued smoothly, gesturing to the woman at his side. "This is the Lord Hand Tywin Lannister and Cersei Lannister, the Queen Regent. Or, I suppose it is former Queen Regent now." The jab was subtle but unmistakable. "Lord Hand and Lady Cersei, this is Ellaria Sand."

Ellaria stepped forward, her dark eyes gleaming as she curtsied. "My lord. My lady."

Tywin offered a curt nod, the barest flicker of acknowledgement. "Charmed."

Cersei, however, let her gaze linger on Ellaria for a moment too long. “Can’t say I’ve ever met a Sand before,” she said, her words dripping with disdain.

You stole a glance at Ellaria, whose demeanor had shifted, a spark of fierceness flashing in her eyes. Her voice was like steel wrapped in silk. “We are everywhere in Dorne. I have ten thousand brothers and sisters.”

Oberyn’s lips curled into a smirk. “Bastards are born of passion, aren't they? We don’t despise them in Dorne.”

The corner of your mouth twitched, nearly betraying a smile at Oberyn’s thinly veiled jab. You bit your lip, forcing yourself to remain composed, knowing how easily any sign of amusement could draw unwanted attention.

Cersei, however, did not miss a beat. “No? How tolerant of you.”

Oberyn leaned in ever so slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. “I expect it is a relief, Lady Cersei, giving up your regal responsibilities. Wearing the crown for so many years must have left your neck a bit crooked.”

His words were a dagger, sharp and cutting. And as he spoke, his eyes flicked to you for the briefest moment, a knowing glance that sent a shiver down your spine. He knew. He had known the entire time you were standing there, silently witnessing the exchange.

Cersei’s smile faltered, if only for a heartbeat, before she recovered. “I suppose you’ll never know, Prince Oberyn. It’s a shame your older brother couldn’t attend the wedding.”

Tywin chimed in, his voice as cold as ever. “Please give him our regards. With any luck, the gout will abate with time, and he will be able to walk again.”

“They call it the rich man’s disease,” Oberyn shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “A wonder you don’t have it.”

You almost choked on your own breath at the boldness of his words, gripping the tray of food tighter to maintain your composure. Every word he spoke was a calculated strike, each one landing with precision, and you admired his audacity.

Tywin’s expression remained impassive. “Noblemen in my part of the country don’t enjoy the same lifestyle as our counterparts in Dorne.”

Oberyn’s gaze darkened, the air between them thick with tension. “People everywhere have their differences. In some places, the highborn frown upon those of low birth. In other places, the rape and murder of women and children is considered distasteful. What a fortunate thing for you, former Queen Regent, that your daughter Myrcella has been sent to live in the latter sort of place.”

Your grip tightened on the tray as Oberyn’s words struck like a whip, slicing through the false pleasantries of court. You admired him for it—for his boldness, his refusal to bend to their rules, their cruelty.

But you also knew that such boldness could come at a cost.

Without another glance, you quietly moved away, slipping back into the sea of nobles and servants. You busied yourself with pouring wine and serving food, but your thoughts lingered on the dangerous dance unfolding before you. The court was a place where words were as deadly as swords, and you could only hope that Oberyn’s sharp tongue wouldn’t cut too deep.

Yet, as you glanced back at him, standing tall and unyielding, a part of you knew that he wouldn’t be so easily broken.

The air was thick with tension, festivity clashing with the cruelty lurking just beneath the surface. You stood near the head table, your place behind Sansa Stark’s chair, a silent observer in the midst of the spectacle. And Joffrey, the cruel little tyrant, loved his games.

From the center of the garden, you heard the familiar tap tap of Joffrey’s goblet. He rose from his seat, commanding attention as if the entire world existed solely for his amusement. His voice rang out, high and grating.

“Everyone, silence! Clear the floor,” Joffrey called, smirking as his gaze swept over the gathered crowd. “There’s been too much amusement here today. A royal wedding is not an amusement. A royal wedding is history.”

You could feel the unease ripple through the crowd as Cersei and Tywin returned to their seats. Their expressions remained impassive, but there was a shared sense of something darker brewing beneath the surface. You, too, felt the shift, your body tensing as you braced for what was to come.

“The time has come for all of us to contemplate our history,” Joffrey continued, his voice dripping with arrogance. “My lords... my ladies…”

A lever was pulled, and from the gaping mouth of a giant lion, a red carpet unfurled, rolling down the middle of the floor. The crowd leaned in, curious, and you felt your stomach twist.

“I give you... King Joffrey... Renly, Stannis, Robb Stark, Balon Greyjoy. The War of the Five Kings.”

From the lion’s mouth, five dwarves emerged, each dressed to mock the fallen kings of Westeros. They paraded around the floor with exaggerated movements and comic glee, drawing laughter and applause from the nobles. But you could feel the weight of it—the insult, the cruelty embedded in the display.

The dwarves pranced around, playing their parts. One, dressed as Renly Baratheon, twirled about the center with an exaggerated flourish. Another, playing Robb Stark, shouted, “I am the King in the North!” His wolf-head helmet bobbed comically as he danced. The Joffrey dwarf stood at the center of it all, reveling in the absurdity, while the real Joffrey watched, his face alight with sadistic glee.

You saw Tyrion’s face, stoic yet darkened with distaste, and you shared in his disgust. Every part of you was braced for the inevitable humiliation, the way Joffrey delighted in belittling those who had fought and died with honor. The scene continued, with the dwarves mocking and prancing, their movements a grotesque parody of real battle. 

“Let the war begin!” the Joffrey dwarf cried, and the chaos of the mock battle began. Robb Stark’s dwarf clashed with the others, while the Balon Greyjoy dwarf pretended to drown in an invisible sea, his gurgling cries echoing through the hall.

You glanced at Sansa. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with shock as she watched the dwarf dressed as her brother fall to the ground, his wolf helmet tumbling off. Joffrey laughed, his high-pitched cackle reverberating through the room. “Your head!” he cried, pointing at the fallen wolf.

Your fingers curled into fists, nails digging into your palms. You sneered, your lip twitching as you barely restrained the anger rising within you. You wanted nothing more than to lash out, to put an end to Joffrey’s twisted plans. But you couldn’t. Not here. Not now.

The crowd cheered, applauding the spectacle as Joffrey stood, a cruel smile on his face. “Well fought! Well fought!” he exclaimed, his voice brimming with satisfaction. “Here you are—champion’s purse. Though you’re not the champion yet, are you? A true champion defeats all challengers. Surely there are others out there who still dare to challenge my reign.”

His gaze landed on Tyrion. “Uncle. How about you? I’m sure they have a spare costume.”

The crowd erupted into laughter. You clenched your jaw, biting down on the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood. Every fiber of your being screamed treason. Never had you wanted more to defy a king than in that moment.

Tyrion rose slowly, his expression unreadable. “One taste of combat was enough for me, Your Grace,” he said, his voice steady. “I would like to keep what remains of my face.”

You almost smiled at the subtle barb, but it was quickly followed by another.

“I think you should fight him,” Tyrion continued. “This was but a poor imitation of your own bravery on the field of battle. I speak as a firsthand witness. Climb down from the high table with your new Valyrian sword and show everyone how a true king wins his throne. Be careful, though. This one is clearly mad with lust. It would be a tragedy for the king to lose his virtue hours before his wedding night.”

The crowd went still, the tension palpable. You could feel it, the shift in the air as Joffrey’s expression twisted into anger. He marched over to Tyrion and, without warning, poured the contents of his goblet over his uncle’s head.

You bit back a gasp as wine trickled down Tyrion’s face, his hands clenched at his sides. His voice remained calm, but you could see the fury in his eyes. “A fine vintage. Shame that it spilled.”

Joffrey, ever the petulant child, sneered. “It did not spill.”

Margaery, sensing the rising tension, tried to intervene. “My love, come back to me,” she called, her voice sweet yet pleading. “It’s time for my father’s toast.”

But Joffrey was far from finished with his torment. “How does he expect me to toast without wine? Uncle, you can be my cupbearer since you’re too cowardly to fight.”

You watched in disbelief as Joffrey dropped his goblet, forcing Tyrion to kneel and retrieve it. Your own anger mirrored the look on Tyrion’s face, your nails biting deeper into your palms as he knelt to retrieve the goblet, only for Joffrey to kick it away. The humiliation was complete.

Sansa kindly retrieved the goblet for Tyrion, silently nodding in acknowledgment. He turned to hand Joffrey the cup but sneered, “What good is an empty cup? Fill it.”

Tyrion pours wine for Joffrey in front of Cersei and hands it to him.

“Kneel,” Joffrey hissed. “Kneel before your king.”

Tyrion did not move.

Joffrey’s voice rose, venomous. “I said… kneel!”

Before things could escalate further, Margaery stood. “Look—the pie!”

The crowd’s attention shifted to the giant pie being carried in. Joffrey turned his gaze toward it, temporarily distracted. He strode forward, hacking at the pie with his sword. Doves burst forth, fluttering into the air.

But you weren’t watching the birds. No. You saw Olenna, her hand quick and deft as she slipped something into Joffrey’s goblet. A stone. A strangler stone that she took from Sansa’s necklace.

Your breath hitched in your throat, but you did not react. You acted enraptured, like the rest of the crowd. You helped serve the pie, your movements mechanical, your mind racing. Sansa turned to Tyrion, her voice a whisper.

“Can we leave now?”

Tyrion’s response was measured. “Let’s find out.”

As you continued serving, your eyes flicked back to the head table, watching as Joffrey took his goblet and drank deeply. A small smile tugged at your lips as he swallowed.

The end was coming. You could feel it.

“Mm, good,” Joffrey muttered. “Needs washing down.”

He took another gulp, arrogant and unaware, until it hit him. The first sign was the subtle hitch in his breath, almost laughable at first—until it wasn't. The coughing came next, sharp and violent, ripping through him like a wild beast gnawing at his throat. His regal posture crumbled, hands clawing at his neck as if to tear the poison from his skin. His face twisted, contorted, morphing from haughty superiority into sheer terror.

The hall shifted with his agony, the murmurs turning into gasps, the gasps into cries of panic. Chaos rippled through the crowd like wildfire, nobles scrambling, eyes wide, horrified. But you did not move. Your body remained still, a statue amidst the storm of panic, unmoved by the sight of the boy-king choking on his own hubris.

Joffrey’s sputtering, retching—every grotesque, gurgling sound—echoed through the hall, yet all you could hear was the pounding of your own heartbeat. Slow. Steady. A contrast to the pandemonium erupting around you. It was a symphony of suffering, and you reveled in the silence that enveloped your mind. His pain meant nothing to you. 

Your eyes drifted across the garden, over the faces twisted in fear, horror, and confusion, and then... there was him. Oberyn. His dark, probing gaze locked onto yours from across the hall. His brows furrowed, lips parting ever so slightly. Surprise? No, curiosity, perhaps even confusion, flickered in his eyes as he searched your face for something—anything—but found nothing. No flicker of emotion, no sympathy, no shock. Just the cold, hollow indifference that had settled into your bones like an old companion. 

You didn’t flinch, didn’t waver. Why would you? This was one of the moments you had been waiting for. The reckoning. All of Joffrey's cruelty, all of his venom, had finally come back to devour him whole. His pitiful gasping, the frantic clawing at his throat, was a fitting end for the boy who thought himself untouchable.

Joffrey gurgled, his face now a deep shade of purple, eyes bulging, lips frothing. The people around him scrambled in vain, trying to save a life that was already slipping away. You remained still, cold as ice, watching it unfold with detached precision. The world could burn around you, and you would not care.

Oberyn’s eyes lingered on you longer than they should have, as if he were trying to understand the enigma standing before him. He didn’t. He couldn't. No one could. There was no more humanity left in you for him to grasp.

Joffrey’s choking grew louder, more desperate. His hands flailed, reaching for his mother, for someone to save him from the inevitable, but no one could stop what was coming. No one could stop you from witnessing the justice you had longed for.

Margaery rushed to Joffrey’s side. “He’s choking!”

Olenna, ever the actress, called out, “Help the poor boy!”

But there would be no help. No saving the king. You watched, unmoved, as Joffrey staggered, his face turning purple, vomit spilling from his lips. Jaime rushed to him, but it was futile. Joffrey was dying.

And all you could think of was how fitting it was. There would be no glory for Joffrey Baratheon. No legacy. Only pain. Only death.

“My son. He’s gone. My son!”

Around you, the world screamed and wailed. Cersei’s frantic cries cut through the air like a knife, but you barely registered them. You were detached, distant. Untouchable. 

It was strange—the numbness. The apathy was a shield you had forged long ago, layer by layer, through every injustice, every cruelty, every wound. You were unbreakable now, untouchable by Joffrey's suffering or anyone else’s. There was a quiet power in that, a dark satisfaction, as you watched the boy-king's life wither before your eyes. 

His torment did not sway you. Not a muscle in your body flinched. Your fingers, relaxed at your sides, held no tension. You didn't care. Not anymore.

“He did this. He poisoned my son, your king. Take him. Take him! Take him! Take him!”

Cersei, her screams filled the hall, but you felt nothing. The king was dead. And soon, the unraveling of this court, this rot, would begin.

TAGLIST:

@christinamadsen

[the-writer-ofthe-fandoms]

Silent Cosmos (Edward Cullen) (Ch. 2)

Pairing: Edward Cullen x GN! Mute!Reader

Words: 4.0k+

Warning(s): Intense car accident scene (its a nightmare/memories. involves blood, gore/body horror), mentions of minor character death/parents dying, swearing, anxiety/stage fright, bullying at Forks mentioned but no scenes depicting it, edward watches MC sleep lmao

A/N: Here is chapter two! I really like this one personally. There is a lot of just narrative, but a good amount of dialogue too. I enjoyed writing the Edward and MC scenes :^) I hope you guys like it too. Taglist is at the bottom.

Series Masterlist

"Bright Star, while thou thy lonely way

Pursu'st in yon expanse of blue,

Thy gem-like form and steady ray

Attract the heedless peasant's view...

...And fancy whispers in mine ear,

That those who once were here beloved,

To friendship and affection dear,

Now from this fleeting scene removed,

Repose, bright star, in thy ethereal sphere."

-- William B. Tappan, "To the North Star"

---

You sigh as you look at several outfits you laid out on your bed. It was Saturday and you spent much of your time getting the last few things unpacked before tonight. The former captain, the firefighters, and the sheriff decided to throw a party at the station for your uncle. Being his immediate family, you had to attend. Your eyes lingered on an outfit that would look nice but would also be comfortable and casual.

As you started getting ready, you began recalling the week you had at your new school. Like Emmett promised, he looked out for you in gym. Apparently, some of the students thought it would be funny to try and target the new kid in the various games the teacher had the class do. Emmett stayed by your side, helping catch dodgeballs or watching your back for 'stray' balls from volleyball. He was easy to get along with. You appreciated that he was more laid back and seemed to always have a smile on his face.

You met Jasper in history. You sat next to him with Alice on his other side. He was tense and looked like he was in pain. You wanted to express concern for him, but recognized through your own experiences dealing with chronic pain from your accident that it can be annoying to have people ask if you're alright. So, you gave him a smile and as the week came on you two were friendly. Alice helped with that of course.

Alice was already treating you as if you both had known each other for years. It was overwhelming at first, but you found that her bright smile and eagerness to talk with you endearing. She has already offered to take out for a shopping and lunch day several times, which you may take her up on next weekend if she were to ask again. You appreciated her friendliness.

You met Rosalie during lunch and met her a second time by your locker; hers and Emmett's were next to yours. Edward had managed to convince you to sit with them the next day after your first. She absolutely, drop dead gorgeous and you couldn't help but stare. You remembered the tense glare she gave you when you sat with them and you almost wanted to bolt out of the cafeteria. Her face softened though when Emmett whispered something in her ear and place a quick peck on her cheek. Still, she almost kept her distance from you and made very minimal steps in engaging in conversation.

The Cullen children were nice. You would be a fool if you couldn't tell there was something amiss with them. They all had matching eyes gold eyes though you noticed by the end of Thursday a few of them had nearly pitch black eyes. There were also times when Alice would stare off to space or Edward would laugh under his breath at nothing. You remember one day you brushed your hand against Edward's as you both reached for his fallen pencil, and you noticed how cold his skin was.

But, despite the discrepancies you've picked up, you liked them. They actually sought to engage in conversation with you since they could under stand sign. Their eyes never lingered or blatantly stared at the raised scars on your neck, not even when you first met them.

That's not to say everyone else ignored you. You had some students talk to you with the help of Edward or any of the other Cullens that lingered around you, but, you could tell quite a few were hesitant in speaking with you. You could feel their curious eyes stay on your neck until yours met theirs. You were used to that from your old school, though at least most of the people here were polite.

There have been a few mean comments and some weird rumors spread about you already. Most of them revolved around you being with Edward for most of the school day. You only heard their directed comments towards you in the morning before first period, when you weren't with a Cullen. You paid it no attention. Some remarks hurt, but as long as they didn't outright say it to your face or harm you, you let their remarks roll off your back.

You applied finishing touches to your look for tonight's party as you concluded your recount of your week at Forks High. You looked in your full body mirror, smoothing our creases in the fabric before approving of what you picked out for yourself. You wondered how the party was going to go. Your uncle, Robert, and your aunt, Phoebe, were bound to go off and converse with others.

Were you to just follow them around or would you stay in a corner until the night was over?

You close your eyes and sigh deeply.

You heard your aunt call your name downstairs.

"It's almost time to go, honey!" She yelled. You open your eyes and give yourself one last glance over in the mirror. You put on a tense smile before leaving your room, heading downstairs.

"You look great." Phoebe smiled, bringing you into a tight hug. You look at her and gave her a thumbs up. She looked good too, her dress fitting her nicely and her makeup was minimal but still beautiful.

When you first started living with her and your uncle it was almost too much. Phoebe looked so much like your mother, her sister. It took a few months to not see your mother in her, but thankfully your brain, despite the trauma you experienced, started registering her as Phoebe. You two have been close since.

"You look good too. That dress is always a good choice." You sign, smiling at her.

"I'm glad you told me to hold onto it. I can't believe I considered getting rid of it when we packed." She laughed and did a small twirl.

You heard a wolf whistle and look over to the stairs at your uncle, who had a cheeky grin as he stared at his wife.

"You look stunning." He winked to your aunt. He then looked at you with a smile. "You look great too. I like what you did with your hair."

"Wow, you actually know how to dress up, Rob." You chuckle, teasing him. Robert was a big believer in comfort and practicality over looking nice so it was rare to see him in something stylish like this.

"Oh ha ha." He said dryly but kept a smile. He glanced down at his watch and his eyes widened. "Shoot, we got to get going. I don't want to be late to a party thrown for me."

---

There were a lot more people at the fire station than you were anticipating. You expected the crew and their families and the sheriff maybe, but this was a lot more than that. Forks is a small place, maybe this was a rare event here. Regardless, you were glad to see many welcome your uncle to Forks and to the station.

It had been about fifteen minutes since you and your family arrived. You had met all the other firefighters and their families; met Sheriff Charlie Swan and his daughter Bella, who you recognized from your history class; and met various of other Forks citizens who came to meet the new captain. A few familiar faces from school floated around at the station too, though you only met three that were children to the other firefighters.

You glance to the large clock on the wall and glanced to your uncle, who was with the former captain. They were getting ready to go to where a microphone was placed in the station for a welcoming speech in about 10 minutes. You were standing idly by you aunt as she conversed with a few of the wives of other firefighters. Even if you could comfortably speak, you wouldn't know what to even talk about with these women. Your aunt discussed her career as a nurse while the others talked about their jobs.

You heard your name being said behind you by an all too familiar voice. Your face brightened with a small smile when you saw Edward. Next to him was a man and woman you've never seen but could tell they were also Cullens by their golden eyes.

"I didn't expect you here." You walked up to him, then glanced at the two with him.

"My father is the chief physician in Forks so he was invited." Edward gestured to the blond man.

"Hello, I'm Carlise." He offered his hand.

"And I am Esme, Edward's mother." She also offered her hand. You shook both, noting how cold their skin was. "Alice is around here somewhere, probably talking with Bella."

"Nice to meet you both."

"It's nice to meet you too, Edward here has talked a lot about you." Esme grinned, a teasing look in her eyes. You saw Edward give her a embarrassed look which made you silently laugh.

"Ah, the man of the hour." Carlisle grinned and step forwards. You jump a little when you see your uncle's arm from your side. You didn't even hear him approach with your aunt in tow.

"You must be Dr. Cullen." Your uncle grinned. Immediately your aunt and uncle and Edward's parents fell into an easy conversation, leaving just you and Edward.

"Are you having fun?" The bronze haired male asked.

"It is nice. I've mostly been following them around." You gesture to your guardians. "I am curious about the refreshment table though, so I may head over there."

"Would you mind some company?" Edward tilted his head slightly, his lips upturned into a small smile. You give him a nod and start making your way over to the food, he followed close behind.

One thing you picked up is the Cullens drew attention no matter what. You can see people's eyes linger on you and Edward. You noticed their stares when you met his parents. And if you could find Alice, you were sure people's gazes would linger. You got used to it in school, but it seemed more awkward when it appeared many people outside of Forks High had their focus on them.

"Everything alright?" Edward's voice was soft as he spoke.

"Yep." You give him a tense smile as you reached the table, looking over the contents.

'I just wish people here didn't have staring problems. Who cares if they look good?' You thought as you grabbed a small plate and started picking up things you liked. You swore you heard Edward chuckle next to you. You look back to him and gesture to the spread as if you were asking if he was going to eat.

He held up a hand and shook his head. "We ate before we came here."

You nodded and quickly ate what you picked out.

Right as you finished your last bite, you heard tapping through the speaker. Looking over to where they set up a microphone you saw your uncle and the former captain of the station. You throw away your plate and keep your spot next to Edward.

"Thank you everyone for coming!" Theodore, the former captain, greeted. Everyone clapped and a few people let out loud 'whoops.' "We are here today to welcome Robert Kennard to the station, our new fire captain."

Your uncle waved and smiled.

"Forks welcomes you warmly, despite the constant cold weather." Many in the crowd softly chuckles at Theodore's words. "And I can speak for the crew in that everyone looks forward to working with you." The former captain steps back from the microphone, letting your uncle step up.

"Hello! Thank you guys for putting this on." He laughed and raised a glass of what you assumed was champagne. "I was concerned at first. When I got offered the position while I was still down in California, I was worried about moving my family up here... starting a new life. However, their support has been unwavering and here we are now."

You heard him call your aunt's name and your name. You froze.

You could see your aunt make her way up to him but you were hesitant. It wasn't that you didn't want to support him, but you weren't sure why a sudden rush of anxiety hit you. You take a step forward but pause.

"Are you alright?" Edward asked softly, his thick brows furrowed as he leaned forward, maintaining eye contact.

You purse your lips and give him a subtle shake of your head. You saw him look confused for a split moment before his facial expression went back to concerned.

"Would you like me to walk forward with you?" You nod at his suggested. He nodded slowly with a small smile and placed a hand between your shoulder blades. Gently, he pushed you forward and guided you to the front. His form stayed next to yours as you moved through the people to get to the front of the small crowd.

When you got close enough to your uncle, you felt Edward's hand leave your back as you kept walking forward. You glance back over your shoulder and saw him waiting at the front, his golden honey eyes never left your form. You flanked your uncle on his right while Phoebe stood at his left.

"To my lovely wife Phoebe, thank you for encouraging me to take this step in my career. Your support has me falling in love with you every second." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. People in the crowd aww'd. "And to you," He looked to you with a smile full of fondness. "Your support towards mine and your aunt's careers has been so appreciative. Raising you as if you were my own has been such a treasure, thank you." He then hugged you tightly before turning to the crowd. "Thank you guys for having us here."

The people attending clapped and cheered. You smiled at how warm the welcoming was, though that feeling of anxiety still lingered. The three of you stepped away from the microphone as the former captain came up to give a final few words. You glanced around for either Edward or Alice, but saw them both in conversation with Carlisle and Esme.

You take a deep breath and excuse yourself from your family. You weave through bodies and made your way outside. The cold air immediately nipped at your face as you wrapped your arms around yourself. You walk over and lean against your uncles pick-up truck.

You look up to the night sky and smile. It seems like the constant cloud cover pulled back enough for you to see the stars and moon. You felt giddy at just how bright the stars looked. You felt at ease now. You felt comforted under the night sky.

'Ah Polaris, my old friend.' You sigh contently when you found that bright star shining brightly in the inky black sky.

"Are you okay?" Edward's voice startled you. You jumped a bit and looked back at him with wide eyes, your heart felt like it was racing wildly in your chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"No worries, I assumed nobody would come outside." You offer a friendly smile, keeping your eyes on him as you felt yourself begin to ease.

"Parties aren't... my thing." He joined you, leaning against the truck. "Carlisle asked me to come along."

"I'm not big on parties like this either. I like smaller get togethers."

There was a brief moment of silence before he spoke again, repeating his previous question. "Are you okay?"

You exhale, your breath visible in the air.  "Yes. Just felt overwhelmed and wanted space."

"Ah. I can leave then."

"You can stay. I know you after all."

---

Edward smiled sincerely when you told him he could stay. Even though Alice and Esme did point out you left out and made comments for him to follow you, he chose to join you on his own. He wanted a moment of peace away from the other humans... and he wanted to explore your mind more.

He tried peering into your thoughts again as a comfortable silence washed over the both of you. Ever since you sat next to him on your first day at Forks High, he attempt to discern your mind. He was still confused at the presence of such a detailed cosmos that lies in your thoughts and how it wasn't always there.

Edward noticed he could always hear your thoughts when you communicated with him or others. However, outside of that he never was sure if he would be hearing your voice or viewing that space. He picked up you weren't aware of this. Nothing you ever did or said gave him any reason to suspect you were purposely putting up this galaxy to block him out. He also kept track at how the galaxy would coincide with your emotions. When you were stressed about going up to your uncle earlier, he could almost feel heat against his mind. He could see how bright the sun residing in the middle had gotten until he was pushed out, which was another thing he noticed.

It was like the galaxy was trying to keep him at arms length from you; always forcing him away from peering too deep into your mind.

Edward shifted his eyes to looking at the sky like you were doing, but his focus was purely on your thoughts. He saw the familiar galaxy once again and this time, it was the most serene he has ever seen it. The sun at the center, still bright, was calm. He didn't feel heat pushing him out. He just saw stars, planets, and various colors around. It was peaceful. Compared to the many thoughts from the party goers back in the fire station, this was nice.

Edward felt welcomed in this vast cosmos.

The scene melted away rather than push him out, causing him to look at you. You were now staring at him with an unreadable gaze.

"Do you know any constellations?" You asked him. It didn't take reading your thoughts to know how excited you were at the prospect of discussing this with him.

"No, I don't." He lied. In the 1970s he spent some time studying the stars. "But I take it you do? Can you tell me?"

"Sure!" He could barely contain the large grin threatening to form on his face at how excited you were.

He could hear your thoughts in tandem as you signed. You would tell him the constellation name and then point it out in the sky. You'd lean close to him, your arm barely brushing against his, as the the other raised up to the sky. He'd subconsciously lean in as well, easily finding said constellation on his own but he let you help him 'find' it. You hadn't mentioned to him before how much you adored stars, but it came to no surprise to him after seeing what goes on in your mind.

Showing him constellations came to an end when neither could see more through the lingering clouds. That didn't stop you from pointing out the brightest star in the black sky.

"The North Star represents guidance and direction." You explained to him. "For hundreds of years, it provided guidance to anyone who needed it in many ways."

'It helped after the accident.' Edward heard from your thoughts. It had him curious and he tried delving more but all he saw was space and felt heat keeping him at bay.

"You must really like stars." He smiled gently.

"Yes, I've been drawn to them since I was young. My dad was into anything space related, so I guess that's were it came from." You smiled, though the vampire could see a certain sadness lingering in your eyes. He then saw you shiver and immediately started shrugging off the coat he wore. "Wait, you'll get cold, Edward."

"Don't worry about me. I will be fine." He spoke softly, his lips upturned. He placed the coat over your shoulders and you gingerly slip your arms into the sleeves.

Confusion briefly flashed on your face. 'I expected some warmth. Ah well, this is still nice.'

Edward had to contain his chuckle at the thought that slipped through.

"Do you still want to stay out here for a few more minutes?" He asked.

"Yes, just a few more minutes."

---

It was near midnight when Edward slowly opened your bedroom window. He felt some guilt as he waited for you to finally fall asleep, but his interest in your mind hand him wondering what he would see when you were unconscious. Would that galaxy appear to him when you were asleep, or would he have full access to your dreams?

He easily slipped into your room, leaving the window open. His eyes scanned around at the various posters you had placed on the walls and the decorations lying around. He saw one half unpacked box in the corner then shifted his gaze to you, tucked under your covers in a deep slumber. There were a few plushies in bed with you and he couldn't contain a small smile when he saw one on the floor. Carefully and silently, he walked over and crouched down. He picked up the stuffed cat and leaned over, setting it aside next to the others. He found himself back near the window and zeroed in on your mind.

He saw a grassy field and a woman sitting on a blanket. He heard high pitched giggles from who he assumed was you as you ran around. It was clear he was seeing your memories. You were running, squealing, and giggling in what Edward could make out as a park. You glanced behind yourself as you ran and could see a man chase after you. He could make out the similarities in his face with your current face. Suddenly, you tumbled and hit the ground with an 'oof.' Your father immediately helped you up and sat you on his knee.

"Aww, poor baby. Are you okay?" He cooed.

"Yeah! My leg hurts, but I'm fine!" You giggled. Your father held your leg and your focus was now on your bloody knee.

"Hmm, you must of snagged it on a rock. Lets get you back to momma, my little nova." You were lifted up and Edward watched through your memories as you were brought to your mother on a picnic blanket.

Suddenly, he thrown into a new memory. He suddenly felt dread in his being.

It was dark.

He could hear what sounded like a car blinker non-stop clicking. You groggily blink and Edward started making out that you were upside down. He heard gargling and pained noises come from you. Your eyes barely focused but he started making out you were upside down in a car at night. He can see bright lights from the front and shards of glass. Then he sees all the blood and what looked like a severed arm on the ground. It was attatched to a feminine hand with a gold band on the ring finger.

"Sweetie? Oh God..." He sounded in pain and like he was crying. Edward then heard your name from your father. "Nova please answer me. Fuck, please."

You responded, but it wasn't a word. It sounded like you tried to say daddy, but it came our jumbled and wet.

"Nova-!"

Suddenly, all Edward could hear was a high pitched noise. It was the same he heard when Alice replayed her vision to him. A blinding light filled the car.

Then, it was that same galaxy. However, it was turbulent. He could see planets shake and stars dim. A sun, larger than ever glowed brightly before an eruption from the Sun's atmosphere blasts out and hits hum with intense heat. He stumbles back as his vision is back in your room, right as you woke up gasping for air.

Without you catching him, he was out of your room and in the forest. His eyes were blown wide and if he had to breath, he knew the wind would of been knocked out of him at all he viewed. He felt the sting of venom-tears fill his eyes.

"Fuck..." He muttered and sat down on the forest floor. His fingers carded his hair before he clutched tuffs.

---

Taglist: @buckybarnes-1917​, @trawberry-fire​ , @dreamy-caramel​, @urgirlfriendspage​

[jung-shook-iieee]

Darkside 2 | PJM

➳ pairing: Jimin x reader

➳ rating: M (gore violence, implied dubcon.)

➳ genre: arranged marriage au, dark themed.

➳ summary: after the demise of your father, you were forced to marry a mob boss who was a decade older than you. Jimin has always been ruthless and marrying someone like him wasn't your first choice, but living with him made you crave for his attention. For getting his attention you were repeatedly acting out until one day he decided to take the matter in his own hands.

➳ warnings: spanking, fingering ( not much described), use of curse words, orgasm denial, gore violence, slight exhibition, dark themed, implied dubcon, reader se def scared of jimin, jungkook is fucking sexy you know? And jimin is in full daaddy mode lmao, overall it's really fucked up and dark and yeah it's a 18+ so if you feel uncomfortable do not read further.

➳ word count: 5k , (pt.ii) ( pt i)

Masterlist

➳ a/n: woah, it took me so long to post it but yk my exam is tomorrow and i don't know what the fuck I'll write but here is it so enjoy? And i haven't proofread it so genuinely sorry for any grammer mistakes. ( I know this story is fucked up so don't come at me. Okay?) Reblog if you like it tho. <3333333

➳ PARK JIMIN YA'LLLLL

➳ a/n2: I do not support this kind of activities in general, it's just a fiction and I do not own anybody. Please understand the difference between fiction and reality. And please enjoy. &lt;33

You could hear them downstairs. The men your husband had over. It seemed like there was two-three of them, plus your husband. Drinking alcohol and talking in low voices. Probably going over some illegal deal - not that you cared. You took a deep breath and looked down at your outfit for the night - a lacy black nighty with a plunging neckline - sinfully short too, with the hemline barely brushing against your upper thighs. You knew if you bent down, it would leave nothing to the imagination. And panties? Who needed them?

Slowly, you made your way down the stairs, each step feeling more excited than the last. You had never really disobeyed Jimin so blatantly before. A part of you, despite everything, was still scared of the big bad mob boss he was. But a larger part of you was irritated by his apathy, how he acted like you didn't even exist. At this point, you'd do anything to get somekind of reaction out of him - which is why you were in your current state.

The cold air hit you hard when you entered the living room. The serious chatter between the men seemed to cease almost immediately as you slowly made your way across the room, not sparing any of them a glance - not even Jimin. You made sure to wink your hips with every step, knowing that every single eye in that room was currently on you - even Jimin

You made your way into the kitchen, exhaling the breath you'd been holding in. You hadn't thought too far ahead with your plan, but decided to grab the leftovers of ttaekboki, since you didn't get to eat it properly.

You could hear them chuckling and whispering to each other until one's voice chimes in, " Well Mr. Park, who's she? Is she your whore? " You wrinkled your nose in disgust. These men were sure not from the local or else they would've known you. No men dared to look at you, let calling you a whore alone.

" You gotta introduce her to us man, I bet she must be good that's why you're keeping her around. Huh? " Another unfamiliar voice chimed in. God why  the hell Jimin even invited them over? Shitty perverts.

" I'm his wife and hello to you too. " You said casually leaning over the marble top giving them a show. Even though the lights were dim in the kitchen but still they could see your cleavage. It was cold, your nipples were poking out from the silk material.

You dared to make eye contact with Jimin and you could've sweared your blood ran cold just from his gaze only. He's a master in controlling his facial expressions but the way he was eyeing you up and down with cold,stoic expression on his face told you that he was beyond pissed. His fist was clenched tight, turning white and your coy smile instantly faded.

You regretted coming down, yes, you did and you were about to stood back quickly when suddenly Jimin stood up and smiled at you, the kind of smile which told you that you fucked up. He started walking towards like he's going to beat the shit of you.

" Excuse me everyone, this is my wife. Park Y/N." He said smoothly and walked beside you. He roughly pulled you by your waist more close. A squeek left your mouth and you did not dared to look him in the eyes.

He tugged you forward walking towards the guest. "It seems like my wife is definitely confused because I clearly told her that she isn't allowed to come downstairs. But -" He paused, and you stuck your chin up and gave him the biggest glare you could muster up.

But unfortunately for her, she's disobeyed me." Jimin finished, looking at you and reaching out and grabbing your wrist roughly. The calmness in his demeanour was making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but you'd sooner die than give away that you were definitely scared. You tried to twist out of his death grip but to no avail. And he was literally crushing your wrist with how hard he was holding it.

" Let go of me. " You hissed at him, knowing full well that you were basically putting on a free show for everyone else in the room, and they were hanging on to every word you spoke. Jimin didn't even spare you a glance.

"So, you gentlemen will have to excuse me while I go see to my wife. As you can see, she's being a bratt and needs disciplining. Jungkook, take some more beer out for these guys. They'll sit and wait while I finish with her, won't you?" asked his right hand guy and othrs, except you knew it wasn't really a question.

" Sure park we understand it would be so nice if you would tame her in front of us. It would be a sight to behold. " One of them said adjusting his bulge. He had the audacity to say this to jimin and you wondered why jimin only smiled at him. It wasn't the nicest smile of his, which definitely gave you goosebumps.

Jimin said something to jungkook in foreign language, something only which jungkook understood and smirked.

The whispering drowned in the background as jimin started dragging you roughly towards his room. The look on his face was unreadable, regarding His actions his expressions were calm. The grip on your wrist kept getting tighter and your heart was thudding out of your chest.

Let go of me, you fucking jerk!" You swore, wiggling around, your small fists landing on his muscular back. Your small fist's punch would probably doing nothing to his built body. You felt embarrassed as everyone eyed you shamelessly while your own husband dragged you like some sack of potatoes.

" FUCKING LEAVE MY HAND YOU ASSHOLE. " You swored again as you entered his bedroom and surprisingly he did. With a blink of an eye he pushed you roughly on the bed making you whimper from the harsh act.

" Fuck you bastard you're so fucking crazy they were calling me whore and you yourself treated me like one in front of them. How fucking dare you. " You spat every word laced with venom, Your nose was flaring up, You tried to get up, planning to storm out of his room and run into yours and lock the door and just get the fuck away from him.

Easily, jimin overpowered you, roughly pushing you back down onto the bed when you tried to make a run for it. And again, you tried to get up, because fuck if you'd let this man get the best of you. You attempted to shove him aside, except he was built like a brick wall and didn't budge an inch. That was when he grabbed your jaw roughly, jerking your face forward to meet his gaze.

"Keep fucking talking, you dumb bitch, I dare you." He hissed, his thumb and forefinger pressing so hard into your skin, enough to bruise. It got your eyes tearing. No one ever in your life has treated you like this.

" If you keep acting up like this y/n then I'll have to do something really bad. " He threatened by pressing you harder against the mattress, he hovered you, arms on both sides and trapping you in between. He was looking down at you so dangerously.

" Fuck you. " You seethed through clench teeth and wriggled more vigorously. You scratched jimin's neck in the process, blood started trickling down his neck but you did not felt sorry for him instead you again aimed to scratch there but this time jimin slapped you across the cheek.

It left you stunned. You did not dared to turn your head the other side. " You have the fucking audacity", began quietly, face inches away from yours, "To parade around downstairs in this fucking clothes, acting like you're a free piece of ass. I don't know if you're asking for it, or just plain fucking stupid."

" Bastard. " You said in low voice, your throat was sore from all the shouting earlier.

" And that filthy mouth of yours. Damn! Y/n you just annoy the shit out of me sometimes. " He continued. "And to think I was going easy on you all this time. Excusing your behaviour 'cause you're young and stupid." He shook you, hard. "Not anymore. You're a fucking spoiled little rich brat, and clearly your daddy didn't fucking think it was important to teach you some manners and respect."

And before you knew jimin manhandled you, You scratched and clawed to try and escape his grasp, but in two seconds flat he was sitting on the side of his bed with you over his knee, your thrashing legs pinned underneath his strong thigh. Red hot embarrassment coursed through your veins - how dare he put you over his knee like this! In a position so demeaning?

" Let go of me jimin I swear -"

You were cut short when you felt his hand on your ass. His rough, calloused palm stroked the silky material of the chemise that barely concealed your bare skin, and involuntarily you sucked in your breath sharply. What the fuck was he doing?

" You should have been disciplined a long time ago but looks like your daddy was a shit huh? " He chuckled, how could he even dare to insult your dead father. " He clearly did not bothered to teach you some manners? " He caressed your flesh over the silk material.

" Shut your fucki-" He did not even let you finish and suddenly grabbed the soft flesh roughly And you couldn't help but gasp - both at his touch and at the jolt you felt between your legs. What the fuck. No. Fuck no. This wasn't happening. He continued to fondle your ass, touching you as if you were a piece of meat on display. " How about I teach you some fucking manners my dear wife? " He asked Mockingly.

" You're fucking sick." You gasped, determinedly ignoring the way your pussy clenched at his words. With all your might, you tried once more to wiggle out of his grasp. Your motions ceased immediately when his palm cracked down on your ass. Hard. And you cried out in both pain and shock.

"You try and move one more time, and I'll use my fucking belt." jimin warned, the threat making your mouth run dry. You immediately fell limp against him, breathing hard from fighting this losing battle. Fuck him. Fuck him for taking you over his knee and spanking you like you were a child. You hung your head, squeezing your eyes shut to keep the tears of anger and embarrassment at bay.

That's more fucking like it." Jimin said, once more going back to squeezing your stinging ass, as if to rub salt on the wound. You bit your lip at the pain, and debated calling for help. And it seemed like he could read your mind: "And by all fucking means, yell and scream all you want. The door's wide open, princess. They can all hear you. But if you think anyone's coming to save you, you're dumber than I thought."

"You... You can't do this." You said, voice breaking but still having a bit of fight left in you.

Jimin lifted the flimsy material of the chemise, exposing your ass to his cold stare. "That's where you're wrong, princess. I can do this. I'm the only fucking one who can do this. And you're gonna take it. Because you deserve it. You deserve to be punished for flaunting your fucking body as if it's not already been claimed."

SMACK

The first hit sounded like the crack of a whip, and stung just as bad. You couldn't help but cry out in pain, knowing you were giving him the very reaction he wanted from you. And how you wished you were stronger, calmer, cooler, more collected. You wished you hadn't given him the satisfaction of hearing your cries of pain. But it hurt like a bitch. So then why could you feel the wetness pooling between your legs?

And it was like Jimin was unleashing hell on your ass, with smack after smack raining down angrily onto your sensitive skin. It was like all his hatred rested in the palm of his hand, which cracked down against your ass with full force, making you scream every time it did.

" Dumb fucking slut." He said through clenched teeth, the spanks never ceasing as he continued to talk. "And to think I felt sorry for you. For being forced into this. To think I left you alone. Didn't say shit when you were in my house, -"

As he was talking to you, you heard a loud series of cries, which immediately made you stiffer. You instantly clutched his biceps because you were scared. You did not know the source and the cries only grew louder along with a sound of hitting something very hard to be precise.

" Jim- is- down- who........ " You mumbled being scared of those atrocious sounds.

" Y/N focus on me. " Jimin ordered with an authority and you couldn't deny him so you nodded your head. Still scared you started sobbing softly.

He grabbed your hairs and pulled you backwards towards him, " Don't ever dare to cut me in between. No one have that power over me got that? " He tugged it harshly making you cry loudly.

" Answer baby....? " He again tugged it.

" Ye-s.... Y-es.. Please I'm so-rry. " You begged. All the faint arousal you felt till now vanished in a blink. You weren't aroused now, not even a bit. You were plain scared. Scared of what might happening downstairs.

" Good, so where was I? Huh I was saying you using my credit card, acting like a spoilt little bitch. Complaining about everything under the fucking sun. And you think you could keep your fucking act for long huh? " He completed his sentence and smacked your butt hard.

To be honest you couldn't focus on jimin properly because the loud muffles and cries could be heard real fucking good from downstairs. And jimin noticed that and he wasn't really happy about it.

He told you to focus on him. Didn't he? But you being the spoiled brat pissed jimin even more.

This time he spanked you really hard, which left you howl in pain.. Wriggling around furiously, you faint sobs turned into ugly ones. " It fucking hurts pleaseeeee. " You begged with whatever energy was left within you.

" Good it should fucking hurt. I told you to focus on me did not I? " He turned you around and manhandled you onto your knees. Your face was red, eyes puffy, lips swollen from all the harsh tugs you gave yourself to keep quiet. " But you had your fucking focus on anything but me. " He wrapped his hands around your neck and squeezed tight. "L-eav-ee.. So-rr-.. Pleas-" The oxygen was cutting, your eyes we're rolling back.

Jimin released your throat giving you a light slap on your cheek. He took in your condition for a good two minutes. And within those two minutes you felt exposed, embarrassed, self conscious and what not. Anyone in your place right now would want to jump from the cliff, he turned you into this condition of yours. He was the reason why you felt ashamed and pathetic.

Jimin stood up from the bed and fixed his obvious bulge, he raked his fingers through his hairs and patted your hair. " Come on stand up. " He helped you in getting up. He wiped your cheeks with his hand, pushed back all the strands of hair which were covering your beautiful face.

" Not so sassy now, are you? " He taunted while sucking his lower lip between his teeth. That coy smile was taunting you. He leaned down and kissed your cheek. Then took your small hands into his and started walking towards the stairs.

" I - need to- chan-ge.. Pleas-ee. " You somehow managed to say that, even though your mind was telling you to keep your mouth shut. Jimin laughed, throwing his head back., " Why now? You should have used your little brain before baby but don't worry now they won't mind. " He said and dragged you downstairs even though you struggled to stay back.

You were feeling scared as jimin dragged you downstairs, the smell instantly hit you, making you nauseous. The iron smell was so strong that it was surely blocking your senses. 1...2...3...4....steps and then you entered the hall. You screamed so loudly that all the heads in the room turned towards you.

No, it must be a dream. The sight in front of you was too disturbing to see. There was a pool of blood on the floor, jungkook's hands were bloody, but the blood wasn't of him. His hair were messy, a few buttons from his shirt were ripped off, other guards were also in the same condition.

Those three men who insulted you were on their knees, fucked out, beaten into a pulp, they were shivering and covered in their on blood.

You unconsciously tried to take a step back but then you remembered jimin was next to you. He quickly tightened his grip over your arms and dragged you forward. You started crying, you were feeling dizzy and felt like vomiting when your feet came in contact with the cold yet warm blood.

" Please, please, please, don-t do this.. I want to go back please ji-min.. " You begged, hell you would beg a hundred time more right now. Fuck your self respect you just want to go back to your room, hide under the covers and cry.

" Sshh baby, you should not cry... They deserved it. You remember how they called you names. Don't you? " Jimin cooed at you, stroking your back while maintaining the tight grip over your arms.

" They dared to disrespect you, my wife. But don't worry I'm still not finished with them. " Jimin chuckled and roughly dragged you towards the couch, so you could get a perfect view of jungkook's art.

To be honest it was the most jimin had ever spoken to you, and you never wished to see him like this.

He sat on the couch and made you sit on his lap. You were scared to death. You were shivering, not because of the cold but because of the fear. Sweat was trickling down your forehead and neck but you couldn't utter a word right now.

" So, what we're you saying noah? Repeat your words.! " Jimin whispered said to one of the men who insulted you. The guy was literally unconscious, he couldn't even open his eye properly. When the guy did not replied jungkook grabbed his hair and shook his head sideways. Thr lateral groaned in pain.

" Say something buddy, I'm waiting.!! " Jimin said as he fumbled with your nighty straps. You were traumatized, couldn't utter a word, the tears were continuously flowing down.

" Bas-t-ar-d. " The guy barely said and instantly received a punch from jungkook. The action made you shriek loudly. You did not want to be here. Even if those guys called you a whore, you don't want them to die.

" Shut up will you? I'm talking right here ain't I?? " Jimin grabbed your chin and turned his side harshly, you Whimpered as you looked into his eyes. They were emotionless, this jimin right here, in front of you was different.

" m'sorr-y.... Please. Please. Jus-t... I won-t do that again. Please. " You begged, with your hands joined in front of him.

" I will let you go princess, but we have to give them a show. They're our guest. Sit pretty and listen to me now. Won't you? " Jimin pecked your lips as he cooed at you. Stroking your wet cheeks with his thick fingers and pushing back the hair from your face.

" No. No-No... Pleas- No. " Your eyes widened, you cried loudly and struggled against his body. You were trying to get up but jimin easily held you in place.

" Sshhh... You don't want me to fuck you on the floor. Now would you? " Jimin warned and in one quick movement he tore the lace material off your body. You screamed and cried, he was being inhuman. How could he do these things in front of other people?

" Come on y/n, jungkook did so much for you! He deserves a show as well. Would you like that jeon? " He asked from the brown hair boy sheepishly.

" Anything you want Hyung. " The boy replied with a smirk on his face and jimin signaled the other guards to leave the place.

" I swe-ar i would not dis-obey you again. Jimi-n please dontt do th-is... Please. I promise I Will li-ssten to you. Promise.. Please just don-tt. " You furiously begged, at the moment you would do anything to change your husband's mind. But it was too late he already started separating your legs roughly, and flicked your nipples with other hand.

He stopped and looked at you, " See, princess? See how easy it is for me to break you? To reduce you to a crying mess?" He stroked his finger against your cheek, gathering the salty tears that were drying against the soft skin. His touch was feather-soft, intimate. And you felt so humiliated, so defeated, so conflicted - and now it confused you why he was being so gentle.

You sniffled. No other man had ever reduced you to feeling like a humiliated, kicked puppy. "I was just... I just... Please." It was like you couldn't gather yourself, couldn't tame your thoughts which seemed to be running every which way.

Jimin's hand slowly slid down your thighs and ghosted over your pussy. " Don't cry baby this will only teach you a lesson. You thought I was some local mafia? On whom you could shout, blame, curse anytime? No baby, I'm the fuckin king. " Jimin stated as hi flicked your clit lightly. You weren't in your senses right now, you couldn't believe your eyes and ears.

You audibly gasped, the sudden direct contact making you almost convulse forward into his chest. You grabbed a fistful of his white shirt, scrunching your eyes shut and wishing to God that maybe he will stop tormenting you, that maybe he could feel pitty for you.

" You're soaking baby..... You really are crazy my lady. " Jimin fake gasped, easing a thick finger into your pussy. And you cried into his chest, hating that after beating the living shit out of your ass, and scaring the daylights out of you this man had casually just began fingering you and it felt so fucking good. You prayed he or jungkook wouldn’t notice when you began to slowly hump against his finger, wanting to create more friction. He chuckled, “You’re a naughty fucking slut, aren’t you? All riled up and on edge, wet from all this mess in front of you, Now you want your daddy to take care of you, don’t you?”

You were too ashamed to reply, your face still buried in his chest, your tears staining his shirt and your lips bitten raw from trying to suppress your moans. Jimin added another finger and increased his pace, his thumb finding your clit and causing you to cry out. He smirked, “Who knew how easy it was to get you to shut your mouth. You got nothing to say anymore, baby? Where’s my little wife who loves to run her mouth, huh? Where’s she gone?”

Please,” You mewled softly, arching your back from the mounting pleasure, his fingers curving upwards and brushing against all the right spots. His thumb expertly massaged your clit, as if he knew your body, knew exactly how it worked. As if this wasn’t the first time he was touching you down there. “Please, I just…”

Immediately, jimin pulled his fingers out of you, your pussy making a squelching sound – as if it was trying to keep his fingers inside you. The heightened pleasure you were feeling instantly died down, and you cried out in indignation, “Wh-What! No! Please!” You gripped his forearm, “Please!”

“You don’t deserve shit after that stunt you pulled earlier baby.” jimin said simply. His eyes trailed towards the three barely alive body's and on jungkook who was no doubt enjoying the show and then back at you. He sighed, his fingers, soaking with your juices, now absentmindedly playing with the lacy borders of your ruined nighty which now sat bunched up around your waist. “You ruined my meeting, sweetheart. And now, you’ve distracted me.”

You swallowed harshly when he took your hand, placing it on top of his clothed dick. God, he was so hard. Painfully hard.

" Clean up the mess jungkook, will you? " Jimin said standing up, straightening the creases he got over his trousers.

" Don't kill them yet, I want them alive. Move to basement and I'll be there shortly. " Jimin ordered jungkook and the boy nodded in response like a fucking robot. He too had no emotions no guilt in his eyes and body language. They all are beyond your imagination.

Your husband turned towards you and offered you a hand, " Come baby, you still got to learn so much. I'll make sure everything stays in your pea size brain. " Words took a few seconds to register in your mind. It's not the end, he still has so much in his mind. How will you survive this?

YOU HAD ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING IDEA.!

.

Taglist

@hoseokteardrop @screamertannie @hopeonthestreet67 @qttp365 @taeluv13 @favfanfictsbts @elayne321 @kooookie @sweetwolfcupcake @vvh0adie @yellabella77 @bri-mal @g-o-bs--fanfictions @miyaohyeahh @dearbambideer @emojkluvr @abcbabcba @stannorr @realhotficshit @sweetlovesjk @kookieboo @sublimekidoafknight @bonny-kookoo @aliceaflor5-blog @kookiecrumb @jjkeverlast @prettyghost @kooliv @gimmethatagustd @pb-n-juju @aslias17 @ririlovesangst @taehyungseggs @dewamused @jungshook7 @moonfaery @fragmentof-indifference *sorry for the tags, trying to grow my community back. * :)

[niki-phoria]

Heyo! I was wondering if you could make a gn reader chishiya fic based on the aib characters saying sorry. I really liked what you made the argument about and can totally see it happening so pretty please if you are taking requests could you do this.

doctor chishiya >>>

pairing: chishiya x gn!reader (they/them pronouns) genre: hurt comfort word count: 1.7k

warnings: ooc chishiya, blood, stitches, are stitches considered gore?, canon typical violence, canon divergent game (i have run out of games to write about), arguments, kuina threatens to punch chishiya (kuina best girl !!), reader is called beautiful (if that needs a warning ??) but boys are beautiful too, this kinda turned into a journal entry at the end lmao

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i'm glad you liked the post about them apologizing. i didn't want to leave this as angst so it has a happy ending and i changed a few things so that it wasn't exactly the same. i hope you like it :))

the post they're talking about -> chishiya, arisu, and kuina apologizing after an argument

requests open !! read my rules first

“y/n!” you can hear chishiya yelling at you as you rush to push the man out of the way, taking the blow for him instead. you hit the ground hard. your shoulder aches, both from the stinging cut and the impact. 

the man you saved is quick to scramble to his feet, kicking your attacker away from you before grabbing your arm and pulling you to safety. “thank you,” he pants. chishiya presses a hand against your back. blood seeps through your shirt. you nod at the man, trying to catch your own breath. 

the man rushes off in a different direction afterwards. you watch him leave, hiding further into the shadows to avoid detection. “shit,” chishiya curses. “this is deep. we need to get out of here. you need stitches.” 

you nod, forcing yourself to stand up. you reach back, replacing his hand with your own. “i’ll be fine. go win the game.” chishiya glances between you and the tagger before you gently push him away. “go!”

you’re not sure how long you stand in the shadows. the brick feels uncomfortable against your back as you hold your breath, waiting for the tagger to pass by the alley you’re hiding in. thankfully, they don’t notice you before your phone chimes, ending your torment with a simple “game clear. congratulations.”

the drive back to the beach feels awkward. chishiya keeps a close eye on your shoulder. you know he needs to keep pressure on it, but you can almost feel the irritation radiating off of him. 

he remains silent as you arrive at the beach, picking you up and carrying you into the basement. he sets you on the metal table, searching through various different cabinets for bandages, gauze, and supplies for stitches. the metal is cold against your skin. it feels nice against the warm blood still flowing from your wound. 

you don’t say anything about the slight tremble in chishiya’s hands as he presses the bandages against the cut. his stitches are quick and efficient - almost robotic in his movements. worry builds in your stomach. 

“we need to talk about this.” it sounds more like a question than a statement. like you’re asking if he’s ready to interact with you when he’s still so obviously angry, though you still aren’t sure exactly why. 

“after i finish this.” his words do little to console you. so, you simply nod, trying to relax your body as he continues tending to your wounds. 

“okay.” 

the air feels tense around you as you follow chishiya back to your shared room. he closes the door after you, silently leaning back against the wall. you awkwardly sit across from him on your bed, waiting for him to make the first move. chishiya crosses his arms over his chest, jaw clenched. you avoid eye contact, fidgeting with your hands. 

“that was stupid.” he finally says. 

“saving someone’s life is stupid to you?” 

“he was going to die anyways and you almost got yourself killed with him.” 

“i couldn’t just leave him there! he was begging for help!” 

“he could’ve gotten it from someone else!” his voice raises as yours does. chishiya sighs, running a hand through his hair. “what about these people makes them so worth saving?” 

“what about them makes them not worth saving? they’re people, chishiya, isn’t that enough of a reason?” 

“not when it puts you in danger! it was reckless!” 

“what else was i supposed to do?” 

“why can’t you admit you were wrong for once?” his words sting, but his demeanor is what makes you flinch. chishiya nearly glares at you from across the room. “have you ever considered that i know what’s best? you made a stupid decision, get over it!” you can see the immediate regret spread across his face. he almost shrinks back away from you. you bite your tongue, willing the tears building in your eyes not to fall. “y/n…” 

his words trail off when you stand up. “i need to be alone for a while. come find me when you’re ready to talk to me like an adult.” 

you furiously wipe the tears away from your cheeks as you rush out of the room. 

“y/n?” kuina furrows her eyebrows, opening the door to her room to let you inside. “what’s wrong?” 

you’re sure she can see the dried tears on your face. “i got in a fight with chishiya.” 

“oh, honey,” she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a hug. you cling to her as she rubs a hand against your back. she pulls away after a few minutes, wiping another few stray tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. “do you want to talk about it?” 

“not really. i just… i got hurt helping someone and he yelled at me because it was reckless.” 

“are you okay?” 

you nod. “i’m fine. just a little sad, i guess.” 

kuina reaches over to grab your hand. it’s a welcome feeling of affection that breaks against the swirling thoughts in your head. “whatever happens, i’ll always be here for you, okay? you can tell me anything.” 

this time the tears that build in your eyes are ones of thankfulness. trust in the borderland is hard to come by, but when kuina squeezes your hand with a small smile and starts telling you about new gossip she heard around the beach, you know that you’ve found an ally. a friend. “thank you.” 

“kuina,” chishiya calls. he walks over to where she’s sitting, awkwardly stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets. “do you know where y/n is?” 

she briefly glances up at him, taking the wooden cigarette out of her mouth. “they’re on the roof.” 

“thanks.” 

“hey, chishiya,” she stands up from the beach chair, stepping closer. “if y/n ever shows up at my door crying because of you ever again, i’ll punch you.” 

he steps back a little, nodding. “it won’t happen again.” 

“good. now, go talk to them. they’ve been waiting for you.”

chishiya doesn’t wait any longer, quickly making his way back into the hotel to the roof. true to kuina’s word, you sit at the edge of the building, staring out at the coastline. the sun has just barely begun to set, casting a golden glow on everything. “y/n?” you turn to look at him over your shoulder, gesturing for him to sit beside you. chishiya obeys, dangling his legs over the edge of the building. you don’t move away when his knee brushes against yours.

you sit in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the sunset. finally, he speaks. “i’m sorry.” you glance over at him, waiting for him to continue. “i shouldn’t have yelled at you. i was scared because you got hurt and i blamed you because it happened while you were trying to help someone.” 

“i’m sorry too.” you pull your knees up to your chest, resting your hand in the space between you and chishiya. “i know it was reckless and i understand why you were upset.” 

chishiya hesitantly reaches over, taking your hand into his. you reciprocate by intertwining your fingers, storking your thumb against his skin. “none of what happened was your fault. i’m sorry i yelled at you. you didn’t deserve that.” 

“i forgive you.” you turn to face him, bringing your right hand up to cup his cheek. you move it behind his head to the nape of his neck, slowly pulling him in to press your lips against his. chishiya takes your cue to lean in, pressing another peck against your lips when you pull away. 

he smiles a little when you pull away, coaxing you to lean against his chest. the sun glistens against the water, hues of pink and purple painting the sky. chishiya tucks his chin over your head. 

“do you know why i helped him?” your voice is quiet when you speak again. it’s getting darker now. the temperature drops as the sun disappears further behind the coastline. 

“no.” chishiya murmurs. he wraps an arm around your waist, rubbing your side. 

“i know it’s hard for you to open up to people, and i’m grateful everyday that you let me in. but it’s hard to survive out here. you survive by shutting everyone out. you built your walls up so high that it takes years to scale them, and even then, you didn’t fully let your guard down for months.” you pause, taking a breath. “i survive out here by relying on my humanity. i have to believe that people are good, because if they aren’t, then nothing else matters. none of the good deeds or random acts of kindness or small moments that remind me that love is everywhere around us matter. i don’t want to live believing that. so, i help people. i put myself in danger for strangers because i rely on my humanity. if i lose my humanity, then i lose everything.” 

silence falls over you once again. chishiya pulls you even closer so you’re fully sitting in his lap, wrapping his arms around you. he leans over your shoulder as the sun fully disappears behind the horizon. the stars are just beginning to appear above you. “i think there’s good in humanity too.” he finally murmurs. “i let you in because i know you’re good. and you’ve done nothing but show me that i was right about you.” he leans down to press a kiss against your shoulder. “you’re strong,” another kiss - this time against your neck. “and loyal,“ his lips brush against the underside of your jawline. “and beautiful,” this time they’re against your cheek. “and good. you’re a good person. one i don’t deserve. i’m thankful for everyday you’re with me.” 

you take the initiative this time, pulling him into a sweet kiss. chishiya pulls you back in again. you sit on the roof together, kissing underneath the stars until your lungs are begging for air and the air chills your bones. you rest your forehead against his when you pull away, letting yourself drown in the overwhelming love you feel. “i’ll take you home,” chishiya whispers. “i promise.” 

[endofradio]

END OF THE WORLD

WARNINGS: a bit of gore, sylvie gets her ass beat by frank, also this deserves a warning just for being an emotional rollercoaster of a oneshot, also some blood vomiting’s gonna be happening here

NOTES: i’ve been on a bit of a writing spree. anyways, i’ve written multiple drafts of the future vampire frank scene for my fragments of fear fic, but i think this one might just be the main one. look, i am VERY indecisive. i am not responsible for any emotional damage this brings.

ALSO!!! sylvie will be referred to by “ava” in this oneshot. that was the alias given to her by lambert (i’ll have to mention that in her character bio that i posted on here i think i forgot to do that LMAO).

to make the reading experience a little more immersive or whatever, i occasionally included some gifs that visually represent the vibes of this oneshot i guess. i might start doing that when i post oneshots n stuff on here 😁

SUMMARY: the only surviving rat pack members, frank, sylvie, and joey stumble upon lambert in their mission to take down abigail. unfortunately, frank gives in to his lust for power and allows for lambert, who is now a vampire, to turn him. everything goes downhill from there.

WORD COUNT: 4,614 (jesus christ idk what’s possessing me)

TAGS: @shawsfinalgirl @blackwolfstabs @reclaimedbythesea @creelmalfoylaufeyson69 @atcarpenter

likes, reblogs, and comments all appreciated!

————————————————————————

“What the fuck…?” Frank narrowed his eyes as he carefully took a step forward. He, Sylvie, and Joey had reached the storage room, only to find a man standing there with his back turned. Frank and Joey both recognized the man instantly — it had to be Lambert.

“Okay, what the fuck is happening, motherfucker?” Frank hissed, tightly gripping the wooden stake that was in his hand. The man turned around, and that was when Frank and Joey’s suspicions were confirmed. It was, in fact, Lambert. Even worse, Lambert was clearly now a vampire, too. His eyes were a piercing blue, and instead of teeth… he had fangs.

“Woah, what the fuck!” Frank exclaimed, quickly backing away. “What the fuck— he’s one of them!”

Joey pointed her gun at Lambert. “You set us up, didn’t you?” She asked, her dark eyes narrowing. “Take one step towards us, and I will shoot you.”

Lambert was unfazed by Joey’s threat, the smirk he momentarily had now fading. “That gun’s not going to do anything, I’m afraid. You can try, though, if you’re really that stupid.”

“Gladly.” Joey hissed. She fired her gun at Lambert, a bullet flying towards his forehead. To her dismay, he didn’t react. He wiped the blood from the “wound” to reveal that it had already healed.

“See?” Lambert smirked. “I told you that nothing would happen.”

“What the… hell…?” Joey attempted to shoot at Lambert a second time, but once again… nothing happened. Realizing he was at an advantage, Lambert took a step towards Joey, reaching to grab her by the neck and pinning her against the nearest wall. She looked at Frank with an expression that read, “do something!”

Noticing Joey’s worried expression, Sylvie looked up at Frank. “The stake,” she harshly whispered, “use it!”

However, Frank didn’t do anything. In fact, he ignored Sylvie, his gaze fixated on Lambert. Lambert took notice of the stake that was in his hand, his smirk growing. “I’ll make an offer.”

Frank raised an eyebrow, continuing to keep a firm grip on the stake. “The fuck do you mean?” He bitterly asked. “What kind of fuckin’ offer?”

“I know you well, Frank. You’d just love to kill that girl, wouldn’t you?”

Frank scoffed. “No fuckin’ shit!” He hissed.

“Trust me, I want her dead just as much as you do.”

Frank took a step closer towards Lambert. “The fuck are you tryin’ to say?”

“Don’t… listen to him…” Joey choked, trying to pull Lambert’s hand away from her neck. “Just… use the stake…” Frank only continued to keep his gaze locked on Lambert. As angry as he was at Lambert’s act of treason, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of curiosity at this “offer” he was willing to propose.

“We could kill her together, Frank.” Lambert continued, his smirk growing. “You and I both know you’ve always had a… particular thirst for power.”

Frank’s grip on the stake loosened ever so slightly. Lambert was correct — hell, his lust for power was exactly what turned him on to the world of criminals in the first place.

“You could join us, Frank. You could be powerful. You could have the entire world in your hands. You could be… immortal. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Goddamnit, Lambert had a point. His offer was tempting, and Frank was finding it difficult to resist it. Immortality, power… he would love to feel like a god. He used to feel weak. He was considered the family disappointment, always wanting a chance to prove himself to them.

However, he had promised Sylvie that nothing would happen to either of them. A pang of guilt came to the surface for a moment… but Frank quickly tried to push it down, replacing his guilt with coldness and apathy. This was his life, not hers. He could do whatever the hell he wanted.

“Don’t do it.” Sylvie whispered. Frank could hear the hurt in her voice, and it brought back the guilt for just a moment. Just ignore her. Don’t let her get in your way.

Frank allowed the stake to drop to the floor, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Fuck it. Bite me.”

Sylvie froze. He promised, he fucking promised that nothing would happen. How could I be so fucking stupid?

She had placed her trust in Frank, only for it to be broken. She wanted to be angry, but she couldn’t bring herself to be. I should’ve known. I should’ve fucking known.

Once Lambert released Joey from his grip, Sylvie ran towards her, helping her to her feet. “Are you okay?” She gently asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. Joey slowly nodded.

“Yeah, don’t worry about me.”

“What are we supposed to…?” Sylvie’s voice trailed off, and she looked up to see Lambert slowly approaching Frank. She swallowed nervously. “We… we have to get out of here.”

“We can’t.” Joey sighed. “All the doors are locked.”

“Fuck.” Sylvie muttered. “I forgot about that.”

Sylvie’s head snapped back up again when she heard painful screaming, and her eyes widened as she saw Lambert sinking his teeth into Frank’s flesh, pinning him against the wall. Panic was beginning to set in for Sylvie. She looked back down at Joey, who was still laying on the floor. “What the fuck are we supposed to do?”

Joey nodded towards the stake that was still on the floor. “We’re going to have to kill them.” She answered. “Grab the stake, Ava.”

Sylvie nervously glanced at the stake, then at Lambert and Frank. She slowly walked over to the stake, shakily picking it up before making her way towards Lambert, pointing the stake right at him. His back was turned to her, surely he wouldn’t notice… right?

Well, she was wrong.

Lambert released his fangs from Frank’s neck, watching with a satisfied grin as he slowly slid down against the wall. “Good, good…” He murmured. Frank’s skin was pale and clammy now, his eyes appearing almost vacant. He was right about to sink his fangs into his wrist to feed Frank his blood, when he suddenly realized that Sylvie was right behind him. Quickly, he turned around, grabbing her and throwing her against the wall with ease as though she was just a toy.

Sylvie tried to scramble to her feet, her ears buzzing as she felt her head throbbing with pain. “Fuck…” She muttered, reaching for the stake yet again. Lambert noticed her attempt, kicking the stake away from her before turning his attention back to Frank. All Sylvie could do right now was watch in horror as Lambert bit into his wrist, hovering it above Frank as the blood dripped down into his mouth like water dripping from a faucet.

Stop feeling upset, Sylvie. You didn’t lose him. He betrayed you and that’s his own fault.

Even when Sylvie tried to make herself feel mad at Frank… she couldn’t summon any anger. She used to hate him — where had all that animosity gone?

Jesus, she couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. She wished this was all just a nightmare. “This… this isn’t real… right?” She asked, turning to look at Joey.

“Trust me, I wish it wasn’t.” She answered.

Sylvie glanced at Frank again, noticing how he was just sitting there against the wall with almost a blissful look on his face, blood dripping down his mouth. The sight was horrific.

Then, that almost peaceful expression turned into one of horror. He started to jolt and twitch, blood forcing its way out of his closed mouth, trickling down his neck and onto his tank top.

“What the fuck is happening to him?” Sylvie asked, slowly stumbling to her feet.

“I think it’s part of the transformation.” Joey answered, grimacing.

Lambert took a few steps back, and within moments, a violent torrent of blood started to spew from Frank’s mouth, spraying onto the floor. The whole time, his eyes were widened in shock as the dark crimson fluid continued to spray all over the floor. He staggered to his feet, and no matter how hard he tried to force the blood down, it just kept coming up. Sylvie forced herself not to look; the sight was too horrifying for her to handle.

The violent episode lasted for a few more seconds before Frank collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily. “Fuck…” He muttered. He started to weakly groan, before slowly stumbling to his feet. He noticed the stake on the floor, and a sly grin curled at his lips. He picked it up, and when Lambert wasn’t looking, he swiftly drove it right through his chest. In response, Lambert let out an alarmed wheeze.

Knowing what was going to happen next, Sylvie and Joey both curled up onto the floor, shielding themselves from the bloody explosion of viscera that followed. Once it was over, Sylvie quickly grabbed Joey’s arm. “We have to run, Joey.” She hissed. “Now.”

Before Joey could protest, Sylvie forcefully pulled her to her feet, attempting to make a run for it. They were stopped within seconds.

“Where do you two think you’re goin’?”

Frank was standing right in front of the pair, and he looked like a fucking demon, all covered in blood. Beneath his glasses, his eyes were a vibrant shade of blue. When he smiled, he revealed a sharp set of fangs. Sylvie just wanted to cry. Why was this happening?

Frank’s piercing gaze landed on Sylvie, and he feigned a look of disappointment. “Aw, are you tryin’ to run away from me, now?” He asked, his tone dripping with false offense. Adrenaline was rushing through Frank’s veins right now. He didn’t care about anything, at least in the current moment. In his current state, Sylvie was no longer the woman he had secretly been trying to fight his feelings for. He just saw her and Joey as prey.

Sylvie took a couple steps backward, her heart pounding. “You fucking… liar…” She sneered. As angry as she tried to sound, there was an underlying sense of vulnerability.

Frank persisted with his little façade of disappointment and offense. “Y’know, that hurts, you callin’ me a liar…”

“You… you promised…” Sylvie’s voice was beginning to break, her eyes welling up with tears. Once again, she had been betrayed. Somebody always seemed to end up hurting her in one way or another, and here it was happening… again.

“Promised what?” Frank scoffed. “I never promise shit to anybody.”

“You said that nothing would happen. You fucking told me that.”

Frank let out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, did I? Well, you can forget about that.”

He took a step towards Sylvie, towering above her. She took another step back, her eyes slowly widening in fear. “Get the… fuck away from me…”

Frank could smell her fear, and for some reason… he loved it. “Look at you, all scared…” He murmured. Meanwhile, Joey was retrieving the stake, slowly advancing towards Frank. “It’s kinda cute, actually…”

“Get the fuck away from her!” Joey yelled. She was about to attack Frank with the stake, when he suddenly managed to take it from her. He grabbed her with one hand, using the other to drive the stake through Joey’s shoulder. She let out a scream of pain as she felt the stake going through her.

The sight caused Sylvie to finally feel a rush of anger. Right when she saw Frank release Joey, causing her to plummet to the ground, she was suddenly ready to kick his ass… or at least try.

“You fucking asshole…” She growled, angrily taking a step towards Frank. She was about to take a swing at him, but he managed to dodge her. He picked her up and easily flipped her over him. With all the force he used, she landed a few feet away from him face-first onto the floor with a painful thud. In all honesty, it was a surprise that Frank hadn’t broken her spine.

Sylvie weakly lifted her head up from the floor, noticing how wet her nostrils felt. She reached to wipe them, only to see blood on her hand. She let out a painful cough as she looked up to see Frank standing in front of her, his gaze cold. Slowly, Sylvie staggered to her feet, blood dripping from her nose. She could taste the metallic flavor, and it was making her stomach turn.

“Don’t fuck with me.” Frank sneered. “Y’know, you should probably run, unless you’d rather prefer to continue tryin’ to be a dumbass.”

Sylvie couldn’t believe it. Frank had just completely… snapped. He was an entirely different person, and it terrified her.

However, Sylvie still felt some spark of determination. Maybe she was being stupid, but at this point… she was just angry. She let out a frustrated scream and started to take out her rage on Frank, punching him in the chest over and over again. Surprisingly, he allowed her to do it, casually standing there.

“Doesn’t it feel good,” he nonchalantly asked, “taking out your rage?”

Sylvie continued to punch Frank in the chest until all she could do was cry. “You bastard…” She whimpered. “You fucking bastard…”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Boo-fuckin’-hoo.” He grabbed Sylvie by the neck, holding her up above him as a demented grin formed on his face. Joey, meanwhile, was struggling to pull the stake out of her shoulder as she sat down.

“You’re pathetic.” Frank chuckled as he looked up at Sylvie, taking note of her bloody nose and bruised-up face. “I’m a hell of a lot more powerful than you, yet you’re still determined to kick my ass. It’s both admirable and idiotic.”

Sylvie squirmed and writhed in Frank’s grip, feeling the air being choked out of her. “Let me go…” She gasped, grabbing onto Frank’s hand. “Let me go…”

Instead of just simply dropping her as he had done with Joey, Frank threw Sylvie against the wall, watching coldly as she collided with it and fell to the ground, wheezing in pain.

“Ava, you need to run.” Joey ordered, letting out a sharp hiss of pain as she finally pulled the stake out of her shoulder. “It’s okay. I can handle him.”

Frank turned around to look down at Joey, before looking back at Sylvie. “I would say she’s right, but… y’know what? It would be less fun that way.”

Sylvie coughed painfully as she tried to get to her feet. She was beginning to feel increasingly hopeless, realizing she was at a severe disadvantage right now. She didn’t stand a chance against Frank.

“Less fun?” She repeated. “The fuck are you… talking about?”

When Sylvie looked at Frank, he looked like an entirely different person. It wasn’t him, yet it was. In a way, it was like he was possessed.

“You only continue to entertain me, Ava.”

Frank then sensed Joey slowly creeping up behind him again, and that was when Sylvie made a desperate run for it. She hurried out of the storage room, trying not to stumble over as she ran. Once she reached the main floor of the mansion, she realized she had to think fast. All the exit doors were locked, so she had no chance of escaping through them.

Wait…

Sylvie’s eyes landed on one of the windows that were near the front door. Perfect. Looking behind her for a moment to make sure that the coast was clear, she approached the door, deciding she’d try to open it.

It didn’t work.

“What the…?” Sylvie continued to try and open up the window, but to no avail. She was starting to panic again. Looks like I’m just going to have to break the window.

Frantically, Sylvie rushed to the dining room, pulling out one of the chairs away from the table. Slowly, she lifted it and began to make her way towards the window. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Sylvie tossed the chair at the window, watching as the glass loudly shattered everywhere.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Sylvie tried to climb out of the window as fast as she could, making sure not to cut herself on the shards of glass. Once she was out of the mansion, she began her escape into the nearby forest, occasionally looking behind her until she could only see trees.

STORY CONTINUES BELOW THE GIF.

The more Sylvie ran, the more she could feel her strength depleting. She was gasping for breath, and all it took was a stray tree branch sticking up from the forest floor for her to finally collapse. Her shoe landed on it, and she tumbled over, screaming in pain as she felt the branch go through her ankle. “FUCK!”

Sylvie grabbed the branch and struggled with it, trying her hardest to pull it out of her, watching as blood seeped from the deep wound and onto the grass. Once she finally managed to free herself, she let out another shriek of pain. The wound was only bleeding even more now. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” She whispered, panicking. Jesus, she had never felt so afraid in her life.

How am I supposed to get help? I don’t know where the hell I am.

Sylvie was feeling significantly weaker, almost as though she was slowly beginning to teeter on the edge of consciousness. She was in so much pain. Her chest hurt, her body hurt… and her goddamn ankle was killing her now. She tried to stand up to continue moving, only to stumble forward and fall again. Her heart was pounding in her chest. This is it, isn’t it?

Now she knew what it felt like to be hunted down like a helpless animal. She felt like there was nothing she could do now except surrender, considering she was already much too weak to continue running. The forest was eerily quiet, and the only sound she could hear was her labored breathing.

As Sylvie weakly laid there, she began to replay various moments from her life, some of them involving Frank. If she could go back and change things, she would… but there was nothing she could do. She was going to die alone, wasn’t she? That was her very worst fear. She was going to die alone with the knowledge that she had lived a life of regret, and there was no going back.

Sylvie continued to lay there, closing her eyes as she hoped that some animal would find her and feast on her, put her out of her misery. She couldn’t believe it, but honestly she was wishing that Frank would just fucking kill her already.

Then, she heard faint footsteps, branches cracking with each step. Sylvie didn’t even bother to look up. She had completely given up by this point.

Then, the footsteps paused. When Frank saw Sylvie laying there all motionless, he was… confused. Seeing how frail and beat-up she looked… it made him feel that damn pang of guilt again. She looked dead, yet she wasn’t. His eyes wandered to her ankle, taking notice of the fresh wound there. It was flowing with blood, and the sight was making his mouth water ever so slightly.

Trying to shove down the guilt that briefly came over him, Frank slowly made his way towards Sylvie. Once he was right in front of her, he paused to look down at her.

“Tryin’ to play dead, are we?” He asked, his gaze emotionless. “Nice try. Get up.”

At the sound of Frank’s voice, Sylvie felt her heart start to race again. Still, she didn’t move.

“I said… get up!” Frank snarled. He roughly grabbed Sylvie by her arm, trying to pull her to her feet. She only fell down to the ground again.

“Don’t piss me off.”

Sylvie slowly opened her eyes, weakly lifting up her head to see Frank standing in front of her, his expression full of annoyance. “I… I can’t…” She croaked.

Feeling a rush of impatience and irritation, Frank grabbed Sylvie again. In an act of impulse, he threw her against the nearest tree, silently cursing himself for acting in such a manner. He watched as Sylvie simply just slid down, not even attempting to defend herself. For some reason, that bothered him even more.

“Why the fuck aren’t you tryin’ to fight?” Frank snarled, walking towards her. “C’mon, I know you’re capable of it. You tried to take a swing at me not that long ago…”

STORY CONTINUES BELOW THE GIF.

Sylvie tried to force herself to stand up again, before letting out a painful gasp and collapsing to the ground again. She let out a cough, droplets of blood spraying onto the grass underneath her. Frank simply stood there and watched her struggle, his mind switching between feeling genuine pity, and then cold, emotionless apathy.

“Kill me…” Sylvie weakly whispered. “Please… just… do it…”

Sylvie was completely surrendering to him, and the sight was… mildly alarming. To see her broken down and reduced to such a weak and vulnerable state… it was actually making Frank feel… well, he didn’t know what he was feeling, but it was almost similar to… concern. He was trying to suppress that feeling as much as he could, and it was getting increasingly difficult. All he could do right now was continue to snap at her. He was at war with his own confused mind.

“I fucking trusted you, Frank.” Sylvie whimpered.

Frank let out a scoff, rolling his eyes. “Trusted me? How could you be so fuckin’ stupid? Look at where that got you. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re… you’re right…” Sylvie swallowed.

“You should’ve known from the start, Sylvie. I’m the very last person you should trust.”

Sylvie could see her vision was starting to turn cloudy, and she blinked her eyes, only to see that everything was getting cloudier and cloudier. Time seemed to be slowing down, too. The words that Frank spoke were starting to sound like barely-intelligible gibberish.

“Why won’t you… kill me?” She weakly spluttered, wiping some blood from her mouth.

“Maybe because the sight of you all weak and in pain is more fun.” Of course, Frank was bullshitting. He didn’t know why he was refusing to put Sylvie out of her misery. Maybe lying to himself would help.

“Fuck you…” Sylvie murmured. “You piece of shit…” She could barely keep her eyes open right now. She was fighting to stay awake.

You piece of shit. Those words… stung. He didn’t know why. Why was he genuinely hurt by Sylvie insulting him this time? She had done it numerous times, and he found it amusing. Now… he was hurt. Maybe it was the fact he had truly fucked up.

Then, Sylvie’s eyes slowly closed, and her head lolled to one side. As Frank took another step closer to her, he could see how weak and exhausted she was, how hurt she was.

“Hey. Wake up.” There was a combination of irritation and a sense of urgency in his voice. Frank could tell Sylvie wasn’t just “playing dead” this time — something was genuinely wrong.

“What the fuck? Wake the fuck up!” Frank grabbed Sylvie by the shoulders, giving her a rough shake. Nothing happened. “You fuckin’… goddamnit!” He let out a frustrated yell, pacing around like a caged tiger. He looked at Sylvie again, noticing how she continued to remain motionless.

Frank wasn’t thinking clearly anymore. Somehow thinking it would wake her up, he grabbed Sylvie and slammed her against the tree again. “Why won’t you wake up?” He hissed, grabbing her again. He actually felt somewhat of a flicker of hope when her eyes weakly fluttered open, looking at him with a vacant stare.

“Stay awake, goddamnit.”

Sylvie let out another painful cough, blankly looking into Frank’s icy blue eyes. “It… hurts…”

Hearing how weak and frail Sylvie sounded when she spoke… Frank hated it. He was suddenly missing her insults, her snark… this wasn’t like her at all.

As the smell of the blood from Sylvie’s wounded ankle was getting stronger, Frank was finding it even more difficult to control his bloodthirst. His fangs were aching with the urge to just bite her already.

That was when he realized something.

Sylvie was clearly struggling to hang on, and Frank realized that if she were to die… he actually wouldn’t be able to handle it. He didn’t want her to die. He couldn’t leave her here. Why was this bothering him so much? He wasn’t supposed to give a shit about her. He used to see her as simply just a source of entertainment, nothing else.

Then, Frank remembered — he had been developing feelings for Sylvie, and feelings that certainly weren’t platonic.

If he turned her into a vampire, she wouldn’t be able to die. Nothing would be able to happen to her. She’d be just like him. He could see her fighting the urge to pass out every couple of seconds, and that was when he knew he had to fucking do something. In that moment, Frank had his mind made up. He had to keep Sylvie alive. For him.

That was when Frank leaned down, tilting Sylvie’s head back just a little to expose her neck. Then, he sank his fangs into her flesh. Maybe Sylvie did have some fight left in her, because she almost instantly started to squirm and struggle. To prevent her from escaping, Frank held onto her for dear life. Once he felt the metallic taste of her blood overwhelming his mouth, it was an experience similar to a drug high. He couldn’t get enough of it.

Sylvie tried to scream and fight, but the only sounds that came out of her were weak gasps. She dug her nails in Frank’s back, trying her hardest to pull him off of her, but there was no use. “Stop… please…”

Frank knew he was probably starting to drain a little too much blood, but he just couldn’t stop. The flavor was intoxicating. He was hooked. He kept draining Sylvie until the taste of her blood was ingrained into his mind.

Sylvie continued to gasp and wheeze, still trying to get Frank to stop, but she was getting even weaker. The more blood he consumed, the more lightheaded she began to feel. Once she started to go limp, that was when Frank snapped back to reality. He pulled away from Sylvie’s neck, her blood streaming down from his mouth. His eyes widened when he saw how deep the bite wound was, and how ghastly her skin looked. She was still alive and conscious, but only desperately hanging on.

“Fuck.” Frank hissed, looking down to see what he had done. He was starting to fucking panic — his plan had backfired, hadn’t it?

He could slowly feel his vampire form starting to go dormant, his fangs shifting back into teeth as reality began to sink in more and more.

He had to fucking help her.

Taking a shaky breath, Frank easily scooped up Sylvie into his arms, and made a run for it. As he dashed through the forest, he realized he had to get her the hell out of here as soon as possible. Never in his life did he think he’d end up doing something like this, but he couldn’t just leave her here in this bleak forest to die.

Maybe he was falling for her, and the realization was scaring him. No. I’m just gonna take her back to my apartment, nurse her back to health, and then let her go home when she’s better. That’s all.

That was all… right?

[plutos-w0rkshop]

chap.1 - arrival

A/N: That took so long for people who knew about this, damn. It’s not too long either though, I hate writing solo scenes and I want this posted. I’m sorry lmao

Word Count: 1.4k

Content Warnings: descriptions of gore/morbidity, religion-mocking atheistic beliefs ( brief ), mentions of abusive trauma, attempted SA

Credits: @nkirukaj — insp

Well, today's been an... odd day. Not even an hour ago, he was taking his last breaths after shooting himself square in the chest, bleeding out drastically in Vincent’s arms… and now he’s... Well, he’s somewhere. Whatever this place is though, it hurt so fucking badly falling onto the ground from it. He let out a pained grunt as he hit what felt like cold, hard concrete, the world turning into nothing but high-pitched ringing and pitch white for a while for what seemed like an eternity.

He laid still for a second, observing his surroundings as best as he could through his blurred vision. Holy fuck, it was loud too, even when muffled behind the ringing of his hearing. He stumbled up off of the cold, cracked concrete he seemed to be on, just about falling over once he got back on his feet. He felt incredibly dizzy, as if he had spun in repetitive circles for some peculiar reason. To be fair he had dropped at least 50 feet onto the ground.

Once he readjusted his vision by blinking, he discerned his now clear as day location. The red sky was definitely new, but ironic as it is, it seemed to affect absolutely nothing. Obviously, at least. Austin could breathe perfectly fine. The tall buildings around were also tinted red by the oddly-colored sky. What the hell happened to Brooklyn? It didn't look like this before, and even if it wasn't, where would it be? Hell? He can't be in Hell. The person sighs. He probably looks fucking stupid right now, like a sheep that strayed from their herd. Clearing his throat he starts to walk around the city, being sure to keep that grin he's oh-so used to making.

He folds his arms behind his back, his eyes narrowed in an attempt to hide the fact he's confused out of his mind. Where is he? How did he get here? Damn, his head hurt. The fuck is that? WHAT'S GOING ON?! He continues to stroll down the street before suddenly bumping into somebody, stumbling back and dropping his arms. The forced smile he had held upon his face falls, clearly caught off guard by the unforeseen collision. The person he had hit gets quickly pissed off, trying to start an immediate fight. "Aye, fuck was that?!" they snapped, their jaw clenched as they stared at the startled singer, baring what looks like a full set of sharp teeth, albeit for an off-center missing one. Austin raises his hands up in defense, trying not to follow through with his inner emotions. "It was an accident, I-"

"You watch where you're fucking going, asshole," they grumbled, their eyebrows knit. They had a clenched fist as well, clearly looking for a fight. They also had a heavy Russian accent, which seemed to cut right through the atmosphere, and was a heavy contrast from Austin's high-pitched Brooklyn voice.

"You watch what you’re fucking saying!"

"I swear to Satan, I could just—" Taking a step forward, the oddly-looking stranger was about to pounce on Austin like some wild animal when suddenly he heard a gunshot, eyes wide as he watched them fall to the ground, a giant gunshot wound in the side of their head. He stared down as the blood trickled from their now indented head, the liquid painting the sidewalk. Austin was more-so a phlegmatic individual, but any average person would probably be loosing their mind right now. To be fair, he had recently witnessed a front row seat to a homicide. He didn’t care though, he was practically use to it.

He just went on with his day, stepping over the limp body beneath him on the ground. He kept observing his surroundings, as if analyzing it. He simply didn’t seem to be cognizant to his location. He would assume Hell, but no. That’s not a real place. If there’s no random man in the sky that supposed created the universe, there sure isn’t a counterpart to that. All that ‘god’ stuff was bullshit, honestly. People go off into some so-called sacred building and pray their hearts away. Yeah, cause that’s supposed to do something. If there really was a god he wouldn’t have grown up treated like an orphan in poverty. Fuck, he probably would have been better off if he were an orphan. At least he got past it.

He longed to look more confident as he walked, but he was all too disoriented to understand anything. He coveted someone to be able to explain all of this, but nobody was present. Well, nobody was present and was willing to help, more accurately. If only his brother were here. He would know how to help.

Toying with the fingers on his pale white gloves, he continued to observe. This place was so dirty and unkempt. It couldn’t get worse then this. He accidentally stepped on an empty alcohol glass, staring down as he heard it shatter beneath his shoe. Well that’s wonderful… At least the glass hadn’t penetrated the sole of his shoe. That was good, there wasn’t much he could do for a bloody foot right now.

Fuck, he needed a cigarette so bad. He briefly paused to reach into his pocket and grab his pack, only to realize it’s unexpected absence from his physical possession. What the fuck?

He double checked in his pocket, then in the other, just for his confusion to be confirmed. He didn’t have them anymore. Well, fuck. That’s awesome.

About to walk off, he feels a set of hands on him, letting out a yelp as he felt his smaller body get pinned up against a cold, jagged brick wall. He looked up with wide eyes, vulnerability bleeding through him as he gazed at the person pinning him down.

They looked abnormal as well, like how the guy that had attempted assault on him was. Nonhuman. They were staring down at him with a grin full of debauched intent, their eyes narrowed into slits. "Hello, gorgeous… Lost?.

"Uuuhh," his voice trailed off, unsure of what to say. "N-Not really, why?"

"Need somewhere to go?" they asked once again, continuing their disturbing glance.

"No, I- Get off of me!!" He attempted to get them off, his actions insuperable as their grip on his wrists do nothing but tighten like an iron grip.

"Keep squirming and I won’t give you as much mercy as I want to."

Continuing his resistance, he kicked at them with no success, when surprisingly something actually happened. The stranger stumbled back, putting a hand on their forehead and tangling gently into their hair. They had a newly clenched jaw, and their eyes showed to be… spiraling? It was a sort of black and purple pattern, and it seemed to have a definite toll on them.

He felt a light weight on his back too, which wasn’t too new since he did have back pain sometimes, but this was different. Instinctively, he spun around to face the brick wall, only to see nothing but the torn up wall. The feeling still remained, though. He spun again, until he abruptly felt a sharp pain, as if a part of him smacked against the wall. He winced and reached his hand back to rub where the pain was, but he was met with what felt like… feathers? What the…

Looking over his shoulder, his eyes widened at the now present wings on his back. That’s new. They’re pretty, too… Wow. It still hurt a bit though. Did he smack the wall with them? He tries to move it, but to no correct avail. This was gonna take a while to understand.

Hold on. How did he have those? Oh my g.. is he actually IN Hell??? There’s no way, but there’s no way he isn’t. It would definitely explain why everybody looks… inhuman. But aren’t so called “demons” red? That’s the only confusing part. Not the only, but one.

He looks to the side. Oh. There’s a giant sign that says “Welcome to Hell.” That’s… Self explanatory. Alright then. Is that why he keeps getting attacked? Like immediately?? Aren’t people in Hell, you know, morally wrong people? Why is HE present here?

…Oh wait. He killed people. No shit he’s here.

Pause. If everyone else looks different, does he? Oh god no. He probably looks terrible. Actually… No. He’s hot as fuck, he’ll look handsome.

He takes his way out of the alley, being sure to actually look where he’s going. This town really was an oddity.

He’ll get used to it eventually.

..Right?

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[jasntodds]

Petrichor [7]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 14,007  

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of scars, mentions of a panic attack, manipulation, canon drug use, comic book science? Titans science? (author's note at the end lol), canon violence, blood, bruises, gore, breaking bones, mentions of nightmares, canon character death (I'm so sorry)

Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work.Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: Happy birthday to Jason Todd!! So, sorry I did this for his birthday lmao I lied, this is longer than I thought it would be lol But I'm so sorry. I don't have anything else to say for myself besides canon made me do it and so did the comics lol I hope you guys like it!! If you want context from book 1, let me know and I’ll tell you!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Over the next couple of weeks, Jason continues to go to therapy as directed by Bruce. To his surprise, it actually seems to be helping a little bit. He’s still having nightmares but they aren’t every night anymore. His hands aren’t shaking as badly either. He just feels a little bit better. Maybe Bruce and you were right about Leslie.

You and Jason are doing better, too. There have been moments where he’s gotten a little too frustrated but he remembers your talk and you give him a little bit of space until he’s ready to talk. It works for the both of you. You go on dates at least once a week and you both actually feel normal during the day. It’s not about being a vigilante and figuring out how to survive.

You go out on patrol three days a week instead of six. This is Jason’s thing and you know it bothers him. You can wait to patrol every night until he gets Robin back. It doesn’t bother you that much. And this way, you get to spend more time together and exist in a normal way that you desperately craved. You are a normal couple for once.

Above all of that, it’s been good. Things have been good. And while that is terrifying, you and Jason stick it out anyway. You don’t run or push. You both want to sometimes because it’s easier but you’re both fucking happy. So, you don’t. You don’t do it because losing each other is worse than anything the other could ever dish out. Running and pushing wouldn’t do either of you any good for the first time in your lives. So, you both enjoy the happiness together. Until things come to a screeching halt.

You're in the living room, having a FaceTime TV marathon with Gar when Bruce comes home. He offers a quick hello before trying to walk off but you call him anyway. He’s home a lot later than he should be since he went to pick up Jason. It was his request you stay back this time.

“Where’s Jason?” You question.

In all fairness, you wouldn’t be asking him normally but you also haven’t heard much from Jason since his therapy session ended. He said Bruce was taking him somewhere so he would be home later. And that was kind of the end of it. He’s been doing quite a bit better so you haven’t been as worried when he doesn’t text you back right away. But now Bruce is here without him.

“In the city.” Bruce answers plainly.

“Why? You went to pick him up?” You raise a brow and something happened. Jason texted you in the car. He was fine and with Bruce.

You look at the time and see that was a few hours ago.

“He’s upset. I’m giving him space. You should, too.” Bruce states.

“What did you do?” You deadpan, pulling up the text thread with Jason.

“I did not do anything.” Bruce defends. “He’ll be home soon.” Bruce states before he walks off.

“Everything okay?” Gar asks.

“Nope.” You shake your head. “I assume they got into some sort of fight again.” You roll your eyes. “Did he text you by chance?” You ask seeing the read receipt from a few hours ago.

Gar checks his phone and the last he heard from Jason was that morning. “No, he hasn’t texted me since this morning. What’s going on?”

You: you okay? Bruce said you’re upset what happened?

“I have no idea. He was fine earlier.” You let out a sigh, looking back at Gar through the tablet screen.

“You said he’s been better, right? Maybe he’s just blowing off steam from Bruce.” Gar suggests. Jason has shared some of the stuff that's happened and has complained a little about Bruce.

“Yeah, but if that’s the case, he usually comes to me to bitch about Bruce because I always agree with him.” You give Gar a grin just as your phone goes off.

Jaybird 🥰: fuck bruce I’m fine don’t worry

You: what happened? Do you want me to come get you?

“Well he texted me back and I was right, fight with Bruce.” You roll your eyes.

They fight sometimes, usually about Robin-related things or Jason wanting to do something reckless and Bruce putting a stop to it. Jason’s usually only a mad an hour or so before he’s fine and over it. Jason doesn’t hold very many grudges.

“Did he say about what?” Gar asks.

“Nope. Just said, fuck Bruce.”

Jaybird 🥰: no just wanna be alone still you and me love you ❤️

You: call or text every so often so I know you’re okay please I love you, too 🥰

“What’d he say?” Gar asks. He worries enough for the both of you/

“He wants to be alone and when Jason wants to be alone that is never good. But we have this thing where I let him be alone and then he tells me about it later. So, I guess I have to wait. If he isn’t home or texting me in a few hours, I’ll go look for him.” You reluctantly put your phone down. Giving Jason space is never easy.

“Think he’ll be alright?” Gar asks with worry in his voice.

“Yeah, him and Bruce fight sometimes. I’m sure it’s nothing too bad, Bruce probably just said something stupid and Jason was already in a mood.” You let out a sigh as the worry feeling gnaws at your stomach.

“Did you want to still—“

“Yeah, yeah, no. We can keep watching. He said he’ll text me.” You offer a soft smile while the two of you continue your show.

It’s not fair. It’s utter bullshit. Jason can’t help the way his blood is boiling and fuming while his hands shake. Bruce doesn’t think he’s good enough to be Robin. Bruce gave up on him. Jason is supposed to be his son and Bruce gave up on him anyway but he never gave up on Dick. If Jason weren’t so weak, this whole thing never would have happened. But he’s gonna prove to Bruce he can be Robin. He can be the best Robin and he can be a better Batman, too. He just needs a little help in the fear department.

He’s desperate. He tells himself this is a one-time thing. Fear creeps in his throat, grasping to be let out in the damp air. It’s a one-time thing, he tells himself. He’s out of options if he wants to be Robin. He’s out of options if he wants to keep the most important thing in his life. All he needs is a quick fix to fear and he’ll be back out there, better than he has ever been. He’ll prove it to Bruce. Bruce is wrong about him.

Bruce thinks he’s a mistake. He thinks Jason isn't worth the trouble just like everyone else. Bruce thinks Jason is weak. He thought Jason could replace Dick and he couldn’t. Not as Robin and not as Bruce’s son. But if he can get rid of his fear, he can show him how wrong he is. He isn’t just another mistake. He isn’t weak and he’s better than Dick. He swears this will be it. It won’t be bad. He can handle this. He swears it’ll all be fine. So, he hangs up on Leslie and heads inside the gates of Arkham Asylum as rain patters around him.

He’s a master manipulator. Jason knows that. It’s one of the things he’s best at. But the desperation for a cure to fear clouds every aspect of that. The desperation doesn’t let him see why Crane wants information for the cure. He can’t see Crane’s angel in his state of paralyzed desperation. And Jason has been manipulated before. He swears he’ll know if Crane is manipulating him because he knows what to look out for this time. But, desperation and the fear of being scared forever, go hand in hand. Fear and desperation cloud everything. He tosses his loyalty from the window as he gets closer to the formula. Crane gives him a piece of it with every piece of information Jason gives him.

“Tell me about the first Robin.” Crane offers this grin that sends a chill down Jason’s spine.

“Like what?” Jason huffs.

“His name, where he is, everything you know.”

“Dick Grayson. He’s in San Francisco and goes by Nightwing.” Jason explains, throwing Dick completely under the bus. He has a problem with Dick now anyway. Dick Grayson has always been the goody two shoes and Bruce’s favorite. Jason only got to be Robin because Dick abandoned Bruce. Jason was a filler. “He’s with the Titans. He got Deathstroke’s son killed and dropped me from a skyscraper.” Jason lets out a scoff.

“Interesting. Doesn’t seem to be the golden boy Bruce portrayed him as.” Crane grins and this is easier than he thought it would be. Jason has no problems rolling, apparently and Crane knows he’s going to use that to his advantage.

He’s broken. He’s desperate and Crane has the cure he wants. This is going to be easy and Crane gets all benefits. Jason lets him take down the Bat but in the best way. Crane is going to get the Bat’s son to turn on him and get rid of him. To break him. And then Dick Grayson and all of Gotham will follow. Crane finds the whole thing a little poetic. He can use him. And Jason will never see through it once he figures out the formula.

“Yep.” Jason answers simply, wanting to get this over with and Crane offers him a piece of the formula.

“The Titans. Who are they?” Crane asks, hiding the malicious intent behind curiosity.

Jason looks up to him and he doesn’t like to throw some of the others under the bus. But Crane is here. He can’t do anything. And most of them thought he was just Dick’s weaker replacement anyway. They gave up, too.

“Rachel Roth, Raven. Hank Hall, Hawk. Dawn Granger, Dove. Kory Anders, Starfire. Conner Kent, Superboy. Gar Logan, Beast Boy.” Jason pauses, waiting to see if Crane knows more.

Of course, he does. He’s in Arkham, not living under a rock. The Bat gains a new sidekick and everyone knows about it. Crane is only taking a guess the new sidekick also was a Titan based on when you showed up and your close proximity with Robin, himself. He saw Jason’s hesitance on his face. The fear.

Crane chuckles softly. “Aren’t you missing someone, pal?” Crane asks, almost a little too warmly. “Could have sworn there was one more.”

Jason grits his teeth and he’s so sorry.

When he came up with this plan, he had a feeling Crane would want information. He came prepared for it. Part of that preparation was leaving you the hell out of it. Not you. Crane can’t know about you. Anyone but you. But he does know. He already knows you're a Titan and he already knows you work for Bruce. Jason has no choice if he wants the formula. And he is so sorry.

Jason says your name with bitterness on his tongue. “Bluejay. She doesn't really like the name thing though.” Jason answers.

Crane has a soft smile. “She’s the new bird. So many of you are birds.” Crane chuckles. “I do find it interesting you would try to leave her out of it. She’s the new edition to Batman. Let me guess,” Crane boasts around his cell. “Your girlfriend.”

Not you. You've done everything you can to save him and help him. He loves you. Not you. Anyone but you.

“No.” Jason answers. “Just friends.” He bites the words because maybe Crane doesn’t know for sure you’re together and he wants you at arm's length.

“If you want the formula, you really shouldn’t lie to me.” Crane has a sinister smile. “You wouldn’t leave her out of it if you were just friends.” Crane lets the words fall with ease.

He’s so fucking sorry.

“Yeah, okay fine. Girlfriend.” Jason spits.

He knows you’ll never forgive him if you find out. You can’t tell Molly anything but he’s here telling Crane everything. You're going to hate him. But he needs a cure. He can’t feel this way forever. He can’t do it. He doesn't think he’ll be able to live like this anymore.

“Ah, young love.” Crane smiles with that shrug of his shoulders. You're going to be an interesting obstacle in this one. He’s already trying to protect you from this. Crane knows he needs to break that bond as fast as he can if he wants this plan to work. “I want to know about her.” There’s this look that crosses Crane’s eyes and Jason almost turns around.

But he doesn’t.

“Why? She’s not with the fucking Titans and she hates Bruce. She works with him because of me. That’s it. She got a suit out of it and a place to stay.”

“I’m a bit of a romantic, myself. Love stories are cute. Always having someone on your side, through thick and thin. It is quite romantic, don’t you think? If we’re going to work together, I want to know why she’s so important to you.” Crane grins. “You can trust me, boy. We want the same things and the way the Bat has treated you…it’s so cruel. But I, I believe in you. That’s why I’m helping you. You trust me, don’t you?”

You're going to kill him. Guilt chews at his limbs. His jaw squares and he thinks swallowing his own teeth would be easier than this. But he has to. Maybe Crane is being sincere. Jason thinks he is. At least enough. Maybe if Jason tells him enough, Crane will see you aren’t a problem. Maybe he’ll see you would side with them. You want Gotham to be better, you don’t agree with Bruce’s ways. Maybe Crane will understand. He’s helping Jason, maybe he can help you. You're scared, too.

“Dick found her.” Jason answers reluctantly. “She joined the Titans. We went after Deathstroke together. Got kidnapped and dropped from the skyscraper. Dick saved her. CADMUS attacked her, Gar, and Conner when I was gone. Dick left them alone when shit hit the fan. CADMUS left her for dead. So, she came back to Gotham.” Jason explains.

“She was there with Deathstroke.” Crane lets out a sigh and like Bruce, in a way, he can always tell when someone could need him. Someone who’s been traumatized. His intentions aren’t as pure as Bruce’s. “But Dick saved her and not you. Did you save her?”

“It wasn’t like that.” Jason shakes his head. “Dick tried to save me first and dropped me. Then he saved her. But yeah,” Jason nods. “I protected her and she did the same shit for me.”

“The two of you went through something so traumatic together. That really must have brought you closer. It’s not as romantic as I was hoping for but it is quite nice.” Crane grins. “She has powers, doesn’t she?”

“Acid generation.” Jason stares, leaving out the combat clairvoyance and the possibility of you having sharp shooting abilities. Two things Crane can’t prove Jason lied about.

“Now that is interesting. Does she know you’re here right now? Asking for my help?”

“No.” Jason shakes his head. “Look, she’s got nothing to with this shit. But, I can get her on our side. The other Titans targeted me for all types of shit I didn’t do and she was the only one on my side. She’s not a fucking problem. I can handle her.”

Crane grins and that’s all he needs. Jason is already hiding something huge from you. The distrust will be there and Jason doesn’t know Crane’s whole plan. If it goes the way he thinks it will, it’ll break your relationship. He will have no one left besides Crane. Exactly how he wants it. So, he decides he’ll let Jason think he believes this whole thing and moves back to the Titans.

“I do hope you’re right.” Crane sighs. “Tell me everything that happened in San Fransisco, with all of the Titans.”

Jason lets out a sigh before he spills every piece of information. He tells him everything from Trigon to Deathstroke to CADMUS. He tells him about the Titans turning on him for something he didn’t do, you talking him off the roof. Dick's confession and Donna’s death. Everything.

Then he tells Crane everything he knows about Bruce. The manor, the Batcave. Everything. He tells Crane about his training and the cabin, how Bruce found him and how Bruce found Dick. He spills and Crane lets him talk. Crane listens a lot but asks questions where he finds needed but he mostly just lets Jason talk as Jason keeps you out of it as much as he can. Jason is far more cooperative when it comes to everyone else.

Crane figures once he figures out the formula, he can get more information on you and use it against him if he needs to. He can’t have anyone if this is going to work and Crane knows exactly how he’ll be able to accomplish it. But for now, it’s about the Titans and Bruce. By the time Jason finishes, he’s got the formula tucked away in his pocket, ready to let fear go.

Jason pulls his phone from his pocket once he’s far enough away from Arkham. He’s spent the walk running over every lie he could tell you. Guilt eats at him with every step he takes. You're gonna kill him. He’s gonna lie to you because he knows for a fact, you’ll freak out. You’ll think he’s gone off the deep end and you’ll tell Dick. You’ll drag him kicking and screaming out of Gotham. You’ll tell Arkham and he won’t be able to see Crane again. It’s not fair and it’s not right. But you can’t know. And a part of him finds that to be unfair, too because he’s gonna fix his fear while you have to suffer with yours. That’s not fair to you. So, he thinks.

Maybe he can figure out a way to bring it up without bringing it up. Maybe he can try to see how you’d feel about a way to get rid of fear. If you seem for it, then he can tell you. He can see if you want to help. But the more he thinks about that, the more he thinks about Crane.

You’d have to be involved with him. Jason doesn’t want you involved with him. Not him. And he knows, the second he tells you about Crane, you’ll lose it. Even if you want a cure-all. You’ll bail the second you hear about Crane. You would never work with a guy like that. So, he has no choice. It’s that or end it and he doesn’t want to do that either.

“Hey.” Jason says as you pick up the phone.

“Jay? Where are you? I’ve been texting you to make sure you were okay.” He can hear your worry and he thinks maybe the anti-fear drug will make him not worry. Maybe you don’t want to worry so much.

“I’m sorry.” Jason clears his throat. “I needed to clear my damn head. I’m fine. Can you come get me, please?”

“Yeah, of course. Where are you?” You answer and Jason can hear you rustling on the other end.

“I’ll text you the address.” Jason states. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” You hang up and get to your feet while Jason texts you the address.

When you reach Jason, he’s soaked. Your heart aches, feeling like it’s being squeezed right through your rib cage at the sight of him. He looks exhausted and lost. He looks distant and he is drenched from the winter rain. Something bad happened and you have no idea how you're going to be able to help.

You take off your helmet, not getting off the bike. “Jay, are you okay?”

Jason gets up from the curb and walks up to you, offering you a fake smile. “Yeah.” His jaw clenches and he doesn’t even want to go home. He doesn’t want to see Bruce. He’d rather be outside in the cold. “All good.”

“What happened?” You reach out but Jason dodges you, reaching for his helmet. A lump grows in your throat. He doesn’t dodge you. Not like that.

“Bruce took Robin away.” Jason’s voice cracks as he shakes his head.

He dodges your stare. He doesn’t want to see the look you’ll give him. On the one hand, he’ll feel guilty. He’ll feel guilty for lying and talking to Crane. And on the other, you’ll give him a look that screams pity and that is the last thing he needs. Jason Todd doesn’t need anyone’s pity.

“What do you mean?” You question.

“Like fucking permanently. He said I can’t be Robin anymore.” Jason lets out a bitter scoff as he feels the anger come back to his bloodstream.

“Jay, I’m so sorry.” You say softly.

You never thought Bruce would take it away like that. Jason has been doing everything Bruce asked him to do. Ever since the Pete Hawkins thing, Jason has backed off entirely. He is putting a real effort into therapy, really trying to let the process help. Why would Bruce rip it away from him?

“Fuck him. I’m gonna fucking show him he’s wrong. He's fucking wrong about me.” Jason grits his teeth.

“He is.” You nod your head. “Come on. Let’s get you home and warm and we can talk more, okay?”

“Whatever.” Jason scoffs, popping his helmet on before he gets on the back and holds onto you while you drive back to the manor.

You get Jason back to the manor and into a warm shower. He says almost nothing. It’s as if he’s completely numb and it breaks you to see him like this. Jason is anything but quiet in a shower with you, usually. And he’s always handsy and cheeky. But, tonight, he’s just quiet, going through the motions, stuck on his own head.

You don’t understand how Bruce could take Robin away like that. It’s not fair. Jason does what Bruce asks him to and he messes up sometimes but that’s normal. How does he not see Robin is the most important thing to him? You even told him that. And he took Robin anyway. He never should have let him be Robin in the first place if this was something that could happen. Dick almost killed someone and he didn’t take Robin from Dick. Jason tries his best. Why isn’t that good enough for Bruce?

Dick was always right about him.

Jason plops onto your bed, his eyes red and puffy. His heart feels like it’s being crushed by cinderblocks. It all hurts. How did he really let another person down? How was he fooled into believing Bruce was different than everyone else? He thinks about his dad. His dad wasn’t a good person but Jason, sometimes, wonders if it was him. Maybe it was his fault his dad was like that. Maybe it was different before him. His dad didn’t choose to be his dad. But Bruce chose it. And still is giving up on him. Jason is Bruce’s son by choice, he thought the choice of picking a son, would make it different. But it’s the same old story Jason hates retelling.

He fucks up and people give up.

“Want me to rub your back while you tell me about it?” You offer as you stand in between his legs, looking down at him.

Jason looks up at you and you always worried so much. He wishes he could be better so you wouldn’t worry about him. He wonders why you choose him. You don’t have to, like Bruce. But you do. He wonders if one day you’ll stop. If his mom and his dad and his uncle and Dick and Bruce all chose other things over him, why wouldn't you? But he looks up at you and you give him this soft smile with your fingertips brushing his knees with care and he thinks you're still different than everyone else.

Jason cracks a soft smile. “Yeah, actually. Thank you.”

“Of course.” You smile softly.

Jason switches to his stomach, facing the TV just as you did the first day you started your friends-with-benefits situation. You sit on top of him and run your hands over his back. Your hands are cold, sending goosebumps up his spine. Your hands are always cold, something he always finds a bit ironic given the acid generation warms your hands. But your fingers are soft as you trace over the scars on his back. You do it every time and he always meant to ask.

“Why do you do that?” Jason asks, his eyes closed with his head on his hands.

“Do what?” You ask as you start rubbing his shoulders.

“Trace the scars.”

“I dunno.” You shake your head and you didn’t realize you did it often enough for him to notice.

You're not even sure why you do it. It’s something mindless. Maybe it’s your subconscious wishing if you trace them enough times, it’ll remove the damage the scars have caused him, like a magic eraser. Or maybe tracing the scars is confirmation he’s real.

Sometimes, you have a hard time believing he’s real. All of this is real. You used to dream of a life outside of the basement, sometimes they’d feel so real you could swear they were. Wishful thinking.

Maybe you trace them as confirmation that the raised and paled skin is real, Jason is here with you and you're not dreaming. Maybe you like the way the scars look on his skin but he managed to pull through all of his terrible shit and make it out the other end with a smart mouth and a heart of gold anyway. Maybe, you just do it because you care about him regardless of the scars and what made them.

“Does it bother you?” You ask softly.

“No.” Jason answers. “Just wondering.”

It always makes him feel vulnerable, a harsh reminder he is not invincible as much as he likes to believe he is sometimes. He might have survived those injuries but they’re there as harsh reminders. And you touch them and he thinks maybe you find comfort in them, because you have them, too. And that’s always enough for him. He thinks it makes him feel human and real and alive. He always feels a little exposed but it’s become comforting with you.

“What happened?”

He thinks he has his lies in order. He knows he might be sabotaging the relationship. Despite everything he thinks as you massage over the scar on his back, he knows. He knows you might not forgive him. There’s always a chance you won’t be so understanding when you inevitably find out because you always figure him out. But it's a risk he has to take.

He can’t keep doing this anymore. He can’t keep not sleeping. He can’t keep shaking and freezing. He can’t keep living like this. He knows he can’t. It’ll destroy him. It’ll be miserable. The idea of going back to being useless and not good enough and a disappointment, he can’t live like that. He needs help now, before Bruce finds his replacement. Maybe you’ll understand that part.

“He fucking said he made mistakes and I guess I’m fucking one of them.” Jason scoffs from under you.

You narrow your eyes thinking Bruce didn’t actually say that. You have no faith in Bruce to communicate worth a shit given your conversation with him and given Jason and Dick. And Bruce might be very good at hiding his emotions, but you know he actually cares about Jason. You don’t think Bruce would ever tell Jason he was a mistake, even if he thought it.

“He said that?” You ask, pausing for a few seconds.

“Basically!” Jason groans. “And he doesn’t want to make more mistakes and he said I can’t be Robin anymore. He thinks I’m a fucking mental case. He doesn’t care it’s important to me. He doesn’t care that I’m doing what he wants me to. It doesn’t matter to him. It’s fucking bullshit.” Jason’s voice shakes as his back tenses under your palms.

“That’s not fair. I don’t know why he would do that. You were always a great Robin.” You say softly.

You wish you could have heard the conversation so you would know better what to say. But, you also know, even if Bruce didn’t say any of that and it came out wrong, it wouldn’t change anything for you to decipher it for him. At the end of the day, Bruce could have outright told Jason he loves him and he doesn’t want him to die and Jason would still be absolutely crushed with Robin being ripped away from him. Bruce’s delivery of the message doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything.

“Just fucking tired of being scared.” Jason lets out a defeated sigh. “Fucking gave up on me. Ya know, thought he was fucking different.” His voice is etched in pain and you wish you could take it all away. He never deserves the pain he gets.

It’s honest. He can be honest with you about that. Maybe he wants you to figure it out.

“Yeah, I get it. Being scared really sucks. You’ll get better though. I know I keep saying it but it takes time, Jay. Bruce should be giving you more time.” You say. “I’m really sorry about him.” You lean down and press a kiss to his shoulder blade. “You still have me, okay?”

He knows. He’ll always have you. Somewhere inside of him, he knows. The anxiety of you freaking out and leaving when you figure it out is there, but he also knows he’s given you every opportunity to take off and run. And you never do. You’d understand his desperation. You'd understand why he lied. He knows he still has you.

“What if there were a cure for fear?” Jason asks and he’s glad you can’t see his face. You’d know.

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow.

“What if there was a cure? Like we can just take it and not be scared anymore.” Jason listens carefully, feeling your hands pause on his back. He knows without looking that you've got your right eyebrow raised at him, your eyes narrowing at him as if you can’t decide if he’s joking or serious.

“I mean that’d be great, but there would be consequences, right?” You question.

You're a little concerned with the question. But, that’d be insane. It’d be insane for him to really look for a cure to fear. You swear he’s just talking, doing one of his hypothetical talks he does like you do about the zombie apocalypse.

“Like what? Being fearless sounds pretty fucking good right about now.” Jason scoffs.

“We’ll, fear is just adrenaline, right? But that fear also keeps you looking both ways before crossing the street, it alerts you when someone is following you home. Without fear, also means you won’t have excitement. You’ll probably be emotionally numb to a lot of things. Not having adrenaline is dangerous though.” You answer.

“Yeah, but isn’t that fucking better than being scared all the damn time? You’re afraid of everything, too and your nightmares are back. You wouldn’t want something to stop it?” Jason looks over his shoulder.

Your nightmares came back a week and a half ago. You and Molly were on a walk and ran into Jerry’s Gotham house. You still don’t know how you missed it, but you did. You were walking and having a good time and you saw the house and that was it. You broke and it’s like all of the progress you made over the last few months evaporated into the atmosphere. Molly had to call Jason because you were having a panic attack and couldn’t snap out of it. The nightmares came back that night.

“Of course, I would.” You shrug.

You think about it and maybe it would be nice. If nothing else, just so you could get some damn proper sleep. So, you both could get some proper sleep. Maybe if you both got some sleep, you’d be better. Maybe Jason makes a good point but then you think about how happy you are when you see him and when a new movie comes out and your marathons with Gar. You wouldn’t want to trade those feelings for being fearless.

“But not if it means getting rid of everything else. Adrenaline also keeps us alive. I’ve been numb and that’s worse than being scared. Why?” You ask. “You trying to find a cure to fear or something?”

“No.” Jason scoffs, letting out a fake laugh and he was really hoping you’d be on his side with this one. “Just fucking saying, wish there were a cure. At least so I can be Robin.”

“Look, it sucks, Jaybird. But I don’t think the answer to being Robin is being fearless. You had to use that fear to survive out there, too. You’re gonna be okay and then you can go out and be your own hero. You don’t have to be Robin. Dick quit and became Nightwing. You don’t need Bruce to help people.” You say. “And I still think you’re plenty good enough. I’m just saying, if Bruce won’t let you, do it yourself when you get better. You’re good enough.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Jason sighs. “Maybe you’re right but he doesn’t believe in me anymore.” Jason says and you know it’s never your approval he’ll need. And that’s okay but you wish sometimes, like tonight, it were enough. “I’m gonna prove him wrong.”

“Good, fuck Bruce.” You smile softly. “Just…give it a little bit, okay? Keep seeing Leslie, too. She’s been helping.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Jason huffs.

“I’m serious, Jason. You do sleep more now. Seeing her is helping, just keep up with it. And then we’ll go out together. Fuck Bruce. We’ll be our own team.” You let out a soft chuckle.

“Thanks.” Jason lets out a sigh.

You make good points but his mind is made up. He’s going to do this. He doesn’t have time to wait around and hope for the best. He isn’t going to Leslie. He’s going to make the anti-fear drug and he won’t be scared anymore. Maybe you're right. Maybe he’ll be numb to everything but he doesn’t care anymore. He is desperate for a cure. He needs it. Maybe he can only use it to be Robin, just to prove himself. It’ll be a quick fix and that’ll be the end of it. Just use it out there and to sleep. You make good points, but he has to do this. And he is so sorry he has to lie about it.

Jason turns from under you so he can face you and you place your hands on his chest. You have a soft smile and he feels so guilty but you’ll understand. You’ll get it when he can function better, it’s just until this whole shit wears off. You’ll get it. If anyone will, it’ll be you.

“Thanks for not giving up on me.” Jason places his hands on your thighs, his thumbs rubbing softly against your bare skin.

“You and me.” You smile softly.

“Yeah.” Jason smiles looking at the necklace hanging from your neck. You haven't taken it off since he gave it to you. “You and me.”

“You okay?” Your voice is filled with love as you ask. No one ever asked like that before.

“Yeah.” Jason answers simply. “Just glad you’re here.”

“You sure? I’m really worried about you.” Your brows knit together. “You know I’ll always be here. No matter what.”

“I’m not gonna walk off a roof, I swear.” Jason’s eyes widen as a grin tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Good. I just know this is bad for you. I just hope you believe me because I believe in you.”

Jason sits up and places his fingers under your chin. “Thanks. Look, I’ll be fucking fine. Trust me. I got a plan.” Jason offers you a grin.

“That’s still mildly unsettling coming from you.” You smile. “What’s the plan?” You widen your eyes as your hands come to his shoulders, a teasing smirk coming to your lips.

“You’ll see.” Jason drops his hand to your waist.

“Oh, you’re not gonna tell me?” You laugh.

“What’s that you always say?” Jason teases. “We don’t always get what we want.” And he says your name, it comes out a little groveled but his voice is teasing.

“Shut up.” You groan.

“Do you trust me?” Jason asks as his hands squeeze your hips softly.

“Of course, I do. You know I do.” You answer.

“Trust me then. I got a plan. I’ll be back out there and proving everyone else wrong.” Jason holds his head with confidence.

You raise a brow at him. “Why do I have a bad feeling about that?” Jason and plans aren’t always a bad combination but he is desperate and hurt right now. You remember the last plan he had when he felt this way.

“Don’t. I got this. Like you said, I’ll be fine.” Jason presses a kiss to your lips.

“Right yeah, you will be.” You let out a sigh and you think it can’t be that bad. He’d tell you. “Okay. You’ll tell me through, right?”

“Of course, you and me.” Jason gives you a wild grin.

He hopes you won’t be mad.

The next day, Jason rents an apartment and sets up to work on making the anti-fear drug. ?You had plans with Molly anyway and that was the perfect excuse for him to get here all by himself to get to work. Plus, Bruce had to go out of town so that's one less person he has to worry about.

He feels guilt gnawing at his stomach like a bad stomach ulcer. But he works anyway. He works through it because this is the only way. And even if he wanted to back out, he already told Crane everything. If he wanted to back out, Crane could use that information against him. But, he doesn’t want to back out anyway, so he pushes the guilt and anxiety away as he puts together a botched drug.

You grow suspicious over the next few days. Jason is making weird and random excuses not to hang out. He’s always trying to get you to hang out more with Molly or for you to head to Excellent Gotham and get to know Tim better. You always need more friends, apparently. Normally, you wouldn’t think too much of it. Or you’d be worried he was distancing himself to leave. But it’s Jason and he’s definitely hiding something, so you follow him one day.

Your phone rings as you hide in the alley beside the building Jason walked into.

“Hello?” You ask.

“Why are you following me?” Jason asks.

He caught onto you following him a few blocks from the apartment he’s been using. He was Robin and a street kid, he knows when someone is following him. And he feels bad about it. For you to follow him, you have to be really worried. He doesn’t track you unless you get kidnapped and you don’t track him on his phone. You don’t follow each other. But you are. And he needs to find a way to assure you.

“I—“ You pause. “I-I’m not following you.” You scoff.

“Yeah, you are.” Jason states as he walks through the opposite end of the alley.

“Why do you think that?” You raise, crossing your arm across your chest.

“I can see you.” Jason answers, pulling the phone away from his ear as you jump, turning around to see Jason.

To be fair, you should have known he'd figure it out. But, you tried to be subtle and keep a far enough distance away from him. You put in a lot of effort. He's just more vigilant than you are, apparently.

“Oh, hey, Jay.” You give him a cheeky smile with a nervous laugh. “Whatcha doing?”

You might be following him. You might be figuring it out a little sooner than he'd personally like. But, he does find it a little cute. And a little amusing you really thought Jason wouldn't figure it out.

“Walking, what’re you doing, babe?” Jason quips, closing the rest of the distance between you.

You sigh in defeat. “Following you.”

Jason lets out a hearty laugh. “No shit. Why?”

“You’ve been…weird, sneaking around. Worried about you.” You groan as you scrunch your nose.

He's really not trying to worry you. He doesn't want you to worry about him anymore. Even if you would be completely against an anti-fear drug, a part of him thinks maybe if he has it, you won't have too many reasons to worry about him anymore. The way Jason sees it, he was always better off with less fear. Maybe the drug helping him, will help you. In a roundabout way.

“You don’t have to worry. I’m just working on something, alright?” He’s giving you that toothy grin that is always trouble.

“Right…that’s not nearly as reassuring as you think it is.” You quip back, the smile falling short.

“It’s a surprise, alright? Don’t worry so much.”

“A surprise?” You raise a brow.

“A surprise.” Jason echoes and it’s not technically a lie. “You said you trust me.”

“I do.” You groan. “I’m sorry. You just never sneak around. It’s weird, even for you.”

You chew the inside of your cheek and maybe you're being paranoid. You've always been a little on the paranoid side, especially since Jerry. And the paranoia decided to come back in full force with the nightmares. Maybe you're just paranoid, more worried about losing him. Things have been good, between you at least, you always get scared when things are good for too long.

Jason puts his hands on your shoulders. “I’m fine, babe. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Promise?” You ask.

“Promise.” Jason nods.

“Fine.” You sigh, taking his arms off of your shoulders and holding his right hand. “Just…whatever you’re up to, be careful.”

“Always.” Jason beams, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll see you at home, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.” You sigh, kissing him softly.

“Love you.” Jason grins, walking past you.

“I love you, too.” You watch him walk off and you really have a bad feeling about this one. But you can’t follow him and you have no reason not to trust him. So, you let him walk as you head back the way you came.

The next day, Jason gets the formula right. He uses an inhaler to take it and every fear he has ever had, melts away. It works. He did it. He got his cure to fear. So, he heads back to Arkham, high on the drug to confirm to Crane he got it despite the shotty formula.

And Crane already had a plan in motion. He had a feeling Jason would figure it out. So, he set up a plan and it’s time for the plan to go into motion so they can make Gotham theirs. Crane needs Jason to prove it works. What better way than to have him face off with the Joker alone? That’ll surely prove it. But, what Jason doesn’t know, is that Crane knows the downside to life without fear. Of course, he does. He’s the expert in it. Crane already has someone on the outside ready to handle it when this does not go the way Jason thinks it will. But is it perfect for Crane, another thing to hold over Jason’s head to control him.

And Jason doesn’t see the motive. So, Crane tells him to go after the Joker to prove it works and prove to the Bat he can do this. Jason doesn’t need Bruce. He can take care of the Joker all by himself. Jason, lacking all apprehension and self-preservation thanks to the drug, agrees easily. He’s not scared of him.

That next night, Jason convinces you to run out to the store. You were talking about needing some supplies for your scrapbook. You're reluctant at first, but decide to go. It’ll be quick. And Jason gets to work tracking the Joker.

But, with Jason at home, something just does not feel right to you. You make it all the way to the store, hoping the feeling will it go away, but it doesn't. So, you decide to call Molly, maybe Molly can talk you down.

“Hey.” Molly chimes through the phone.

“Hey, you busy?” You ask as you sit on the bike outside of the store.

“No, what’s up?”

You pause. It’s eating at you. Jason was weird as fuck last night when he came home and he’s been weird today. Convincing you to go to the store was weird. Him not coming with is also weird. And you have that feeling in the pit of your stomach. You shouldn’t have left.

“You….uh, I don’t know. I think I’m having a bad feeling so I just…need to talk I think.” You shake your head, the helmet weighing on your head a bit.

“What’s going on? Where’s Jason?” Molly asks.

“Home.” You answer. “I went to the store, he didn’t wanna come.”

“Is everything okay with you guys?”

“Yeah, yeah, all good. Not, uh, not what I wanted to talk about actually.”

“What’s going on?”

“Uh…do you…you know when something bad is gonna happen like really bad and you just….get this feeling? Like…right in the center of your stomach?”

You think you're being paranoid. It only happened once when your mom died. But since Jerry, you're always paranoid and the feeling comes back. Sometimes it’s wrong. Sometimes, it’s just you being paranoid. And you know that’s what this has to be because what could possibly happen to Jason at the manor?

“Yeah.” Molly nods her head because it happened with her mom. She just knew. “You have that feeling?”

“Yeah…I don’t know. Sometimes it's wrong. But it just…I don’t know. Feels bad.” You let out a sigh.

“When did it start?”

“Right before I left. Like, I got on the bike and I just….I don’t know. I think I’m gonna go home.” You shake your head and you can go home. You can always come back tomorrow.

“Are you sure? I mean...what if it’s a coincidence? Two’s a coincidence.” Molly tries to assure you.

“Yeah, I know but….what if it’s not? Can you stay on the phone with me while I get back?” You just can’t do it. It’s not a big deal.

“Yeah, of course.” Molly nods her head and you start the bike, taking off back to the manor. “What do you think it is?” Molly asks, mostly to talk you down.

“I don’t know.” You answer. “Jason’s been acting weird lately. I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It’s not….he’s…something’s off with him and I don’t know why I came. He told me to and maybe I listen to him a little too much sometimes. He said he was fine but I don’t know. I got a real bad feeling.” You groan.

“How far are you from the manor?”

“Like twenty minutes.”

“Well, if something is going on, you’re not that far and you haven’t been gone long. He couldn’t have gotten into too much trouble.” Molly tries to assure you but it doesn’t work.

The more you talk, the more paranoid you get. You know Molly is right. He couldn’t have gotten into too much trouble in the last half hour. But you worry anyway.

“Yeah, hey, can you conference him in? Just…give me some piece of mind before I get back.”

“Yeah, of course.” Molly states as she pulls the phone away from her ear and adds Jason to the call. The two of you listen as the phone rings and rings and rings. And then goes to voicemail.

“Fuck.” You let out a scoff as panic starts to flood your system.

“Maybe he’s--”

“No, he’d answer if it were you while I’m out. Call again.” You state and Molly does as told, getting voicemail again. You shake your head and you pull the throttle back, kicking the bike into third.

“Slow down.” Molly urges. “I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe he’s just in the bathroom.” Molly says as she hears the bike rev further.

“He’d answer. I know he would. Double calls. He would because why would you call him twice in a row unless it were important?” You argue.

You're begging for you to be wrong. You hope against everything in your body you're wrong. This one time, you have to be wrong.

“Okay, so what do you think is going on?” Molly asks.

“I don’t know!” You groan. “That’s the problem. I have no idea what’s been going on with him. I followed him a few days ago and he brushed it off. Like it was no big deal but he was sneaking around behind my back. He said he was planning something or some shit. Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.”

“You don’t think he’s like cheating--”

“No! Of course, not. He would never. I….” You bite your tongue because Molly doesn’t know about Robin. “I don’t know what the fuck he’s been doing but now he’s not answering. And I got this feeling. Hold on I’m at a stop light.” You groan, quick-dialing Jason as you watch the red light. The two of you listen as it goes to voicemail. And you try again. Voicemail. “Something’s wrong.” You say as the light turns green and you start weaving between cars.

“Because he’s not answering and you have a feeling? You sound paranoid.”

“I know.” You grit your teeth. “But he’d answer for me. I know he would. Especially calling him twice. He’d answer. I just...remember a few weeks ago when he got his ass kicked?”

“Yeah.” Molly wishes she could forget.

“Okay, so what if he went out on his own to try that guy again or something?” You spit, avoiding details about Robin because you're thinking he’s out Robining alone for some sort of spite against Bruce. He’s still mad. And maybe he froze and it got bad.

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s Jason.” You let out a breath.

You get back to the manor, switching the call to your phone instead of your helmet. You make your way into the manor and call for Jason. The manor is silent. It’s not even like that’s abnormal. Jason isn’t really loud and neither is Bruce. But, the quiet and lack of Jason answering is eery and unsettling.

You search your rooms and living rooms and kitchens. He’s nowhere to be found and your heart sinks further. So, you go to the Batcave. Hoping maybe, he’s just training. Maybe Molly is right. Maybe he’s just busy. Maybe his phone died and he didn’t realize it. That’s possible. It’s Jason. He isn’t the type that’s glued to his phone. Maybe.

But that hope dies as you reach the Batcomputer, seeing Amusement Mile pulled up with the Joker’s location.

No, no, no, no.

“I’m sure he went out and he’ll be--”

“Fuck!” You yell as you look to the display case. The Robin suit is gone.

Molly calls your name and now she’s worried.

“What a fucking---” You cut yourself off as you grit your teeth. “Molly, I gotta go.”

“Molly yells your name, her voice now completely panicked.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. I’ll call you. I have to call Bruce.” You rush as you hang up, running over to your own display case holding your suit. You rip the case open and grab the suit as you put Bruce on speaker. “Bruce!?” You yell into the phone as you jump around, getting the suit on as fast as you can.

This can’t be happening. The Joker? Of all fucking people, that’s who he decides he’s going to go after to prove himself? Why the hell would he ever do that? You try your best not to focus on the millions of questions you have for him and the fact you're ready to scream at him for the twenty-four hours. You have to focus because it’s the fucking Joker. He’s taken too much from you.

Bruce can hear the absolute panic in your voice. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Jason! I fucking told you! He went after the fucking Joker!” You scream into the phone as you zip the front of your suit and put the mask over your mouth.

“I told him not to.” Bruce says calmly, but a part of him is panicking.

Bruce doesn’t panic but there is no way you would be calling him and telling him this if it weren’t true. Jason knows better. Why would he go after the Joker? On his own?

“Oh, because Jason is so fucking good at following instructions?!” You run over to the weapons once you're completely suited up.

On the one hand, Bruce could send you after him. That’s at least, two against one. But, it’s the Joker. And Bruce knows he’s more ruthless than anyone. It’s a fun game to him like whack-a-mole. And the prize is always bloodshed. He also knows how you feel and if he sends you, not only could you go out and get killed but you could kill him first. That’s a life on Bruce’s conscious.

“Do not go anywhere. I’m on a flight—“

“No! You don’t get to tell me to fucking sit here and hope for the fucking best. He is everything to me and I am not gonna sit here and let him get fucking killed, Bruce!” You seeth and the Joker should have been killed a long fucking time ago. You swear, if the Joker even lays a single finger on him, you’ll do it her damn self. Bruce is too much of a coward of what he could become if he did it. You don’t care. “The Robin suit is gone, the Joker is gonna fucking kill him and it’s all your fault!” You scream as you gather knives.

“Stay put.” Bruce is stern on the other line. “It will be dangerous and you aren’t prepared--”

“No! Fuck you!” You snip back, gathering as many knives as you can carry. “I’m gonna save him, kill the damn Joker since you’re too damn cowardly to do it and then I’m calling Dick.” You fume on the other end. “I’m gonna beg him if I have to to come and bring us back to San Franciso because fucking clearly, he’s worse off here!” You scream before hanging up the phone and heading towards the exit.

It’s not that he’s scared or even feeling uneasy. His head is clouded with a sense of nothing. Everything is just numb as he cuts the chain into the amusement park.

Jason should be scared and there’s a gnawing at the back of his head that is screaming and howling for him to be scared. To turn around. This is a bad idea. This is bad. There are red flashing lights begging him to turn around but that sense of adrenaline that would normally kick in and give him a little bit of common sense and self-preservation is being suppressed. It doesn’t exist. So, the normally loud and blinding lights that have been causing him so much pain over the last few months, aren’t loud enough. They’re useless.

As he walks further into the amusement park, he finds old and run-down games that grab his attention. This is the Joker’s hideout. It’s known. Of course, the maniac clown would like a closed amusement park. And Jason knows he should be hypervigilant. This is the Joker’s turf and he knows the Joker is here. But the drug keeps suppressing that, too.

He knows he should be more aware and more on guard but the drug gives him a false sense of confidence. He can do this. It’s the Joker. He’s just some crazy clown and if Bruce can take him down several times, Jason can do it. Bruce trained him, right? He knows better though. He should be scared and more aware. but then there’s a noise from behind him and he jumps anyway.

His heart skips before plummeting back into a resting rhythm as he spots a dead man with a creepy smile tugged on display. Jason’s eyes widen and there’s this small, tiny bit of fear that seems to bypass the anti-fear drug like a leaky faucet. And Jason starts to hear and see the red flashing lights in the back of his head in perfect color. But the point is that he isn’t supposed to feel fear at all.

Maybe his formula is a little off. How is he feeling any sense of fear? It’s barely there, barely even noticeable but it’s there enough where if he were in a normal state of mind, that alone would send him into a panic. He’d panic about being worried he’s going to panic. And that thought with the mixing of the drug, makes him miss the creeping steps of the Joker from behind him.

With a quick swing, a crowbar connects to Jason’s head and he’s sent right to the ground.

His head throbs and aches, a horrendous and shooting pain sending his head into a spin as his stomach turns. Blood drips down from his forehead, the warm liquid seeping down his cheek as he looks up to see the menacing and sadistic smile of the Joker looking down at him just as he pulls his arm back for another swing.

This swing connects with his jaw and Jason can hear the bone break. Jason’s mouth pools with blood, the taste of iron already becoming more nauseating. He groans out in agony as the Joker takes another hit to his head, his laugh echoing through the park.

His laugh rings through Jason’s ears with every blow and Jason thinks that laugh can penetrate any type of anti-fear drug. His hearing seems to get worse and worse but that laugh could pierce through solid steel. And he’s not supposed to be scared anymore.

But the Joker hits him again and Jason coughs up blood and fear starts to rush into his veins. Maybe it’s the overwhelming amount of adrenaline making the anti-fear drug wear off a lot sooner than it should. Maybe his formula needs to be tweaked. Maybe the anti-fear drug has a side effect, maybe it doesn’t work when he’s on the brink of death. Jason can’t think straight enough to figure it out. Instead, all he thinks is that he has never been more terrified than he is right now.

SMACK

WHACK

CRACK

Jason’s bones break as Joker takes a break from his face and works on his side and then his arms and legs. He swears this is the worst pain he has ever been in. The Joker hits him over and over and over again, the pain getting worse and worse as tears brim his eyes. He claws at the ground in desperation, a failing attempt to move away. But, the bones are being broken one by one and he can feel the shards with every movement. And he is so fucking sorry.

SMACK

He’s so sorry to Bruce because he should have listened. He should have been a better Robin. He should have listened. He’s so sorry he wasn’t better. He’s so sorry he wasn’t a better son. He tried his absolute best but he could have tried harder. Maybe he could have told Bruce what was going on. Maybe he could have told Bruce more about therapy. Maybe he could have explained anything that ever happened with him. Maybe he could have just tried to be a son. He’s so sorry and all he wants to do is tell Bruce he’s sorry. And thank you.

He wants to thank Bruce for trying. For taking him in. Letting him be his son and letting him be Robin. Bruce, in his weird way, cared about him and loved him. He tried even if he sucked at it sometimes. Jason wants to tell Bruce thank you.

SMACK

Jason screams as the crowbar finally shatters one of his ribs. His breathing is becoming ragged as the Joker takes another swing to Jason’s chest. The Robin suit offers a lot of protection but the Joker is relentless. He’s getting off on every scream and groan and gasp Jason lets out. It’s as if the sight of the blood seeping onto the ground and the backswing of splatter gets him off. He’s having the time of his life beating Jason to death. And Jason has never been more scared.

SMACK

He’s so scared and sorry. He’s so fucking sorry to you and he would give anything to tell you that right now. All he wants to do is call you. He wants to take it all back. He wants to go back home and crawl into your bed with you. He wants to hug you and kiss you and promise he’s doing okay and he’ll be okay. And you’ll be okay. He wants to promise you that it’ll all work out in the end, even if he doesn’t make it. He wants to tell you not to be mad or sad because he doesn’t deserve it. You don’t deserve to dwell on his inevitable death.

You both knew it was going to be him. You liked to fool yourself into thinking maybe it would be you but at the end of the day, you both knew it would always be him. Jason always knew it was gonna be him who died first. And he wants nothing more than to promise you it’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. He doesn’t want you to run yourself into the ground over him. But he knows you and he knows as the Joker takes another horrendous and agonizing hit to his skull, you’ll be miserable. This will be it for you. He’s not gonna make it and you're gonna lose your entire mind. You always said you would. And it’s all his fault.

SMACK

CRACK

He wants to shake you and tell you he’s so fucking sorry. He should have just told you what was going on. He should have told you. You would have helped him. You wouldn’t have been mad or yelled at him. Of all people, you would have understood why he went to Crane. You would have gotten it. You always understood him. And he should have told you.

He shouldn’t have lied to you. He’s so fucking sorry. And he’s so sorry for not loving you better, you deserve someone who’s not gonna do this. You deserve someone who’s not gonna get killed and didn’t even stand a damn chance. And he is so sorry he’s going to leave you alone.

He doesn’t think he’s gonna make it.

The Joker's laugh starts to sound further away as he takes another blow to the right side of his face, the crowbar connecting hard and steady against his ear. Then he can’t hear anything from that ear at all as blood starts to drip out. It’s the worst headache of Jason’s life. He can hear his skull cracking under the blows. He feels the blood seeping through his suit and onto the ground. There’s so much blood. He’s lightheaded and dizzy. It’s so hard to breathe.

SMACK

He’s not gonna make it.

And he finds himself, hoping against all odds, that someone will find him soon anyway. Maybe help will come just in time. Bruce is supposed to be the world’s greatest detective. Jason is his son. He’d figure it out. Maybe he already did and he’s actually close. Maybe he lied to Jason and he’s actually in Gotham and on his way. And maybe, you figured it out.

You're smart. You can fight off the Joker enough to get you both to safety. You were trained by Jason, Dick, Bruce. Jason believes you could do it. Maybe you're on your way. You're smart. You know Jason better than anyone. You’ll figure it out. You always figure it out. Maybe help is coming.

SMACK

Everything goes black for just a few seconds and then it’s blurry and shifted. He can’t see out of his right eye. Jason doesn’t know what’s going on as the Joker takes another smack. His laugh is just a reverberation now. The only sound he can even hear is the cracking of bones. Nothing else. And he doesn’t think he can breathe real well. He can’t move his jaw. He can’t even find the strength to try to move anymore. It all hurts and there’s so much blood.

Jason silently begs for the help he doesn’t realize will be too late just as the Joker takes a larger and harder blow to the front of his face.

He doesn’t think he’s gonna be able to hold on.

You drive to the abandoned carnival, coming up on one of the gates. Jason’s bike and helmet are right outside and the chain to the gate has been cut. You know. You know this isn’t good. It’s completely silent and you are terrified.

Silence can’t be good and a part of you hopes that maybe the Joker wants to play with Bruce. Maybe the Joker wants to kill Jason in front of him, to taunt him, that’ll give you some time to have a plan and get you both out of there, maybe. Or Bruce could make it in time to save you both.

But you creep around the grounds, cautiously but quickly. You're paying close attention to your head, making sure you don’t miss it if the throbbing you're certain will start. But, it doesn’t. Instead, you reach an open tunnel with carnival games and there’s someone lying on the ground.

It’s dark and despite you knowing damn well if it were the Joker on the ground, Jason would be over him bragging and cheering for himself, you hope it’s the Joker anyway. You hope against everything that the person laying on the ground is the Joker.

The closer you get though, the more you get the picture of the yellow and black cape.

Jason.

“No…” Your lip quivers as you pause. You're terrified to get any closer. It can’t be Jason. It can’t be. It can’t be. It can’t be. He’s strong and smart. He knows better. “No, no, no, no…” Your voice cracks as you start to walk closer and you can see him now.

There’s blood everywhere. He’s laying in a puddle of red and there’s blood splatter on the ground and the games. A bloody crowbar is tossed to the side and Jason is completely still. Your heart is in your throat as you close the distance, dropping to your knees.

“Jay…” Your voice is a whimpered whisper as you put your hand on his shoulder, pulling him to face you.

His body is completely limp and as he turns, you get the gruesome sight of what the Joker has done.

Jason’s face is mangled and unidentifiable. You can see his teeth through his jaw while there’s blood and bruising around the other side of his face. His face is swollen and paler than usual. There’s blood smeared across his face and on his lips. Some of his hair is wet with blood and sticking to his forehead. And his eyes are closed, not even trying to open.

Your heart shatters in that instant. The weight of the world has been on your shoulders for years and with the sight of his body, the world finally falls. It tumbles around you, breaking into unfixable pieces. The foundation keeping you steady is lifeless and cold and bloody.

Your lip quivers as tears start to trickle down your cheeks. Everything around you feels heavy and cold. The lump in your throat is so big and hard, you swear it’ll suffocate you finally and you’ll finally be out of this misery. The reaper creeps back from the shadow of your head, a smile similar to Joker’s shining back at you and he’s finally won. He won in a way you never thought he would.

Killing the last good parts of you, by killing him.

“Jason…” You whimper, one of your hands hesitantly going to his neck to check for a pulse. Nothing. There’s no pulse, just cold skin under the blood. “No…” You whine, tears now blurring your vision. You lean down, trying to hear him breathe and there’s nothing. He’s completely still. No breathing. Nothing. Just lifeless. “Jay, please, you can’t die.” You let out a sob, pulling Jason’s body into your lap. “I love you. You can’t die. I need you.” Your words are slurred as your nose runs and the cries grow louder.

You sob, rocking back and forth. You knew it would happen. You knew. And you should have known Jason was up to something when he didn’t go with you today. You should have known. He can’t be dead.

You swallow the lump in your throat, moving to rest Jason’s head flat on the ground while you pull out your phone, hands covered in blood. You call Bruce, putting the phone on speaker and then you start CPR. You swear it’ll be useless but you have to try anyway.

You swore every single day that you would never give up on him. And CPR isn’t going to help, but fuck it, you're not going to give up. So, you try anyway. You have to fucking try.

“Did you find him?” Bruce asks as soon as he answers.

Those words get you to let out another cry, your arms shaking as you push down on Jason’s chest. “Bruce!” You scream as your arms tremble.

Everything stops for Bruce. Pain shoots through his heart like a barbed wire arrow. He knows. He knows that cry because he’s let it out himself all those years ago. He’s heard other people. Babs. Dick. He knows and yet, it can’t be true. Not his son.

“What happened?” Bruce shakes his head, using all of his willpower not to let his voice shake.

“What do I do?” You cry, your cries are loud but there’s a weakness in your voice. “He’s not breathing and the Joker beat him with a fucking crowbar! Bruce, what do I do?” You beg Bruce to help. Your voice is slurred and panicked, pleading with all of the energy in you. He’s fucking Batman, he has to help. “What do I do? He’s not breathing. There’s so much blood, Bruce, help, please. You have to save him. Help me save him, please. Bruce, I can’t lose him, I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t.” You keep pumping on Jason’s chest but you swear it’s not working and not just because the Robin suit is so sturdy you're barely getting a compression in. You beg him and beg him, as if your pleas are enough to bring Jason back.

“I’ll send someone, keep doing CPR.” Bruce instructs with a square jaw.

“Bruce, I don’t…..I don’t think it’s helping.” You wail and you can’t breathe. It’s so hard to breathe. “I don’t think…..Bruce….” You let out a cough as your elbows shake and you're losing rhythm of the chest compressions.

“Keep going, don’t stop until they get there. I’m landing soon.” Bruce instructs and he never should have gone. He should have seen it. How the hell did he miss this?

“There’s so much blood…Bruce.”

Barbara Gordon and a few trusted people close to Bruce show up first. They find you still trying to perform CPR. You're slower now, and you're not getting the impact you need to make a difference. Your arms are weak and you're nearly hyperventilating and choking on your own tears.

The paramedics try their best to get you off of him but you scream and yell and cry for them to get off of you. You shove them off of you and you try and try and try. Bruce is still on the phone, telling you to let them do their job but you can’t. You can’t do it. You can’t because then you give up. You can’t give up on him. Not him.

“Hey.” Barabra wheels over a few feet away from you and she gets a look at the damage as her stomach turns and she knows he’s gone. “You need to stop.” Her voice is calm as she tries to keep it together.

“No!” You scream and you feel too weak to deal with any of it. He was your everything. “I can’t.”

The paramedics look at Babraba waiting to be told what to do and they know, too. His face is completely destroyed. He’s unrecognizable. The only reason Barabra even knows it’s Jason is because of the Robin suit. There’s brain matter on the ground. There’s more blood on the ground than there is in his body.

“Bluejay.” Barbara calls again, her voice cracking and this gets you to look at her. Even in the dark, Babara can see the redness of your eyes and the tears shining on the top half of your cheek above your mask. “He’s gone.” Babraba’s eyes go misty and you shake your head.

“No…” You whine and you finally stop but your hands stay on his chest. “No, not…no.” You let out a sob and you can’t even see Barbara anymore, the tears have blurred everything together. “I can’t.” You fall back, one of the paramedics catching you so you don’t hit the pavement too hard. The other paramedic jumps in and to Jason, just to be completely positive.

You shove the paramedic off of you and walk the few feet weakly to Barbara. “I-I…what--” You suck in a harsh breath, your breathing so rapid you feel like you're going to pass out.

“Sit down.” Barbara tries to keep her composure and you collapse with a loud sob, your entire chest feeling like it’s been set on fire with gasoline.

It can’t be him. Why him? He was good. He was a good person and funny and smart and kind. Jason had a heart of gold. Why did it have to be him? It never should have been him. He always deserved so much better. He never deserved this. This isn’t fair. It’s not right and it’s so fucking painful you wish the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

“Babs!” You scream. “I-I-I don’t I don’t wanna do it anymore.” Your teeth grit together as your words are wet and slurred.

You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe. It’s hard to breathe and your chest feels like it’s all caving in under the pressure. Maybe putting your heart in a pressure cooker would be less painful than this. Everything fucking hurts.

Barbara rests a hand on your shoulder and she knew Jason was reckless but she didn’t think he’d ever actually get himself killed. He was smart. Smarter than this. You cover your face with your hands, not caring you're covered in Jason’s blood. You just want everything to stop. The pain and the world and time and everything. You want it all to be over.

“I’m so sorry.” Barbara offers and there is nothing she can say that’s going to make this better.

“I can’t.” You spit and push Barabra’s hand off you before getting to your feet.

You push through the pain, running away. Barbara yells after you but you do not care. You make yourself run through the pain and the weakness. If you can do anything, it’s run from it. You want to run as far as your legs will let you. To the bike where you can speed away from it all. Speed so fast the pain goes away. The agony will fade if you run. You can do it. You tell yourself you can as tears fall down your face. You toss the helmet on and hop on the bike, and leave. You've always been good at running. You can run from it.

You're in the bathroom back at the manor, scrubbing the blood off of your hands through tears. Everything is blurry and painful. It’s burning and agonizing and stabbing. It aches and throbs. Breathing is the hardest thing you've ever done. You try to get in a full breath but every time you do, a sob immediately follows and it’s like the wind is knocked out from your lungs all over again. Your head is spinning with a throbbing headache and your eyes are so puffy you can barely open them. But, there’s blood staining your hands, Jason’s blood, and you have to get it off. You have to get it off.

Get it off. Get it off. Get it off.

You grit your teeth so hard that your jaw starts to pulse and you hate it. You hate this so much. You hate it and you want him back. You need him. He is everything to you. He is your everything. He is your best friend and you love him more than you've ever loved anyone. And he’s supposed to take care of you and you're supposed to take care of him. And it’s not fair and it’s senseless and it was brutal and you scream at the top of your lungs before falling to the floor. You lean against the counter, pulling your legs to your chest as you put your hands on your face because you can’t do this anymore

You talked about what life you could have together. And you swear you saw it. For the first time, you were optimistic about a future. Because you had him. He gave you all of this hope for the future because Jason could survive anything. He was supposed to survive anything. He was good at it. Dodging whatever fucked up shit the world was going to throw at him. And now he’s not. He didn’t dodge fast enough. And you were supposed to have an apartment one day together. And make dinner together. And have a dog and a cat because Jason always really liked cats. He’d come home and you’d clean up the blood and he’d do the same for you when patrol got a little messy. You were supposed to have a life together.

You don’t know how you're supposed to get up again after this.

And then Molly walks in.

She’s been crying since Bruce called her and asked her to check on you. He’s worried about what you might do and seeing you on the floor absolutely hysterical, she knows why. Of course, she knew it would be bad. Her best friend just lost the person she loves. Of course, you're going to be a mess but….you're covered in blood and Bruce didn’t tell her what happened. And on top of that, you still have the suit on, minus the mask, which is another surprise Molly did not expect to get today.

Molly says your name with hesitance as she walks in, sitting on the floor in front of you.

You look up, moving your hands. “M-Molly.” You whine, your bottom lip trembling, the hood of your suit barely lets Molly get a glimpse of your face that’s covered in blood as well.

Molly nods. “Bruce called.” Her voice is just above a whisper.

“He….Molly…h-h-he…d-di-died..” You let out a sob as you shake your head and you just want it to be done. You're so fucking tired.

“I know.” Molly lets out a soft cry, sniffling softly.

“H-he’s dead.” Your entire body jerks with another cry as you hang your head. You're so fucking tired. Tired of all of it.

“I know.” Molly closes the distance between you, pulling you into a hug and allowing you to completely break against her. And then Molly starts crying because Jason was her best friend, too. “I’m so sorry.” Molly manages to get out.

“I can’t do it.” Your voice is weak against her.

“Can’t what?” Molly pulls away, her hands still on your shoulders as if trying to stabilize you.

Any of it. You can’t do any of it. You're covered in his blood and it all hurts. You're weak and tired and exhausted. It’s all agonizing and paralyzing and numb. It’s all too much. And you just cannot do any of it anymore.

“Blood and…” Your breathing is labored, your head swaying slightly. And you're so lightheaded and nauseous. “Do this.”

“One thing at a time.” Molly stands up and grabs a wash rag, wetting it with soap and water. Molly can break later. You need help. “Let me see.” You hand your hand to Molly and Molly starts cleaning.

Molly expects to find some sort of wound but she finds nothing. The more she scrubs, the more blood comes off and it’s just your skin under it. And she shakes her head because what the fuck happened to Jason that got you covered in his blood? A part of her almost doesn’t want to know. But, she has to ask anyway. Bruce was a little vague. So, after a few minutes, with your cries becoming quieter, Molly decides to ask.

“C-can I ask you what happened?” Molly is seeing that you're actually one of the suited vigilantes that roam Gotham so she’s guessing something with a bad guy went a little south.

And you don’t care anymore. None of it matters anymore. Jason is dead. It’s not his secret anymore. You're in your suit anyway and Bruce isn’t home. You're all alone anyway.

“Joker beat him to death with a crowbar.” You answer plainly Molly feels her stomach turn.

“What?” Molly’s heart stops in her chest.

You nod as you sniffle, watching Molly clean the remainder of Jason’s blood from your hands. “He was Robin.” Your voice is hoarse as you talk.

Molly pauses, blinking at you and she’s so confused. And this whole thing is growing more and more unsettling. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked.

“He…Jason was Robin?”

You nod again, sniffling. “Yeah.”

“You found him?” Molly asks. Why did you have to find him? Of all people, it just had to be you. Of course, it was you.

“Yeah.” More tears start to fall from your eyes and you can see him every time you blink. That’s going to be your last memory of him and it hurts so fucking bad you want to leave.

“I’m…I’m sorry. Is this all his?” Molly’s voice grows a little panicked. She can’t even imagine the sight you walked in on.

“There was a lot of blood. The head bleeds a lot.” You clear your throat before you sniffle again.

Molly is terrified you're going to start giving her gory details. Not on purpose but because you're too tired to care. The crying is slowing down and that always means you will talk. You stop caring and then you talk. Molly doesn’t want to know and you don’t need to relive the horror verbally.

“Okay, um…okay you stay here. I’m gonna get you some clothes.” Molly stands up quickly.

“C-can you…Jsaon’s room, there’s a…maroon hoodie. It was his favorite.” You look up at her as Molly heads to the doorway.

“Yeah, I’ll be back.” Molly nods quickly.

You let out another cry and you don’t think you’ll be able to survive this one. It’s too heavy. It’s too much. There’s only so much one person can take. And you swear as you shiver on the bathroom door with broken sobs tearing up your throat that Jason Todd was your breaking point. Jason Todd is dead and you swear you’ll never recover.

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A/n: So, this is what Jason looks like in his death scene and he looks scared. Which, is probably a plothole because Titans (or them trying to throw us off since it's episode 1 ?? idk) but I decided I was just gonna use that anyway for fun lol Also fun fact, I was originally not going to include his death scene since we saw it in the show but then I rewatched UTRH and was encouraged by my best friend to make it worse so I did. And I'm really glad I included it lol I'm sorry but I really like how it turned out lol

Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss  // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmess // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555 // @stainedstardom // @baebeepeach // @legend-o-zelda // @harleycao // @somehow-lovable-trash  // @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover //  @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000

[zoeysdamn]

Bark, Bite & Break Bones - Tyler Galpin x Van Helsing!reader | Part.10 [FINALE]

Summary: Deep into a rescue mission, you’re about to face some childhood traumas along with distressed werewolves. But if you’re here rescuing kids, who’s handling Tyler’s safety out there? Was it a mistake to choose to leave him in this tense atmosphere where everyone’s looking for a culprit? You just hope you won’t be too late to see the mystery of this curse unfold. 

Warnings: graphic gore depiction (be careful), swearing, angst, mention of blood, mention of arson, mention of child neglect (minor), mention of slapping a partner [THIS IS A PIECE OF FICTION, THIS IS NEVER OKAY IN REAL LIFE] Also, my sincere apologizes for the badly written fight scenes and even shittier plot lmao

A/N: oh my gOD the last chapter is finally out!! (who would have thought). Really not my best chapter, but honsetly I had 0 plot for this one lmao I’m still pleased of how it turned out. Read the warnings carefully, and enjoy! 

[Main Masterlist] [Wednesday Masterlist] [Prologue] [Part.1] [Part.2] [Part.3] [Part.4] [Part.5] [Part.6] [Part.7] [Part.8] [Part.9]

The heat was almost unbearable and hitched your skin. Ashes and the heavy dust from burning wood were veiling your eyes too, making them water in a pitiful attempt to clear your vision, but by now you weren’t really paying any attention to it anymore. A burning ache seemed to grow in your lungs every passing second, and you knew it was a matter of a few minutes before breathing would really become painful. 

Nothing looked like the dorms anymore. No matter how well you thought you knew the grounds, every corner was metamorphosed into unrecognizable burning piles. Time was of the essence yet you lost yourself so many times trying to scramble your way through the blazing building. 

Despite the burning in your throat, you tried to call out, “Hello?! Anyone here?” 

Nobody answered the raspy question. So you carried on your search under the unbearable warmth of the fire around you. Sweat beads dripped down your forehead and a cough tore from your aching throat. Then, very faintly, a whimper echoed somewhere behind a crumbled part of a wall. Through your coughs, you tried to call out again. 

“Hello? Are you in there?” 

Another long whine answered you and after pushing some rubble you could outline a shivering form through the thick smoke. Two students were curled up on the ground, trembling with fear and halfway through their wolf transformation. Unruly fur poked from under their skin at odd places, yet couldn’t hide the pure look of distress on the children’s faces. As soon as they noticed you through the thick smoke, a growl emanated from one of them; surely more instinct than real disdain. Despite the urgency of the situation and the burning flames all around, you carefully knelt in front of the shivering students. 

“It’s okay,” you tried to reassure them as best as you could, “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”

Carefully reaching out with your palm, you let the two children crinkle their snouts at your scent. Whether they knew who you were or not didn’t seem to change the fact they immediately winced and backed down even further against the wall, trying to growl in an intimidating manner. But the low whine that escaped instead didn’t fool you. The fire alone was a traumatizing experience, but an early, forced wolf-out was even worse. Memories of written testimonies of previous hunters flashed in your mind, their tales of great pain and tortured howls from werewolves who had been forced to transform too soon. Those kids right here were in more dreadful pain than anyone could imagine. 

Slowly unsheathing your dagger, you kept your eyes focused on the younger students. At the sight of the silver blade, one of the students let out a terrified cry. 

Immediately flicking the dagger so that the blade rested in your palm instead of facing them, you held out your other hand in a somewhat reassuring gesture. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you shushed, trying the best to ignore the blazing warmth of the fire around you. “I’m not gonna hurt you. See?” 

As to prove your words, the blade sank into your skin, drawing blood onto your palm. The strong copper smell of blood immediately made the students’ eyes widen and their half-transformed snout crinkle despite the bitter taste of ashes and flames all around. You knew that a werewolf transformation, particularly an early one, sharpened the senses and the smell ; thus, the strong smell of blood and silver should be upsetting enough for the human part of those students, and hopefully help them turn back. You simply hoped that the human part of them would take over quickly, it was becoming really hard to ignore the blazing fire around you. 

Fortunately, after what felt like the longest seconds of your life, the harsh features of half-turned students started to fade into softer, human ones. With heavy whimpers tainted in pain, the two children started to turn back in their usual normal selves and soon tears-stained cheeks replaced their furry ones. When they lifted up glassy eyes to you, it was the only sign you needed and you grabbed the arm of the closest student. 

“Come on,” you urged them, “we need to get out quickly.” 

If either of them wanted to speak, the protest died quickly. Sooner than later the two young students ended up clinging to your side, never letting go of each other as the three of you hurried through the burning corridors. 

The smoke made your eyes and throat burn, and despite trying to keep a clear mind you couldn’t help but an all-too familiar memory to overcome your senses. Flashes of another place, burning to the ground just like this one, and the dreadful feeling of panic overflowing your entire being, those were painfully familiar to you. For a moment you were this terrified little girl again, trapped inside your grandparents house while the fire destroyed everything and no one around to help you. But the iron-grip of the petrified children on your sleeve reminded you that no matter how the dread of memories tried to drown you, you had a responsibility. Those kids needed you, and you’d be damned if you couldn’t save those terrified children from this blaze just like you had been all those years ago. This time no child would feel as helpless and trapped within the flames, that you promised to yourself. 

A loud crack erupted just before a beam collapsed in front of you, making you jump backward with a curse. A tiny whimper escaped one of the students and you squeezed their shoulder in reassurance, looking around to find another way out. 

“Come on, stay close to me,” you coughed as you hurried to a window nearby. Getting out of the building was becoming more than urgent, or neither of you three would last long. 

Suddenly a gush of fresh air kissed your face and made your eyes widened. The exit was close, there was still a chance for you and the kids to get out in one piece. Following the feeling of night breeze, you clumsily reached the window you had previously noticed among the rumbles. Shouts of people outside became louder and clearer, a nice indication that the nightmare might be over soon. When you reached the window, you peeked outside to see the surroundings: first floor, some bushes at the foot of the outside wall, just before one of the paths leading to the outer courtyard where everyone gathered. Perfect. 

“Hey!” you shouted, and some other students a few meters away whipped their heads in your direction. “Over here! Come help me, there’s kids in here!” 

While a bunch of people hurried in your direction, you helped the two younger students climbing on the window ledge. When they noticed the height, they gave you frightened looks. 

“I can’t do this,” whined one of them, almost pleading. But you would have none of that, and grounded a hand on their shoulder. 

“Yes you can,” you said with a firm yet reassuring tone. “You’ve been very brave already, I know you can do it.” 

Some older students below started to organize themselves by climbing on each other’s shoulders to be able to catch the younger kids. At the sign they were ready, you hoisted the first kid on the ledge. 

“I’m right behind you,” you promised them when they gave you one last frightened look. “Trust me.” 

And so they did. Holding their hands to lower them until your arms couldn’t take it anymore, you let go of them only for a second before they were caught safely on the ground by the group of students down below. Seeing how well their friend’s rescuing went, the second kid let you guide them without a word, trusting you to get them out safely. Once the two rescued kids were back on the ground and outside of the flaming building, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. That’s it, they’re safe. But a loud crack behind you brutally reminded you that you weren’t out of trouble yet yourself, and out of reflex you jumped from the window ledge before the flames could reach you. 

The sudden nature of the jump hadn’t allowed you to properly prepare yourself so you ended up half-landing, half-crashing on the ground rather unceremoniously. A grunt left your lips at a sharp sting on your ankle ; surely you had landed on it, spraining it in the process. 

Unknown hands came to help you up and you gratefully took them – although you may have recognized Ajax among them, you weren’t so sure. Dozens of questions were thrown at you but you barely heard them. The adrenaline rush had died down, letting the pain and exhaustion crash into you like a wall of bricks. 

It was a familiar voice that dragged you out of the numbing limbo of thought. 

“Holy fuck Y/N, are you alright??” 

Lifting your head up, you were met with a pair of cerulean blue eyes ; to say that you were surprised by the fact they weren’t throwing daggers at you as per usual would be the understatement of the fucking century. 

Despite the soreness of your throat and the ache of your limbs, you couldn’t help but grin. “Awww,” you cooed with a raspy voice, “you actually care. Took you,” you coughed roughly, “a god damn fire to soften on me.”

Bianca scoffed at your antics, “Don’t flatter yourself Van Helsing.”

“Aaand here she is. But I’ll be okay, thanks.” 

Even with all the sarcasm and usual bitterness, you could see that for once, the siren truly was worried. It was hard to believe that she would at some point, after having tried to drown you barely a few months ago. 

A chuckle just next to you made you realize that you were literally leaning against someone who helped you walk away from the building – probably one who had helped you get up. Turning your head, you realized it was indeed a familiar gorgon student. 

“Through a fire and still being sarcastic,” he joked. “Is there anything that can actually kill you?”

You snorted, wincing in pain in the process. “Wouldn’t anyone like to know, uh?” 

“Y/N!!” shrieked a voice. 

The three of you turned just in time to catch a glimpse of a blonde and pink tornado rushing at your side. You hadn’t time to catch your breath that she was already crushing you into a hug. 

“Thank you!” Enid cried. “Thank you thank you thank you! You saved those pups, I can’t thank you enough!!” 

From above her shoulder, you caught sight of the two young werewolves students you rescued, surrounded by teachers and being taken care of. A sigh of relief got past your lips. Everybody was okay, that’s all that mattered. Wait. Everyone? 

“Where’s Tyler?” you asked abruptly, suddenly very aware of your surroundings. 

Enid parted from the hug, looking confused. Bianca, Ajax, and Wednesday – surely arrived shortly after Enid – looked at each other, shrugging. 

“Nobody knows where he is?” you asked frantically. At the shake of their heads, a new feeling of dread sank into you. Suddenly, you could sense that something was very, very wrong. 

WIthout really thinking, you pushed yourself off Ajax and started to search frantically around you for a familiar freckled boy. But Tyler was nowhere to be found. Ignoring the calls of Enid, Wednesday and Ajax, you hobbled the best you could through the courtyard. Still no chance. 

As you started to fear that he might have disappeared, your gaze focused on the forest. The pit of dread growing in your stomach only worsened, and you realized that something much more dangerous was most likely to occur. The fire, the sudden panic, with all this pressure and stressful situation, Tyler could lose control over the Hyde at any moment. And you hadn’t been here to contain him and keep him grounded like you had promised him to. 

Limping toward the woods the fastest you could, you truly hoped that you were wrong, and that there was no Hyde running wild out there. 

The chilly air of the night did nothing to calm your nerves as you rushed through the woods. Even with your limping leg, you searched frantically for Tyler but he was nowhere to be found. Calling him would be useless, it would only frighten him more, should he not recognize your voice from afar. 

Mentally, you couldn’t help but scold yourself a little. None of that would have happened if you hadn’t agreed to follow Xavier, Wednesday and Bianca in the first place. Sure, the fire would have happened anyway, but at least you would have remained on Tyler’s side all along. Maybe those two kids were safe thanks to you, but if anything happened to Tyler you would never forgive yourself. 

A faint crack made you whip your head around; only to find a dark silhouette clutching its head a few meters away. Carefully approaching the groaning form, you knew who it was before even seeing their face. No matter how gray his skin was starting to turn, how his bones seemed to want to pop out in sharp edges or how fucked up the situation was, you could recognize your boyfriend anywhere. 

“Tyler?...” you called him, voice barely above a whisper. 

A grunt answered just as he whipped around to face you. Halfway through his own transformation, surely fighting against the Hyde within his own body and mind, Tyler stared at you without really looking at you. With ragged breaths, he found himself standing still and you used it to slowly approach him, a hand halfway held in his direction. 

“Hey there big boy,” you said softly, careful to not upset him more. His lack of reaction made you optimistic, and for the briefest moment you thought it could go easily. Boy, you were wrong. 

In a blink of an eye you ended up thrown against the nearest tree, back hitting the trunk forcefully as a clawed hand squeezed around your throat. The force of the impact against the tree was so strong, your head bumped harshly and made you dizzy for a handful of seconds. When your eyes refocused, there was nothing left of Tyler in front of you; the full-grown Hyde’s face breathed heavily inches from yours, sharp teeth and furious eyes threatening to tear off your head any moment. His transformation had been so fast you hadn’t even been able to see it. 

Another growl, more impatient this time, escaped him and the Hyde’s claws squeezed harder around your throat. 

Breath getting short, you yet couldn’t help but to let slip a snarky comment. “Jokes on you, I’m into that,” you rasped with a smirk. 

That definitely didn’t ease the creature and he slammed you once more against the tree, tearing off a pained grunt out of you. Internally you cursed your natural sarcasm and some more rational survival reflexes finally sprung out. Your right hand came to cling on the monster’s wrist, like it would do anything to make him drop you - just like the pathetic attempt of kicking your tired legs. The more seconds passed, the more tired you grew ; you knew there wasn’t much you could physically do in this state. Your right ankle throbbed in pain, and the previous walk-through in the fire had drained you from all energy. But you had to fight to stay alive, or else there would soon be nothing left of Y/N Van Helsing. 

So instead of fighting, barking and biting with all your might, you forced yourself to relax as much as you could, gulping slowly and easing your muscles. The sudden stop of resistance seemed to surprise the Hyde, for his growls ceased for a moment – but not the iron grip around your throat though. Trying to push a smile on your tense face, you put on the most soft expression you could pull. 

“It’s me,” you whispered softly, voice rough and cracking. “It’s me Tyler…Look at me babe, please look at me…” 

The creature cocked his head at the sound of your voice. The calmer tone, although it had still some panicked edge, seemed to ground him. Sensing this as a progress, you pushed your luck a bit further, your left hand slowly raising to reach his distorted face. He flinched a little under your touch, but except for a light grunt of surprise, let you cradle his cheek. 

Thumb grazing the rough surface of his bony cheek, you tried to keep a soft smile despite the pain. “I’m not gonna hurt you Tyler,” you promised in a soothing tone, “I can’t, you know that.”

The creature grunted again, like fighting with himself. You truly hoped that you could get a hold on the human part of Tyler and help him come back. The more he felt the caress of your hand on his face, the more it seemed to help him turn back into his human form. 

Inhaling sharply, you decided to take your chance. 

“Tyler,” you called him slowly, “I’m gonna need you to let me go. Can you do that?” 

He struggled so hard, you could practically see the raging internal battle between the Hyde and Tyler. 

“Let me go,” you whispered, eyes pleading this time, practically on the verge of tears. “Please…”

Slowly, very slowly, the clutch around your neck eased a little. The newfound arrival of air made you gasp but you had to refrain yourself from making any loud noise to not frighten the Hyde. Instead, your left hand still cradled his cheek, as a sign of encouragement. The creature lowered you gradually, and when your tiptoes finally touched the ground again you choked on a sob. 

“Thanks Tyler,” you whispered, careful as his claws were still wrapped loosely around your throat, “you’re doing great.” 

A spark of consciousness flashed in his globulous eyes, like his human self resurfaced for the briefest moment. 

But then something seemed to make him snap, a gurgling roar tearing from the monster’s throat in fury. What was a hopeful moment a second ago turned into unbridled rage ; the other clawed hand of the Hyde rose high in the air and before you could even register what was happening, dove right onto your face. Everything went very quickly, one second the glint of sharp nails urged your survival instincts to try to cover your face with your left hand ; then a slice and a faint moment of blackout. A second later, the pain exploded. 

A wail left your lips but you didn’t even hear yourself scream, nor did you feel your body drop on the forest floor. The pressure around your throat was gone, but the pain erupting through your left hand numbed everything else. Vision got blurry as you stared at the teared open flesh and puddle of blood that was once your left hand: a large gash opened your palm from forefinger to the wrist, as three half sliced fingers dandled, barely holding from their base by a thin tendril of flesh. The cover of your face from the Hyde’s claws had cost your hand. Taken aback in surprise - maybe by your scream, maybe just because of the blood - the creature had dropped you on the spot, jumping away from you – but right now you couldn’t care less, too busy clutching your butchered hand, curled on the ground. While you whimpered, spiraling down this overwhelming pain, the Hyde groaned, barking erratically like fighting some invisible demons. His very own body seemed to struggle with itself, so much that after long seconds he started to turn back, his bones replacing themselves, the gray skin fading to be replaced with his human, freckled one.  

The loud thump of Tyler’s body falling on the ground suddenly reminded you of where you were, taking your mind away from the pain for a second. And no matter the throbbing of your hand, or the fact a monster was squeezing your throat to death only a few minutes ago,the sight of Tyler laying on the forest ground, shivering and whimpering made your heart clench so hard it was almost as painful as the rest of your body. 

Clutching your injured hand close to your chest, you tried to crawl closer to Tyler, calling him with a pathetic whimper. HIs head rolled slowly, glossy unfocused eyes searching for the source of your voice. It wasn’t until you finally reached him and reached for his hand that he seemed to fully regain consciousness. 

“Y/N…?” he rasped with a sore throat. 

Hearing him again almost made you cry, so relieved that he was safe. “Yeah,” you choked on a sob, “it’s me, babe. You’re back, it’s going to be okay.” 

Tyler tried to push himself up, but his attempt ended in failing miserably and he slumped on the ground once again, grunting. “I can’t move,” he moaned. Surely his transformation had left him more groggy and drained than any previous one. “Where are we?”

Another groan of pain tried to get past your lips but you swallowed it. “Somewhere in Nevermore’s forest, not sure how far…do you remember anything?” 

“I…not really…the fire, the screams it- it became too much for me. And- and I started to feel dizzy so I walked away to calm down but…I don’t remember anything else…”

You nodded, hissing at the odd sensation of your three fingers dandling from your hand in an awfully gory way. Tyler heard and tried to get a better look of you. His eyes widened at the sight of your butchered limb and the bruises around your neck. 

He paled, holding out trembling fingers. “Did I…did I do this to you?...”

The brush of his fingers on your cheek should have comforted you ; but despite your better judgment, you flinched at their contact. Tyler felt his heart break; oh my god, he did that to you. 

Just as the grueling panic and shame slated to overflow him, you immediately gripped one of his hands with your good one. 

“Hey, hey,” you said softly, “look at me Ty. Look at me,” at your insistence, he finally lifted his watery eyes to meet yours. Despite the pain and the tiredness plaguing both your mind and body, you tried to hold a steady and convinced gaze. 

“It’s gonna be alright, okay? Shit like that happens during hunts, I’m used to it and you weren’t yourself.”

“But–”

“Shh,” you interrupted him. “Keep your strength. I’m going to get us out of here, we’re gonna be alright.” 

“How touching to see you this optimistic,” quipped a voice behind you. 

Startled in surprise, you whirled around, leveling yourself in a seating position thanks to the adrenaline rush this sudden appearance gave you. Standing a few feet away, a man stood with a heavy coat, blonde hair and a satisfied smile. It took you a handful of seconds to pinpoint exactly where you had seen this prick’s face before. Yet last you remembered, members of the school board didn’t usually carry guns with them. 

Staring warily at the medium, you snarled at him. “What are you doing here in your cheap typical villain outfit? Here to peek at naked and injured students like a creep or to finish the job?” 

His smile didn’t falter. “As a matter of fact, it is indeed why I’m here, Miss Van Helsing.” 

You squint your eyes at him, careful to ot let panic rise too high. “So are we expecting some classical villain speech where you unfold the whole plan or is your boss gonna do it himself?”

The medium cocked his head to the side in amusement. “I’m afraid I don’t get what you’re implying. I work alone.”

Slowly, the pieces started to add up in your head. Everything was aligning and went clear. “You’re the one who put the nithing curse on the school,” you realized. “You did this.” 

“That I did,” he agreed, loading his gun meticulously. “I had to make enough diversion to trigger the Hyde without too much suspicion. I must admit, the fire wasn’t what I expected but my, it did work splendidly.” 

On the ground, Tyler whimpered, mind trying to get a grasp on reality through the haze. “I know…this voice…” he slurred. 

The look of disdain on the psychic’s face wasn’t even hidden by the night. “You gave me more struggle than I thought, I give you that. For some pathetic creature, you sure were hard to convince to unleash once your precious bodyguard was gone, earlier.” 

The thought of that arrogant fucker messing with Tyler’s mind just to make him lose control made you blood boil. “You’re a fucking psycho,” you seethed. 

The board member only shrugged. “You left me no choice. If you had died in that coffee shop like you were supposed to, none of this would have happened to Nevermore, my dear.” 

To the boiling anger added disgust and you snickered bitterly, “Of course you were the one who hired the mercenaries,” you spat, rolling your eyes. “Couldn’t do anything by yourself, uh? Why even doing all of this when you could have just refused Tyler’s application to the school, uh?”

This time, the medium knelt in front of you, taking in your injured self, pathetic and tired – the laying form of Tyler didn’t even seem to have his attention. 

“Because it would have been much more beneficial for me to have the nuisance of Y/N Van Helsing being removed at the same occasion,” he said with a sick smile. “Do you even know how much is the bait placed on your head by some vampire covens, little hunter?”

You scoffed, “I don’t know, do enlighten me then old fart.”

Admittedly not your better insult, but the flaring of his nostrils was enough proof it was pissing the medium off. Good. 

“Way too many numbers for you to count.”

“Nice,” you grinned in a provocative way, which seemed to anger him even more. Without hesitation, he pressed the barrel of his gun against your forehead. 

“It would have been so much easier to have the Hyde kill you,” he seethed, clearly starting to lose patience. “He would have been put back in jail, and you would be six feet underground. Everyone would have been happier like this.” 

The realization of his sick plan made you growl. “You expected Tyler to kill me by putting him in stressful situations. Too much of a coward to pull the trigger yourself?”

As the only response you heard the click of the gun being loaded. The previous calm and composed attitude of the psychic was gone, long replaced by irritation and febrile movements thanks to your insolent attitude. What could you say, without any weapon or functional body, it was all you were left with to fight. So if you had to walk away from life with bites and sarcasm, this asshole better be prepared ‘cause you fucking would. 

“Shut your bloody mouth,” he spat on the verge of patience. “Do you know how hard it is to earn your place as a psychic? When you don’t have a name like mighty Vincent Thorpe?”

“Boo-hoo, poor little you,” you pouted. 

“I had to crawl my way up to where I am now,” he continued, ignoring your remark. “The things I’ll do when the higher families of vampires will thank me for bringing them your head, I’ve earned them.”

“By putting some kids’ lives in danger, your fucking psychopath,” you spat at him. “You’re delusional as fuck if you think they’ll treat you as an equal.”

An amused smile stretched his lips and his finger pressed on the trigger. “I’m willing to try.” 

For a second, your breath stopped and you thought that you really were about to die here. You didn’t shut your eyes but squeezed Tyler’s hand on the ground beside you, not knowing if he really felt it or if he had passed out. You just wanted to let him know that you were by his side until the end. 

Then something jumped on the psychic, tackling him to the ground with force; the shot went off somewhere else behind your shoulder but you actually felt the heat of the bullet brazing your skin. 

The psychic screamed, fighting the giant beast that had attacked him under your wide eyes. Between fits and bites you caught sight of blonde fur with pink tufts somewhere. Even in the dark you understood who it was. Enid’s werewolf form. It didn’t take more than a couple of seconds to hear shouts from behind you, adding to the wolf’s grunt and the wails of the man crawling for his life under her. You started to feel dizzy, eyelids heavy and head spinning just as quick as the adrenaline dropped from your body. When you picked up familiar voices such as Ajax, Wednesday or even Weems’ voices, your body allowed itself to let go. From what you remembered, it might have been Bianca or Xavier that caught you before you crashed unconscious face first on the ground, with the screams of terror of the psychic being torn apart in the distance. 

You had woken up a day later in Nevermore’s infirmary, splint around your right ankle and head feeling like lost in the fog. Groggily, you had taken notice of your surroundings, mostly beds occupied by students who needed medical support after the fire. The more your senses came back, the more you had become aware of the throbbing of your left hand. Glancing down at it, you had been met with a heavily bandaged limb, specks of blood soaking through the cotton. Angry red lines crossed by stitches peaked from under the bandages; it wasn’t pretty, but at least you had all your fingers. Whoever operated you must have been able to stitch back the three of them that had threatened to get lost before it was too late. 

Ultimately, you had lifted your head to see Tyler at the door of the infirmary, looking at you with wide eyes. You had smiled at him; then he did too. For your first reawakening after the long night the previous day had been, it was all you could ask for. 

Two weeks later, and you found yourself sitting in the corridor of Weems’ office, waiting to be called in by the headmistress. 

In the past weeks, things had been kind of hectic. First there was of course the betrayal of the board member who had deliberately put students’ lives in danger – multiple times – and whose betrayal couldn’t be ignored, no matter if he was going to spend the next few months in a hospital bed thanks to Enid. Then the fire that had destroyed a good half of the dormitories ; aside from the trauma it inflicted on all of the students, it took some organization to find arrangements to keep a roof above everyone’s head. 

On a personal level you had to deal with physical recovery, which was slow but not doing so bad after all. People at school did not look at you with utter disdain anymore – the two students you rescued even hugged you. Hell, even Bianca Barclay definitely buried the war hatchet. But the problem lies elsewhere. 

Tyler hadn’t been the same after that fateful night. Of course, when you two reunited in the infirmary, he had brought you in a bone-crushing hug for long minutes, not caring if anyone saw his tears of relief. Then he had kissed you senseless, drunk in joy of holding you alive and well in his arms again. But the overwhelming joy of reuniting had been short-lived. 

If he refused to leave your side – as if you would ever leave him either – he always stood a little setback. Like putting a safe distance between the two of you, not too important to mean a break up, but enough to miss him; to miss the old him, to miss how you were together. The first days he didn’t even dare to touch you, it was always you who initiated the physical contacts, reassuring him this was more than alright. Now he didn’t hesitate anymore but you still sensed him stiff in some of your embraces. More held back. 

Fidgeting with the bandages on your left hand, you felt your heart squeeze at the thought. With everything going on in the aftermath of the whole story, you didn't really have time to speak about it yet. Maybe today was the right moment. 

The sound of the door opening made your head lift up. Exiting the principal’s office, Tyler had his shoulders slouched despite the encouraging smile of Weems behind him. When he saw you, your boyfriend gave you a sincere, soft smile. But it didn’t last long and only a few seconds after he looked away, almost ashamed and scurried to the end of the corridor without another word. 

Mouth agape, you watched him practically running away from you without any explanation. The headmistress calling your name tore you out of your deception surprise and you turned to her. 

“I’ll be with you in a couple of minutes, Miss Van Helsing. Do you mind waiting a little more?”

Still taken aback by your boyfriend’s odd behavior, you only nod your head to the Headmistress, who gave you a small smile before shutting her office’s door. Sighing, you slumped in your chair feeling a bit lost. 

“How are you holding up?” 

The sound of her voice made you realize that Dr.Fern had taken the seat next to yours. The fae therapist was looking at you with kind, concerned eyes. Although she knew you weren’t going to pour all your emotions on the spot, the aura of wariness and sadness you carried around kind of worried her. 

Despite her original thought, you shrugged. “I’ve been better. I’ve been worse too, so I guess not so bad in the end.” 

That made the fae smile sadly. Surely you hadn’t the best coping mechanism, but in all honesty after everything you went through, she thought that you were, indeed, not doing so bad. As to prove that, you dodged the subject. 

“Why are you here?” you genuinely asked. “I thought that Weems only wanted to hear the testimonies of people who had been here?” 

“She wanted my insight on the self-defense aspect of Tyler’s transformation,” she said. “Although it was more for a legal aspect, I’m pretty sure she had been convinced of it before I even stepped in the room. I wouldn’t worry about him being framed again.” 

You nodded, grateful to hear that. Still, the pained look in your eyes didn’t fade away; this wasn’t what was truly bothering you. Sighing deeply again, you slumped, looking at the wall in front of you. 

“How long before he gets eaten up by guilt?” you asked in a tired tone. 

Dr.Fern’s eyebrows rose up a little, but frankly she was only half surprised. You didn’t seem like the kind of person to trust a therapist’s opinion, but this wasn’t the monster hunter who asked it. This was the young adult worried for her boyfriend, and afraid of how drifting apart you two were. 

“He’s already plagued with guilt,” she answered after a silence. “I’m not sure it will leave so soon.”

You shook your head, more for yourself than for her. “No one’s expecting it to. Everyday I tell him he doesn’t have to feel guilty, that I don’t hold any grudge against him, I just…”

“Yes?”

You hesitated, then turned to face the therapist. The tears on the corner of your eyes stunned her. 

“I don’t want to lose him,” you muttered, throat tight. “Not like that. Not when I can feel him drifting away a little more everyday, watching him destroy himself with guilt and not being able to do anything. And if he leaves I… I’m not even sure what I would do.” 

The way your voice broke a little at the end of your sentence truly made her sympathetic of you. For a moment, you almost felt relieved to have been able to put words on what you felt, and to share it with someone you could trust. But just as quick, your protective self came back and you wiped the tears that were threatening to fall. The therapist respectfully looked away, knowing that showing yourself being vulnerable had been quite a progress for you already. She didn’t make any comment either when you awkwardly adjusted your posture on the chair, like nothing happened. 

“You know,” she said after a silence, “I always wondered how you managed to get Tyler to let you help him.” 

Frowning, you looked at her, “What do you mean?”

“Well he was always willing to take therapy sessions with me, but I’m his assigned therapist, it makes sense. However he was never too keen on letting strangers get close, did he?”

You thought about it. “I suppose?...”

“So he would never have let anyone he didn’t know help him, let alone inspiring respect right?” she continued. “Yet you managed to make him do both, I wonder how.”

Remembering the rocky beginnings of your relationship, you snorted softly, “I was a bitch to him, that’s how I did that.” 

That made her smile too, “Then maybe two times’ the charm.”

The door of Weems’ office opened, the headmistress expecting you in and that put an end to your conversation. Dr.Fern gave you one last polite smile before taking her leave too, leaving you quite perplexed by the chat you two had. 

But after all, maybe she was right. You didn’t want Tyler to leave because of some stupid guilt – then maybe it was time to bitch him into his way out of it. The old fashioned Y/N-Van-Helsing-way. 

Twenty minutes later, after a very short and for once not unpleasant meeting with Weems, you made your way confidently to your dormitory. This part of the building had thankfully been relatively untouched by the fire, so you still had most of your belongings here. And so did Tyler. That’s why you were pretty sure you’d found him in your room, packing his things in a hurry before you came back. And that’s exactly how you found him when you bursted in the room unannounced. 

A shirt in hand and the other opening a backpack, Tyler jumped in surprise, staring at you. He stood here with eyes wide as saucers, like a deer caught in headlights. You gave him a half-soft, half-snarky smile. 

“Oh, you’re packing? Don’t forget your visa, you’ll need it to get to the checks-in of Dumb Man Land.” 

“I– “

“Take some sweaters too,” you said casually, neatly folding one of said pieces of clothes like everything was normal, “I’m not sure that thick skull of yours would be enough to keep you warm.” 

Tyler dropped his bag, approaching you slowly. “Babe I–”

“I assume you know my address to keep me updated,” you cut him, packing a pair of jeans too, “surely you already have it and planned to leave a note to me when you would have left without a word, right?” 

“Hey,” he said, gripping your hand to make you face him. “Look at me.”

The two of you stared at each other for long seconds. Him with pained, guilty eyes, you with a mix of sarcasm and hurt. And just like that, he knew how pained you were, fully aware of what he had planned, no matter how much casualness and sarcasm you put into your action to stay strong. His heart broke at the sight. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I have to leave.”

“Like hell you do,” you scoffed.

The tone you used was softer than he would have thought. 

“I can’t stay here with you,” he pressed, voice wavering. “I can’t be around after everything I did.”

“Says who?” you countered daringly. 

At first the bold attitude had surprised, then puzzled him, but now it almost irritated him. How could you not understand? 

“I do,” insisted Tyler frantically. “Don’t you see? I’m a fucking danger Y/N!”

You shrugged, “Not that I’m aware of. Well, except in bed but that’s not something I would complain about, tiger.” 

The wink at the end of your sentence almost made him lose it and he gripped your shoulders frantically. Even through your clothes, you could feel his hands shake and his eyes were full of tears. 

“Why don’t you get it!” he cried, on the verge of maniac tears. “None of this should have happened! I’m a fucking monster Y/N, just– look at you!” he pleaded, letting go of your shoulder to hold up your left hand – very carefully – between his larger ones. “Look at what I did to you!!”

The slap echoed before it stung. Cheek red, Tyler didn’t move his head under the sheer shock of your action. You however, stood very calm with your hand mid hair. Slowly recomposing his spirits, he turned to gaped at you. 

“Did- did you just…”

“Slapped you? Hell yeah I did,” you huffed in a firm voice. “And if you’re pulling out the “You’ll be safer without me” bullshit, I swear to God I’ll fucking do it again.” 

“You would be safer away from–” 

Another slap landed on his other cheek, this time with your bandaged hand. The shot made the pain rise up again and you cursed at it. That made Tyler glance at you with worry. Instead, you gave him a smug smirk – or at least the best you could pull through the wince of pain. 

“See? I can still slap some sense into you with my frankenstein’s hand. Seems good enough for me so drop the bullshit.” 

Equally stunned by your words and your actions, Tyler could only stare at you. To be honest, he had expected every kind of reaction from you; cries, rage, maybe even begging. 

But he would have never thought that you would literally punch some sense into him; it felt like the first time you had pinned him on the ground when he had tried to attack you on his first day here. Even with a half healed hand and a splintered ankle, you stood here tall and proud before him, not taking any of his shit. 

As the realization sinked in him your eyes softened and you took his face in both of your hands. 

“I’m fine, Tyler,” you said softly. “Doctors patched me up, I’m in one piece, the rest will heal with time. I’m fine,” you repeated, gently forcing him to look at you. “You have no reason to feel guilty about anything.”

“I attacked you,” he muttered in a broken voice. “I hurt you,” he continued, fingers grazing your bandaged hand, “how can you not be angry at me?”

A sad smile made its way to your face. “You weren’t yourself,” you reminded him, “there’s nothing to be mad about.” 

Tyler could feel the sincerity of your words, he truly did. Still the guilt wasn’t so easy to brush away. So you continued. 

“Do you know what hurt me the most?” you asked softly, and his eyes widened in fear. Dozens of answers swirled in his mind. 

Noticing it, you caressed his cheekbone with your thumb to ground him before carrying on, “That you thought leaving me would actually help me. Or you.” 

He stuttered a bit. “I…I didn’t think you would ever want to see me again,” he confessed. “Or being with me.”

You cocked your head to the side, “What did I do to make you think that? Did I act any differently with you since that night?”

“...no,” he admitted. 

That, at least, made you smile sincerely. “I’m tough Tyler,” you promised. “But not tough enough to see you walk away to punish yourself and hurt the both of us in the process.”

He bore his deep brown eyes into yours, and with that you were unable to stop the tears from falling. 

“I love you,” you choked on with a sob, “so I’m asking you this with everything I have: please, please, don’t leave me alone. I can’t do it anymore, not when I still get the chance to hold you in my arms, Tyler. Do you want me?”

“Always,” he answered feverishly without a doubt. 

“Then let me be with you,” you smiled through tears, “I don’t want to fight alone, never again. I found a home with you Tyler Galpin, please don’t shut yourself from me again. Don’t let me shut myself to you again, or else I don’t know what kind of atrocity I would become without you.” 

A beat passed. Then you were enveloped in a tight, bone-crushing hug, pressed against Tyler’s chest. The moment you felt his arms around you, you didn’t bother anymore to hold back tears and let yourself sob against his shoulder. Tyler’s face was buried in your neck, and although he didn’t make any sounds, you could feel him shake with his own sobs. You held each other tightly, painfully aware of how close you had been to losing each other just moments ago.

At some point, you didn’t really know when, you had ended up laying on the bed, still entrapped in each other’s embrace. Carefully lifting his head from your neck, Tyler pressed a long kiss against your forehead. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I love you.”

“I know,” you sniffled, curling yourself to tug your head against his collarbone.

“I’m an idiot.”

“I know,” you repeated with a chuckle, then lifting your face to meet him. “But you’re my idiot.” 

Tyler smiled warmly and pressed his lips against yours, making you sigh through the kiss. it felt like it was the first time you kissed him since that night. It felt like finally, he was back. 

“Promise me you won’t abandon me,” you pleaded softly between kisses. 

Looking at you lovingly, Tyler caressed your face. “I won’t,” he promised before diving on your lips again. 

This time you moaned, and you slid one hand to his cheek, keeping him close to you. But then you felt him taking your hand gently in his and you broke the kiss, looking at him intensely. The freckled boy looked at your bandaged hand with sad eyes, before dropping soft kisses on each of your knuckles. 

“I’m truly sorry about your hand.” 

“It’ll heal,” you reassured him. “Plus, you won’t be the only one with badass scars to show off now,” you winked. 

He chuckled and the sound made your heart flutter. “Or I’ll have to find how to make it up to you for the rest of my life.” 

It was your turn to grin. “I’m sure you’ll find something to work with,” you teased as your other hand slid under his shirt. 

-

Almost two months later, all of the students and professors of Nevermore academy stood in the courtyard. In front of a newly reconstructed building, Principal Weems proudly stood on a stage, delivering diplomas to last year students with large smiles. 

The day was promising for everyone, for it held a symbol of accomplishment for some, of vacations for others, and for most the end of a complicated year. For Tyler and you, it was a little bit of the three. 

You both stood in the courtyard among graduating students, your diploma in your right hand. Next to you, Tyler was holding your left one lovingly. His own diploma was secured in his pocket; the proof that he had made it through the year and that he was, as the agreement with the judge had specified, now a free man. He glanced at you, a soft smile on his lips. You too were free now; he couldn’t help but wonder what the two of you could do now. 

As Principal Weems was making one last speech, you felt Tyler’s gaze on you and turned to him with a smile. 

“What is it?”

The only sight of your smiling face brushed the lingering doubts away from Tyler’s mind. Maybe he had an idea of what you could do after all. 

Raising your hand with his, he pressed a kiss on the back of it. His lips left your skin, but he still brushed one of the scars around your fingers with his thumb. All of that under your loving gaze. 

“You know,” he whispered to you, “I have thought of how you could cover those scars.”

Slightly surprised, you cocked your head, “Oh yeah? How?”

Looking up at your face, Tyler gave you the soft smirk you had fallen in love with. 

“By putting a ring on those fingers.”

Around you, the crowd cheered and applauded the last speech. At first you didn’t react; but then the biggest grin grew on your face. Just as if they were coming home, your lips naturally found their way to graze Tyler’s. 

“Sounds like a plan, pretty boy.”

A/N: Annnnd that’s a wrap!!  Again, I’m so so very sorry for the long period of time it took to write the last three chapters, and for the shitty plot of the last one QwQ Life had been complicated and hectic for the past 4 months, writting had been incredibly hard.  Still, I’m satisfied with this fic and wanted to thank everyone for your patience and your kind words!  Take care of yoursleves ♥♥

-Zoey

Taglist: 

@igotanidea @officerrrfriendly @beggingforxavierthorpe @aliciahlewis @stresseyzesty @katiemrty @leightonsteele @black-swan-blog27 @mooniesthings @nightfurya @steadypoetrydinosaur @hellokittysblog0 @thecraftoflove @yasmine302 @huang-the-geek @sahvlren 

Usernames unfound by Tumblr: 

@spiceyhotsherbet

[kookieswan]

Red Light - Just Exist

Nightmare!Hoseok x Psychologist!Reader

Word Count: 1k

Genre: Horror AU, Monster AU, Psychological horror, Angst, Fluffy times for our boys.

Warnings: Yoongi again. Blood/gore, talk of killing/death, mentions of crawling over dead bodies lmao. It should be noted that this story will contain themes of horror/psychological horror and also explore obsessive behaviors and codependency. Many characters are morally gray. Please be warned!

Summary: Jungkook enjoys every moment he gets with his Nightmare, even if it consists of scribing away blood and guts.

Notes: WOOOO a closer look at Jungkookie and Yoon heh. The poor dudes can’t catch a break huh? This takes place directly after Silent Smile!

This Part 30 of the Red Light series. Find the Masterlist here♥️

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“They didn’t see…?” Yoongi shuffles further into the washroom, unzipping his jumpsuit and ripping the arms of it off his own. Blood splatters onto the white floors, the Nightmare completely uncaring as he pushes the jumpsuit all the way off. He turns back toward Jungkook with a grim smile, silvery eyes catching the light just enough to glow.

“No Jungkookie, they didn’t see. No one will ever see.” Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief because really, they don’t need to deal with that bullshit right now. They have enough to fucking deal with now that Freeman decided to weasel his way back into the facility. Fucker.

The Nightmare lifts his once white undershirt over his head, face scrunching as he pulls it off completely, now standing in nothing but his facility issued briefs. There’s red all over his body, and Jungkook knows he’ll be here for a while because of it. Yoongi won’t leave till he’s sure he’s squeaky clean… Not that the guard minds. If anything, he’s oddly fuckin happy about it. Yoongi sighs loudly from his spot, lips pouty and adorably downturned.

“I only slaughtered a few but they bled so much Jungkookie. I didn’t even have time to make anything, and now I’m disgusting. What a waste.” Jungkook hums in acknowledgement as he gathers a few wash cloths and some soap out of the side cabinets, knowing that they won’t be nearly enough to clean up his Nightmare. He walks over to one of the showers and turns it on, not really caring if he gets wet at this point.

Anything is better than dealing with the hell that is his job.

“Come here Yoon.” Usually he’d be worried about time but with the blessing of the Doctor… Yoongi comes to him immediately, standing in the warm spray to allow droplets of blood stained water to trail down his pale skin. Some of the more coagulated stuff sticks to him though, and so Jungkook gets to work quietly. He brings a sudsy cloth up to the nightmares shoulders, slowly rubbing the soft material over Yoongi’s skin. Yoongi shutters, delicate fingers raising up to trace Jungkook’s tattoos.

“I wanted to kill him… Make the prettiest pictures for you; watch him choke on his own blood as I finger painted with it.” Jungkook wants that too. Maybe that makes him a terrible fucking person but that’s okay. He knows his morals aren’t nearly as shit as half the asswipes down here. Either way, it’s dangerous for them to make any kind of move.

“I know Yoon. But you can’t. You can’t because if you fucking do-“ Jungkook cuts himself off with a huff, not even wanting to imagine the shit that goes on down there in this lower fucking levels. Yoongi simply stares at him blankly as his hand drops, not giving away his current thoughts to the guard, so Jungkook continues gently to let him know he’s not mad at him.

“Dr._____ can only do so much to keep you safe. Just please, don’t make any rash decisions, okay? I know that’s your damn forte but still. I want you safe and sound.” He tries to joke about it as he scrubs down Yoongi’s chest, throwing a wash cloth to the floor as the blood completely overtakes it. He spots the familiar long jagged scar on the Nightmares ribs, now a silvery color, and tries not to fixate. Yoongi lets out something close to a choked sound, words coming out angrily strangled.

“… Jungkook, he tried to-“ Jungkook rips his eyes away and cups the Nightmares cheeks, angling the man’s face to look back into his own. He stares into Yoongi’s cat like eyes, wishing so much that he could comfort him in some way. But what the fuck can he do? He’s powerless down here. All he has is his word.

“I know. I know. I promise I’ll stay far away from him, and I’ll tell Dr. _____ that he shouldn’t be near you. Let’s just drop it for now, yeah? We’ll figure it out in time.” Stroking the Nightmares cheeks with his thumbs as the other man nods, he thinks of another time, another place, where they could just exist. Just fucking exist together and be happy and not have to hide away in a shower. It’ll never be here though.

It’s quiet for a long moment until Yoongi glances down, a smile curling the corner of his lips up. It’s an idle thought: how Yoongi looks so beautiful like this. Not completely calm, not insanely angry, but maybe happy enough to show his true personality. So beautiful.

“Your clothes are all wet, pretty.” They are, some areas almost completely soaked through, some now stained with strangers blood. It’s totally worth it though, getting to see Yoongi’s face light up if only a little bit. Jungkook thinks he would drag himself across rotting fucking corpses to get to this man.

“I still have to change into my uniform anyway, so it’s fine. Lift your arms up for me.” Yoongi does, placing his hands on the taller man’s shoulders as Jungkook scrubs under his arms, a place where the blood thankfully isn’t too heavy. Yoongi leans in slowly until his arms are hooked around his guards shoulders, a giggle bubbling out from his pouty lips.

“How about you lift me instead Jungkookie?” And with that, he jumps up and wraps himself around Jungkook, the man just barely catching him as he drops the soap (aha). He grips Yoongi’s ass to keep him steady, trying his best to keep the Nightmare situated. Ah, he really did choose such a mischievous little asshole to care about, didn’t he? And maybe, just maybe, he likes it. Likes it a whole fucking lot.

“You can be such a brat, baby.” Yoongi melts into him, clinging to him so closely that there isn’t an inch between them now. He hides his face in the guards neck, nipping at the skin there cheekily, not nearly enough to break skin but just enough to tease.

“Your brat Jungkookie. Yours.”